Barrack Room Betty

By Michele Nylons

Chapter Two – Wren Division Ho!

The four Leading Recruits were hungover and hungry and in the grey dawn and cold bleak light of day they weren’t sure that their prank was really worth it. They entered the cabin and found the four ‘Wrens’ stood at attention and immediately began to break down in laughter.

“Of my fucking god you guys look stupid!” Jean Burgess burst out laughing.

Leading Recruit Spike Jones however was not so amused. His brain began to tick over.

“Stow that bilge Leading Recruit Burgess!” he snapped and the three other Leading Recruits stopped their guffawing.

“Report!” Spike ordered.

“Recruit Nyland reporting Collins Division for inspection,” Mike Nyland snapped.

“Wrong, try again fuckhead,” Spike snapped his cane against his thigh.

Michael Nyland was confused for a second and he realised what was expected.

“Recruit Wren Nyland reporting Collins Wrens Division for inspection,” he corrected himself.

Jason Jones strutted along the formation of the four recruits dressed as Wrens, looking them up and down.

“A piss poor effort Nyland,” he snapped.

“They look like they’ve been dragged through a hedge backwards!”

“You don’t look too bad but the rest of this bunch look pathetic. Lift your skirts!”

“What?” Doc Holliday exclaimed.

“Silence on parade! Lift your skirts!” Spike Jones bellowed.

The three bemused recruits looked at Mike Nyland who nodded at them and lifted the hem of his skirt exposing his thighs clad in the dark nylon tights. The others followed suit.

“Higher!” Spike demanded.

They all lifted the navy blue skirts up, exposing their hairy legs encased in black nylon and their white cotton full-cut panties enclosed in the darker gusset of their tights.

“Pathetic!” Spike Jones yelled.

Jimmy Lovejoy, Jean Burgess and Billy Marron were pissing themselves laughing at the four recruits dressed in the Wrens number two uniform. They looked pathetic. But actually they were surprised at what a good job they had done to emulate recruit Wrens. None of them would admit it but they didn’t look half-bad in a weird sort of way.

“I’ll give you this Nyland; you made an effort but not up to my expectations,” Spike strode up and down the line of ‘Wrens”.

“Drop your skirts and stand to attention!” he snapped.

“Recruit Cook Holliday, David Holliday, you are now Wren Cook Doris Holliday. You pathetic porker. Go to the galley right now and start breakfast.”

“What dressed like this?” Doc was bemused.

Spike’s cane flicked up and caught Doc on the thigh; the pain excruciating in the cold.

“Yes Leader,” recruit Holliday responded and doubled away to the galley to make breakfast, glad to be gone regardless how she was dressed.

“Recruit Wrens Perkins and Maine, you want to be Stewards so you can commence your cleaning duties. Start at our block and make our racks and clean the cabins, heads and showers. When you have finished take your breakfast and report to Leading Recruit Burgess who will have a work list for you. Do you understand!”

Both recruits nodded in unison, fell out and doubled away, even though they were dressed as Wrens it was good to be nowhere near these bullies when their blood was up.

“Recruit Wren Nyland. I gave you a task and you only partially completed it.”

“But Spike….”

The cane whipped out and caught Michael Nyland across the cheek. The blow was glancing, just enough to cause immediate pain but not hard enough to leave a lasting blemish. The Leading recruits knew how to discipline their charges without leaving any evidence. Any marks that they made would deliberately be on a part of the recruit’s bodies covered by clothing.

“Don’t you ever refer to me that way again! I’m Leader or Leading Recruit Jones to you!” Spike’s face was crimson with anger.

“I gave you a task and you haven’t completed it to my satisfaction!” he growled.

“I wanted four Wrens on parade this morning and except for you, who I may add, barely passes muster, I have a bunch of clowns in bad makeup, shithouse wool hair, and poorly fitting uniforms.”

“I did the best I could with the resources I had leader,” Mike responded.

“Hey come on Spike I reckon he did pretty good,” Jimmy Lovejoy piped in.

“We just wanted then dressed as Wrens so we could take the piss.”

Spike turned to his three comrades.

