Barrack Room Betty

By Michele Nylons

Chapter One – Wish I Was Wren

“Wish I was a Wren,” Recruit Brian Perkins mumbled under his breath.

‘Fuck! I wish he hadn't said that!’ thought Recruit Michael Nyland. He knew that no good would come of it. “Your wish might come true,” Leading Recruit Jason Jones (Spike to his friends) sneered.

Michael Nyland shivered, and not just because he was standing at attention (or at the ‘Ho’ as it was referred to in the RN) on parade in the freezing cold. Eight members of Collins Division of HMS Chelmsford were standing in the freezing winter weather, watching the recruit WRNS (Women’s Royal Naval Service colloquially called Wrens) boarding the last bus to leave the depot. It was going to the railway station so the last of the Wrens could proceed home on leave.

In 1973 HMS Chelmsford was the Royal Navy’s recruit training establishment, charged with providing the hundreds of new sailors and Wrens required to man the RN. The Wrens lived in the Wrenery, fenced off from the male General Entry recruits and were guarded by ferocious and large Chief Petty Officer and Petty Officer Wrens who were rumoured to be butch dykes. The young sailors envied the privileges bestowed on the Wrens. Wrens travelled in First Class sleepers on trains, they received a meal allowance when travelling, and, they were entitled to an underwear allowance as they were not issued with stockings, tights, knickers and undergarments from ‘slops’, the RN clothing store, and were expected to purchase their own.

The male sailors travelled third class on British Rail, paid for their own meals when travelling, and had fewer ‘privileges’. Most men serving in the RN in the 1970s overlooked the fact that they were paid far more than the Wrens, had the opportunity to serve at sea and travel the world, and they didn’t have to leave the Navy when they married unlike the Wrens.

HMS Chelmsford had been a Racecourse-class minesweeper of the Royal Navy laid down in 1916 and the Recruit Training Establishment was named after that ship. Built in the 1930s it was now almost decrepit and was soon to be closed; but in the winter of 1973 as the RN entered the Christmas and New Year Reduced Operational Period (ROP), the Navy was looking at ways to save money as its budget had been slashed. The Admiralty came up with an initiative. Normally the depot would be, for all intents and purposes, shut down and all personnel sent on leave. This was a costly exercise, effectively ‘winterising’ all the facilities for six weeks and then bringing the facility back on line in time to recommence training in January so they decided a skeleton crew would remain behind to keep the depot manned and ticking over until all of the other personnel returned from leave.

It was a no-brainer for the CO, he directed the Officer in Charge of the recruit training school to keep part of a Division of recruits, under the charge of a Petty Officer, to remain behind and maintain the antiquated facilities whilst everyone else proceeded on leave.

It was also a no-brainer for the OIC; he selected eight members of Collins Division, the malingerers, misfits and under-performing recruits to remain behind as the ‘hook-rope party’.

The ‘hook rope party’, a naval term for a special party who has work to do which is best left uninterrupted. Their job was to keep things ‘ship shape and Bristol fashion’ while the rest of the crew fell in for parades and presented their spaces for senior officer’s inspections or ‘rounds’.

Collins Division was established to assist the underachievers in the archaic training system so that they had a chance to graduate. It was supposedly led by the best performing Leading Recruits so they could mentor their peers and assist them in achieving the results required to graduate from recruit training school. In reality the RN recruit training school was still manned by misogynist bullies who used corporal punishment, mental cruelty and deprivation of any form of compassion to train its people. The officers treated the NCOs like shit, the NCOs treated the ratings like shit and the ratings treated anyone over whom they had authority like shit. As the saying goes, shit rolls downhill, and Collins Division was at the bottom of the hill.

The Leading Recruits were bullies who thought that inflicting as much pain and degradation on the recruits in their Division as possible was effective leadership. The recruits had no choice but to suck it up, no one was interested in their ‘bitches’, they were under-performing losers who would benefit from astute application of the rod.

The Navy had thrived on the traditions of ‘rum, sodomy and the lash’ so why should anything change?

The OIC had selected his worst performing Petty Officer to remain behind with Collins Division. PO ‘Knocker’ White was an alcoholic malingerer who had twice been reduced in rank during his service. Not that he cared. He was divorced and lived ‘on board’ in the Senior Ratings mess where he spent most of his time propping up the bar. He would have to reside in the Duty Instructor’s cabin at the recruit school but he had stocked up on cases of Newcastle Brown Ale, Captain Morgan Rum, purloined a 16mm projector and borrowed as many pornographic and action movies as he could lay his hands on, and with the recruit school galley remaining open, manned by a recruit cook from Collins Division, he was assured of three squares a day.

To Knocker White it was almost like a vacation. He intended to do fuck all but drink, eat, watch movies and read J. E. Macdonnell novels all day and let the Leading Recruits run the ‘rock show’ or as it was termed at the time ‘maintain good order and discipline’.

So the remaining eight members of Collins Division were dismissed by PO White as the bus loaded with the last of the Wrens drove away.

“You fucking Leading Recruits take charge of your rabble. You have your daily routines posted; I don’t want to hear a fucking peep out of you unless this shithole is sinking. And as we are twenty miles from the sea and this ship is made of bricks and mortar that’s highly fucking unlikely,” he yelled.

“Ok you fucking retards, back to the barracks!” Spike Jones ordered.

HMS Chelmsford recruit school was now a cold, windswept, wasteland. The four red brick blocks set out in an H formation was deserted except for two cabins occupied by the eight recruits. The four brawny Leading Recruits, Spike Jones, James (Jimmy) Lovejoy, Jean Burgess, and Billy Marron shared a cabin at one end of A Block and the four weaklings, recruits Michael Nyland, David Holliday, Brian (Polly) Perkins, and Ray (Mary) Maine, shared a cabin at the other end. A separate small building comprising a galley with an adjoining mess and wet bar (the ‘wets’) stood alone at the bottom of the H and another separate block held the Instructors Study, Divisional Office, Regulating Office and the Duty Instructor’s (DI) cabin, currently occupied by an already intoxicated PO White.

The wets was only allowed to be used by leading recruits and the senior graduating class and was only opened for two hours in the evenings and afternoons and on weekends but Spike had already pilfered the key from the Regulating Office and he and his cohorts were drinking beer, smoking and engaging in that time old Naval tradition, bitching.

“What a load of bollocks! The whole fucking Navy is on leave, home with their families and we’ve gotta look after this shithole and those four grommets!” Jimmy Lovejoy whined.

“Six weeks of boredom, cleanos (cleaning stations) and fucking pussers scran (navy rations)!” chimed in Jean Burgess.

“The cunts have even cut off the heat to the other blocks and all the phones are disconnected except the one in the DI cabin,” whinged Billy Marron.

“Well at least we won’t have to worry about Knocker drilling us, morning PT, or fucking locker inspections,” Jimmy chimed in.

“Stop your bitching! We can have six weeks or boredom or we can have six weeks of fun!” Spike cut them off.

“We’ve got four grommets to torment, the keys to the boozer, and the place to ourselves. I’m sure we can think of plenty to keep us amused.”

The four leading recruits had been in the Navy for three months and had not even seen a ship yet, yet they thought of themselves as salty. They wore the standard dress-of-the-day for the period, dungaree trousers tucked into black gaiters, spit-polished black boots, blue cotton shirts and polished black belts. The red lanyards around their necks signified their badge of office. Their ambition was to be ‘gunners’ and they were looking forward to forthcoming sea postings. Gunners in the Navy at the time were the specialist seamen and weapon handlers; a job that didn’t require much in the way of brains, just brawn and an ability to blindly follow orders.

The four ‘grommets’ cowering in their cabin at the end of H block had been selected for what was considered ‘shiny-pants’, ‘inky-fingered’, ‘day-hand’ jobs.

Michael Nyland wanted to be a Writer or ‘scribe’, Ray (Mary) Maine and Brian (Polly) Perkins wanted to be Officers Stewards or ‘bed-making beagles’, and David (Doc) Holliday wanted to be a cook or ‘tucker-fucker’.

It was not unusual in the navy for men to have female nicknames if their last names were associated with famous women. Examples were: Mary Maine, Dolly Gray, Polly Perkins, Daisy May, Pansy Potter, Connie Francis and the list goes on.

The leading recruits turned to bitching about the Wrens, how in their opinion they got preferential treatment. And of course how they would like to shag them. None of them had had sex from the time they had arrived at the establishment and their hormones were raging.

“If I got my hands on some Wrens I would make them be my slaves; they’d have to do all the shitty jobs that I’m forced to do,” Jean Burgess slurred.

As the lads got drunker, they became more boisterous, and their ramblings more preposterous.

“Yeah! How good would that be! Getting our own bevy of Wrens to do our bidding, to wait on us and do all our shit duties,” Billy Marron guffawed.

Spike Jones was sitting sullenly listening to his mates ramble; he was germinating an idea. The sailors got drunker and their conversations more banal but Spike had tuned out. He suddenly interjected.

“Shut up for a minute. I got a great idea. What if we could have a few Wrens to do our bidding?” he mused.

“What the fuck?” Jimmy inquired.

“We don’t have to do fuck all for the next six weeks right? We’ve already decided the grommets are going to do all the work anyway. But what if we really tormented those retards? What if we made them dress like Wrens tomorrow and took the piss out them all day?” Spike proposed.

“Oh fuck that would so funny,” Jimmy howled.

“But how the fuck do we get them to do that?” he asked.

“I have a plan,” Spike smirked and went on to relate his scheme to the others.

“Oh fuck that is just choice! That will really put those losers in their place!” Jean Burgess laughed and let loose a beery burp.

The door to the grommets cabin burst open and the four leading recruits burst in carrying a case of beer and a bottle of rum. The grommets cowered on their bunks wondering what fresh hell their nemeses had planned for them.

“Don’t worry shipmates, we ain’t here to give youse a ball-blacking or roust your cabin. We figure we’re all in this shitfight together, left to look after this shit hole, so we might as well have what fun we can,” Spike Jones announced to the terrified recruits.

“Come on, get out some ashtrays and grab some grog; it’s time to party!” Billy Marron slurred drunkenly.

At first trepidicious, the recruits were soon seduced by the offer of free beer and rum and soon they were all drinking and carousing.

“Fuck me lads, you ain’t so bad. There’s no reason we can’t get along,” a drunken Jimmy Lovejoy announced, and they clinked bottles and toasted each other.

Eventually, when the grommets had had a few drinks, Spike Jones steered the conversation to bitching about the Wrens.

By this time the four recruits, who hadn’t had a drink for three months and were as drunk as their leaders, had let down their guard and considered themselves all chums.

“Yeah! Why do those recruit Wrens get to go home on leave and we pull this shit duty,” Dave Holliday burped.

Doc was a red faced, rotund, young man who had trouble with any physical activity and was on ‘backward PT’ and ‘backward swimming’ as were all of the grommets. Being a potential tucker-fucker, his roly-poly physique was tolerated as most cooks in the navy were fat and as the saying went: ‘never trust a skinny cook’.

“I’ve got an idea! Why don’t we go on a panty raid over at the Wrenery? Who’s going to stop us? Petty Officer ‘I’m pissed as a parrot’ White?” Spike Jones proclaimed.

“Fucking great idea! I’m in!” Polly Perkins grinned and upended his bottle of beer and chugged away.

Mick Nyland saw the sly grins exchanged between the leading recruits and although he suspected this jolly was going to end bad for the grommets he knew there was nothing he could do to challenge the other seven drunken sailors.

It was cold and dark, the first snows starting fall, as the eight recruits, swaddled in their greatcoats, staggered across the parade ground, out of the recruit school, and across the road to the Wrenery. Spike Jones being the fittest and most able to handle his beer climbed the chain link fence and dropped to the ground on the other side. One of the duties the hook rope party was to inspect each block every day to ensure there was no storm damage, leakage from frozen or broken water pipes, and to generally square away the building. Spike had the key to the Wrens quarters but not the key to the gate in the surrounding fence.

But now he was on the inside of the fence he was able to kick open the double gates that opened outwards with little difficulty.

“Come on me hearties; lets steal some knickers!” he drank deeply from a bottle of rum offered to him by Billy Marron and head down into the wind, led his band of miscreants to the Wrenery.

Mick Nyland could still smell a rat. Why were four leading recruits who hated the grommets suddenly their friends? Sure, they were all fucked over having to spend the holidays on duty but the leading recruits had made their intentions clear that the grommets were going to do all the work, so why the sudden camaraderie? He couldn’t do much about it and was pretty drunk himself so he would let the evening unfold and see what eventuated.

The drunken rabble made their way to the double glass doors of the Wrens block and Spike fumbled with the ring of keys he had hanging from his belt.

“So what’s a panty raid again?” Doc Holliday asked drunkenly.

“It’s when a bunch of lads raid the women’s quarters and nick their knickers,” Jean Burgess guffawed.

“A fine naval tradition!” Billy Marron burped.

“In ya go,” Spike held the door open as they staggered into the lobby.

The block was dark with all the lights extinguished.

“Okay me buckos! Follow me,” Spike led them down the passageway of the lower deck.

The doors to the cabins were closed but not locked. Recruits were not entitled to privacy and none of the cabin doors were fitted with locks. Just like the sailors, the Wrens lived four to a cabin.

Spike picked a cabin at random.

“In here,” he said and the eight drunken young sailors entered the cabin.

Spike turned on the lights, he was not concerned with turning on the lights in few of the cabins as he knew that Knocker White was firmly ensconced in the DI cabin two hundred yards away and was probably paralytic drunk by now.

“Ok what now?” Polly Perkins asked.

“Now you cunts are shit out of luck!” Spike growled and grabbed Polly Perkins by the collar and threw him onto one of the bunks.

The other three leading recruits grabbed the other grommets and pushed them into the cabin.

“Strip!” Spike ordered.

“What?” Ray Maine asked, puzzled and nearly incoherent.

He was rewarded with a boot to the arse.

“All you grommets get your fucking clothes off!” Jimmy Lovejoy ordered.

“Oh fuck!” Doc Holliday protested.

The four grommets were forced to strip down to their underpants and vest, slapped and punched by the brawny leading recruits when they hesitated.

“Ok you rawbones, we all agree that things around here would be great if we had some Wrens to do all the work. So you four are going to be our Wrens for the next twenty-four hours. Get dressed up as Wrens and be ready for inspection at 0700 tomorrow morning!” Spike Jones growled.

“What?” Doc Holiday complained, and was rewarded with slap across the face.

The four young men stood shivering and cowering in the corner of the cabin.

“Use your initiative, find uniforms that fit you and dress in them!” Spike snapped.

“I want you all dressed in blues tomorrow.”

“What the whole uniform?” Polly Perkins whined.

“Yes the whole fucking uniform, and tights, and makeup, and find something to hide your shaven fucking skulls so you look like women!” Jean Burgess laughed.

“We want our own Wren Division tomorrow and if you don’t pass inspection it’ll be fucking hell for you for six weeks!” Spike gulped on his bottle of rum; terror in his eyes.

“Wait on a minute chaps! This really is going too far! How do you expect us to…….” Mick Nyland was cut off with a punch to the stomach.

“Recruit Wren Nyland; if this bunch of scurvy riddled fuckwits are not turned out in Wren’s number twos tomorrow I’ll hold you personally responsible. I also want them wearing makeup and you better find something to make wigs out of cause if you don’t look like proper Wrens I’m going to bring out my cane!” Spike shouted into Michael Nyland’s face.

“Ok; we’re locking you grommets in here and will see you tomorrow dressed as required thirty minutes after call the hands. Stay up all night; I don’t give a fuck, get the job done!” Spike spun on his heels.

“Come on lads there’s more beer to be drunk,” Spike led his gang of bullies back down the passageway laughing and guffawing as they went taking the four recruits’ uniforms and greatcoats with them.

“What the fuck?” Doc Holliday looked as bemused and confused as his three friends.

“So Recruit Brian Perkins! Do you still wish you were a Wren?” Michael Nyland hissed.

The four recruits were freezing dressed only in their underwear. All the bunks had been stripped but as the layout of every cabin was the same they knew where the blankets were stowed in the overheads above the four kit lockers and they quickly scranned the blankets, wrapped themselves in them and huddled together trying to get warm.

“Fuck!” what are we going to do now?” Doc Holliday whined.

“I ain’t dressing up as a Wren! Fuck them! They can’t make us!” Polly Perkins hissed.

“They can do whatever they like! Who’s going to stop them? PO White? He won’t even come out of the DI cabin,” Ray Maine whined.

Mick Nyland sat huddled up in his blanket thinking. He had a secret. Michael Nyland had been a crossdresser. He’d had a penchant for wearing women’s clothes for as long as he could remember and by the time he was nineteen he could dress quite passably. But there had been an incident. A very embarrassing incident, which had forced him to leave home, and so he had run away to the Navy where he could get away from the ridicule and shame of being caught dressed as a woman. He’d join the Navy to see the world just like most of the others but he’s also joined to run away from home to leave behind the disgust and loathing that his father felt for him when had discovered he was a crossdresser.

He had no intention of telling his fellow grommets about any of this, but as he had become their natural leader he intended to use the acumen he had for dressing enfemme to advantage.

“Ok boys this what we are going to do,” he explained his plan to the three other recruits.

“Mick; thank fuck you’ve kept your wits about you. That might just work! All we have to do is play dress up for one day and let those four tossers take the piss out of us and then its over,” Polly Perkins espoused.

“Yeah the joke will only last for a little while before they get bored with it,” Ray Maine chimed in.

“We’ll look like those blokes in panto who dress like women; it’ll be a lark,” Doc Holliday said.

“I fucking hope so,” Michael whispered to himself.

“All right my buckos; let’s get going, you have your orders!” Mick Nyland exclaimed.

The recruits spread out through the block wrapped in their blankets and following Mick’s instruction riffled through the lockers trying on skirts, blouses, jackets, shoes and caps until they found items that fit. It was lucky that except for Dave Holliday, the recruits were slender and had no problems finding clothing that fit. Lucky for him there were a few plump Wrens and eventually Doc found clothes that fit him. They bought all the clothing they had scranned back to the cabin and layed it out. Recruits, including the Wrens, had to keep all their clothing washed and ironed stowed correctly in their kit lockers so the uniforms they had pilfered were ready to wear.

“Ok, well done boys, now go and find knickers and bras and two pairs of tights and two pairs of socks each. Also I need you to check out all the drawers in the girls desks, you can guarantee that some of the girls knit. Get me some knitting yarn, black, white, brown but no bright colours,” Mick directed his cohorts.

“What the fuck for?” all three crooned.

“Don’t fucking ague just get it! I’ll get the makeup. As soon as we have what we need we can get some sleep ok?” Mick answered.

They were all in agreement that sleep was good idea so they all went off and did as they were told.

By one o’clock in the morning they had everything that Mick had told then to get.

“Ok boys, grab all the blankets you can, grab a bunk and get some shuteye,” Mick said.

Ten minutes later the lights were out the room reverberated with the sounds of four snoring young men.

“Wakey, wakey lads,” Mick banged a shit tin lid against the bin to wake his shipmates.

They are reluctant to get up but they were used to early starts and he soon had them motivated. They went down to the heads and bathroom and took care of their morning ablutions. Mick had even found a couple of razors the girls use to shave their legs and they washed up and shaved, all in freezing cold water. Then he mustered them back in the cabin and fell them in.

“Ok boys out of your uderps (Naval slang for underpants) and pull on those knickers,” Mick said.

The lads pulled on the regulation white cotton knickers that the Wrans were required to wear when in uniform while at recruit school and then they struggled into their brassieres with Mick doing the rounds helping them adjust straps and clasps.

“Ok lads take a pair of socks and shove them in the cups of your bras, they are your false tits.”

The recruits began to skylark and jibe each other and Mick stepped in straight away.

“Stop your fucking skylarking you grommets; those fucking arseholes are going to be here soon and if we haven’t made our best efforts what do you think they are going to do?” Mike snapped.

That shut then up got them focussed.

“Now sit on a bunk and unroll your tights.”

Wrens kept their black tights rolled up in neat balls when stowed in their lockers to meet locker inspection requirements. They usually wore 40 denier tights when on duty but nearly all of the girls kept some sheer 15 denier tights hidden away for when they were allowed out of the Wrenery or on short leave.

“Watch me.”

Michael showed them how to roll up the legs of the tights and put their feet into the toe section and how to pull them up their legs and snuggle into the gusset of the tights and then how to smooth the nylon up their legs to remove the wrinkles.

“They feel kind of nice,” Polly Perkins giggled.

Ok mates, put on your blouses, just remember they button from the other side so help each other, put on your ties and then put on your skirts. They huffed and struggled and cursed but eventually they were dressed. Okay step into those court shoes (Wrens court shoes were low heeled ‘pumps’ and were their dress shoes as opposed to the lace-ups they wore for day to day menial tasks) they struggled to stand in the courts even though they were low-heeled.

“Alright now pay attention, grab another pair of tights and two balls of knitting yarn that are the same colour and I’m going to show you how to make a wig. We’ve all completed basic seamanship and this isn’t that much different than the bends, hitches and ropework we did there,” Mick said.

Mick painstakingly led them step by step how to make makeshift wigs using the gusset of a pair of tights as the skullcap and the yarn as the hair. He knocked up his own black bob reasonably quickly and then went around and assisted the others using scissors to snip here and there to cut the wigs in some sort of shape. When they had finished they had four, collar length bobs of varying grades; Doc’s was absolutely awful but Michael’s wig looked quite good, except it was made of knitting yarn. Two were black, and one white, one brown.

“Ok you fuckers, Polly and Mary you want to be Stewards so go down to the brew boat and make some tea for us, there won’t be milk but there will be sugar. Doc sit down here and I’ll do your makeup,” Mick ordered.