“How do you expect these slackers to make the grade if we don’t insist on perfection!” He screamed.

“You and I are the Leaders, they are the followers. They need to follow our orders and instructions to the letter!”

Jimmy, Jean, and Billy looked at their compatriot a little bemused. This was supposed to be a jolly, a prank. There was no way they could justify their treatment of the four grommets even under the harsh rules and regulations that applied under HMS Chelmsford Standing Orders. But… they were not going to argue. With PO Knocker White comatose in the DI cabin, Leading Recruit Jason Jones was running the rock show at HMS Chelmsford.

“Bend over Wren Nyland,” Spike said authoritatively.

Mike Nyland had been beaten before with the ‘rod’; the cane that some ratings and Senior Sailors kept hidden from sight but used judiciously when they thought it was necessary

He complied and bent over, offering his behind to his superior.

“Lift your skirt.”

Mike Nyland rucked up his navy blue skirt exposing his trim thighs and tight buttocks encased in black nylon tights; the white panties visible under the gusset of the tights. All four of the Leading Recruits would be lying if they said they didn’t find the sight somewhat arousing.

Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack!

The pain was excruciating and tears leaked from his eyes and ran down his cheeks in runnels tinged with mascara but other than grunting when struck he refused to cry out.

“Wren Nyland Ho!” Spike commanded, snapping the cane to his side.

Mike stood erect and pulled down his skirt, smoothing it out he stood to attention.

“You want to be a Writer? A scribe?” Spike stepped in close to Mike, almost nose to nose.

“Yes Leader,” Mike responded passively.

“Good. Then square yourself away Wren Nyland, get some breakfast and report to me in the Regulating Office at 0830. You’re going to be my Wren Writer, the Regulating Officer’s Secretary.”

“You are from now on, Wren Michele Nyland; understood?”

Mike nodded and the cane flicked out catching her on the thigh again.

“Yes Leader!” she responded.

“Good, now double away and I’ll see you at 0830,” Spike sneered.

Michele Nyland doubled away as best she could in court shoes and skirt.

“Fuck that was funny Spike,” Billy Marron laughed and the others joined in.

“Oh yeah, well I’ve only just started with these grommets. I’m going to make real Wrens out them,” he snarled.

Jean Burgess interjected.

“Aren’t we going too far Spike? I mean really?”

“Fuck no! I’ve only just begun. You know what I think? I think we can we can make these grommets into real Wrens for the next six weeks,” he mused.

“Really?” Billy Marron asked bemused.

“Fuck yeah!” Spike replied.

“Now let’s see what Wren Holliday has cooked us for breakfast shall we?” he chortled and led his conspirators out of the Wrens block and over to the recruit school main cafe.

“Jimmy, you take PO White his breakfast, we don’t want him coming to the café and finding out about what we are up to.”

After breakfast Wren Cook Doris Holliday stayed in the galley and cafe, cleaning the mess traps. Wren Stewards Polly Perkins and Mary Maine reported to Jean Burgess who gave them a work list that would take them through to lunch. Wren Michele Nyland presented herself to Spike Jones at the Regulating Office.

“Sit!” Spike pointed to a seat in front of his desk.

Michele slid her hands under her skirt to smooth it under her as she sat down and then she crossed her legs at her ankles. These gestures were not lost on Spike; they were feminine gestures that she did without thinking they would come naturally to a woman but not to a man. It seemed to Spike that Michele knew far too much about femininity than she could have just picked up when he ordered the grommets to dress as Wrens.

“Ok Wren Nyland, You actually didn’t do too bad and I accept your excuse that you had limited resources but this is the task I’m setting you.”

“I want my four Wrens fully femmed. Fuck off those stupid wool wigs and get something decent; I’ll give you the master key to the base hairdressers and the canteen. Also get rid of those fucking horrible tights and cotton knickers; I want my Wrens in nice sexy panties and stockings. Work on their makeup; you look half-decent, they look like shit. And get rid of those hairy legs; I want my Wrens legs shaven and stocking-clad get it?”

“But Leader; I thought we were only going to be dressed as Wrens for one day?” Michele responded.

“I’ve changed my mind! You can make a start this morning on your own, find what you need to feminise my Wren Division and after lunch you get the other three Wrens to work on. When you fall in for rounds tonight I want to see four Wrens who look like real Wrens understand?”

“But….” Michele stammered.

“Fuck but! Here’s the master keys; find everything you need and I want to see four sexy, feminine Wrens by 1800,” he snapped and threw the keys at her.

“Sexy? What do you mean?” Michele asked naively but she knew what he meant and she was not happy where this was going.

“Just as I described, now turn too Wren Nyland,” he said dismissively.

Michele wandered through the deserted depot until she came to the base canteen, she unlocked the door and roamed the aisles finding what she was looking for and tossing the items into a basket. There were a couple of aisles that catered to the Wrens and here she found stockings, lady-shavers and more makeup. She had no idea how or if payment was going to made, nor did she give a fuck. She bagged her selections and proceeded next door to the base hairdresser, a separate facility to the base barber.

Most of the Wrens wore their hair in short bobs for convenience so the hairdresser had wigs for sale, a small selection as only the CPO, PO, LS and Senior Wrens could wear them ashore with civvies but there were enough to meet Michele’s needs. She selected a black bob, a blonde shoulder-length, and two brunette shoulder-length wigs. She helped herself to hairbrushes and hair care products.

She looked in the mirror and ripped off the stupid wool wig she was wearing and replaced it with the black bob. She adjusted it so it fit nicely and then brushed it out. She was very pleased with her appearance; she could quite easily pass for a Wren now at a short distance.

Michele looked at herself in the mirror and memories returned and she daydreamed for a little while; reminiscing about herself crossdressed as she used to quite regularly before she joined the ‘Andrew’. She shook herself out of her reverie, picked up her goody bag, and began the slow slog back to recruit school; the cold grey morning and snow flurries reflected her mood.

She dropped the bag full of goodies back in her cabin and then made her way across to the Wren’s block. The gate had been opened so obviously PO White had opened up the ‘restricted areas so that Collins Division could carry out their caretaking duties. She opened the block and went from cabin to cabin, taking what she needed. Recruit Wrens, like their male counterparts were not allowed to keep anything but their pussers issued kit in their kit lockers but they had one big deep drawer under their bunk where they were allowed to keep personal possessions.

This was where Michele found what she was looking for; perfume, sexy knickers, suspender belts and in one case a pair of black patent leather high-heels which she slipped into and found fitted her perfectly. In the same drawer she found a nice satin and lace bustier step-in. She also found various items of jewellery. She kept notes from where she took which items from so they could be returned. No one in the RN tolerated thieves.

Michele dropped the step-ins and high heels into her personal drawer. She wasn’t sure why she had even taken them but she just wanted them. She sorted out the rest of her loot, dividing it up into four piles on the recruit’s racks. She checked her watch and saw it was time for scran. She made her way over to the cafe and found Doris tending the scran line and Polly acting as Steward for the four Leading Recruits. They slapped her arse and generally took the piss out of her. Billy Marron even slipped a hand under her skirt.

“Fuck me Wren Perkins; you seem to have a package in your panties,” he guffawed and the other three laughed.

Michele sat down at same table as Mary Maine, as far away from the Leading Recruits as possible. Polly and Doris joined them with their lunches now that they had finished waiting on the Leading Recruits.

“Fucking pigs! Did you see him put his hand up me skirt?” Polly whined.

“You sound like a real Wren, Recruit Wren Perkins,” Mary jibed.

“This fucking rig is so uncomfortable. These tights keep bagging around my crotch and I can hardly walk in these court shoes. This makeup has got into my eyes and it stings,” Doris whined.

Michele had to suppress a laugh; Doris had ‘panda eyes’ her mascara had run and clown’s lips, her lipstick had smudged and her wool wig was askew.

“Where did you get the hair by the way? Why do you look not half bad Wren Nyland?” Mary Maine eyed her compatriot suspiciously.

“I’ve got no good news for you girls. Spike had me scran everything needed to make us look like proper Wrens and I have all afternoon to do it,” Michele said around mouthfuls of tiddy oggie and mashed potato.