Every block had a ‘brew boat’ where the sailors and wrens could make tea and coffee and if they were lucky have a biscuit. No other food was allowed in the barracks and it was a breach of discipline to bring food into the blocks.

“Fuck me Mick you seem to know a lot about this girly shit,” Doc jibed.

“I was the only son with four sisters; do you think they never forced me to play dress-up?” Michael tossed off as a casual response.

He thought to himself: ‘If you only knew the truth!’

They sipped tea while Mick did his best with their makeup. He could have actually done a lot better job than he did but he didn’t want to raise any suspicions but he couldn’t help himself when cane to doing his own. He took the makeup down to the bathroom and did a half-decent job on himself.

He came back and helped his mates put on their makeshift wigs and then he got them to pull on their blues jackets. He adjusted the Wrens caps with the HMS CHELMSFORD tally bands on their heads. They where subtly different to the sailor’s caps but he got them fitted flat-a-back.

“Ok you mucky lot; fall in and lets have a look at you,” he said.

They actually looked pathetic in their ill-fitting uniforms and poorly applied makeup. Hems weren’t straight, tights were saggy and some of their legs were downright hairy, and obviously so, even though they were wearing the heavy tights, and their makeup looked very clown-like. They looked exactly what they were: a bunch of hairy young men wearing women’s clothing with no idea how to do so. The exception was Michael Nyland, who except for the fact his wig was made of wool actually looked quite presentable.

The remains of Collins Division began to take the piss out of each other and jibe and jest until they heard the ominous sound of the foyer doors unlocking followed by the sound of hobnail boots on the tiled floor. Even more ominous was the sound of a cane tap tapping on the deck.

“Wrens Division HO!” called out Leading Recruit Spike Jones, and it echoed down the deserted passageway.

The four ‘Wrens’ of Collins Division fell in, in single file and snapped to attention.

To be continued

Author’s Note: Anyone who served in the RN during the period that this story is set will laugh at the implausibility of the situation described in the story. That said, I tried to make the details in this chapter as accurate as possible. My apologies if I have offended anyone but I do claim an author’s right to drive an implausible plot device so long as it suits the narrative.

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.

Barrack Room Betty

By Michele Nylons

Chapter Three – Michele’s Story

The four Wrens of Collins Division woke at ‘call the hands’ at 0640. Doris had got out of bed at 0600 to prepare breakfast and was in the galley. She’d tried her best to do her makeup and dress like a Wren but she still looked like a ‘scranbag’; not that it mattered, in the steam filled, greasy kitchen. Her hair was matted and her makeup ran as she sweated over breakfast.

Michele, Polly and Mary shaved and took their time applying makeup, pulling on and brushing their wigs and dressing in their Wrens uniforms.

“Ok girls; let’s get breakfast. Try not to upset Spike or get the other Leading Recruits offside,” Michele said fluffing around her charges and making sure they met her standards.

In the café, the Wrens sat at their table and ate their breakfast; very aware that the four Leading Recruits were looking at them critically. Michele kept her two Wrens engaged but she noticed that both Mary and Polly were preening and glancing across to the boys table.

“You two need to be careful,” Michele said.

“What on earth do you mean?” Polly asked.

“You know what I mean. You like it that the guys find you attractive. You don’t know where this might lead to, we still have the best part of six weeks to go,” Michele said.

“Oh come on Michele; it’s just a jolly! We look great dressed as Wrens thanks to your help but it’s just another way for the Leading Recruits to intimidate us. At least now they seem to appreciate us and don’t treat us like shit!” Polly replied.

“Yeah…Well just be careful,” Michele said.

Polly and Mary gave Michele an insolent look and glanced over to the men’s table and were happy to see that Jimmy, Jean and Billy were furtively glancing their way. Polly wriggled in her seat and smoothed her skirt ensuring her stocking-tops were on display and was rewarded with a gasp when the boys saw her thighs. Mary pushed out her breasts and ran her hand though her hair and was rewarded with a smile.

“Just be careful!” Michele snapped again and stood up and left the table.

She went back to the block and made a brew and sat outside smoking a cigarette, drinking her tea. She was worried about her friends who now had now become her charges; were they really that naive? Polly seemed very taken with crossdressing as a Wren, she obviously enjoyed the attention, and Mary was similarly engrossed with her female persona and happy to be an object of devotion rather than derision. Doris was not happy dressing as a Wren and Michele wondered if it was genuine disgust at having to dress as the opposite sex or whether she was pissed that she really didn’t look that good dressed as a Wren because of her weight.

She glanced at her watch and saw it was 0805 and time to turn too. HMS Chelmsford was ‘out of routine’ during the ROP, flag Charlie flying from the yard, indicating that the ceremony of colours and sunset was in abeyance. Normally both watches of the hands mustered on parade and reported for duty followed the hoisting of the White Ensign at 0800. Today Michele flicked her cigarette butt into the spit-kid, put her cigarettes and lighter into her pockets and made her way over to the administration building and the regulating office.

Leading Recruit Jones sat with his feet up at the Regulator’s desk, his spit-polished boots resting on the edge of the desk as he smoked a cigarette and sipped tea. He deliberately did not acknowledge Michele as she entered the office, removed her jacket and hung it on a peg, and sat behind the desk where the Wren Writer usually sat to type out Daily Orders, watchbills and various Memoranda.

He however did notice that once again she smoothed the seat of skirt and crossed her legs at the ankles; very ladylike peculiarities. The silence was icy and neither of them wanted to recount what had happened when Spike has spanked her last night.

“Get your pad and come over here Wren Nyland and I’ll dictate Daily Orders for tomorrow,” Spike said.

Michele picked up her steno pad and sat on a chair in front of Leading Recruit Jones, acutely aware of his gaze on her pretty face, her body and on her legs as she crossed them and smoothed down her skirt. Her right knee crossed over her left and she unconsciously rocked her right leg and dangled her shoe.

“Ok enough bullshit Michele. You know too much about dressing like a lady, makeup, clothes, wigs, the whole lot. And your mannerisms and voice; you can’t learn them in two days. What’s the story?” Spike stared at her.

Michele just sat, head down staring at the floor, dreading being here alone with Leading Recruit Jones. She raised her head and looked at him defiantly but there were tears forming in the corners of her eyes.

“You know you’re going to tell me; even if I have to spank it out of you,” Spike winked at her but Michele saw the cold malice behind the wink and shivered.

“Ok. This is my story,” Michele began…

Michael was born late in his parent’s marriage, an accident that occurred when his mom was in her mid-thirties. He had four older sisters who pretty much raised him in their mother’s absence as she was businesswoman who thought her child raising days were behind her. His sisters had no compunction in getting around the house partially clothed in his presence. They regularly turned up for breakfast dressed only in slip, bra, panties and hose. Their makeup would already be applied and they would eat their breakfast dressed only in lingerie. His sisters noticed his fascination with how they were dressed and teased him. They made him wear panties and slips to bed instead of pajamas.

They often held him down and put makeup on him, teasing out his long curly locks, dressing him in their lingerie and dresses, skirts, blouses, and heels. By the time Michael entered his early teens his sisters had married and left home but his predilection to crossdress was ingrained.

The feel of the sleek fabric of stockings, panties, bras, slips and suspenders on his skin was like nothing he had ever experienced in his short life. The flick of a hem, the sense of his skirt or dress against his thighs, flicking his fringe out of his eyes, wearing high-heels making his buttocks and legs taught and shapely. The taste of lipstick and smell of perfume, the reflection of his heavily made up face in mirror; it was all indescribably arousing to him.

Now in his late teens, Michael was left alone most of the time; with his sisters having married and moved out and his parents way on business he had the place to himself a lot of time. He acquired all the requisites he needed to crossdress and spent hours and sometimes days dressed as a woman, luxuriating in feeling feminine. He often masturbated whilst dressed; but it was more about the comfort he felt whilst dressed enfemme than the sexuality.

His life changed forever not long after his nineteenth birthday. Michele was dressed enfemme as usual on a rainy Saturday afternoon and was sitting quietly engrossed reading a fashion magazine. She never even heard the front door unlock nor the footsteps of her Uncle Bill and was shocked beyond speech when she looked up to see him standing over her.

“Oh my god!” Michele clasped a hand to her mouth in surprise.

“Oh my god! Is that you Michael?” Bill looked astounded.

“What are you doing here?” Michele asked.

“Your dad asked me to drop in and make sure you were ok; he and your mom have been away for over a week and were worried about you,” Bill replied.

“And you couldn’t call first! You couldn’t knock! For fuck sake Uncle Bill!” Michele began to whimper.

“Look we need to talk about this Michael,” Bill demanded.

“This isn’t about me, it’s about you,” Bill went on.

He sat down next to his nephew.

“It’s Michele,” Michele sobbed.

“When I’m dressed I’m Michele,” she explained.

“Ok Michele; do you want to explain?” Bill asked.

“Are you going to tell mom and dad?” Michele asked.

“Tell me about it first Michele,” Bill said placing a soothing hand on her shoulder.

Michele told her uncle about how his sisters dressed him as a girl and about how she had come to love dressing as a girl and did so at every opportunity.

“And no one knows?” Bill scooted up close to Michele.

“Well, now you do,” Michele heaved and tears ran down her cheeks.

“And soon everyone else will I suppose,” she cried

“There, there,” Bill patted her knee, his fingertip stroking the diaphanous nylon of her stocking.

Michele was sobbing and Bill pulled her to him so that her head rested on his shoulder; he hugged her and stroked her hair. Michele found this very comforting and also very feminine; a frail young woman being comforted by an older man. She could smell his aftershave, tobacco and whisky.

Bill rubbed her back and continued to stroke her hair; she felt so feminine in his arms and she smelt delicious and sexy. He held her like that for ages and then Bill became aware that he was becoming aroused.

“We don’t have to tell anyone you know,” he murmured quietly.

Michele raised her head and looked him in the eyes. She was young and beautiful, despite the smudged mascara; her sparkling green eyes, accentuated by eyeliner, eyeshadow and mascara, her high sharp cheekbones defined by rouge and her full lips enhanced by ruby red lipstick.

“It can be our secret,” Bill sighed and lowered his face to hers.

Michele was too shocked to protest and when she felt his soft lips on hers she was at first confused, and then delighted. It was the ultimate compliment; a man found her attractive! This was what she had been missing dressing up alone, the companionship of someone who treated her just like a lady.

When Bill pulled her closer she responded and kissed him back. Bill slid his tongue into her mouth and at first Michele was shocked but it felt so nice, so natural, and she entwined her tongue with his. They kissed and hugged for at least half an hour and then breathless, Michele eased her face from his.

“Can this really be our secret Uncle Bill?” Michele looked searchingly into his eyes.

“Of course and it’s just Bill,” he pulled her to him again and Michele snuggled up to him and kissed him back.

They kissed for a while longer and then Michele felt Bill take her hand and guide it to his groin; her fingers felt the hardness of his member through his trousers and she snatched her hand away.

“No Bill!” she gasped, although they continued to kiss.

But then she felt Bill’s hand slide under her dress and caress her stocking-clad thighs and she melted. It felt so good, she felt like a woman being seduced by a man. She allowed him to stroke the soft creamy skin above her stocking welts and then he gently stroked her erect penis through her soft nylon panties and she shuddered with pleasure. Her hand snaked back down to his groin and she willingly gripped his erection through his trousers.

They continued to kiss and fondle; Bill gently stroking Michele’s throbbing penis through her knickers and Michele rubbing Bill through his trousers. Then she became adventurous and she undid his flies and snaked her fingers inside and found his hot, hard, erection; she gripped it and then raked her painted fingernails along the throbbing shaft. Bill squeezed Michele harder through her panties and they both gasped and slavered at each other with passion.

Michele stroked Bill’s cock; squeezing his bulbous glans and she felt the pre-seminal fluid leak from the eye. She stroked it faster and harder and Bill did the same to her. They both came in few seconds; she flooding her panties and Bill gushing into his underpants and trousers. They were kissing each other so passionately that their teeth were clicking together.

They remained snuggled up to each other, kissing, and stroking each other fondly on the cheek. Michele broke the kiss.

“I guess we both have a secret now,” Michele giggled.

Now she felt absolutely like a woman. A man had found her truly desirable and had made advances to her which she had welcomed.

“Let me get us a drink so we can talk more about this,” Bill said and disentangled himself from her.

He dropped his pants and kicked them off, followed by his socks and shoes. He hung his trousers over the back of a chair.

“I’ll let them dry out,” he smiled as he poured them both a glass of wine.

He returned and sat down next to Michele who had cleaned herself as best she could with some tissues. It wasn’t long before they were kissing again and that led to fondling and that led to them touching each other. This time Bill placed a firm hand on Michele’s neck and guided her face down to his groin. Michele hesitated only briefly before she lowered her mouth over his pulsating member and began to slather and suck it. Bill came almost instantly; he’d always dreamed of getting a blowjob but his church-going wife wouldn’t even entertain the idea and doled about sex once a month or so, lying frigid on her back in a full length dressing down.

Michele was so turned on when Bill exploded in her mouth; it gave her a feeling of power as well as femininity. She was shocked and then wonderfully surprised when Bill lowered his face to her lap, hiked up her skirt and began to kiss her through her knickers. When she was suitably tumescent Bill swallowed her cock and after sucking on it for barely thirty seconds she orgasmed as well.

Half an hour later they sat chatting on the lounge; Michele was lying with her head in his lap and Bill was stroking her hair soothingly, while his other hand explored her body.

“So it’s our secret. Whenever my mom and dad are away you come over and visit,” Michele summarised their conversation.

“Oh you bet darling and every opportunity we can get together, I would love to,” Bill smiled down at her.

“Hmm? What’s going on here then?” Michele turned her head towards Bill’s slowly thickening penis and licked the shaft.

Bill threw his head back and sighed.

“Oh you vixen!” he moaned and Michele engulfed his manhood.

And all was good for about a year and then one day in 1973 the inevitable happened. Michele’s bedroom door burst open and in strode her dad to find her on her back moaning with passion, her stocking-clad legs draped over Bills shoulders as he slowly fucked her. They were so engrossed in their lovemaking that it wasn’t until Michele’s father’s roundhouse punch knocked Bill to the floor that they realised they had been caught.

It was chaos for a while, with accusations of homosexuality, incest and adultery, flung backwards and forwards between the two families. Eventually it was decided that to save the family name, Michael would join the Armed Forces and never crossdress again, and Bill would take a sabbatical from the college where he worked and take his wife on an extended European tour. The families would never mention the incident again.

“And so here I am; Recruit Michael Nyland, hiding my families’ shame by joining the Andrew,” Michele whispered.

Michele’s story had gotten Spike sexually aroused and he was doing his best to hide an erection.

“You mean Recruit Wren Michele Nyland,” Spike replied.

“Yes Leader,” Michele responded submissively.

“Come here!” he ordered.

Michele arose and stood to attention in front of him. Spike looked her up and down, her pretty face framed by the black bob, lovely green eyes, and slender neck with the tie knotted at her throat. Her white blouse billowed by breasts he knew were false but her slim hips were real as were those long, shapely legs enhanced by the sheer black stockings. Even her long elegant fingers looked lovely with their red nailpolish.

He reached out and pulled her into his lap; her soft buttocks pressing down on his erection. Her legs dangling over the armrest of the chair. He drew her face to his, her breath sweet with a hint of tobacco; he gazed in her eyes than he crushed her lips with his. Her arms went up around his neck and she pulled him to her as she returned the kiss.

To be continued.

Barrack Room Betty

By Michele Nylons

Chapter Four – A Night at the Flicks

Michele was confused; she didn’t like Leading Recruit Jason Jones one bit, he was a bully but he was also handsome, strong and actually quite intelligent. She knew he had a thing for her as soon as the Leading Recruits made the grommets crossdress, and of course last night he had ejaculated in his pants when he was spanking her.

Michele was no prude, she liked having sex as a transvestite, her Uncle had taught her all sorts of tricks, and then they had learned quite a few of their own during their torrid one-year affair. Spike was only the second man she had been amorous with, but she was no virgin.

She felt Spike’s fingers caress her calf then trace the backseam of her stocking all the way up her thigh to the welt; she kissed him harder and wriggled in his lap, she loved having her legs played with. She gasped in his mouth when his fingers slid along the front of her satin panties. She was getting wet, pre-seminal fluid leaking into her knickers and she could feel Spike’s cock throbbing against her bottom.

Then a door crashed open down the passageway.

“Fuck me hookey; what the fuck is going on in with this rock show!” Petty Officer Knocker White yelled out as he clamoured along the passageway from the Duty Instructor’s cabin towards the reg office.

“Fuck!” Spike shrieked, and dropped Michele unceremoniously on her arse as he leapt to his feet.

“Fuck! Hide! Get under the desk!” Spike pointed to the foot-well under the Reg Office desk and Michele crawled into it, drawing her knees up under her chin.

She couldn’t help but see the funny side and tried to suppress a giggle.

“Oh please Michele shut the fuck up or we are all in a world of shit!” Spike begged.

“Anything for you darling,” Michele smiled up at him mischievously.

Spike raised a fist to her but he was smiling.

PO Knocker White looked like shit. His uniform was dishevelled, his hair a mess, his beard unkempt and he smelled like sweat, stale beer and rum.

“Leading Recruit Jones reporting PO,” Spike snapped to the Ho.

Knocker dropped into the chair recently vacated by Michele and put his feet on the desk.

“Sit down hookey,” He blurted out around a belch.

Spike didn’t know what smelled worse, Knocker’s breath or his rancid feet.

“Look it’s only been a few of days and I told you at the start that I wanted all the blocks and facilities checked daily but I ain’t getting the signed rounds chits,” he began.

“Your knuckleheads and the four grommets should be able to do this easy. One grommet cooks, the rest of you do your rounds, do cleanos as required, and repair any fucking thing that is broken and if you can’t fix it, log it in the defect log. How fucking hard is that?”

“Well…” Spike was about to interject and Knocker held up a hand to stop him.

“Then at dinner one of you fuckwits brings me the signed rounds chit from each block and I countersign it and you return it to the appropriate block or facility. Then I go back to watching dits, drinking piss and having the occasional wank. Tass all!”

“Should take you fuckwits half a day tops then you can go back to drinking in the wets; don’t protest, I know you have the key and I don’t give a fuck, and torturing the grommets or whatever you limp-dicks do for fun.”

“Got it?”

“Yes PO!” Spike snapped.

“Well get it done! I’m going for a shit and a dhoby. I want those rounds chits completed and in front of me when my scran is delivered tonight,” Knocker smiled, displaying a set of green-tinged teeth.

“By the way; it smells like a Wan Chai knocking shop in here; you wearing some homo aftershave of something?”

It was a rhetorical question but Spike was about to answer when Knocker lifted an arse cheek and farted long and hard releasing a miasma that smelled worse than a Wan Chai shithouse.

“If that’s not shit, it’ll do to til we get some,” Knocker chortled.

He stood up unsteadily and left the office.

“Oh my god that is foul!” Michele scrambled to her feet and darted to the corner of the office farthest from where Knocker had farted.

Spike followed her and pulled her into his arms.

“Your perfume was what he smelled,” Spike said.

“Would you rather I smelled like pussers hard and Gamlen, or a Wan Chai Kai Tai?” Michele rubbed up against him.

Pussers hard soap was used for general cleaning but some cheapskates were known to use it in the shower rather than buy their own soap and Gamlen was a commercial heavy duty cleaner widely used in the RN.

“No Michele; you smell beautiful,” he put his hands around her waist and pulled her to him and kissed her.

“And you look beautiful too,” he gazed into her eyes with genuine affection.

“Then why do you keep beating me and treating me like shit?” a look of dismay and apprehension crossed her face.

Spike’s face glowed red with guilt. He genuinely looked ashamed of himself.

Michele grinned.

“Because I’m a fucking grommet Recruit Wren who needs discipline and if you don’t keep that charade up we will both be in deep shit when the others figure out what we’re up to,” Michele said.

“What are we up to Michele?” Spike gazed into her eyes.

She pulled Spike’s face to hers and kissed him tenderly; but she didn’t answer.

“I’ve fucked up! All this bullshit getting you girls dressed as Wrens and drinking all day, we haven’t been doing proper rounds and filling in the paperwork,” Spike lamented.

“Well Leader, you have a Wren Writer who can type up your Daily Orders and get them distributed ASAP. Then I can join up with the other Wrens and we can check the blocks and bring you the rounds chits. If you get the other three Leading Recruits to help we can get back on track in no time,” Michele said.

“But I was kinda hoping to spend some time with my favourite Wren today,” Spike smiled down at her.

“Let’s get this done Jason; we have six weeks to spend time together,”

“Your right Wren Writer Nyland,” he said officiously.

“And I like it when you call me Jason,” he brushed his lips against hers and then playfully spanked her behind.

“Ok Wren Nyland, start typing!” he instructed.

They both sat down and Spike dictated the routine he wanted followed to get their maintenance and rounds routine back on track. Michele interjected here and there when she thought she had a better idea. She typed away on a Gestetner stencil fed into the typewriter. She put the finished orders onto the drum of the Gestetner copier and cranked the handle producing ten copies of Daily Orders; one each for the recruits, one for PO White and one for the file.

When Michele bent over the copier Spike tried to play with her bottom but Michele brushed his hand away.

“Later sweetheart, you know we have to get this done,” Michele admonished him.

“Ok I’m going to deliver your Daily Orders and join up with the work party to catch up on what needs to done,” Michele said buttoning her jacket and putting the documents under her arm.

“But that means I won’t see you for the rest of the day,” Spike looked petulant.

Michele stopped in front of the mirror, pulled her lipstick out of her regulation black handbag and fixed her lipstick and then brushed her hair.

“I told you we have plenty of time to get to know each other,” Michele winked at him and skittered out the door.

“Fuck me I’m head over A-bracket for a Wren! A fucking transvestite Wren at that!” Spike smiled, sat down, put up his feet up and lit a cigarette remembering Michele’s soft embrace.