“What do you mean ‘proper Wrens’” Doris asked but was cut off.

There was a sudden bellow form the Leading Recruit’s table.

“Do you hear there; on completion of lunch Wrens Holliday, Nyland, Perkins and Maine are to make and mend clothing,” Leading Recruit Lovejoy announced.

“Shit hot; a fucking makers!” Polly beamed.

The pipe ‘hands to make and mend clothing’ was an old RN term for sailors to take time away from their duties to attend to their kit. In modern parlance it equated to an afternoon off and was referred to a ‘makers’.

“You fucking dickhead. This is exactly what I was telling you about. Spike Jones expects me turn you into ‘real Wrens’; wigs, makeup, stockings, panties and all,” Michele explained.

“Come on Wren Nyland, take charge and get your rabble of Wrens over to block and sort them out as per my instructions,” Spike Jones barked.

“Aye, aye Leader,” Michele knew this was no time to piss off the cohort of leading recruits.

“Have Wren Holiday prepare scran, leave it on the line and then report to you in the block. If your Division passes inspection during rounds at 1800 you girls get a scran. If not its tough titty said the kitty,” he snapped.

“Come on boys, lets ‘up spirits’’, Spike said to his three oppos, dangling the key to the wets in their faces.

Michele marched Doris, Polly and Mary over to the blocks and when they entered the block Michele gave her three oppos the bad news.

“I have to have us looking like four sexy Wrens by evening rounds,” she said.

“What do you mean ‘sexy Wrens?’” Doris asked again.

“You said ‘proper Wrens’ before; what’s the difference?”

“The difference as far as Spike is concerned is fuck all now stop asking questions and just do what I say. Take off those stupid wool wigs, get out of those uniforms and get down to the heads and showers,” I’m going to turn you scranbags into Wrens! Shit-hot sexy Wrens!” Michele announced, she ripped off her wig and began to strip.

Down at the showers she distributed lady shavers and shaving cream.

“Shave those legs and while your about it shave your chests,” Michele ordered and three others knew better than to argue.

They had little body hair anyway and it was nice to spend time under a hot shower on a cold bleak afternoon. Michele got them to shave their faces and led them back to cabin, wrapped in towels and blankets.

“Ok makeup for beginners,” Michele had them standing two to a mirror.

There was a large mirror between each of the two large wooden kit lockers on each side of the cabin facing the two bunks. The door to the cabin was between the kit lockers and there was one window each side between the bunks.

Michele was patient, teaching her pupils the art of makeup. Foundation, powder, blush and lipstick was easy, eyeshadow and mascara was harder but not daunting, but they all had problems putting on eyeliner.

This was the 70s and more was less when it came to makeup. After a few attempts the Wrens got better.

“How the fuck do you know so much about this shit Mick err Michele?” Mary enquired.

“I told you! My sisters forced me to play dressup!” Michele whined unconvincingly

“Yeah, sure,” Mary responded dubiously.

The Wrens had agreed to call each other by their femme names all the time now lest they forget to do so in the presence of the Leading Recruits and be made to suffer the consequences.

Once she had her charge’s makeup looking decent she had them stand in front of their bunks on which she had laid out the items she had purloined that afternoon.

“What you have here are panties, brassieres, suspender belts, stockings, blouses, shirts and shoes. I have also given each of you a wig that should best suit your features. I’m now going to show you how to dress yourselves. First step into the sussies and adjust them around your waist and then we’ll adjust the garters.”

Michele instructed her girls how to dress, assisting here, adjusting there. She helped them put on and adjust their wigs and comb them out and showed them how to stuff the cups of their bras so they had ‘tits’. Once she had finished she was proud of her work. Polly was blonde and Mary and Doris were brunette.

“You girls look great. Now strip and take that makeup off and start again!” she ordered.

“What!!!” the Wrens complained in unison.

They had been complimenting each other how good they looked.

“This is just like any drill! We keep doing it till we get it perfect! We have all afternoon except for Doris who will be dismissed at 1700 to make dinner and I intend to use the time to get it right!” Michele explained.

They practiced all afternoon, which included walking in the court shoes. By 1700 they weren’t too bad.

“You know; now that I’ve figured out how to wear this stuff properly, it’s quite, err, quite, err,” Polly stammered.

“Quite sexy?” Mary finished Polly’s sentence.

“You two ain’t getting all poofy on me are you?” Doris snapped.

Of the four, Doris was the least convincing and her rotund figure did not bring out the best in the Wren’s No 2 uniform.

“You know what I mean Doris. There’s nothing like feeling up a girl and sliding your hand up her stockings, smelling her perfume, caressing her through her clothes before you, well you know, shag her. Well this sort of feels that way, wearing girls knickers and that, you know?” Polly blushed.

“Oh bollocks Polly Perkins, you’ve never shagged a girl in your life,” Mary pushed her on the shoulder playfully.

Michele was studying her charges. They actually looked quite good. Too good to some extent because if Spike Jones was up to what Michele thought he was up too, the three Wrens were in for a shock. Michele had been is a similar situation about a year ago, where someone had taken a shine to her and….. ‘Well, that’s a story for another time,’ she thought.

“Fuck it’s time for me to hit the galley and make scran. It’s a fucking pain in the arse cooking in this uniform; when are those fuckers going to let me get back into cook’s white’s?” Doris complained.

“I think they’ll have had enough of this lark by tonight. They will soon get bored with it and find something else to torment us with,” Mary said, looking at her reflection in the mirror and adjusting her wig.

‘I fucking hope so; but I don’t think so,’ Michele postulated.

Meanwhile back at the wets the four leading recruits were pleasantly pissed. They’d been drinking beer but stayed off the spirits. They wanted their faculties sharp when they tormented the Wrens that evening.

“I’m going to get one of the Wrens to be my beagle; she can wash and iron my kit and make my rack,” Jean Burgess mused, lying on a couch blowing smoke at the ceiling.

“She can dhoby all our clothes and make all our racks; she will be our cabin beagle!” Spike laughed.

“I’m going to get one to be the bar steward; she can pour our drinks, empty ash trays and keep this mess clean,” Billy Marron reflected.

“And we’ve already got the fat one cooking scran so we’re pretty well looked after,” Jimmy Lovejoy said.

“Yep they are going to be our Barrack Room Bettys,” Jimmy grinned.

“What about the Writer? What can we get her to do for us?” Jean queried.

“Fuck all!” Spike snapped.

“She’s mine!” he growled.

“Fuck; ok Spike! She’s your reg office writer then; we all agree right lads?” Jimmy Lovejoy said, smoothing the troubled waters.

They all nodded and Spike took a swig of his beer and finished it. He looked at his watch.

“Right! Let’s get some dinner and then we can see how our Wren Division is turned out,” he chortled.

The Wrens of Collins Division were fallen in, toeing the line, ready to be inspected. Michele went up and down the line, adjusting clothing, brushing hair, fixing little makeup mistakes. She walked to rear of the line and stopped behind each Wren and ensured their seams were straight.

“That tickles,” Wren Perkins giggled.

“Feels kinda nice,” Wren Maine laughed as Michele’s hand slid down her thighs and calves.

“Feels fucking uncomfortable!” Doris Holliday griped.

They heard the crunch of footsteps and the clattering of doors being opened then more footsteps and all four Wrens shivered with dread. The cabin door burst open and their four nemesis’ lead by Leading Recruit Spike Jones strode into the cabin

“Recruit Wren Nyland reporting Collins Division Wrens for you inspection,” she said in her best faux feminine voice.

“Jesus Spike they look amazing!” James Lovejoy stood open-mouthed looking at the four feminine sexy Wrens.

“I don’t believe it!” Jean Burgess said at the same time.

“They look gorgeous!” Billy Marron blurted out.

Wrens Perkins and Maine couldn’t help but smile at the compliments but Doris Holiday just scowled.

‘The other grommets might get some sick satisfaction out being forced to crossdress; but not Recruit Holiday’ she thought. She couldn’t wait until this was over and she could get back into number 8s and cook’s whites.