Michele met up with her three charges, Doris had finished in the Galley and didn’t need to be back until 1100 having prepared lunch already, all she needed to do was warm it though. Michele issued the Daily Orders and explained what needed to be done.

“If we split up into pairs we can knock this over by secure,” Michele said.

Secure was 1700, one hour before dinner.

“We could do it quicker if we weren’t dressed like fucking girls!” Doris moaned.

“I’m fucking fed up with you Doris! We have no choice so shut your bitching!” Michele snapped.

“Oh you fucking like this don’t you! You’re some sort of homo transvestite fag aren’t you!” Doris snapped back.

Michele slapped Doris across the face, much to the astonishment of Polly and Mary.

Michele looked Doris in the eye waiting for a response and got none. Doris lowered her head submissively. Michele took a deep breath and then she reached into her pockets and took out her cigarettes and lighter, lit a cigarette and exhaled. They all knew there was no smoking allowed in the blocks but no one had the temerity to tell her.

Michele pointed a manicured, red nailpolished fingernail at Doris.

“You don’t know what I’ve done to save our arses! I put myself in front of you last night when Jason was going to hit you! You don’t like being a Wren? Well tough titty! It’s the lot we all have to bear!” Michele hissed.

“Ok, I’m taking Polly; you take Mary. We do our rounds and meet back here when we’ve finished,” Michele said.

She grabbed Polly by her tie and dragged her out the cabin and then fell against the passageway bulkhead laughing, pulling Polly to her.

“Fuck! Can you believe my performance in there?” Michele cackled.

“Oh you were one super-bitch!” Polly sniggered conspiratorially.

“You know that was all bullshit; that I’m really just a sissy whimp?” Michele looked into Polly’s big brown eyes.

“Yeah I know. And you know what? You’re turning me into one as well; I really like these clothes and the stockings and the makeup and the wigs and my god I think I’ve come in me knickers half a dozen times,” Polly giggled.

“Come on Wren Perkins; let us about our duties,” Michele said being serious again.

As they burst out the end of the block and made their way over to the Nelson Division block, Polly couldn’t help herself and said out the side of her mouth.

“So when did Leading Recruit Spike Jones suddenly become Jason?” Polly chided Michele, pushing her shoulder playfully.

“Fuck off Polly,” Michele twittered.

“You be careful there Wren Nyland,” he’s taken a shine to you and he’s dangerous, Polly admonished.

“But he’s so dreamy,” Michele said sarcastically, taking Polly’s hand and rolling her eyes romantically.

They both laughed at Michele’s bad acting.

As they entered Nelson Block Michele looked seriously at Polly.

“Ok let’s find the brew boat and make a cuppa and have a ciggie, I have a confession to make.”

Michele told Polly the same story that she had told Jason about her past as a crossdresser and her relationship with her Uncle Bill.

“Oh my god Michele! That’s incredible!” Polly said when Michele finished.

They sat in silence finishing their cigarettes. Polly eventually broke the silence.

“Is it catching?” Polly asked.

“Is what catching? ” Michele asked incredulously.

“Transvestism?” Polly said looking Michele in the eye.

“Are you serious?” Michele gasped.

“Well it’s just that ever since you dressed me like a girl I can’t get the idea of Jimmy Lovejoy throwing me on the bed and doing unmentionable things to me out of my head,” Polly laughed.

“Oh you big poof!” Michele laughed and spanked Polly on the bum.

“OK sister, let’s get this shit sorted, as those rough Navy men say,” Michele quipped.

They worked the rest of the day stopping only for lunch. The Leading Recruits had come in early and were gone by the time Michele and Polly got to the café. Michele was a little disappointed not to see Jason but she was pragmatic. There was work to be done.

Michele approached Doris who seemed to have made a better effort with her clothes and her makeup; she seemed refreshed and her hair was brushed.

“Are we good?” Michele asked.

“Sure Michele. I know you are only trying to help us,” Doris said apologetically.

“Ok Doris lets plough through the rest of this shit and you can return here at 1630 to start dinner,” Michele said.

“Ok,” Doris replied.

Mary looked across approvingly, seeing her two friends make up.

“Come on Doris; it won’t take long, we’ve only really got the canteen to sort out,” Mary said encouragingly to her friend.

“Bring me back a couple of pairs of sheers will ya. I’ve laddered mine today,” Polly called across the café, and they all burst out laughing.

That evening at dinner the four Wrens sat together as usual while the four Leading Recruits sat at their usual table. Michele kept sneaking surreptitious glances across to the boy’s table to look at Jason who was doing the same thing to her. The other three lads also snuck glances over at the Wrens. The Wrens had all freshened their makeup, brushed their hair, applied perfume and replaced laddered stockings and looked particularly scrumptious to the men at the other table.

“Fuck they’re hot,” James Lovejoy said to his oppos.

“If I didn’t know they were guys under that lipstick and powder I’d give one of them a shag,” opined Jean Burgess.

“You’d pop one in them anyway Burgess; I always knew you were a poo-puncher,” Billy Marron joked and punched his mate playfully in the shoulder.

“I’ll tell you what though; if we hadn’t seen them as guys before, you would never know they weren’t real Wrens. Even the fat one has spruced herself up,” James Lovejoy remarked.

“Well me hearties; you might just have your chance to find out if you really do fancy one of our Wrens,” Spike espoused.

He stood up on his chair and addressed the café.

“Ladies and gentlemen; and I use those terms loosely for you all,” they all smiled at his joke.

“I have been given permission to open the base cinema tonight; so boys and girls, it’s off to the flicks. Doors open at 1930 sharp,” he announced.

“Doris, be a dear and flash up the popcorn maker before we get there. Me and the boys will bring libations,” he winked and tossed the keys to Doris.

“Why is he being so nice to us?” Mary asked.

“Maybe his Wren Writer is taking down more than dictation,” Polly jibed and Michele blushed and kicked her viciously under table.

“Fuck! Easy Michele; these are brand new sheers!” Polly whined.

The four Wrens went over to the cinema early and helped Doris flash up the popcorn maker and loaded it with popping corn. Billy Marron arrived not long after.

“Spike sent me to flash up the projector and get the first reel loaded. I thought Doris was going to be here on her own doing the popcorn,” Billy blushed when he realised how that sounded.

Doris also blushed and Polly and Michele smiled at each other.

“I knew that this was likely to happen as soon as they decided to dress us,” Michele whispered to Polly.

“You can help me if you like?” Billy said to Doris, still blushing.

Doris looked sheepishly at the other three Wrens who nodded approvingly.

“Ok Billy, but no funny business!” Doris snapped and Billy’s face went from pink to crimson.

Billy guided Doris over to the steep staircase that led up to the projection booth. He got her to go ahead of him up the stairs and it was obvious he was looking up her skirt; his eyes locked on her ample behind as they ascended.

When they turned the corner at the landing and were out of sight the three Wrens rocked with laughter.

“Who would have thought it?” Mary asked.

“Well it just goes to show you,” Polly replied.

A few minutes later the remaining Leading Recruits arrived carrying six-packs of beer. They burst through the double doors and they’d obviously had a few but weren’t drunk.

“Evening ladies,” Jimmy Lovejoy smiled.

“Told you we’d bring the libations,” he held up two six-packs.

“Where’s the other one?” Jean Burgess enquired.

“Doris went up to help Billy set up the projector,” Polly replied.

“Did she now?” Jean beamed.

“Oi! She ain’t like that! She’s the only one of us who doesn’t like dressing like a girl!” Mary quipped and immediately regretted saying it.

Michele covered her eyes at the gaffe, Polly blushed and looked at the floor and Mary tried to correct herself.

“I mean; we’re all only doing it because you’re making us, it’s just that Doris is the most, shall we say, reluctant.”

Michele shook her head; Mary was just digging a bigger hole for herself and the other Wrens.

“Really?” Jimmy smiled sarcastically.

The tension was broken when Billy came clattering down the stairs. Everyone in the foyer just stopped and stared at him.

“What are you lot looking at?” he scoffed.

“Gimme that!” he took a six-pack of ale from Jimmy Lovejoy than went over to the counter and snatched up a large box of popcorn.

“I’m gonna flash the movie up in five minutes so get seated. And err, me and Doris are going to watch it from the projectionist booth; saves having to nip up there to change reels.”

He clattered back up the stairs in an obvious rush. Everyone in the foyer remained stock-still and silent, staring after him. When he turned the corner at the landing they all burst out laughing.

What Billy hadn’t realised when he came down from the projectionist booth was that his face was flushed and covered with lipstick!

“All right, all right, enough skylarking let’s get some good seats; I’ve been wanting to see this dit for ages,” Spike Jones rumbled.

The three Wrens went ahead into the darkened cinema and went down the aisle a few rows to find seats in the centre and about three-quarters of the way back from the screen. Mary slid into the row and Michele was about to slide in beside her when she felt a firm grip on her upper arm.

Jason Jones eased her away and guided her into a row three down from the others.

“These seats are better,” he smiled, pulling down a seat and wiping it with a hanky and offering it to Michele.

Michele sat down and placed the popcorn in her lap. She turned her head to see Mary and Polly sitting side by side with the Jimmy and Jean sitting side by side next to them. She smiled nervously, noting that they were all staring at her and Jason.

Michele looked down at her popcorn and mumbled.

“I suppose any mystery about us has been solved,” she looked furtively at Jason who was staring straight ahead.

He reached down and took two cans of beer and popped them open and gave Michele one. He took a big slug of his, put it down on the seat beside him and turned to face her.

“What mystery?”

“You know,” Michele tentatively put out a hand and touched his leg.

Jason took her hand in his and intertwined his fingers with hers.

“Like I give a fuck what anyone else thinks,” he looked her in the eyes and with his free hand he stroked her face, flicking her fringe out of her eyes.

Just then the musical notes of ‘The Entertainer’, theme music to ‘The Sting’ burst through the speakers and the screen lit up with the opening scene.

“Ok let’s watch the dit: like I said, I’ve been waiting ages to see this,” he picked up his beer and turned to face the screen.

“Did Spike just stroke Michele’s face?” Jimmy asked.

“I think he did,” Polly replied.

“Well I never!” Jimmy exclaimed.

“I bet you have,” Polly jibed.

“Shh! Shh! I’m trying to watch the dit,” Mary admonished them.

Polly snatched a brief glimpse at Jimmy and he smiled back at her. Her heart skipped a beat; she thought he was so handsome.

“You going to pass those beers around sometime soon?” Mary leaned forward and asked Jean Burgess who was sitting at the end of the four people in her row.

Jean popped a can and attempted to reach across Jimmy and Polly to give it to Mary but some of the froth dribbled down the can and onto Jimmy’s arm.

“For fuck sake!” he whinged.

“I’ve got a better idea,” Jean said.

He stood up, grabbed a six pack and squeezed through the row of seats behind them and entered their row from the other end and sat beside Mary.

“Here,” he offered her the beer and Mary smiled at him when she took it.

They were now sitting in order: Jean, Mary, empty seat, Polly, Jimmy. The girls had big boxes of popcorn in their laps, which they shared with the boy sitting beside them. They munched popcorn, drank beer and watched the movie.

It was halfway though the first reel when Polly felt Jimmy’s fingers touch the hem of her skirt. The cinema was pitch black except for the light reflected from the screen. She looked down and saw Jimmy’s fingers tentatively stroking the hem of her skirt. She slapped his hand and he quickly withdrew it. Jimmy looked chastened and Polly smiled. She wondered how long it would take before he tried again.

To be continued.

Barrack Room Betty

By Michele Nylons

Chapter Five – Boys Will Be Girls

The three Wrens and three Leading Recruits were sitting engrossed in the movie. Michele rested her head on Jason’s shoulder and they were still holding hands.

Jean was reaching into Mary’s popcorn bucket every few minutes, chewing popcorn around swigs of beer; he was enchanted by her perfume and found her very attractive but he had no idea how to woo her. Then he reached for some popcorn and misjudged and his hand fell in her lap; he looked at her startled and snatched his hand away.

“Oh my god I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

Mary looked at him and smiled. She dropped the popcorn carton on the deck and took his hand in hers and put it back in her lap. Jean beamed at her and leaned into her.

“Thanks,” he murmured.

Mary kissed him chastely on the lips and squeezed his hand.

“Watch the dit; we’ll snog later,” she grinned at him and then turned to face the dit.

Jean sat there holding Mary’s hand, a raging erection in his bell-bottom pants and a beatific smile on his face.

Polly and Jimmy had been exchanging furtive glances on and off since Jean had moved next to Mary; the sexual tension between them was palpable and eventually Jimmy could take it no longer. He leaned over and whispered in her ear.

“Spike and Michele seem taken with each other,” he nodded towards the two lovebirds sitting three rows in front of them.

“Like it was some sort of secret? Really!” Polly replied satirically.

“What do you think?” Jimmy enquired.

“I think it’s disgusting; a transvestite Wren canoodling with a Leading Recruit,” Polly replied.

Jimmy blanched; disappointed with her reply.

“Yeah,” Jimmy sighed.

“Of course, if I was to do this, it would be entirely different and acceptable,” Polly sniggered.

She pulled Jimmy’s face to hers and kissed him passionately and reached down and squeezed his cock though his trousers.

Jimmy gasped with surprise and then responded to her kiss, putting his arms around her.

Polly shrugged him off after a minute or so.

“Ok enough,” let’s watch the movie.

But she left her hand in his lap and tortured him, running her nails along the outside of his cock, squeezing it now and then.

“You teasing bitch!” Jimmy smirked.

“Shh, watch the dit,” Polly sniggered, squeezing him again.

And so the three couples watched the movie, Michele holding hands with Jason, and Mary holding hands with Jean. Polly was idly stroking Jimmy’s cock through his bell-bottomed trousers. They were all content, entertained by the movie but at the same time wondering with anticipation what would happen next.

They had crossed the line just as Michele had predicted. This was no longer the Leading Recruits tormenting their grommets by making them dress as Wrens. The Leading Recruits had become infatuated with their creations and were now carnally involved. The Wrens had been feminised to the extent that they actually liked being dressed as women, and not only that, they appreciated the attentions of the four men left in charge of them.

They were all a little nervous about what had transpired but they were all content with the consequences; the only question was, how far were they willing to go?

The six newly acquainted lovers sat watching the movie, holding hands and canoodling, sipping beer and munching popcorn, just like sweethearts out on a date. Then all of sudden the reel ended and the screen was bathed in bright light. They all let go of each other and sat up straight, the cruel light putting an end to their intimacy.

“What the fuck?” Spike growled.

“Billy was supposed to have the second reel cued so it just cut right in seamlessly.”

“Never mind folks; let’s call this intermission. Jimmy go and get some more beer from the wets, Mary, you make more popcorn, and I’ll find out what the fuck is going on in the projection booth.”

“I’ll go with Jimmy and help with the beer,” Polly volunteered.

“And I’ll help Mary with popcorn,” Jean replied.

“And I might as well help Jason find out what’s going on in the projection booth,” Michele huffed.

“And fucking hurry up you lot! I wanna see how The Sting ends; it was really getting interesting!” Michele whined.

She grabbed Jason’s hand almost dragged him up the aisle.

“Fuck! She’s got her knickers in a twist!” Jimmy laughed.

“Come on big boy, let’s get that beer and get back here for the last of the show I wanna see how it ends too,” Polly took Jimmy’s hand and followed the others.

“Just you and me left,” Jean said to Mary who was still sitting in her seat.

The cinema suddenly went dark as the projector stopped; only the dim light of the exit signs providing a faint hue.

Jean held out his hand to help Mary out of her seat. She took his hand but surprised him by pulling him down into his seat and then she closed her face to his and kissed him. He was surprised briefly and then he responded, kissing her deeply and passionately. She threw her arms around him and pulled him to her.

It was awkward with both of them sitting side on and Jean lifted Mary out of her seat and put her in his lap and embraced her and kissed her, his tongue exploring her mouth.

“Oh god,” Mary moaned and threw her arms around her suitor and wriggled her buttocks in his lap.

Jean slid his hand along her leg and stroked her thigh.

“Oh you naughty boy,” she gasped and kissed him again.

Michele led Jason through the lobby and up the stairs to the projection booth; Jason’s eyes were locked on Michele’s taught buttocks, her skirt tight against her cheeks as she climbed the stairs. At the landing he hauled her up and pulled her to him and kissed her, Michele pressed against him and lifted her leg and wrapped it around his as they fell against the wall. Jason’s hand went to her thigh as he kissed her deeply. Michele reached down and squeezed him briefly through the flies of his bell-bottomed trousers.

“We can do this later honey; I really want to see the end of the movie,” she cooed.

“Jesus you’ve got me so horny Michele, but yeah, I want to see how it ends too,” Jason capitulated.

They made their way up the last flight of stairs and opened the door to the projection booth and were shocked with what they saw.

Billy was sitting in the projectionist chair, his bells around his ankles. Doris was sitting astride him, face to face. Her skirt was discarded and he was holding onto her suspender straps as she slowly rode up and down on his erect penis. They were kissing as they fucked, oblivious to the outside world. Doris had her heels planted on the deck and slowly rose and lowered herself on Billy’s engorged member. She still had her knickers on, the gusset had been pulled aside to allow Billy access to her virginal bud. Billy moved his hands to her waist lifting and lowering her in tempo with her gyrations.

Michele yanked Jason out of the doorway and back on the landing and pulled him to her.

“Let them finish,” she whispered in his ear and then playfully bit his earlobe.

“They won’t be long,” she smiled up at him and drew his face to hers.

“But I wanna see how the movie ends,” Jason whined between kisses.

“It’s intermission; they’ll get the second reel going soon. I can keep you amused until then,” Michele smiled at him and dropped to her knees.

Michele opened the buttons on Jason’s flies and reached in and extracted his semi-erect penis.

“Oh Michele I’ve never had a girl do this to me before,” Jason gasped looking down at the pretty transvestite Wren on her knees before him.

Michele looked up into his eyes and smiled and then lowered her lips to his manhood. It quickly became fully erect and Michele slid her lips along his shaft and worked her tongue on his glans.

Jason put his hands on Michele’s head and slowly rocked backwards and forwards as Michele clasped her lips around his shaft and lapped at his fraenulum with the tip of her tongue. She didn’t expect him to last long and he didn’t. He filled her mouth with creamy semen and shuddered as he orgasmed; Michele looked up and was rewarded with the countenance of pure pleasure on Jason’s handsome face as she swallowed his issue. He gazed down at her and looked in her eyes with an expression of gratitude and devotion.

Michele dutifully drained him and licked him clean. She eased his deflating penis back inside his underpants and buttoned his fly. Jason helped her to her feet and drew her to him.

“That was wonderful,” he sighed.

Michele smiled wistfully back at him.

Jason made to kiss Michele but she turned her face aside.

“What?” he looked hurt.

“Well you just, you know, came in my mouth and…”

Jason silenced her, turning her face to his and he kissed her deeply; his tongue exploring her mouth as they embraced.

“And it was lovely. I’m not ashamed or offended Michele,” he stroked her hair and then pinched her playfully on the nose.

“Come on let’s see the end of the dit,” he took her hand and then kicked at the projection room door.

“Hurry up you two, we want to see the end of the movie!” he yelled.

There was the sound of a chair scraping and the scrambling of heels on the floor from inside the booth.

“Sorry Spike; I got a bit distracted. I’m just loading up the second reel now. Won’t be long,” Jean’s muffled voice came through the door.

Michele and Jason broke into peals of laughter and made their way down the stairs to the foyer.

Over at the wets Polly and Jimmy were rolling on the big couch, kissing, groping, fondling and stroking each other. The sexual tension between the two had been palpable for a couple of days now and as soon as their first chance to be alone together presented itself they couldn’t keep their hands off each other.

They started kissing as soon as they entered the wets and Polly had guided Jimmy over towards the big couch and pushed him down and sat astride him kissing him passionately, mussing his hair and squeezing his broad muscular shoulders.

“Is this ok?” Jimmy asked when they broke to get their breath.

“I just feel so feminine with you Jimmy; ever since we started crossdressing I’ve sort of had a thing for you,” Polly admitted.

“I’ve heard the ABs and kellicks talk about going with Kai Tais and Beanie Boys during their deployments to South East Asia; the way I see it this is no different,” Jimmy said.

“And I’ve had the hots for you ever since the first time I saw you dressed. I mean I have the hots for Wren Polly, if you know what I mean,” Jimmy blushed.

“Let’s not make it complicated; you like it, I like it,” let’s leave it at that.

Polly lowered her face to his and they kissed and then rolled onto the couch. They tentatively explored each other, Jimmy sliding his hands along Polly stockinged legs and Polly squeezing his hard penis through his bell-bottomed trousers. Jimmy loved the feel of her smooth legs and his hand went further up her skirt past the welt and bare skin until he found her nylon panties.

This would be the moment of truth! He slid his hand along the front of her panties and found Polly erect and leaking pre-seminal fluid. He was not disgusted and in fact he found it very titillating and he kissed her harder and stroked her cock through her knickers.

The moment of truth came for Polly when she released Jimmy’s engorged manhood from his flies but as soon as her hand found his smooth hard flesh she was in heaven. She felt so feminine lying underneath him with his hand up her skirt while she stroking his turgid phallus and they kissed and caressed.

“Oh god this feels so naughty, but also so delicious,” Polly sighed.

“What about this then?” Jimmy grunted and moved Polly’s hand away from his penis and rested it against hers.

He rubbed his penis against Polly’s through the diaphanous panty material.

“Oh my god that is so good!” Polly crushed her lips against his and raised her legs and pulled him closer to her; arching herself and thrusting against him.

They were happy to frottage for a while then Polly whimpered in Jimmy’s ear.

“I want to feel it in me.”