Michele also didn’t smile; she was watching Spike Jones intently and what she saw disturbed her; the lizard-look in his eyes as he gazed at the four attractive Wrens. What had started out as a joke was fast becoming disturbingly dangerous. The four Leading Recruits, brimming with testosterone and months without physical contact with the opposite sex were eyeing the four Wrens with keen interest.

The four grommets had been forced into submission by months of bullying and were already servile, but now Polly and Mary were unconsciously becoming subservient and effeminate by being forced to crossdress. Although they were likely not sexually aroused, they were certainly flattered that the young men found them attractive. For the first time in months they were not objects of scorn, rather they were objects of desire.

As for Wren Holliday she was ambivalent about the whole dressing as a Wren thing; at least she wasn’t being beaten and harassed all day. And Wren Nyland - well she had her own story. It was obvious now to everyone by the way she self-assuredly wore the clothes and makeup, the way she walked, even the way she talked, that crossdressing was not new to her.

“Ok shut up you meatheads; this is a parade,” Spike growled at his three cohorts who swaggered and harrumphed so as not to appear chided in front of the Wrens

Spike took off his greatcoat and threw it on the table and walked down the line of Wrens. He put his cane under the chin of Mary Maine, lifting her head and looking into her big green eyes accentuated by eyeliner, mascara and eyeshadow. Her ruby-red lips were succulent and full.

“This makeup seems excessive Wren Maine; is it in accordance with BR3, Royal Naval Uniform Regulations?” Spike asked.

“No Leader but its how Wren Nyland taught me to wear it,” Mary replied looking guiltily at Michele.

Michele smiled and nodded wanly at her friend intimating it was ok to blame her; she was likely going to cop a beating anyway.

Then he roughly lifted her uniform skirt.

The three Leading Recruits gasped.

“And these suspenders, stockings and filly satin knickers; are they in accordance with the BR?” he growled.

The gauzy welts of the dark 15-denier stockings were snapped to garters attached to a black satin and lace suspender belt; the garters led under a pair sheer white nylon panties. Michele had made her charges trim their pubic hair and had gaffed their male genitalia so it almost looked like Mary had female parts under her silky knickers.

“No Leader,” Recruit Maine responded.

“And you reek of perfume Wren Maine!”

He dropped her skirt and approached Wren Holiday.

“If you dropped a stone in weight Wren Holiday; you might be Wren material,” he snarled and then strode on stopping in front of Wren Perkins.

Polly looked absolutely stunning and other than Michele was the best looking of the four.

“BR3 says that makeup must be discrete and heavy eyeliner, brightly coloured eyeshadow and nail polish and excessive makeup is prohibited. Isn’t that right Wren Perkins?” Spike bellowed.

“Err…if you so Leading Recruit Jones,” Polly answered although she had not studied the section of BR3 regarding female uniforms; why would she?

“And I bet……”

Spike hiked up her skirt with his cane exposing her silky stocking tops and black lace and satin knickers.

Michele was standing next to Spike; following him down the line as he inspected her Division.

Spike dropped Polly’s skirt and you could hear the gasp of disappointment from the three male observers. Spike swivelled on his heels and turned to Michele.

“Go on! Lift you skirt Wren Nyland; we all know you will also be in contempt of general orders by wearing non-approved uniform but lets see anyway!”

Michele cautiously lifted her skirt; the satin liner hissed on her sheer stockings. Slowly the shadow welt of her stockings came into view followed by the dark silky band of the welt proper. The shirt inched slowly up her creamy thighs exposing the lacy garters of a black and red suspender belt and finally the gusset of her red satin full-cut panties.

“My god Wren Nyland! Red underwear! In uniform!” Spike was red-faced with anger.

The other three men were just mesmerised by the sight of the pretty Wren holding up her skirt and showing off her sexy legs and knickers. It was like a fantasy come true; they had conveniently forgotten that ‘their Wrens’ were men.

“But you told me you wanted feminine sexy Wrens Leader; so that’s what you have,” Michele said in her defence.

“Don’t you answer me back you bitch!” Spike spat.

Without warning and as quick as lightning he dragged a chair out from under the nearby desk and fell into it, pulling Michele across his lap as he did so.