Jimmy’s cock strained and pulsed at the thought; and he quickly lifted her so that her buttocks were propped up off the couch, he took a pillow and stuffed it underneath her. Jimmy lifted Polly’s legs up in the air, her thighs parted and he pulled the gusset of her panties to one side.

“Be gentle Jimmy,” Polly whispered her voice full of trepidation but also lust.

Jimmy was kneeling on the couch, Polly’s spread legs open wide as he attempted to guide his penis into her anus.

Polly grunted with pain.

"Sorry babe!" Jimmy apologised

Jimmy spat on his penis and rubbed it all over, then he spat and rubbed it on her puckered bud.

“How romantic,” Polly giggled.

“Shut up,” Jimmy laughed along with her.

Jimmy pushed forward and the head of his penis pierced her sphincter. Polly moaned and bucked but Jimmy rode with her, not trying to push himself any further inside her but not letting her eject his cock.

"Honey; relax and it will be ok," Jimmy whispered, trying to sooth her.

"Ok babe but take it nice and slow" Polly moaned.

Polly knew that she needed to relax her sphincter and fight the instinct to push against the object invading her anus.

"That's it sweetheart," said Jimmy as he felt Polly's sphincter spasm as she tried to relax it.

Polly forced her inner muscles to relax and the twinges of pain began to subside. Jimmy slowly pushed himself inside her; he took his time and whenever Polly flinched he stopped and soothed her. He took more spit and put it on his penis.

Jimmy continued to press slowly forward cooing and encouraging Polly to stay calm and relax her anal constrictor muscles. Then, when he had about three-quarters of his shaft inside her, he sensed her internal muscles respond and she gasped. His glans had found her prostate gland. Her reaction was pleasure not pain.

Jimmy knew better than to rush; he took his time pushing the remaining few inches of his shaft inside Polly until eventually he was buried inside her with his scrotum resting snugly against her. He lowered his upper body down and as he slowly wriggled his penis inside her to stimulate her prostate he kissed her. She began to respond and kissed him back.

Polly felt Jimmy's glans rub against an area inside her that suddenly caused waves of intense pleasure to course through her body. As his penis stimulated her prostate, rings of pleasure ran up and down her insides; her sphincter responded and loosened and began to emit its own tingling ripples of pleasure. She gasped with extreme pleasure.

When Jimmy lowered his mouth to hers she kissed him back, deeply, passionately. She drove her tongue into his mouth and lifted her buttocks up off the coach and pushed herself up against him; her legs moved around his waist; she locked her ankles together and held him against her. She felt totally feminine lying here underneath this sailor; wantonly giving herself to him.

They fucked slowly but passionately taking their time; Jimmy easing his penis in and out Polly's anus with long slow thrusts as she raised herself up to meet him. The firm, slow deep thrusts provided the maximum stimulation for both of them. They said little to each other, the fucking was accompanied by one long passionate kiss.

Polly felt him orgasm; his cock was fully embedded in her, his scrotum tickling her buttocks when he shuddered and wriggled his member inside her as it pulsed and throbbed. She felt the jets of sperm pulsing from his penis into her anus. He was kissing her wildly now, their tongues entwined, lips mashed, their teeth occasionally cracking against each other with the passion of the kiss.

Polly moaned as her own orgasm shook her body and she felt her semi erect penis begin to pulse and expel her issue. Jimmy slid a hand between their bodies and milked her as she ejaculated into her panties.

Jimmy lay on top of her, supporting his weight on his elbows as they both slowly came down from their orgasms. He placed little soft kisses on her lips and kissed her on the eyelids and stroked her hair. Polly felt feminine and fully sated.

Jimmy extracted himself from Polly and lowered her legs. Some of his issue dribbled from her anus and Polly pulled off her semen-soaked knickers and wiped herself clean.

“Now I’ll be knicker-less for the rest of the night!” she grumbled as she smoothed her skirt.

Jimmy was pulling up his bells.

“I’ll fix my makeup and brush my hair while you get the beer. We’d better get back or they’re going to be suspicious,” Polly said straightening her blouse and her jacket.

Meanwhile back at the cinema Mary was taking Jean’s load in her mouth; she was on her knees before him in the darkened cinema. As Jean exploded in her mouth, Mary spent her own seed on the carpet; squeezing the last of it out as she drained Jean; sucking the last globules of semen from his glans.

They adjusted their clothing and Jean went to make the popcorn while Mary went to the heads and fixed her makeup.

Five minutes later they rendezvoused in the foyer, Jean and Mary with the popcorn, Jimmy and Polly with the beer, and Jason and Michele down from the projection room.

“Ok we’ve sorted the issue with our projectionist; we’ve replenished popcorn and beer, lets watch the end of the movie,” Jason said, rubbing his hand together.

“Ok,” said Jean.

“Ok,” said Jimmy.

The three Wrens looked at each other and rolled their eyes.

“Sure guys. It’s like just we took an intermission and nothing happened,” Michele quipped sardonically and then broke into peals of laughter.

The two other Wrens joined her; pissing themselves laughing while the boys looked at each other knowingly, conceding that men would never understand women.

Jason smacked Michele firmly on the bum, albeit playfully.

“Come on wench; let’s see the dit!” he took her hand and dragged her, still giggling, into the cinema.

The others paired off and followed them in.

They divvyed up the popcorn and beer and sat in separate rows this time. There was no more sex; they were sated, but there was lots of playful caressing and kissing.

After the movie they cleaned up the cinema and went back to the block and paired off and holding hands. There were long goodnight kisses outside of the block and then they went inside to their respective cabins.

“Well! What a night!” said Jimmy Lovejoy contentedly.

“Yeah, I’ll say,” said Jean Burgess.

“Yeah, but does this make us poofs? Billy Marron opined.

“Fuck off; idiot!” Jason threw a boot at him.

They all laughed and went to bed.

In the Wrens cabin the girls sat around chattering and giggling.

“Oh my god Michele! I can see why you loved doing this before you joined the Navy,” Polly gushed.

Mary and Doris looked at Michele incredulously.

“What?” they both remonstrated

Michele gave Polly a snarky look and deflected the conversation.

“So Doris; why the sudden change of heart? What happened to turn you from recalcitrant crossdresser to transvestite slut?” Michele grinned smugly.

“And why did Billy expect to meet you in the cinema before we all got there?” Polly joined in.

Doris smiled mischievously and replied.

“Well it turns out Billy came over to the galley this morning while I was preparing lunch,” she explained.

“Seems he has quite a thing for fuller figured women,” she looked sheepishly at the others.

“Oh my god! He shagged you in the galley!” Polly squealed.

“Of course not Polly! I’m a lady; I saved my virginity for the second date. I only gave him a blowjob!”

The Wrens all laughed.

Eventually they quietened down and got ready for bed. It had been a long day.

They were all in their bunks and the lights were out and they were nearly asleep when Doris called out.

“Michele, tomorrow do you think we can find some nice nightdresses? I don’t wanna sleep in these pajamas anymore.”

“Go to sleep!” Michele replied.

She was smiling and about to fall asleep when she heard Polly grumble.

“And get some fucking KY jelly from the canteen!”

To be continued.

Barrack Room Betty

By Michele Nylons

Chapter Six – A Turn For The Worse

And so the Wrens and Leading Recruits settled into a routine. They knew that if they just spent their days jollying, drinking, having sex, and carousing that HMS Chelmsford would soon deteriorate into a shitfight, so they agreed to apply some discipline and stick to strict routines.

The Royal Navy has run on routines from time immemorial; the day is divided into watches separated by the sounding of the bells, the routines of colours and sunset, and determining which rig is to worn, dress of the day or night clothing, and so forth.

As much as the Wrens loved wearing silky knickers, sussies, and high-heels they were impractical to work in, and they decided that dress of the day would be Number Threes, navy blue skirts and jackets, white blouses, ties, full-cut panties, tights and black shoes. Makeup would be minimal but still worn. This rig was more practical while they went about their daily routines of inspecting, cleaning, and making minor repairs to the Establishment and even though Doris could wear cook’s whites in the galley if she wanted to; she seldom bothered to change and cooked in her Number Threes.

The four men were a little disappointed but soon realised the practicality of Michele’s mandate, the Wrens still looked femme but not as alluring as they did after dinner when they relaxed the dress rules and wore heavy makeup, stockings, heels and silky lingerie. If the girls dressed like that during the day nothing would get done!

Another unwritten law was that they never spent the night together. As Michele advised her three charges, men loved going to bed with a sexy effeminate transvestite, but waking up next to her with her wig askew, makeup dissipated, and needing a shave (despite the fact none of them really had much more that light fuzz for facial hair) did not bode well. Best to keep up the fantasy. Michele helped her three protégé’s as much as she could, teaching them makeup tips, borrowing lingerie and nightwear from the Wrens block, always carefully noting where she had taken it from so that it could be returned before the ROP ended. She even taught them the unpleasant but necessary procedure for douching.

By mutual agreement Spike even promoted Michele to Leading Recruit Wren as she was the obvious leader of the four ‘Wrens’.

And so a routine was enacted, the Wrens were just ‘grommets’ during working hours, keeping the depot ticking over with the begrudging assistance of the Leading Recruits. But after dinner the girls and guys met up in the wets and paired off, drinking and laughing until eventually lust got the better of them and they went their separate ways to sate their desires.

This all worked well and the four couples bonded and got closer as they spent more time with each other.

But all good things must come to an end.

Five days before Christmas, Petty Officer Knocker White woke up hungover, sweaty, dirty and hungry. He’d been living in the Duty Instructor’s cabin at the recruit school now for two weeks living on Newcastle Brown Ale, Captain Morgan Rum and the odd Pussers scran.

Spike had made sure that his Barrack Room Bettys remained a secret. One of the Leading Recruits bought Knocker his meals and took away the crockery when he had finished, although often the meals were hardly touched; left outside the door of the cabin in a congealed mess of gravy and mashed potato.

Knocker was not even sober enough to realise that a Leading Recruit was bringing him his meals when it was obvious that the bullies should just detail off a ‘grommet’ to do such a menial task.

And so on that fateful day PO White staggered out of his cabin, hungry and unwashed, reeking of stale beer, he made his way to the galley to raid the fridge. Jason and Michele should have heard the cabin door open and close, as it was just down from the Regulating Office but they were out and about conducting rounds, making sure the depot was being maintained.

Dressed only in his greatcoat, filthy underwear and boots without socks, Knocker staggered across the snow-strewn partition between the buildings with the intention to raid the galley fridge and scurry back to his cabin with whatever food was available.

He crashed through the back door to the galley, a snow flurry following him though the door. Doris, her back to the door preparing lunch, felt the icy blast.

“Close the fucking door will you; that cold air is blowing right up me skirt!” she squeaked in the falsetto she had developed since she had started crossdressing.

Knocker was stunned. What was this plump young Wren doing in the galley? They were supposed to be on leave.

“Who the fuck are you and what are you doing here?” Knocker growled.

Doris spun on her heels, her pretty face a mask of shock and horror.

“Oh my god! It’s Petty Officer White!” Doris whimpered.

Knocker strode across the galley and roughly grabbed the Wren cook, gawking at her with disbelief, breathing a fetid odour of stale beer and halitosis into her startled face. He stared at her intently for a beat until the penny dropped.

“Oh my fucking god you’re a tranny! A fucking Kai Tai Wren! Those fucking conniving kellicks have turned one of the grommets into a barrack room Betty!” he laughed.

He held Doris out at arm’s length and surveyed her.

“And a decent fucking job they’ve done of it too! You ain’t half bad.”

“I might have had a chequered career but I’m no sea dodger and I’ve been to South East Asia a few times and fucked my share of Kai Tais and lady boys. I’ve also been to Pink Pussycats in town and picked up the odd tranny there too.”

Doris was too shocked to move; she was aware that Knocker had her in a vice-like grip and took in some of what he was saying; they’d all heard tales of sailors fucking ‘Kai Tai’ transvestites when deployed to South East Asia. She was also vaguely aware that ‘Pink Pussycats’ was a club in Chelmsford frequented by crossdressers and their admirers.

“Yes you’re quite the pretty little chubette aren’t you girly? What’s your name?”

“Doris,” she whimpered.

“Well Doris; why don’t you leave making scran for a while and take care of this instead,” Knocker grinned through his rotten teeth.

To Doris’ horror Knocker pulled her close to him and drew her hand inside his greatcoat and placed it on his gnarled cock whilst lowering his scraggy face and closing his lips to hers. Doris shuddered but was helpless. Knocker plunged his tongue into her mouth and she gagged on his fetid breath. His free hand went to her ample buttocks and squeezed them cruelly as he pulled her against him.

His thickening penis protruded from his putrid underpants and rubbed against Doris’ slack fingers as he ground against her.

“Come on Doris put a bit of effort into it!” Knocker closed her fingers on his phallus and thrust against her.

His face closed on hers again and he forced his tongue into her mouth but Doris was still too traumatised to respond.

“Oh you’re fucking hopeless!” he growled

Knocker shook Doris who was as limp as a rag doll in his arms.

“I’ll fucking-well wake you up!”

Knocker dragged Doris over to the counter, bent her over and hiked up her skirt exposing the dark gusset of her tights and her white full-cut knickers.

Doris began to struggle and flail around; her generous buttocks wriggling and gyrating as she tried to squirm free of his grip. Knocker’s free hand scrambled around the counter, then he grinned evilly as his fingers closed on a wooden spoon.

He flailed the wooden spoon against Doris buxom bottom.

“Ow! Ow! Ow! Oh fuck that hurts!” Doris wailed.

“Shut up Doris!” Knocker leered as he paddled her bum.

Doris was sobbing with pain and humiliation and then to her horror she felt Knocker pull down her tights and knickers, exposing her creamy white globes, which were now glowing red where he had spanked her.

He tossed the wooden spoon and spanked her plump bottom with his bare hand, cruelly scrunching his fingers into her tender flesh after every few strokes. His cock was now throbbing and dribbling clear pre-seminal fluid, he was so excited he thought he might climax in his underpants if he didn’t do something soon.

“I’m going to put me cock between your pink cheeks and fuck your fat arse but first I’m going to get some head!” Knocker snarled.

He pulled Doris off the bench and pushed her to her knees, sobbing and tremulous, her skirt around her waist and her knickers and tights bunched around her thighs.

Knocker grabbed Doris by the ears and forced her face towards his groin; his repulsive phallus poking from his underwear, his greatcoat opened wide.

Doris was sobbing, tears running down her cheeks, absolutely disgusted and full of dread as the rancid member wobbled inches from her face.

“Here we go girly,” Knocker thrust forward his pulsing penis sliding over Doris’ lipsticked lips.

“Leave her alone you fucking bully!” Michele screeched as she burst through the galley door.

Knocker’s head twisted in Michele’s direction, at first shocked, and then he smirked and roughly pushed Doris’ face from his groin. She fell to her hands and knees, sobbing on the grimy galley deck.

“Well what have we got here? A nice sexy young Wren, wearing a Leading Recruit’s lanyard! Must mean you’re more accomplished than this porker,” Knocker cruelly poked Doris with the toe of his boot.

“Now get over here and suck my cock before I lose my temper!” he growled.

“Leave the galley Doris!” Michele ordered.

“But Michele…” Doris protested.

“Leave the galley and come back in twenty minutes to finish cooking scran,” Michele said, soothingly this time.

Doris hiked up her underwear and tights and scrambled out the door and Michele locked the galley and sauntered over to the PO whose cock was still sticking out of filthy underwear.

“Ok, it’s just you and I now Knocker,” Michele stared at him defiantly.

“Ok girly, if that’s how you want it, you’re better looking than Doris anyway. And it’s Petty Officer White to you not Knocker!” he sneered.

“Oh, if it’s ok for me to suck your cock; I’m sure I can call you Knocker,” Michele scoffed.

She dropped to her knees before him, took a deep breath, and suckled his scabrous phallus. She gagged from the vile taste of sweat and smegma and the repellent stench emanating from his crotch.

Michele knew he wouldn’t last long so she set her resolve and slavered at his tumescent penis and lifted a hand to stroke his scrotum.

“Oh my fucking god that’s good!” Knocker crooned.

He rocked on his heels and fucked Michele’s face. He soon felt his climax approaching and he whipped his cock out of Michele’s mouth and dragged her to her feet.

“No!” Michele screamed but to no avail.

Knocker threw her against the counter winding her; then he spun her around and bent her over, pinning her face down on the bench. He yanked up her skirt and ripped down her knickers and tights, his fingernails leaving welts on her buttocks and thighs. He kicked her heels apart, forcing Michele to open her legs and then she felt him behind her. His cock hard and hot against her cold pale flesh as he sought out her puckered bud.

Knocker thrust the glans of his thick, turgid member into Michele’s tight buttocks and she screamed and stamped her feet attempting to free herself. Knocker held her face against the counter top with one hand and slapped her buttocks as hard as he could with the other.

“Keep still you fucking Nancyboy!” he hissed.

As hard as he pushed, even with his cock leaking precum, he couldn’t get it past Michele’s impenetrable sphincter. Michele was still struggling and Knocker was puffing with exertion. Then he saw a pat of butter, in arms-reach, next to a floured breadboard. Knocker stuck his fingers in the butter and greased his erection, pushing the remains on the butter pat into Michele’s puckered anal cavity.

Michele knew what was coming and she took a deep breath and hung onto the bench as she felt Knocker’s cock probing at her behind.

The pain was tremendous as he pushed his pulsing penis deep into Michele’s bowels until he was in her up the hilt; his crotch crushed against her soft buttocks. Despite the searing pain Michele resolved she would not cry. She panted and heaved as Knocker pounded his long, thick phallus in and out of her, brutally bruising her delicate anus.

“How do you like that, you fucking barrack room Betty,” he grunted as he fucked Michele viciously.

Michele gritted her teeth knowing he wouldn’t last long and in act of defiance she pushed back against him and wriggled her buttocks.

“Is that all you’ve got?” she hissed through gritted teeth.

That was enough to send Knocker over the top and he gripped her hips and pulled her hard against him as he emptied his scrotum deep inside Michele’s anus. He held the lovely young Wren tight as he ground against her and howled as her tight passage convulsed and milked him of his seed.

His passion spent he whipped his deflating penis from Michele’s anus and flung her to the floor. He wiped his buttery cock with a dishtowel while he watched the pitiful young Wren get to her knees, holding in a gasp of pain as she stood and pulled up her knickers and tights.

“Fuck that wasn’t bad,” Knocker sniggered lifting Michele’s chin.

She stared back at him shamelessly, holding back tears of pain and humiliation.

“How many of you grommets have those fuckheads turned into Bettys anyway?” Knocker inquired.

Michele knew where this was going.

“Here’s the deal PO. You now know what’s going on but if you report it you will get into as much trouble as we all will and probably more because you’re supposed to be in charge,” Michele seethed.

Knocker was about to explode but Michele shut him up. She moved in close so he could smell her perfume, feel her body, and look into her beautiful blue eyes. She kissed him chastely and patted his limp cock.

“I’ll come to your cabin every day at 1100 and you can do whatever you want to me. But! You leave the other Wrens alone and you don’t let the leading Recruits know I’m servicing you. It’s our secret until after ROP.” Michele squeezed his cock again and kissed him sliding her tongue into his mouth, then she abruptly pulled away.

“What about Doris? The fat one?” Knocker grumbled.

“I’ll make sure she keeps her mouth shut,” Michele assured him.

“And I’ll make sure you keep yours open!” Knocker visualised his sick joke by shaking his penis at her.

Knocker grabbed a loaf of freshly baked bread and a jar of strawberry jam off the counter and jammed them into the pockets of his greatcoat. He buttoned the coat and then looked viciously at Michele.

“You better stick by your deal or I’ll arse-fuck every one of you Wrens until you bleed,” he snarled.

“Eleven O’clock tomorrow. Don’t be late!” he growled and stormed out the galley.

As soon as he left Michele started to shake and gag and she just made it to the sink before she heaved up and puked. She was shuddering with revulsion and disgust, sobbing and gagging as she emptied her stomach. Eventually she calmed down and rinsed her mouth under the tap, which was how Doris found her.

“Oh my god Michele I’m so sorry! Did he hurt you?” Doris blubbered.

Michele spritzed cold water on her face and turned to face her friend smiling.

“Nah! He was easily dealt with,” Michele said with a faux grin on her face.

Then she stepped forward and gripped Doris on the upper arm so tight that she flinched.

“But you tell no one! Absolutely no one Doris; do you hear me?”

Doris nodded banefully.

“Promise Doris! I want you to say it!” Michele’s steely blue eyes stared into Doris’ brown doe eyes.

“I promise Michele,” she whispered.

“Good, good. Now get cracking on scran and I’ll see you at lunchtime,” Michele smiled sweetly at her friend.

Michele left the galley with all the dignity she could muster but as soon as she got outside she collapsed against the wall. She rested for a while and fought the pain and then hobbled over to her cabin where she shucked off her clothes and took a long hot shower. She carefully sponged at the welts, scratches, and bruises on her body and soaped herself up and rinsed until she felt better. She used a douche of warm soapy water to expel Knocker’s disgusting issue. She fixed her wig and makeup and cleaned into a fresh uniform dropping the knickers and tights she had been wearing in the galley into the gash.

When Michele showed up at the cafeteria for lunch she looked as gorgeous as ever. Her uniform hid her wounds and the four aspirin she had taken made her pain manageable. She gave Jason a beatific smile and winked at him mischievously and he smiled back.

She saw Doris behind the counter watching her charade and Michele gave her a warning glare and Doris turned away from her and started talking to Billy Marron who held out his plate for Doris to serve him.

Michele looked down at the plate of food in front of her and pushed it away untouched. She dug her cigarettes out of her jacket pocket, stood up and left the café.

She leaned her back against the wall outside the café and blew out smoke. Jason came out the door and sidled up to her. He took her hand.

“Is everything ok?” he looked searchingly in her eyes.

“Everything’s wonderful,” she smiled back at him sweetly.

To be continued.

Barrack Room Betty

By Michele Nylons

Chapter Seven – Retribution

And so Michele’s ordeal began. Every day at 1030 Michele and Jason left the administration building to conduct rounds of the Establishment, each going their separate way. But Michele snuck back in the building as soon as Jason was out of sight. She would go to the ladies heads and dig around in her handbag and pull out her makeup, lingerie and heels. She applied heavy makeup and lots of perfume and took off her ‘granny’ knickers and tights and slipped into sheer stockings, silky panties and suspender belt. She lubricated her back passage in anticipation that Knocker wouldn’t, then kicked off her work shoes and slipped into her high-heels.

She did this not because she wanted to make PO Knocker White particularly happy, she wanted to get him hot and randy so that he would climax quickly and her ordeal would be over sooner.

It worked the first time. She entered the Duty Instructors cabin at 1100 exactly and nearly gagged at the funk of stale food, beer and body odour. Even at this early hour Knocker was half pissed but when he saw the beautiful specimen of femminity and sexuality when Michele came through the door he couldn’t control himself.

There was no foreplay; he dragged her into the cabin, bent her over the desk, lifted her skirt and pushed his already pulsing penis into her behind.

“Oh fuck yeah!”

“Oh you dirty fucking bitch!”

“Oh you tranny slut!” he moaned.

Each expletive was punctuated with a violent clout to the arse; Michele’s buttocks glowed red.

Once again she refused to cry out or react to the pain. Instead she ground her buttocks against her assailant, attempting to invoke his early ejaculation, and she succeeded.

“Oh god yes; you love it, you cunt!”

Knocker gripped Michele’s hips, his dirty fingernails digging into her soft flesh, the pain immense.

“Take this!” he gasped.

He pulled her back against him and Michele obligingly wriggled her buttocks as Knocker filled her back passage with his semen. He held her tight as his cock spasmed deep in Michele’s anus; tears formed in the corners of Michele’s eyes but she refused to cry.

After Knocker emptied himself inside Michele, he whipped out his penis and pulled out the back of her white blouse and wiped his cock on it.

“There Michele, you made yourself useful in more ways than one,” he sniggered.

Michele felt her gorge rise but she swallowed and tucked in her blouse, pulled up her knickers and smoothed out her skirt. She kept her eyes averted until she had composed herself; then she stared at him with her steely blue eyes.

“Satisfactory PO?”

“Yeah but I know what you’re doing, dressing like that, all the perfume and shit, pushing your arse into me. You’re deliberately trying to get me to come quickly. Well that’s ok for today but tomorrow you won’t be finished so soon,” Knocker grinned.

The next day Knocker was sober but still unwashed.

“I had a wank before you got here so it won’t be a blow and go girly,” Knocker’s erect penis tented his ragged underwear.

Knocker looked down at his hard-on and nodded.

“You know what to do.”

Michele dutifully got to her knees and began to fellate him. She worked up as much saliva as she could so that she could wash away the smegma; she retched as she swallowed it and Knocker laughed and grabbed her head and forced his big cock down her throat. Michele began to choke but Knocker held her face in his groin laughing.

Michele concentrated on breathing through her nose and suppressing her gag reflex; she cupped his scrotum and stroked it with her fingernails.

“Mm, good girly, that’s what I like,” Knocker grinned.

He face fucked Michele for ages and try as she might, using the tip of her tongue on his fraenulum, deep throating him, stroking his scrotum, using all her fellatio techniques she couldn’t get him to come.

Knocker moved a hand from Michele’s head to her throat; he gripped her slender neck, choking her as he dragged her to her feet. Michele nearly blacked out but hung on to consciousness as he dragged her to his bed.

He threw her on the bed and she gasped, taking deep breaths despite the repulsive odour of his dirty bedclothes. Knocker fell on her and Michele dutifully opened her legs.

She could stand the stench of him, even the feel of his thrusting penis as it searched for her sphincter was bearable, but as his thick, hard member invaded her anus he began to kiss and slaver at her. His rancid breath and vile tongue was repulsive and made her gag. Knocker laughed and fucked her harder; he gripped her hips and dug his nails into her tender flesh.

Michele resolved to ensure her violation was as short lived as possible. Despite the pain and revolting stench of his bed and his putrid breath she looked him in the eyes and bucked up against him, grating her soft buttocks against him, lifting her legs and wrapping them around his flanks and wrapping her arms around him. She kissed him back, sucking his tongue.

“Oh you are one horny slut,” Knocker moaned and spent his seed inside her.

He rutted at her as hard as he could, bruising her internally. Michele refused to flinch or cry out.

“Yeah take it bitch, take that cock!” he howled.

When he was finished he sprang from the bed and dragged her off the bed, throwing her across the room.

“Ok bitch, I’ve finished with you now. See you tomorrow,” he grinned waving his cock at her.

Doris stood smoking outside the galley door watching Michele hobble back to the barracks. She couldn’t help but cry. Michele had been such a good friend; twice she had saved Doris from retribution. Once from Spike and again from Knocker; she butted out her dhurry and wiped her eyes. She knew the sacrifice Michele was making on behalf of them all and despite being sworn to secrecy; she hated herself for allowing her friend to be degraded and hurt this way.

Michele’s misery was a secret held only by Doris, so oblivious to her plight, the Kellicks and Wrens made plans for a big Christmas Eve party. There were decorations to make, a tree to sourced, food to be cooked, and for the Wrens, party dresses to be found. And of course, their daily chores still had to be completed.

Michele was able to find party dresses for all the Wrens, three she took from the Wrens block and one she found in the canteen, the girls spent their afternoons adjusting and decorating the dresses so they would look especially nice for their boyfriends.

Jason had noticed a change in Michele; she had become introverted and moody but strangely enough the opposite was occurring in the bedroom. Her lovemaking was insistent, almost aggressive; she became the initiator, frantically thrashing under him when fucking, slavering at his cock rather than the gentle licking and suckling she usually used during fellatio. Her kissing and foreplay was almost domineering.

And her language was obscenely descriptive.

“Fuck me big boy! Stick your cock in your tranny slut! Use me like a whore! Let me suck your hard cock!” were terms she had begun to use during their sexual encounters.

Jason missed his feminine young Wren who liked hours of gentle foreplay before ultimately consummating their affection tenderly and lovingly. He knew something was wrong but couldn’t figure out what it was.

Michele knew that she was compensating for the depravity she was experiencing with Knocker by becoming a whore with Jason. It was a defence mechanism. Because she felt degraded, she behaved like a slattern with her lover; but it was also the mechanism she used to rid herself of the recollections she had of Knocker’s degenerateness. She also insisted that they make love with the lights out, which Jason hated but Michele insisted upon so that Jason couldn’t see the wounds Knocker inflicted on her.

It came to a head the night before Christmas Eve, Knocker had been particularly degrading to her that day, he had spanked her behind red then fucked her raw. He couldn’t come so he made her lie on her back so he could straddle her with his scrotum in her mouth, making her lick and suck his balls. She was forced to stroke him to climax and he spent all over her face and hair and then rubbed it in with his cock. Not satisfied with that, he had pissed on her face and then all over her body, saturating her uniform.

Michele as usual was stoic, refusing to sob or complain as he debased her; she simply stared up at up him with her steely blue eyes.

“At least that piss won’t make any difference to the state your filthy bedclothes,” she sniggered.

Knocker slapped her hard across the face and threw her off the bed.

Michele limped back to her cabin, sobbing in her piss-soaked uniform unaware that Doris was watching her from the galley. Doris was seething with anger.

After she showered and changed and was putting on her makeup Michele noticed that her eye was starting to bruise so she ignored the rule about wearing modest makeup during the working day and applied mauve eyeshadow to hide it. Wearing pallid makeup with the gaudy eyeshadow would look ridiculous so she applied ruby-red lipstick.

This did not go unnoticed by the other Wrens at lunch, but no one complained about her flaunting the rules. She also broke another rule when she returned to the Regulating Office where Jason was filing the rounds reports.

Michele was looking for comfort and to rid herself of the mental images of this morning’s session with Knocker the only way she knew how.

Michele turned off the lights as she slid into the office and locked the door behind her.

“Hey?” Jason exclaimed.

Michele pounced on him crushing her lips against his and rubbing herself wantonly against him. She gripped his hand and pushed it under her skirt and reached for his cock with the other.

“Hey Michele, slow down,” Jason gasped.

“Fuck that,” she said, dropping to her knees.

She ripped open his flies and began sucking him to rigidity.

“That’s my big buck! Now stick that in my tranny whore’s arse.”

Michele scrambled onto the visitor’s lounge and lifted her behind in the air, pulling down her tights and knickers and wriggling her buttocks.

“Come and fuck me, sailor!” she wailed.

Jason looked at his girlfriend through the afternoon gloom; wriggling her bottom like a slattern and shook his head.

“What’s going on Michele?” he snarled and walked over and snatched on light.

“No!” Michele cried attempting to pull down her dress.

“What the fuck!” Jason strode over and lifted it back up.

Michele’s buttocks were red and her thighs bruised and scratched.

“You fucking bitch! That explains everything!”

“You think I don’t know about you not going out on your forenoon rounds? You’re seeing someone else aren’t you!”

“And that’s why you’re behaving like a slut! Because you are one, you fucking whore!”

Michele pulled down her skirt and clamoured to her feet shaking her head violently. She put her arms out to Spike, but he just looked at her in disgust.

“It’s not what you think,” Michele sobbed, tears running down her cheeks.

“Well what is it then?” He glared at her.

“It’s, it’s, it’s…I can’t tell you,” Michele began to cry harder.

“So who’s been fucking you? One of my lads? One your grommets? Or have you been climbing the fence at night and ally-catting down in Chelmsford?”

“Fuck off Michele!” Spike pushed her away as she attempted to embrace him.

“Fuck off back to the blocks and don’t bother coming back!”

Jason Spike Jones stormed out the door and slammed it behind him.

Michele fell to her knees sobbing.

“Come back Jason, please come back,” she beseeched him.

But the passageway was silent, Spike was gone.

Michele curled up on the floor sobbing until she couldn’t cry any longer. She eventually got to her feet and was able to limp back to barracks where she fell onto her bunk and sobbed some more. When she was all cried out she once again set her resolve, stripped down and went down to the heads and showers. She heard the other three Wrens come into the block and she stayed in the shower so she didn’t have to engage with them.

When they were all clean, freshly made up and dressed in their version of night clothing, Number Twos with high-heels, sexy knickers, sheer stockings and suspenders, they went over to the café and Doris took her station behind the counter to serve dinner. No one seemed to notice Jason’s glacial demeanour towards Michele; they were all excitedly talking about tomorrow night’s party.

After scran Michele surprised her three sister Wrens.

“I’m not going to the wets tonight, I’m not feeling well.”

“Oh come on, fuck me Michele, we have to finalise plans for the party tomorrow,” Polly whined.

“Yeah and you’re our leader, you have all the good ideas,” Mary added.

“Fuck off! I told you I’m not going!” Michele snapped.

“Ok, don’t get yer knickers in a knot!” Polly snapped back.

“Come on girls, let’s go have some fun and leave droopy drawers here on her own,” Polly huffed.

Doris looked at Michele sceptically and Michele glared back at her balefully, shaking her head. Doris surrendered and caught up with the others.

When the Wrens got to the wets Jason was already roaring drunk and the other sailors were behaving very cautiously around him.

“He’s in one of his moods,” Jean Burgess explained as he kissed Mary on the cheek.

“He’s fucking crazy is what he is,” Jimmy Lovejoy whispered as he kissed Polly and squeezed her bum.

“Where’s Michele? We were all hoping he’d calm down when she got here,” Billy Marron kissed Doris and stroked her face tenderly.

“She’s not coming. I think she ate something bad,” Polly stuck her tongue out Doris.

“Hey!” Doris gave Polly the finger and they all started laughing.

For a while, everyone forgot about Michele as they drank, smoked, joked and kissed and cuddled. Jason sat by himself brooding, drinking rum and chain smoking.

After a while talk turned to the Christmas Eve party.

“Come on Jason, we need to make our final plans for tomorrow,” Jimmy called out.

Jason begrudgingly staggered over and dropped into one of the armchairs.

“So let’s put the Christmas tree up after lunch and we can all decorate it,” Mary began.

“Yeah and we can put up trimmings too,” Polly said enthusiastically.

“I’ll hold the ladder while you do,” Jimmy laughed.

“Just so you can look up my skirt you pervert!” Polly punched him in the shoulder playfully.

“Yeah I just hope Michele is well enough so she can join us and enjoy Christmas Eve,” Doris said.

“Fuck Michele! I don’t care if that fucking whore never comes to the wets again!” Jason slammed his fist down on the table.

The room became silent.

“Come on Jason,” Jimmy whined.

Jason leaned over and pulled Jimmy towards him.

“That bitch ain’t coming to the party ok!” Jason spat.

“What the fuck!” Jimmy slapped Jason’s hands away from him.

“She’s a fucking trollop!” Jason downed his drink and poured another.

Doris couldn’t take it any longer.

“She’s a heroine you fucking moron!” Doris shrieked at Jason.

Jason reached out to grab Doris but Billy leapt out of his seat and pushed Jason back into his.

“What do you mean she’s a heroine?” Billy held Doris by her shoulders, looking at her searchingly.

Doris broke down and began to whimper.

“What are you fucking talking about!” Jason demanded.

“She swore me to secrecy,” Doris blubbered.

“Tell me,” Jason looked bewildered.

“I can’t,” Doris whispered.

Billy comforted his girlfriend and lifted her chin.

“Tell him,” he calmed her, stroking her face tenderly.

And so she did. The others listened incredulously as Doris explained how Michele had sacrificed her self-respect and her body to keep their secret.

Jason seethed with anger, his wrath growing as Doris told of Michele’s sacrifice.

Polly and Mary cried when Doris told of seeing Michele hobbling with pain but with her dignity intact, across the snow swept parade ground back to the block after being ravaged by Petty Officer White.

When she told them of finding Michele’s piss-soaked uniform discarded in the gash bin behind the blocks, Jason howled.

“That fucking arsehole! That fucking drunken, disgusting turd!”

“And what did I do? I insulted her and pushed her away!” Jason started to cry.

“Fuck this!” Jason roared and leapt from his chair.

Jason stormed out of the wets across to the administration building, followed by the other three leading recruits. He kicked open the door to the Duty Instructors cabin and dragged Knocker White from his bunk and threw him in the corner of the cabin and commenced kicking him.

The other three sailors burst through the door and joined in, punching and kicking Knocker until he was bloodied and bruised. He groaned and whined as the lads beat him nearly unconscious. When they had spent their anger on the drunken Petty Officer they stood panting over his prone body.

“You don’t leave this cabin except to shit and shower until after the ROP,” Jason hissed.

“Understand!”

Knocker nodded his head, lying curled up in ball.

“If I see you outside this cabin you get worse!”

Knocker cringed and nodded acknowledgment.

The four Leading Recruits strode out of the cabin surprised to find Doris outside the door.

She walked into the cabin, wrinkling her nose at the stench and strode over and kicked Knocker as hard as she could in the balls.

“Let’s go boys,” she crooked her arm through Billy’s.

They started to walk back to the wets but Jason broke off from them and ran over to the blocks.

He marched into Michele’s cabin and found her fully clothed, curled up on her bunk. He lifted her up into his arms, gazed into her pretty tear-rimmed eyes and kissed her gently on the eyelids.

He carried her lovingly in his arms all the way to the wets.

To be continued.

Barrack Room Betty

By Michele Nylons

Chapter Eight – The Christmas Party

Lieutenant Steven Winters was an extremely good-looking Navy fighter pilot whose last posting had been aboard the aircraft carrier HMS Ark Royal. There was some unpleasantness when, after a wardroom ladies dine-in night on board the ship, the rather portly Executive Officer had opened the door to a hangar workshop and found his glamorous wife bent over a workbench with her sequined evening dress hiked up and her knickers around her ankles whilst she balanced on her high-heels and encouraged the young Lieutenant Winters to ‘do her doggy’. Which Lieutenant Winters, like any well-trained young officer, was in the process of doing.

It was Thursday evening and ironically the toast of the day was: ‘To Wives and Sweethearts’ which, at the men-only mess dinners, was usually followed by the witticism ‘may they never meet’. In this case the XO’s wife had somewhat reversed the pun and made the XO a laughing stock in his own ship.

This led to a hasty posting for Lieutenant Winters, not to a Naval Air Station, where most pilots went to keep up their skills, but as a Divisional Officer at Her Majesty’s Ship Chelmsford, considered to be one of the shittiest duties a young up and coming officer could have.

The XO’s wife was seen the day after the dine in night at Portsmouth railway station hiding a black eye behind large sunglasses, having been ‘called away at short notice to visit a sick sister’ in a small village in Wales.

For Lieutenant Winters, the exhilaration of being launched from a catapult whilst at the controls of an F4 Phantom was replaced by sitting behind a desk pushing papers and looking after the adolescents of Collins Division. He soon realised that by delegating just about all of his responsibilities off to the Petty Officers he could get away with about three hours work a day and then jump in his vintage MGB Roadster and fuck off into Chelmsford and nearby environs to pursue his favourite hobbies of drinking and shagging anything in a skirt.

The more senior officers saw him as a young rogue sowing his wild oats and presupposed that once he had served his time in purgatory he would be given a suitable posting where he could use his skills to rise through the ranks. It helped that most of them hated the XO of HMS Ark Royal and thought him a pompous ass and they delighted in the fact that young Winters had bought him down a peg or two by rogering his wife on board one Her Majesty’s Ships.

Similarly the Senior Sailors didn’t mind taking on his duties and responsibilities for the same reasons.

And so it came to pass that on Christmas Eve evening a thoroughly pissed Lieutenant Steve Winters pulled his MGB up outside the Recruit School administration building, where he had returned, despite being on leave, to retrieve his cumberbund to complete his Mess Dress uniform.

The lights and music emanating from the Recruit School wet canteen attracted him like a moth to a flame.

Earlier that evening there had been much ado in the Collins Division accommodation block as the four ‘Wrens’ gussied themselves up for the Christmas party.

All the preparations had been made: food cooked, Christmas tree trimmed, decorations put up (and as predicted by Polly Perkins, Jimmy Lovejoy had volunteered to hold the ladder and spent the whole time looking up her skirt which had led to an impromptu romp in the stationery store) and drinks and mixers stocked behind the bar.

Michele was in constant demand to assist with makeup, sew and adjust dresses, straighten wigs and generally help her three less experienced charges.

The Wrens of course were running late, keeping the lads anxiously waiting in the wets.

They laughed and joked while they preened. Their cabin smelt of perfume, deodorant, makeup, hairspray, nailpolish and a hint of cigarette smoke.

Jean Burgess made the mistake of coming over to their cabin to see what was taking so long.

“Poo! Smells like a brothel in here! How long are you girls gonna be?” he said, poking his head around the door of their cabin.

He was met by a hailstorm of high-heels, hairbrushes, compacts and nailfiles and was lucky to escape without losing an eye as he beat a hasty retreat.

“Fuck em’! How long does it take them to iron a white-front, polish their shoes and comb their hair. I’ve laddered three pairs of sheers with these new fucking false fingernails!” Mary complained.

When the girls finally entered the foyer to the wets, the boys were stunned into silence.

Doris Holiday was wearing a simple black evening gown which flattered her fuller figure and Billy Marron raced over and offered her his arm, complimenting her on her style.

Polly Perkins had opted for a dark blue cocktail dress that was so short it showed her knickers if so much as leaned one way or the other. She’d finished the ensemble with shimmery flesh-toned tights and white high-heels. Jimmy Lovejoy showed his appreciation by squeezing her bum as he escorted her into the bar.

Mary Maine was wearing a pure white maxi-dress of pleated taffeta which Jean Burgess found very much to his satisfaction, which he showed by slipping his hand inside one of the open pleats, promptly laddering Mary’s fourth pair of sheers for the day.

However, all the lads’ jaws dropped when Michele Nyland made her entrance. She was sheathed in a red satin gown that clung to her lithe frame and flared slightly from the waist down to her silver high-heels. Her legs were clad in smoky-grey stockings, the dark welts and suspender clips visible due to the side-split which went right to up her waist. Her jet-black hair was worn shoulder length in her best ‘Farrah Fawcett’, she wore silver jewellery accessorised with a silver clutch to match her shoes. Her eyes were smoky, her cheeks defined by rouge and her lipstick bright red.

When Jason Jones stepped forward and offered her his arm he was engulfed in a miasma of perfume.

Before long everyone was partying, drinking, eating, dancing and rubbing up against each other. Partners were swapped but for dancing only; the girls had now paired off and at this stage of their relationships showed no interest in the other men. For Doris, Polly and Mary this was their first transvestic experience and they felt comfortable with their partners; like mated pairs.

Jason’s reaction to the incident with Knocker had changed Michele. Her heart had hardened and her infatuation with Jason was over.

Michele had come to realise that men found her appealing only for her beauty and sexuality; there was no ‘love’ or even loyalty. When her incestuous affair with her Uncle Bill had been discovered, Bill had run away to Europe and left her to join the navy as decreed by her father. Jason had treated her like shit initially and had reverted to type when he suspected that she was seeing other men when in fact she was being defiled repeatedly by Petty Officer White. The other Wrens had cried when Jason had carried her into the wets, laid her on the couch and fawned over her. But the damage had been done. Michele now knew how shallow he was. Knocker White had used her like a come-bucket but at least he’d made no pretence of affection; he was probably the most honest of the three men she had so far had sex with.