Michele wriggled and squealed as he held her across his lap, pinning her wrists behind her back. Her skirt had ridden up exposing her stocking-clad legs and luscious, plump bottom encased in the sleek satin knickers. The globes of her buttocks strained at the slinky material while her legs kicked and scrambled as she struggled.

At some stage Michele realised that Spike was becoming aroused; his engorged member strained against his trousers and pushed against Michele’s lower belly. She could feel it through the panty material.

Michele stopped wriggling because she knew that by struggling she was also stimulating him.

Smack!

“OOOwww!!!” Michele howled as Spike’s hand slapped her bottom.

Smack!

“Oh my God stop it!” she begged, but she felt his penis throb through the layers of clothing.

Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack!

Michele writhed in pain and wriggled and bucked in Spike’s lap; his breathing was hot, heavy and ragged. He spanked Michele harder, delighting in the feel of her soft satin-cased buttocks on his fingers and her soft stockinged thighs and taunt belly on his lap.

“You can’t do this!” Polly Perkins screamed, but knew better than to break ranks.

“Spike! Spike! Enough!” Jean Burgess yelled, but he too knew better that to psychically interfere.

“I’ll teach you to be insubordinate Wren Nyland!” Spike was red faced and puffing.

Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack!

Michele could actually feel him push up with his groin each time his hand came down on her behind. On the last slap his hand stayed on her buttocks pushing her panty-clad groin down on to his and Michele felt his cock convulse and then his hot seed soaked into the front panel of her panties.

This was not the first time Michele had experienced a man expend himself on her panties and despite the burning sensation (or if she was to be honest with herself, enhanced by the pleasant burning sensation in her bottom) she too was aroused. Thankfully this was not apparent because she was gaffed.

Spike was sweating despite the cold and he was red faced with exertion; attributes he used to disguise the fact that he had just orgasmed.

He pushed Michele off his lap and she fell to floor, all legs, knickers and heels. She scrambled around on the polished tiled floor until she managed to get to her feet and smooth down her skirt. This spectacle attracted the attention of everyone in the room and gave Spike the distraction he needed to quickly pull on his greatcoat and cover the wet patch in the front of his trousers.

The three other leading recruits were all sporting erections, which gratefully for them were hidden by their greatcoats. They would never admit to each other how arousing it had been to watch Wren Nyland with her skirt hiked up being paddled on her cute bottom. Mary and Polly were equally affected; their excitement hidden by their gaffs.

Michele gained her composure and fell in with the other three Wrens.

“Well, let that be an example to you all. Wren Nyland had to break the rules to follow my orders. She met the requirements set by me to make the Wren Division look half-decent but in doing so she countermanded the instructions in BR3.”

“And for that she was both punished and rewarded,” Spike said magnanimously.

Everyone in the room looked perplexed but no one was going to argue with Spike.

“Your reward, Wren’s Division, is that tonight you may have a case of beer from the wets to share amongst yourselves and lights out will be delayed until 2230 so you can celebrate your attainment of finally becoming fit and proper Wrens.”

“Ok lads back to the wets. Good night ladies; your beer will be left outside the wets door.

“Same duties tomorrow as they were today,” Spike said dismissively.

“We still gotta wear these silly fucking uniforms tomorrow!” Doris Holliday bellowed.

Spike swung on his heels and strode towards Doris his hand pulled back ready to slap her face. Michele stepped in front of her friend and lifted up her chin and tilted her face ready to take the blow. Spike held himself ready to strike and glowered into Michele’s pretty eyes; she stared defiantly back at him. They held each other’s gaze for a beat then Spike lowered his hand.

He turned to his mates and grinned.

“Wrens! Can’t live with them; can’t live without them, eh lads,” Spike laughed and led his marauders out of the block and back to the wets.

Later that night Michele, Doris, Polly and Mary sat around drinking beer and smoking, ruminating over the day’s events. All but Doris remained fully dressed and bewigged and Michele smiled when Polly and Mary fixed their makeup and brushed their hair when they returned from the heads. Doris had pulled off her wig and wiped off her makeup and looked forlorn.

“Well; let’s see what tomorrow brings,” Polly held out her beer and they clinked their bottles together.

To be continued.