Michele felt different now; she felt empowered. She knew that she was pretty when she crossdressed and was sexually attractive to men of a certain type and even those who claimed to be essentially heterosexual. She’d decided that she would no longer be any man’s pawn; she would use men the same way they used her.

The party was just getting into full swing when Lieutenant Steve Winters kicked open the door.

“What the fuck is going here!”

The revellers froze.

“Division Ho!” Spike yelled.

The recruits had been drilled from day one to snap to attention whenever an officer was present and they all did except for Michele. She was lying languidly on her side on one of the couches sipping a gin and tonic and smoking a menthol cigarette, her head resting on her hand; the split in her skirt revealing more leg than was becoming.

“Leading Recruit Jones reporting Collins Division sir. Well the remains of Collins Division anyway,” Jason blushed at his own inarticulateness.

Michele smiled; amused at what was transpiring.

She recognised Lieutenant Winters, and well she should, he was her Divisional Officer or ‘DO’. She also knew he was a slacker, a womaniser and a drunk; he was famous and admired for it. He was a young, handsome, fighter pilot so of course he was everyone’s hero. PO Knocker White eschewed the same qualities, admittedly he wasn’t handsome or young, but he was a slack drunken womaniser, but everyone loathed him. The hypocrisy was not lost on Michele.

Lieutenant Winters was dressed in his tailored mess dress: navy blue mess jacket, navy blue trousers, white dress shirt, cumberbund with his old squadron crest embroidered on it, black bow tie and patent leather shoes. He looked deliciously handsome and he knew it.

“You there! Shut that fucking music down!” he snapped at James Lovejoy.

Jimmy ran over to the record player and cut off ‘I Wish It Could Be Christmas Every Day’ by Wizzard, mid chorus.

Officers seldom spoke to the recruits and certainly never felt the need to explain themselves but in this case, it seemed appropriate.

“I stopped by my office to pick up my cumberbund; as you can see I too am off to a Christmas party but I have a few questions.”

“Where is Petty Officer White and why is he permitting you rabble to use the wets; and more importantly, who authorised you to bring these girls into the barracks?”

Steve Winters was working hard at maintaining his composure; he was three-parts pissed and on his way to a party where he had been assured there were more than enough pretty girls who would drop their knickers for a handsome young pilot. He really couldn’t give a fuck what the hook-rope party got up to over the ROP as long as he wasn’t held accountable.

The four leading recruits and three ‘Wrens’ standing to attention were gobsmacked. They didn’t know how to answer this officer. All they could think of was that their naval career was likely over before it began and the humiliation that would be theirs once news of this got out.

Steve Winters was amused; it never ceased to amaze him how the young and impressionable sailors became awestruck by his two gold rings and his pilots wings.

“Well who’s got an answer for me?” he smirked.

“Well sir. Err, I mean. Well…” Spike stammered.

“Who’s asking?” Michele’s syrupy but husky voice came from where she was lazing on the couch.

Michele had been working on sounding like Christine McVie from Fleetwood Mac and nearly had it down pat.

The others looked at Michele with every range of emotion from horror to amazement; shocked at her audacity. Jason was giving her the ‘cut it out’ sign, his hand waving across his neck and Mary was shaking her head vigorously.

Steve Winters looked at the delightful creature lying on the couch; his eyes examined her from head to toe and he was enchanted by what he saw.

“Lieutenant Steven Winters, Royal Navy, at your service,” he beamed at Michele.

“And whom do I have the pleasure to address,” he bowed theatrically.

“Miz Michele Nyland; no significant title I’m afraid,” Michele gave him a broad smile and he laughed at her sarcasm.

“Enchanted. Now please excuse me miss,” he turned to the others.

“Ok you lot, I take it Petty Officer White is off on one of his usual benders and I really couldn’t give a flying fuck what you get up to as long as you don’t wreck the place.”

“You can keep your party going until midnight then wrap it up ok.”

“Yes sir!” Spike replied smartly.

“The drunken fuck doesn’t know our girls are really blokes,” Jimmy whispered out the side of his mouth.

Polly dug him in the ribs and Mary and Doris gave him a wicked glare.

“You know what I mean,” he said defensively.

“Not only that but I think we’ve got away with it. Michele has saved the day again,” Doris beamed.

“Now play something slow and sultry and I’ll have one dance with the lovely Miz Nyland and take my leave,” Steve Winters held out a hand and approached Michele.

“Oh my fucking god! Now we’re for it,” Billy’s dismay was evident.

“We’re fucked now!” Jean lamented.

“If anyone can pull this off, Michele can,” Doris’ devotion to her mentor did not convince the others that things were not about to unravel.

Doris skipped over to the record player and placed a disk on the turntable, Roberta Flack’s ‘Killing Me Softly With His Song’. She dimmed the lights so that the twinkling Christmas tree lights and coloured ceiling bulbs provided all the illumination.

“Clever,” Michele whispered to herself.

Michele was confident that she was passable and attractive, but up close there were things she couldn’t cover up with lipstick and powder. Her hair was a wig, her breasts were stockings filled with rice and her prominent larynx was an obvious give away. She hoped that the coloured party-lights and the officer’s obviously drunken state would help to keep her secret.

And it worked!

Lieutenant Winters towered over Michele and he looked down into her pretty blue eyes as they danced. Michele had never danced in the reverse position before but it really didn’t matter, Steve was happy just to hold her tight and shuffle.

He breathed in her perfume and held her lithe body close to his. He rested his cheek against her hair.

“You are gorgeous you know,” he whispered in her ear.

“Thank you,” Michele replied indifferently.

Michele was giving sign language behind Steve’s back for the others to dance and they took the hint and they filled the dance floor. Doris glided Billy over towards Michele and Steve, invading their privacy, trying to help. Steve gave the couple a sneer and Billy guided them a little further away.

“Chicken,” Doris bit his ear playfully.

“He’s a fucking officer Doris!” Billy hissed in her ear.

“He’s an officer dancing with a transvestite,” Doris giggled.

Michele felt Steve’s hold tighten as they danced cheek to cheek; his hand slid down to her buttocks and he gently squeezed them. Michele tried to pry his hand away but he just squeezed her tighter.

“That’s a yummy bum you have Miz Nyland,” he whispered in her ear.

“And you’re very naughty Lieutenant Winters,” she whispered back.

Steve steered them over to a dark corner of the dancefloor and just before he lowered his face to kiss hers Michele glanced at Jason standing on his own seething with jealousy.

Steve moved his hand inside the split in Michele’s dress and stroked her stocking top while he kissed her. Michele slid her tongue into his mouth and opened her legs slightly and Steve’s hand explored the soft, white flesh at the top of her thigh. When his hand slid across to front of her satin panties she lowered her own hand and firmly gripped his wrist.

“You may touch and fondle as you please, but your hand shall remain outside of my panties,” she gasped in his ear and then bit his earlobe.

Steve shuddered and grazed his fingers over the front of Michele’s panties, he felt her smooth mound and his cock hardened and he pressed it against her. Michele felt his tumescence against her belly, his hand on her mound, and the quickening of his breath and she smiled and looked over at Jason who was obviously enraged.

It was just as well that Michele was heavily gaffed. She was excited and enthralled that the young airman was taken by her beauty and sensuality. Feelings of power and control as well as lust enveloped Michele as she kissed and rubbed up against the Lieutenant. Her member was straining at its bindings.

“You know I’m not what I seem,” Michele whispered, and looked up into his eyes.

“The fact that I can find no cleft in your mound testifies to the obvious,” the young Lieutenant lowered his face to hers and kissed her.

The music stopped as the recording concluded and as David Bowie’s ‘Jean Genie’ dropped onto the platter and began to blare out the speaker Steve raised his face from Michele’s and took her hand. He led her out of the wets and down to the passageway to his office.

Jason roared and threw his drink at the wall and then poured another rum and sat in the corner sulking. The other three couples kept dancing, kissing and rubbing up against each other.

“I have to say I’m over the whole Spike jealousy thing,” Jimmy shouted over the music to Polly as they danced.

“Think he’ll fuck her?” Polly smiled back, nodding towards the retreating forms of Michele and Steve.

“He’d be crazy not to; I sure would!” Jimmy smirked.

Polly whacked him in the shoulder playfully but inside she wondered how much of what he said was a joke and how much was truth.

Inside the Divisional Officer’s office Steve took off his coat and hung it on a coat hanger on the door, the he took off his cumberbund and draped it over his jacket. Michele just stood there stupefied until she’d had enough.

“Fuck this,” she gasped and threw herself at the young officer.

She crushed him against the door as she kissed him passionately and scrambled for his flies. His dress trousers had buttoned flies and Steve laughed as Michele struggled to unbutton him. His laugh turned to a gasp as her fingers found his manhood and she began to tease him.

He pulled her to him and returned her kisses, thrusting against her as she stroked his thickening phallus.

“Oh my god!” he gasped as Michele raked her fingernails along his delicate flesh.

When she dropped to her knees and engulfed his cock in her hot wet mouth he howled with pleasure. Michele suckled his long sleek cock, licking at his glans then swallowed him whole. She slavered at his throbbing manhood until Steve could take no more. He pushed her face away from his crotch and grabbed her shoulders, spun her around and bent her over the chair.

He opened the split of her dress and gazed at the beautiful spectacle of her spread legs clad in smoky grey hose, her feet clad in silver heels and her soft plump buttocks encased in gauzy see-through nylon panties. He ripped off her knickers and the tape gaffing her penis. It sprang free, semi-erect.

He moved in behind Michele and impaled her on his turgid member. Michele was pre-lubricated in anticipation of making love to Jason later in the evening and Steve’s cock slid easily into her tight anus.

Michele pushed back against him and ground her buttocks as he fucked her. He gripped her hips and slammed himself in and out of the gorgeous tranny.

“Fuck me! Fuck me!” Michele gasped.

Her own cock was fully tumescent and dripping pre-seminal fluid.

Steve held Michele by the hips and fucked her hard and fast. Michele’s pleasure was mounting as she delighted in being fucked by the young handsome officer, but she wanted more.

She pushed forward causing Steve’s cock to plop from her sphincter. His dismay at this was shortlived however as Michele swept everything from his desk onto the floor and climbed on it, perching her bottom on the edge of the desk and opening her legs.

Steve stepped forward and entered her as her legs wrapped around his waist, her arms slid under his armpits and locked around his shoulders and her face lifted to kiss him. She kissed him fervently and lifted her buttocks to meet his thrusts. Steve fucked her hard and fast and then placed his hands under her buttocks and lifted her off the desk. He slammed her against the wall and fucked her there, he walked her over to the windowsill and fucked her there, and finally bought her back to the desk and thrusted hard and fast until he spent his seed deep inside her.

Michele felt the warm, wet, elixir of his issue inside her and she orgasmed with him, her own semen drenching her dress.

They gasped, writhed, wriggled and pawed at each other as they came; their tongues entwined.

Finally spent, Lieutenant Winter disentangled himself from the beautiful transvestite and Michele lowered her feet to the floor. They kissed a little and then the Lieutenant looked at his watch.

“Time to go?” Michele asked.

“Are you angry?” he smiled.

“Nah; I’ve finished with you now,” Michele smiled back mischievously.

“Bitch!” he laughed and kissed her quickly.

“But I really do have to go.”

“I’ve got a little ensuite if you wanna share,” he offered.

They squeezed in the little cubicle comprised of a toilet and a sink with a mirror over it. Michele wet a towel and wiped at her dress, fixed her makeup and brushed her hair while Steve fixed his bow tie, tucked in his shirt and combed his hair.

“So Pink Pussycats?” Steve asked raising an eyebrow to her in the mirror.

“What?” Michele replied.

“Did the boys pick you girls up at Pink Pussycats?” he clarified his question.

Michele giggled.

“Recruit Michael Nyland reporting for duty sir!” Michele smiled and threw him a mock salute.

Lieutenant Winters burst into laughter.

“Well fuck me! Barrack room Bettys! I always though the story was a myth,” he grinned.

“Look I really gotta go,” he was obviously rushed.

Steve dropped ten pounds on the desk and kissed her cheek.

“Of course you will graduate with honours Miz Nyland,” he quipped as he bolted out the door.

“Hey!” Michele cried, a little offended that he had left payment.

She shrugged her shoulders.

“Of well, what the fuck!” she stuffed the tenner in her purse and extracted the spare pair of knickers she’s bought along ‘just in case’.

As Michele made her way back to the wets she heard the warbled throatiness of Lieutenant Winters’ MGB driving away. She smiled to herself and opened the door to the wets.

Three of the couples were dancing, closely embracing each other under the Christmas lights and Jason was sitting on his own pouting. Michele sauntered over to him.

“How are you going lover?” she smiled at him.

The others stopped dancing to see what would happen.

“Well…Well…Well..” Jason stammered, he couldn’t help but notice the wet patch on her dress.

Michele dropped into his lap and kissed him affectionately and her fingers found his penis and stroked him through his trousers.

“Don’t be silly and don’t be jealous,” Michele lowered her face back to his.

The others went back to dancing, kissing and canoodling.

To be continued.

Barrack Room Betty

By Michele Nylons

Chapter Nine – Pink Pussycats

All good things come to an end and the six-week Reduced Operations Period at HMS Chelmsford ended on 15th January 1974.

The Wrens and Leading Recruits were very busy as that day approached. The Depot needed to be de-winterised and preparations made for the return of the Ship’s Company, the other Recruits, and the Wrens from their leave. Even Petty Officer White sobered up for the last week to oversee things.

Knocker was wary around Leading Recruit Jones and the other lads and ran things from his cabin. The Wrens were very sad that they would once again have to become male grommets and the Leading Recruits were sad that they would be losing their lovers.

There was much discussion in the evenings at the wet canteen about where things should go once normality returned.

Michele and Jason maintained their relationship but things had cooled; there was no infatuation between them, it was just sex and Michele was quite relieved; she’d had enough of Jason’s jealousy.

The other three couples still behaved like lovebirds and were lamenting the day when their relationships would resolve.

As usual it was left to Michele to provide a solution. On the final evening before they would have to clean and return all of the uniforms and other female paraphernalia they had purloined from the Wrens block, the subject came up again. The six lovers were stymied as to where to go and what to do; they really wanted their commitment to each other to continue.

“They don’t have to end,” Michele interjected whilst drawing on her ciggie.

“What?” the others chimed in unison.

“Your relationships; they don’t have to end,” she sipped her gin and tonic.

The others looked at her expectantly.

“Of course your days of canoodling on board HMS Chelmsford are gone; but what happens ashore, stays ashore.”

“We all have a five day furlough coming our way as compensation for being the hook rope party while everyone else was on leave. You add in the weekend that’s seven days.”

The others nodded.

“I propose this. I’ll take my three protégés ashore and take them shopping for everything we need to crossdress.”

“I’ve taught you girls enough so that once you have what you need; you can do a decent job of femming up on your own.”

The three Wrens nodded and the three Leading Recruits listened eagerly.

“You get cheap lodgings ashore and you can carry on doing your thing for seven days and then every weekend after,” Michele explained.

“You’re fucking brilliant Michele,” Polly beamed and the others agreed.

“I want one thing in return,” Michele cracked an ice cube between her teeth and the girls and boys saw mischievousness in her eyes.

“What?” they chimed.

“I want a girl’s night out at Pink Pussycats,” Michele smiled at her three girlfriends.

“Oh god yes!” Polly came in first.

“Oh yes please!” Mary followed.

“Really?” as usual Doris was unsure of herself.

“Fuck me Doris I think you’ve lost a stone over the ROP and you know how stunning you looked on New Year’s Eve,” Michele reminded her.

The girls and guys all smiled as they recalled their New Year’s revelry; the party was wilder than their Christmas Party but Michele was disappointed that Lieutenant Winters hadn’t dropped by for a New Year’s shag. When Michele had jokingly bought the subject up on the night, Spike had gone into one of his usual jealous sulks and Michele had to bring him around by paying him undivided attention.

“Great idea!” the lads chimed in.

“Oh fucking no you don’t! It’s a girl’s night out! You can shag these three senseless on the other six nights but I’m having my girl’s only night!” Michele dictated.

“Sounds great!” the Wrens were excited about being out on the town as girls, even Doris was excited.

“Sounds shit!” the lads lamented.

“Oh fucking grow up you lot. It’s just sex! We’re four transvestites and you’re four men; what do you think you’re going to do; live happy ever after?” Michele snapped.

The others looked hurt but Michele was right; their days spent as full time lovers were past. The illusion of the four young men with their four young women would dissolve tomorrow when the Wrens went to cleaning stations on their kit and returned everything back to the Wrenery and the dry canteen.

And so it came to pass, on the morning of Monday 15th January 1974 PO White fell in his hook rope party of four Leading Recruits and four ‘grommet’ new intake recruits. He reported to the OIC of the Recruit Training School who was relieved that the rabble hadn’t burnt the place to the ground.

They were dismissed and allowed to proceed on leave until the following Monday.

The eight Recruits boarded the leave bus and the Leading Recruits made a show of haranguing the grommets, but their heart wasn’t in it. They sat at the back of the bus smoking; they didn’t really want to see their sweethearts in ‘male mode’. They didn’t want Mick, Doc, Brian and Ray; they wanted Michele, Doris, Polly and Mary.

When the bus hit Cheltenham High Street the grommets got off and Mick Nyland led his cohorts through a maze of backstreets to a nearby lodging house that was only a few doors down from Pink Pussycats. Michele had found the place advertised in the phone book and called ahead and the lady who answered professed that the place was ‘tranny friendly’.

“Oh we get em’ all ere’ luv.”

“Trannys, crossdressers, tranny chasers, homos, queers, sailors the lot!”

“I don’t care what they get up to as long as they keep the noise down and they pay for their lodgings up front,” she sniffed.

“Perfect,” Michele replied and booked four rooms.

They checked into their dodgy lodgings, stowed their kit bags and met in the lounge which sported an old black and white TV, two stained and ripped overstuffed couches with matching lounge chairs, a cigarette burned coffee table with out of date magazines on it, and a fly-specked window draped with greying net curtains. It smelt of stale cigarette smoke, stale beer, old farts and mould.

“What a fucking dump!” Polly lamented.

“It’s perfect! And it’s cheap,” Mick replied and they all grinned.

“Right let’s get cracking lads; we’ve some shopping to do,” Michele led them out the front door.

The first stop was an Oxfam shop where they bought cheap second hand jeans and shirts, they could get away with their navy issue black shoes but as Michele explained, they couldn’t go shopping for women’s clothes in their navy uniforms could they? They would stand out like the proverbial dogs balls.

They went back to their digs and changed into their cheap civvies and went back to Oxfam. Mick helped the self-conscious lads pick out some nice female attire and even went into the fitting rooms with them to help them try them on.

“I’m so nervous; those old biddies are watching us,” Doc Holliday whined.

“So long as we pay for everything they won’t care Doc. It’s Monday afternoon and no one’s out shopping so they’ve got nothing else to do,” Mick explained.

“I’m scared too,” Ray Maine whined.

Mick walked over to the counter and addressed a lady who looked to be in her sixties; she had a blue rinse in her hair.

“Excuse me. My friends and I are crossdressers and were looking for nice outfits to wear to Pink Pussycats.

The other three young sailors baulked; their faces crimson with embarrassment.

“Of course you are dear, I could tell. We get your type in here all the time. Now let me help you. Come on Velma lets help these young fellows choose some nice dresses.”

Velma went to the door and flicked the sign over to ‘closed’ and locked it.

“There, now have some privacy; let’s get you lot sorted,” she beamed.

The four ‘girls’ and the two old biddies had a great time trying on various dresses, blouses and skirts. They tried on shoes too. The good thing about the demographic that use Oxfam is that they are often larger sized ladies and the girls managed to get two pairs of high heels each. They also scored slips, brassieres, and nightwear. They even got a clutch-purse each.

For about twenty pounds they each had three outfits each and foundation garments. They had kept the wigs they’d purloined from hairdressers on board HMS Chelmsford, now they needed makeup and a few other purchases.

Having dropped off their bargains at their lodging they made their way to Debenhams on the High Street. Emboldened by their victory at Oxfam the four sailors did not hesitate and went straight to the lingerie section and purchased knickers, suspender belts and stockings; lots of stockings. Stockings seemed to get laddered and snagged quite easily during their canoodling sessions.

They allowed Mick to select their cosmetics because as ‘Michele’, he was the expert when it came to selecting and applying makeup. They stopped at the costume jewellery counter and bought accessories.

It helped that being Monday; Debenhams wasn’t particularly crowded so they breezed through, selecting their purchases and paying for them at the counters.

The four were very excited as they walked back to their digs.

“I’ll say one thing; it’s fucking expensive being a crossdresser,” Mary Maine was known to be a spendthrift.

“Maybe you can sell your arse at Pink Pussycats to make back some money,” Polly Perkins joked.

They stopped off at an off licence and bought lager, gin, and bottles of Brit Vic tonic water.

Back at their digs they crowded into Mick’s room, excited at the forthcoming evening’s entertainment.

“Ok you grommets. Someone pour me a G and T and light me a ciggy and sit down here one at a time so I can do your makeup,” Michele pulled her room’s only other chair in front of her; the makeup laid out on the side table.

Two hours later, Mick, Doc, Brian and Ray had transformed into Michele, Doris, Polly and Mary. The girls preened, giggled and nattered, drinking and smoked; waiting for day to become night and for Pink Pussycats to open.

At nine o’clock the four attractive transvestites sauntered into Pink Pussycats. There had been some trepidation about going out dressed but the four ‘girls’ had had plenty of practice walking in high-heels, developing a womanly gait. No one paid much attention to them except for a group of lads outside a pub on the corner who gave them a ‘wolf-whistle’.

The trannies all giggled.

“Show us yer knickers love!” one of the young revellers yelled.

Polly obliged and turned to face them and lifted the front of her dress and gave them a panty flash.

“Fuck me boys; she’s a stunner!” one of them gasped.

While the rest of the lads preened, joked and strutted, one of the group eyed the four girls intently.

“Four trannies off to Pick Pussycats,” the dark eyed, longhaired, brooding young man pronounced.

“You think?” one his cohorts challenged.

“I think,” he replied and finished his pint and licked his lips.

Pink Pussycats was a dive. The club was situated on the second floor over a dodgy souvlaki restaurant serviced by a rickety staircase. Shag carpet stained an indiscriminate colour after years of spilled beer, ground in cigarette ash, and god knows what else. It never really dried and sucked at the patron’s shoes like quicksand. The yellow nicotine stained walls were lit by sconces, every second bulb blown, the ceiling was supposed to be white but it had long ago turned yellow; the plastic chandeliers were cobweb riddled. Mirror balls hung from the ceiling, reflecting the coloured lights from various spotlights, the bar was long, dirty and had suffered thousands of cigarette burns. There was a line of booths along one wall and low tables attended by tatty couches and armchairs scattered around the room and a small dancefloor of polished wood with a discotheque booth at one end. It smelled of stale beer, cheap spirits, disinfectant and perfume.

“It’s perfect!” Michele beamed.

Michele’s Uncle Bill had taken her out a couple times to clubs just like this during their torrid one-year affair. Michele knew that these were the sort of clubs frequented by transvestites, lesbians, gays, and their admirers and other ‘perverts’ ostracised by society in the 1970s.

Nine o’clock was early for Pink Pussycats, most of the trannies and punters didn’t roll in until around eleven o’clock, but the small contingent gathered at the bar all swivelled around to watch the four stunning trannies strut to the bar.

Michele ordered gin and tonics for all of them and they clinked glasses.

“To our girl’s night out,” Michele toasted.

The others repeated the toast and beamed. They were very comfortable here and were glad that they had listened to Michele. Once again their mentor had been right.

The girls took a table with a couple of couches pulled up to it; they drank, smoked and chatted. As the evening progressed more crossdressers and admirers arrived. Some trannies and admirers paired off but most of the trannies stayed together in small groups and chatted and danced together, eyed off by the as yet timid admirers.

“The admirers are working up Dutch courage so they can talk to the girls,” Michele explained.

After a few drinks the girls danced as a group and then some of the other girls came over and they danced with them. It was exciting for Doris, Polly, and Mary whose only crossdressing experience had been during the ROP at HMS Chelmsford. Michele too was enjoying herself, particularly now that her charges were spreading their wings and confident enough to do their own thing without her needing to constantly guide them.

Most of the male admirers had drunk enough now so that they were able to leave their perches at the bar and approach the girls and dance or chat with them. Some had paired off already and were chatting or smooching in the dark corners of the club.

Michele’s girls were dancing with a small group of other transvestites and male admirers, taking a break now and then to get a drink and to chat. The night was getting late and the music had changed from the unce, unce, unce, of the disco beat to the ballads of Roxy Music and David Bowie.

Polly, Doris and Mary were dancing with three admirers, the girls were having fun but it was obvious from their body language that all the admirers were going to get was a dance. Every attempt at a bum squeeze or a kiss was gently rebuffed by the girls. They were having fun but still infatuated with their sailor beaus and intended to remain faithful.

Michele had retired to a booth where she sat on her own watching her charges.

“Grommets!” she giggled to herself.

She was more drunk than sober, but still had control of her faculties.

She lit a cigarette and drained the last of her gin and tonic and was about to get up and go to the bar when suddenly a fresh gin and tonic appeared before her.

A man slid into the booth and seated himself across from her. Michele recognised the longhaired broody young man from outside the pub.

“Cheers,” he raised his scotch and dry ginger to her and took a sip.

Michele looked at him warily. He dug in his pockets and produced a packet of menthol cigarettes and lit two; offering one to Michele.

She took it in her delicate fingers, nails painted blood red.

She drew on her cigarette and sipped her drink, eying him sceptically.

“Cocky bastard aren’t you,” she smiled at him.

His handsome face was framed by long blonde locks, stylishly unkempt; his lips were sensual and red, Mick Jagger lips, his eyes dark with long lashes. He was fashionably pale; his slim frame clad in a tight a denim jacket and jeans.

He oozed self-confidence.

He smiled back at her and her heart skipped a beat. This young man was extremely handsome and exuded a raw sexiness. He lifted himself out of his seat and sat down next to her.

“Yes?” Michele raised her eyebrows at him.

“Is that a question or an answer?” he responded and lowered his face to hers.

Michele melted when his luscious lips met hers. He kissed her softly and tenderly, brushing his lips on hers. He teased her and when Michele attempted to crush her lips on his he resisted and held her face still. Then he slipped just the tip of tongue inside her lips; Michele tried to make him kiss her harder but he resisted and gently caressed her lips with his, tentatively slipping the tip of tongue across her lips.

He broke the kiss and drew on his cigarette and took a sip of his drink.

Michele did the same.

She was dressed in a deep blue, skin-tight maxi-dress, split at the side, displaying her long elegant legs clad in fully-fashioned, flesh-toned stockings. Her makeup was heavy, but perfect for night-clubbing, dark smoky eyes, rouged cheeks and blood-red lips to match her nailpolish. Accessorised with silver jewellery and high-heels, her hair styled in a short black bob; she looked sumptuous and she knew it.

Michele scooted into the corner of the booth and laid her long legs along the bench seat. She sipped her drink glancing at the broody young man indifferently.

“Any chance of another drink,” she gave him her best sultry look.

“Sure, I just have to do one thing,” he replied.

“What’s that?” Michele asked.

“This!”

He leapt across the booth and pulled Michele to him, his lips crushed hers and finally he kissed her passionately and Michele responded, pulling him against her. His hand found the split in her skirt at the same time as she found the bulge in his tight jeans. She squeezed his erection through the denim while he explored her legs and buttocks, neither of them breaking the kiss.

After the initial burst of excitement they slowed things down and took their time, kissing and exploring each other in the dark corner of the booth.

“Look at the lovebirds!” Polly sniggered to her chums, pointing with her chin across the room to where Michele sat in her booth.

“Didn’t take her long to find someone else did it?” Doris huffed.

“What? Have you and Billy Marron got true love? Come on Doris, we all know things between Michele and Jason haven’t been going well since Christmas,” Mary replied.

“Well in that case, this could be interesting,” Polly grinned.

She pointed over to the top of the staircase where an unmistakably drunk Leading Recruit ‘Spike’ Jones had just staggered into the club.

Michele and her new beau were only interested in each other and were not paying attention to the passing parade in the dark noisy nightclub. They had sated their initial lust and were seated side by side kissing and fondling each other, happy with their own company until Jason stormed over to their booth.

His uniform was dishevelled; his lanyard askew and the silk around his neck had come adrift from the tapes that normally secured it tied in bow. His blue sailor’s collar was crooked and he reeked of rum.

“Hello slut!” he drawled drunkenly and uninvitedly plonking himself into the booth across from them.

He’d stopped at the bar for a double rum and slammed it on the table, spilling some of the dark liquor on the table top.

“Jason what are you doing here?” Michele asked.

Her voice was calming, deliberately non-confrontational.

“Well apparently my girlfriend was going to have a girls night out, but now I’ve found her with some hippy looking tosser who’s got every intention of fucking her!” he slurred.

The broody young man slid along the bench seat, his intention to eject the drunken sailor obvious, but Michele gripped his bicep to stop him.

“Jason I stopped being your girlfriend the day you called me a slut just before the Christmas party. I’m not your possession and never will be, so just get over it,” Michele said maintaining a calm tone.

“Well you obviously are a slut!”

“You’re here with this skinny fag tranny fucker!” he screeched.

Jason could be heard over the music and the sleepy bouncer at the top of the stairs awakened and looked in their direction, ready for trouble, but didn’t move.

“Jason, you’re making a scene. Go back to your digs and we’ll discuss this tomorrow,” Michele said trying to soothe him.

“Ah fuck you and fuck your longhaired, sissy faggot!” Spike roared and threw the remains of his drink over Michele.

The lithe young man sitting beside Michele leapt to his feet and hauled Spike out of his seat and dragged him over to the entrance door. He grabbed him by his tunic and tossed him down the stairs.

He looked at the bellicose bouncer.

“Isn’t this what you’re paid to do?” he quipped.

“Nah, why bother when you can do my job for me,” the bouncer replied.

The broody young longhair strode back to the booth.

“Come on!” he grabbed Michele by the arm and half dragged her from her seat.

“Where are we going?” Michele asked.

“Your place! I presume you have one?”

They burst through the door to Michele’s room at her cheap lodgings, kissing and groping at each other.

Michele dragged him over to the bed and they fell on it, the shabby bed groaning under their weight. They kissed and groped each other; Michele was underneath him, struggling to pull down his skin tight jeans as he clawed at her knickers.

“Fuck that!” Michele groaned wantonly.

She pulled him on top of her and her hand found him; hot, hard and ready. She pulled aside the gusset of her stain panties and guided him to her sphincter. She had pre-lubricated in anticipation of bringing home a beau or maybe Jason dropping around.

Michele gripped his hips and rose up off the bed, slowly impaled herself on his hard phallus. She bucked underneath him, moving her hands to his shoulders and bringing his face to hers so she could kiss him. They fucked and thrashed on the rickety bed.

Michele put a hand to his throat, forcing him to pause. She lifted her legs up high and put them over his shoulders and he thrust into her deeply, his scrotum resting in her buttocks.

Then Michele fucked him; she hung onto his shoulders and thrust herself up and down off the bed to meet his thrusts.

Her high-heels banged against the wall; the bed groaned and squeaked as their passion mounted. In the room next door Polly and Mary giggled as they listened to the banging on the wall.

“Fuck me!”

“Fuck me!”

“Fuck me hard you bastard!” Michele was irrevocable, lost in animal lust.

The young hipster gripped her tight and screamed obscenities as he orgasmed and spent himself deep inside her. Michele’s anal muscles contracted and gripped his throbbing penis as she spent into her panties.

An hour later the two lovers were sipping drinks and smoking a cigarette, still ensconced in the afterglow of their frenzied lovemaking.

Michele had slinked out of her dress and was left dressed in knickers, brassiere, suspenders and stockings, which were laddered and holed. She still wore her silver high heels.

Michele crushed out her cigarette and drained her drink.

“Bet you can’t go again,” she chided her lover.

“Oh for fuck sake am I going to get any sleep tonight?” Poly whinged in the room next door as the wall began to shake.

As the pale light of dawn crept through the window Michele snuggled up to her paramour.

“What’s your name by the way?” she asked.

“Does it matter?” he replied.

“Not really,” Michele yawned and fell asleep.

To be continued.

Barrack Room Betty

By Michele Nylons

Chapter Ten – Sea Daddies and Sea Mommies

Seaman Michael Nyland graduated from Recruit School in March 1974 and was immediately posted to HMS Raleigh to commence training as a Writer; a sailor specialising in pay, personnel matters and administration.

He was glad to see the back of HMS Chelmsford; Spike and the three other Leading Recruits had passed out at the end of January and had posted off to other establishments to undertake their category courses. Jimmy Lovejoy, Jean Burgess and Billy Marron caught the train to Chelmsford every Friday to catch up with their ‘girlfriends’, Polly, Doris and Mary.

Mike spent every weekend dressed as Michele, staying at the dodgy lodgings just down from Pink Pussycats where Michele became a regular. She never took the same bloke home twice and most nights she didn’t even bother to hook up. When she did, she made sure that the admirer knew it was a one night stand and not to expect a repeat performance. Michele’s experiences with Bill and Jason Jones had put her off long term relationships.

Polly, Doris, and Mary also posted to HMS Raleigh to undertake their Officer Steward’s and Cook courses. Michele had drifted away from her protégés and they no longer needed her as they had learned all they could from her about crossdressing. Their boyfriends now visited them in Plymouth, which had a large underground gay and transgender scene with numerous bars and nightclubs.

Michele noticed that quite a few of the logistic branch sailors were gay and suspected that a few might also be into crossdressing. A disturbing consequence of her on and off romance with Jason Jones was that she had been made aware of rumours going around that she and some of her shipmates had been, and may still be, Barrack Room Bettys. She suspected that Jason had leaked the rumour to get back at her.

Whislt at HMS Raleigh Mike worked hard at his studies and only took Michele out of the closet when the urge became irresistible. Then she would find a cheap boarding house or hotel near a tranny friendly venue and find some punter to bring home to give her a thorough fucking and then immediately leave. She didn’t bother socialising with Polly, Doris or Mary.

Mike graduated top of his class and his mom and dad came to the graduation parade and were glad to see that their son had given away ‘that silly crossdressing nonsense’.

“See son, I told you the Navy would make a man out you,” Mike’s father lectured him over a pint at the wet canteen.

“If only you knew dad,” Mike smiled back.

Mike glanced down at his pint and noticed a tiny ring of nailpolish in the cuticle of one of his fingernails where he hadn’t quite got the nailpolish remover. He smiled to himself and then smiled at his dad.

Mike’s dad was proud of him and also proud of his son’s forthcoming draft to the Navy’s Flagship.

HMS Ark Royal was the biggest ship in the Navy with a complement of 2700 officers and sailors and 39 embarked aircraft. It was a rabbit warrant of steel passageways, compartments and galleries. When Mike drafted on board he was impressed with the vessel’s sheer size and the number of personnel on board. As a mere Able Seaman ‘scribe’ he felt quite insignificant amongst those who drove the ship, manned its weapons, operated the machinery and flew and maintained the aircraft.

He worked in the Personnel Office down on four deck where he sat behind a desk handling files. The office was quite claustrophobic, with four painted steel bulkheads, rows of filing cabinets and three desks manned by Writers headed by the ‘Perso’ or Personnel Officer, CPO Rod Latham.

When he was posting in another AB Writer, who had been detailed off to be Mike’s ‘sea daddy’ until he settled in, led Mike around the ship. Mike had to take his post-in chit to various offices and stations around the ship, he met his DO, a doddering old Lieutenant who was one of the ‘Pussers’, Supply Officers, on board.

“This is officer’s country up here aft on two deck, you only ever come here if you’re ordered to ok?” Bob Bently, his sea daddy, explained.

They went to the Naval Police or Joss-man’s office where a Petty Officer signed and stamped his post-in chit.

“You’re not that Barrack Room Betty I’ve heard about are you?” the PO asked.

Mike shook his head and looked away.

“What’s that about?” Bob asked.

“Just some bullshit story that some arsehole started,” Mike explained.

They went to the Regulating Office where Bob explained how the watch and station bill worked.

“See we’re day hands; we don’t keep watches like the stokers and dip-dabs. But we have collateral duties. See here, you’re Two Charlie PO’s messman for breakfast and dinner.”

“What does that mean?” Mike asked.

“Well there are a couple of PO’s messes because there are so many of them but you go to 2C PO’s café and serve breakfast and dinner to the Petty Officers. They get table service see.”

“And after dinner my time’s my own?” Mike enquired.

“Unless they do something stupid like calling action stations which they do sometimes during exercises. See here is your action station, the after damage control section base,” Bob pointed to the station bill.

“You’ll get the hang of it, don’t worry,” Bob said.

And Mike did, after being on board for three months he knew the ship pretty well and had adapted to the ship’s routines. Ark Royal was old, busy and noisy; aircraft took off and landed at all hours and there were endless pipes over the ship’s main broadcast. Being so large, she didn’t move around that much but in heavier sea states she tended to roll and Mike had a touch of mal de mer until he got his sea legs.

What was frustrating was working in the office deep in the bowels of the ship. Whenever he could, Mike went up to the GDP Gun Direction Platform which was a deck high up on the island to watch the planes take off and land. Or he went up onto the three deck starboard after ladder bay where he could get fresh air and was one of the few places on the ‘uppers’ where junior rates could smoke on an aircraft carrier. The holy-stoned, oak planked quarterdeck was officers country so he couldn’t go there and the focsle was the senior rates upper deck recreation area but it was noisy during flying stations as the catapults were above it.

Mike had seen Doc Holliday behind the servery of the main galley and he also caught up with Brian Perkins in the ladder bay one day while he was having a smoke.

“So there’s three of us Betty’s on board,” Polly said, sitting on a bollard smoking.

“Yeah, I saw Doc in the main galley. Are you two still, you know?” Mike asked, arching a brow.

“Yeah back in Pompey,” sailor’s slang for Portsmouth.

“We meet up with Jimmy and Billy when their ship is alongside. They’re both in HMS Leander and she usually escorts us; so you know, most of the time we’re in port at the same time.”

“Mary’s in Blake so we don’t see her much.”

“So you’re still all together then?” Mike asked.

“Well yeah, but did you know that Spike’s on board?” Polly went on.

“And worse. He’s in the Bosuns Party and guess who is I/C of the Bosuns Party?”

Mike blanched.

“Yeah, Petty Officer Knocker White,” Polly flicked his butt into the spitkid.

Mike shuddered.

“Well there’s over two over thousand officers and sailors on board the Ark so I’m not likely to run into them am I. And if so, so what?” Mike replied.

“Be careful Michele, it’s a big ship and there’s lots of secrets on board and lots of compartments where things happen that don’t accord with Admiralty Regulations,” Polly whispered.

Mike had heard that there were illegal activities happening in some of the Ark’s less frequented spaces. There was gambling on uckers and mah-jongg, mojo parties with illegal spirits, there were pornographic movie nights, there was talk that some of the homosexuals on board met for trysts and that some them offered fellatio to so-called straight sailors.

Ark Royal was a floating city filled with testosterone infused young men with all sorts of needs and desires.

“Don’t call me Michele. I’m Mike! Michele only comes out ashore,” he answered.

“Besides who could get their girly gear into these fucking two by three foot lockers. I can hardly get all me kit in there as it is.”

“Just be careful Michele, err Mike. Like I said it’s a big ship,” Polly turned and headed back towards the ladder leading down to wardroom where he worked.

Mike put Polly’s counsel down to bitterness because Mike had stopped stepping with his old Betty gang and had become a loner. But still, Polly’s warning sent a chill down Mike’s back.

He looked out at the calm seas; he watched HMS Leander and the other escorts dancing around screening the carrier while he smoked another cigarette.

“Bollocks!” he said and went over to the hatch leading down to 3 deck, then down the next ladder to 4 deck and the personnel office.

One other strange occurrence happened that day, whilst Mike was busy working on various files CPO Rod Latham walked behind him, stopped and massaged his neck.

“I hear you were quite the Barrack Room Betty back at Chelmsford,” he whispered in Mike’s ear and then moved on as if nothing had happened.

Four weeks later and nothing went terribly wrong for Mike.

Ark Royal had sailed with her escorts for a two-week shakedown prior to deploying to the Med and then down into Asia. Everyone on board was excited about the forthcoming deployment but not looking forward to the workup required beforehand.

There had been a few training sessions and drills leading into the more complex action stations exercises and one afternoon Mike was required to close up at the after damage control section base.

“Ok we are going to practice responding to a damage control incident. The scenario is we have been hit aft and we need to make a damage assessment. So you lads pair up and rove the after compartments looking for damage and report in ok?” the Chief Stoker in charge of the section base explained.

The DC teams paired up but there was an odd number. The Chief looked down at his clipboard.

“Nyland, prove!” Mike raised his hand.

“You get over here with me as the incident board marker, you take Nyland’s place,” he said to the spare hand.

Mike was happy to be left in the section base drawing on the incident board, which was a big schematic of the whole after section of the ship laid out on it like a map in both plan and elevation.

The exercise had been running for about twenty minutes when a sound powered telephone rang on the section base I/C desk. He picked it up and listened looking intently at AB Nyland.

“And there’s ten quid in it for me, no questions asked?” he said into the phone.

He listened for a beat then hung up.

“Nyland, get over here,” the Chief growled.

Mike went over to where the CPO was now standing pondering the incident board.

“Ok I’ve had a report of battle damage in Six Quebec Delta Alpha. I need you to investigate,” the Chief said, his face red.

Mike looked at the incident board and furrowed his brow.

“But Chief, that’s a compartment, within two other compartments and is down on six deck below the waterline. Surely the DC rovers would have found an entry point above it. It says here the compartment is an old store and no longer used anyway so if it floods so what?” Mike had become quite adept at his job.

The Chief clipped him around the ear.

“Just do what you’re fucking well told will you! I don’t make up the stupid exercise scenarios, I just respond to them.”

Mike knew that answering back would be fruitless so he grabbed his anti-flash gear and leak-stopping bag and headed off, closing and dogging all the doors and hatches behind him because the ship was at Damage Control state Zulu. It took him a while to find Six Quebec Delta Alpha compartment because he had to pass through a maze of other compartments to get there.

He tried to look through the small reinforced spyglass set into the door but the shield was down inside the compartment. He undogged the door to the compartment and stepped inside dogging the door behind him with all eight clips. The lights were off and he used his torch to find the light switch and flicked it up.

What he saw nearly stopped his heart.

“Fuck!” he gasped, hardly able to breathe.

Along one bulkhead of the compartment was a long cupboard from deck to deckhead. It was broken down into sections like wardrobes. There was a mess table with four seats around it and an ashtray in the middle and a small refrigerator in one corner. Three pussers bunks had been lashed together in the middle of the room making one big bed. The bed was covered in counterpanes bearing the blue and white fouled anchor found on all navy issue bedding.

But what was more perplexing was that one of the wardrobe doors had been left open displaying what was obviously a Wrens uniform. On one bulkhead was a small sink with a mirror above it, not the polished stainless steel found in the heads and bathrooms on board, but a proper glass mirror that had been illegally fitted. The sink was set into a makeshift bench that was currently full of cosmetics. On the bed lay a brunette wig, black satin panties and bra, and a pair of sheer stockings. A pair of black high-heels was poised under the bed.

“Fuck this!” Mike yelped and tried to undog the door but someone had fastened the dogs down hard with a pry bar.

Then he heard the ominous sound of the door locking. Being a former storeroom the door had a fitted lock like those fitted to the magazines, armoury, wine store, and other compartments containing important and valuable ship’s stores.

“Fuck!” he cried and kicked at the door.

He kicked it for a while but nothing happened; then he got the idea to open the shield and look out the spyglass.

When he did he was horrified to see the eyes of AB gunner Spike Jason Jones looking in at him grinning.

“Fuck you Spike!” he yelled but he knew he wouldn’t be heard through the heavy steel door.

Then the sound powered phone rang

Mike snatched it off the bulkhead.

“Chief! Chief! I'm in Six Quebec Delta Alpha and I need help!” he yelled into the phone.

Then he heard laughter on the other end.

“Hello Senior Wren Writer Michele Nyland,” Mike shuddered at Spike’s evil tone.

“You know what to do don’t you Barrack Room Betty. So get started. If you don’t we are going to leave you down here, isolate the power, lighting and the air conditioning and leave you to rot. But not before I find Polly and Doris and throw them in there with you.”

“Get cracking, you’ve got forty minutes to get ready!” the phone slammed down into its bracket at the other end.

Mike searched vainly for any means of communication and found none other than the sound powered phone on the bulkhead, and that did not have a selector switch, it was hard wired to the phone outside.

Mike had no choice. He shucked out of his number eights and sat at the sink and started putting on makeup.

It was the strangest thing in the world, being at sea in a navy ship transforming from a sailor to a Wren.

Michele had done this so many times that she did it without thinking. Applying foundation and powder, eyeliner, eyeshadow and mascara. She rouged her cheeks and applied lipstick. She put on the wig, adjusted it and brushed it out. She sat on the bed and slipped into the suspender belt and slid the cool, sheer stockings up her legs and fastened them.

Stepping into the panties she shivered at the luxurious feel of slinky satin sliding up her stockinged legs. She put on the brassiere, the cups pre-filled with foam to give them shape. She pulled on the white long-sleeved blouse, buttoned it and then stepped into the navy blue skirt. The familiar feel of the silk lining gliding up her legs sent shudders of pleasure through her. She hadn’t dressed for so long that she had forgotten how much she loved it.

She fastened her skirt at her waist, tucked in the blouse and tied her tie. She buckled the black high heels and checked herself as best she could in the mirror. She sprayed herself with perfume and brushed her hair again.

She would be lying to herself if she didn’t admit that she felt feminine, sexy, and aroused now that she was dressed. Her knickers were already wet at the front.

“What the fuck! It’s not like I haven’t done this before,” she said resignedly.

She sat on the bed and fumbled in her eights pockets and found her cigarettes and lighter and lit up, her legs crossed, swinging one foot lazily as she relished being dressed once again as a Wren. She patiently painted nailpolish on her fingernails.

Five minutes later the door opened and Jason Jones stepped into the compartment.

“Hello darling, long time no see,” Spike grinned, unbuttoning his shirt.

“I know we didn’t part well Jason but I never thought it would come to this,” Michele’s voice had subconsciously taken on a falsetto.

“Well let’s say we’re having a fuck for old time’s sake,” Spike grinned.

He was naked, his erection poking out in front him strong and proud. He was lubricating it from a tube of KY jelly.

Michele climbed onto the bed and got on all fours, wriggling her bottom seductively.

“Well come on then let’s get it over with,” she whimpered.

Spike climbed on the bed behind her and raised her skirt.

Michele shivered with trepidation and lust. Yes lust, she hadn’t had sex for ages and now that she was dressed she was aroused.

Spike pulled the gusset of panties aside exposing her tight bud; Michele reached around and took hold of his penis and guided it to her sphincter. Spike slid his glans into her and Michele pushed back, impaling herself on his hard cock.

“Oh yes,” she moaned.

“Oh god,” Spike groaned and gripped her hips and slowly began to fuck her.

Michele rocked her hips and wriggled her buttocks, encouraging him.

“You’re still my girl,” Jason moaned.

“I’m not your girl; but you are still a great fuck,” Michele replied and ground her soft buttocks into his groin.

Just then the door opened and in walked Petty Officer Knocker White.

“I fucking might have guessed,” Michele sighed resignedly.

When he walked over, dropped his trousers and offered Michele his cock she opened her mouth and sucked eagerly at the appendage. The obvious reason being to get him off as soon as possible but she admitted to herself that she quite liked the idea of being spit roasted

Knocker was careful not make Michele choke or gag; he could feel her lips close around the shaft of his cock and her tongue flutter against his glans. So long as she capitulated, he didn’t want her to choke and try to spit him out. He humped Michele’s face slowly back and forth letting his climax slowly build.

Michele’s movements were contributing to Jason’s pleasure as he enjoyed the feel of her soft satin-encased buttocks pushing back against him.

Michele felt Jason withdraw, and then slowly thrust into her again; as he grasped the side panels of her panties and began to fuck her harder, his cock slamming in and out of her tight passage. Jason got into a steady rhythm pounding in and out of Michele’s back passage and she felt small waves of pleasure emitting from deep inside her anus. She felt her own cock thicken in the front of her satin panties.

Jason pulled at the waistband on the sides of Michele’s knickers as he fucked her, thrusting back and forth against her, he was intentionally stimulating her, knowing from previous experience what excited his ex-girlfriend. Her panty crotch rubbed back and forth across her penis and Michele let out an animal groan from deep within her throat.

Knocker watched his accomplice fuck the sexy Wren. He had pulled his cock form her mouth when he had felt the onset of his orgasm so could prolong his pleasure. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to contain himself much longer when he realised the bitch was not only letting his shipmate fuck her; she was enjoying it!

He lifted Michele’s face to his erect penis and without any encouragement; she engulfed it in her mouth, her lips sucking at the shaft and her tongue feathering along the sensitive glans. He would be coming soon he realised; and he held Michele’s head by the ears and began to fuck her face.

The sailors and sexy young Wren got into rhythm; their thrusts orchestrated with Jason pounding himself in and out of Michele’s soft sexy bottom and Knocker plunging his cock in and out Michele’s pretty face. Michele rocked on her hands and knees in time with their thrusts. She was enjoying it; and her own cock pulsed inside her panties as rings of pleasure travelled out from her anus.

Michele felt her panties tear as Jason pulled her buttocks back hard against his groin; he pushed forward with all his might forcing every last inch of his cock deep inside her. Michele pushed back against him as she felt streams of hot semen fill her rectum. At the same time Knocker groaned and his cock pulsed in her mouth ejaculating a flood of jism that she swallowed as best she could.

Some of Knocker’s spend dribbled past her lipsticked lips and ran down her chin and she could feel some Jason’s issue seep past her ravaged sphincter and run down her thighs and soak into her stockings. Michele’s own orgasm rocked her and she ejaculated; flooding her panties with hot semen.

Michele moaned around Knocker’s phallus as it squirted the last of his load in her mouth; Jason and Knocker both gasped and groaned as they emptied themselves inside the transvestite Wren impaled between them. Jason could feel Michele’s anal muscles spasm and her sphincter contract, milking him of his seed; whilst Knocker felt her lips slither and slide up and down his shaft while her tongue slathered at his glans extracting every last drop of his spend.

Eventually all three of them began to descend from the pinnacle of their orgasms. Knocker recovered first and pulled his cock out of Michele’s mouth and rubbed it over her face in a gesture of humiliation. A few droplets of sperm mixed with Michele’s makeup, her face now a mess of lipstick, rouge and mascara. A long gobbet of semen was drying on her cheek. The humiliating gesture was not lost on Michele but she still greedily lapped at the slowly deflating member.

Knocker pulled himself away from Michele, stood up and began to pull up his trousers.

Jason pulled his cock from Michele’s anus with an audible plop. Semen ran in a rivulet from Michele’s anus down her thigh and soaked in dark welt of her stocking. Jason wiped his cock on the remains of her ripped panties and then pushed Michele facedown on the bed.

Michele lay on the bed panting, recovering from the throes of her orgasm but a little disgusted with herself still the same. She had not only capitulated to Spike and Knocker’s demands; she had reluctantly enjoyed it. She could justify to herself that she had no choice but submit to them; but deep down she had to admit that at a sub-conscience level that she had loved being ravaged. The evidence was right there in the gusset of her knickers!

She got slowly to her knees when she heard the door open again. She looked up and was amazed to see Chief Writer Rod Latham step over the combing and enter the compartment. She made a calculated decision.

“Chief! Chief! Oh thank god you’re here to save me!” Michele implored.

Rod Latham stopped just inside the compartment and took in the spectacle before him; then he strode purposefully over to the bed.

“So boys, have you loosened up this Barrack Room Betty for me?” he smiled as he opened his flies and took out his thickening cock.

To Be Continued.

Barrack Room Betty

By Michele Nylons

Chapter Eleven – An Offer You Can’t Refuse!

Michele remained on her knees and waited for Chief Writer Rod Latham to come over to the bunk to see what he wanted of her.

It turned out he wanted a quick fellatio session, which she provided.

After the three sailors had satisfied their urges with Michele it was time to talk business.

“So as you can see compartment Six Quebec Delta Alpha has been put to uses other than for those intended when the ship was built,” Rod Latham began.

“We use it for our own little business on board. We have an illegal open bar four nights a week, gambling twice a week, and when Polly and Doris drafted on board and we found out about the Barrack Room Betty stuff, so we started a porno movie and tranny prossie night once a week.”

“And Polly and Doris are ok with this?” Michele asked, puffing on a cigarette.

“Well they can’t really complain can they? We blackmailed them but we are fair; they get half of what we charge the sailors to fuck them,” Knocker grinned.

“And you’re getting the same deal. You work down here in Six Quebec Delta Alpha one night a week and you get paid half of what you make,” Rod explained.

“So basically you want me to work as a transvestite prostitute with two other transvestite prostitutes and you three take half what we earn?” Michele replied.

The three men just smiled and nodded.

“And of course if I refuse; you make my life hell and expose me as a closet crossdresser on a ship with over three thousand ship’s company, a lot of whom have no compunction about putting their cock into a man dressed as a woman?” Michele said.

“You got it girly,” Knocker grinned.

“Ok; you will have my answer before we get back to Pompey,” Michele replied.

“Now if you don’t mind I need to change back and report to the section base.”

“No need to report, that’s all taken care of,” Rod smiled at her.

“Well in any case, I need to get changed and get to scran,” Michele replied.

“No rush Michele. Been as you’re still dressed how about a quick fuck before you go?” Spike smirked.

“And how much are you charging the punters to fuck Polly and Doris?” Michele asked.

“Ten pounds for a fuck and five for a headjob,” he replied.

“Well you’ll need a tenner then won’t you Jason?” referring to Spike by his proper name.

“You lads just had your last freebie; now fuck off and let a lady get changed in peace!”

Rod and Knocker laughed and Spike flushed with anger.

“Come on lads, we’ve got to up spirits to open the bar tonight. Leave Michele alone,” Rod ordered.

Michele shucked out of her female attire as soon as they left and stood at the small sink removing her makeup, the cogs in her brain ticking over as a plan germinated. She smirked at herself in the mirror and then changed back into her uniform and once more became Able Seaman Nyland.

The next day Michael Nyland met with ABs Dave ‘Doc’ Holiday and Brian ‘Polly’ Perkins in the starboard after ladder bay at stand easy. They sipped kai, sailors slang for hot chocolate, and smoked cigarettes. It was a dismal day with rough seas and pouring rain so they had the space to themselves.

“So the queen of the barracks calls a meeting of her discarded proteges,” Doc said sarcastically.

“Ok ladies; I know I’ve been doing things my own way for a while but right now we are all in the same situation,” Michele began.

“Rod Latham, Knocker White and Spike Jones think they have us over a barrel. I know you girls have been whoring for them and they think they can blackmail me into the same game.”

“What choice do we have? Those cunts know about us being Barrack Room Bettys at HMS Chelmsford! They can ruin our careers!” Doc screeched.

“Ok, chill girls. I have a plan that might just see us on easy street,” Michael said soothingly.

“Just listen me out; but this only works if we are united”

Michael went on to explain his plan in great detail and Doc and Polly listened intently as the plan was unveiled.

That evening CPO Rod Latham, PO Knocker White and AB ‘Spike’ Jason Jones entered Six Quebec Delta Alpha compartment to find Michele, Doris and Polly dressed resplendently and sitting at the small table smoking and drinking from cans of Newcastle Brown Ale.

“What the fuck do you lot think you’re doing!” Knocker stormed over the coaming banging his knee, which elicited a giggle from the trio of transvestites.

“You cunts shouldn’t be here! Tonight’s gambling night!” Spike whined and aggressively strode across the compartment.

“Wait! Wait! Wait!” Rod put a steadying hand out to his two partners in crime.

“Something tells me that Michele has a proposal. She’s too fucking smart for her own boots but I suggest we listen anyway.”

Michele smiled and waved the three over to sit. Rod sat at the table and Knocker and Spike on the bunk.

“Ok. I’ve considered your offer with some profundity. That means I though hard about it Spike,” Michele couldn’t help but bait her old boyfriend.

“And here’s the problem. You lads are thinking way too modest and your business plan sucks. You are running an illegal open bar four nights a week, a gambling night twice a week, and a porno movie and tranny prossie night once a week.”

“The whole corporate model sucks.”

“What the fuck would you know you’re just a stupid AB Writer transvestite!” Knocker spat.

“No! I’m an intelligent AB Writer who has transvestite peccadilloes and if you shut the fuck up I’ll make you rich,” Michele replied.

“Shut the fuck up Knocker, let’s hear what she’s got to say,” Rod interjected.

Michele raised her eyebrows at Polly and nodded to the fridge and Polly got everyone a can of beer.

“Here is my proposal. We run an open bar with gambling tables every night of the week and there will be four sexy transvestite hostesses on hand to encourage the punters to spend big and they are also available for sex at a price,” Michele espoused.

“But…” Spike was about to interject but Rod raised a hand to shut him down.

“Yeah; I know, this place is a shithole! We need to get it spruced up. Painted, fitted out and made fit for purpose. We put in a proper bar, proper tables and chairs, and for us girls a workroom where we can take the punters for sex,” Michele went on.

“I’m sure you lads have influence with the departmental regulators so we can get materials and a workforce to make it happen during the pre-deployment preparation period. We can offer cash or favours to make sure it gets done,” Michele took a sip of her drink and lit a cigarette.

“What else Michele? That’s not all is it?” Rod asked.

“No it’s not. I want you to arrange a draft for AB Steward Ray Maine from HMS Blake to the Ark; she’s the forth hostess.”

“I want the four of us to be removed from the watch and station bill. We will be effectively posted to the Ark but will not have a part of ship or any duty stations so we can manage this place full time on your behalf.”

“And finally I want the compartment below, Seven Quebec Delta Alpha turned into a four berth mess for your Bettys. I’ve checked the ship’s drawings and it’s just a void. All it needs is air conditioning, fresh water and fitting out with bunks and a shower and a head.”

“That’s bollocks! Even Chief’s don’t get a four berth!” Knocker growled.

“Gentlemen. What I’m offering is a business proposal. We have a seven month deployment to the Mediterranean, Asia and Australia coming up with shit loads of sea time between ports and two thousand plus bored sailors and officers with pockets bulging with cash.”

In the 1970s officers and rating were still paid in cash every Thursday fortnight, even at sea. The Pusser operated a savings bank on board but most sailors simply threw their pay packets into their lockers so they had ready cash for the next port of call.

“We only allow selected members of the ship’s company to use the facility; those we can trust to keep it an absolute secret. But we will make a shitload of money,” Michele finished her proposal.

The three men were gobsmacked by the magnitude of Michele’s proposal but Michele could see the wheels turning in their heads. Michele knew that CPO Rod Latham was the brains of their tinpot venture and that he would see the merit in her proposal.

He spoke first.

“And the alternative?”

“Polly, Doris and I won’t work for you. We know you will out us so we’ll have to pull tricks in messdecks and other spaces around the ship where we won’t get caught. It will be very unpleasant but if don’t do that the bullies will get to us,” Michele replied.

“Your business will suffer and life for us will be shit,” she finished.

“And the big question. How much do we pay you girls?” Knocker interjected.

“We take any costs setting up the business out of the projected profits up front and then we split everything evenly. Rod and I are Writers so we can run the books so everything is transparent to all of us,” Michele replied.

“We all make a lot of money and we all have fun; it doesn’t get any better than that.”

“It’s just like that Godfather dit we saw last week lads; I’m making you an offer you can’t refuse,” Michele grinned.

The three men deliberated amongst themselves while Michele, Doris and Polly chatted and discussed the finer details. Then they discussed the proposal together late into the night. At around midnight and quite a few drinks later a consensus was reached.

The three transvestites and the three sailors clinked their cans together in a toast.

“To ‘Barrack Room Betty’s’, the only floating gentleman’s club in the Royal Navy,” Rod laughed.

“And as been as this is the last time we will be in this shithole before it’s refitted; and, countermanding my previous directive, you lads get one last freebie,” Michele declared.

Jason lunged for Michele but was intercepted by CPO Rod Latham.

“Rank has its privileges Able Seaman Jones,” Rod interjected.

Spike looked very perturbed at not being able to engage with his former lover and Michele shrugged her shoulders and gave him a wan smile as Rod lifted her out of her seat and then planted her in his lap.

Michele had none of her female attire on board and so she was dressed in the Wren’s uniform, albeit with the skirt shortened and against any navy uniform regulations; high heels, stockings, suspenders and satin panties.

She lowered her face to Rod’s and kissed him passionately as she straddled him and his hand slid under her skirt and stroked her thighs. Polly had reluctantly joined Knocker on the bunk but soon forgot her misgivings as they kissed and caressed each other.

Spike, thwarted in his attempt to engage with Michele canoodled with Doris, his hands exploring her thighs under the silver lame miniskirt she was wearing.

Michele fumbled around until she was able to free Rod’s engorged member from his trousers, the girls were pre-lubricated in anticipation of this event and when Rod pulled her panties aside, Michele lowered herself onto Rod’s rampant member. She clenched her anus around his turgid phallus and rode up and down on him, her heels planted on the deck.

Knocker had Polly on her back on the bunk and had deftly removed her black velvet hotpants and tore open her sheer tights and was humping away at her. Polly wrapped her legs around his torso and her arms around his shoulders and was meeting his thrusts as they kissed and caressed.

Doris was on her knees fellating Spike who sat in the chair jealously watching Michele and Rod fuck.

Rod gripped Michele’s waist and pulled her down hard onto his orgasming cock and he spent himself deep inside her; Michele reciprocated by grinding her buttocks against him and ejaculated into her panties as they kissed each other passionately.

Knocker and Polly thrashed and writhed on the bunk, he had turned her over and was fucking Polly doggy style while she grunted and pushed back against him. He held her still and emptied himself into her bowels as she orgasmed, saturating the gusset of her tights.

Spike held Doris’ head and face-fucked her, ejaculating into her mouth and at first she choked and then swallowed his issue.

The sex was over quickly and they were all sated with the exception of Doris who felt used and defiled by Spike; he had shown her little affection and used her mouth as a come dump.

The girls and guys adjusted their clothing and then had more beers and rum as they discussed the finer details of their plan until the early hours. It was a Sunday sea routine and except for the watchkeepers it was effectively a day off.

HMS Ark Royal berthed at Portsmouth on Monday morning for a week’s pre-deployment preps and they all got busy not only with their shipboard duties but with their preps to convert Six Quebec Delta Alpha into ‘Barrack Room Betty’s Gentleman’s Club’.

A small team of chippies got to work in Six Quebec Delta Alpha. They put in a false bulkhead to partition off part of the compartment to create a room with enough space for two double beds, and then they wood-laminated the whole compartment. They built in some wooden cupboards and a small bar and plumbed in a bigger sink and refrigerator. A couple of ‘dip dabs’ painted any surfaces not panelled and they laid carpet on the deck. They helped put in the tables and chairs that Knocker had acquired ashore and installed the two beds in the girls ‘workroom’.

Michael and his Bettys put up velvet curtains for privacy across the entrance to the workroom and strung coloured festoon lighting to add a party atmosphere. A record player and a selection of records were acquired and speakers hung in the corners of the room.

Then work began in the compartment below. First a ladder and hatch was cut in followed by ventilation and air conditioning. With the compartment habitable it was then painted and four bunks and lockers installed. A small wet space with a head and shower was also installed.

Meanwhile Rod and Michele set up an account book; the modifications they were making to the two compartments cost close to a thousand pounds which was all the money that Rod, Knocker and Spike had made so far out of their illegitimate business.

“Fuck! This is costing us big time,” Rod lamented.

“Bollocks; we’ll make that back in our first week,” Michele replied.

“Besides us girls will contribute to the outlay once we start making money.”

“I should fucking think so; you haven’t outlaid a penny yet,” Rod barked.

“Yeah, well wait until we go shopping for clothes, lingerie, shoes, makeup and wigs. That will cost the four of us a bomb. We have to look very special to make sure the punters spend up big,” Michele replied.

And they did. Michele took her proteges shopping at the top end of town ensuring they bought a couple of very nice evening gowns each, as well as some nice mini skirts, hotpants, dresses and blouses. They bought high heels to match their outfits and considerable amounts of lingerie and cosmetics guessing they needed seven months worth. The bought two expensively coiffured fashion wigs to compliment their eveningwear and some bobs for other times. They finished by buying perfume, costume jewellery and accessories.

Then there were the practicalities: douches, razors, shaving cream, other toiletries, lubricants, condoms and knick-knacks.

CPO Rod Latham and PO Knocker White had weaseled themselves onto the HMS Ark Royal Canteen committee and ensured that extra duty free beer and spirits were ordered that they squirreled away to stock the bar in Six Quebec Delta Alpha which Michael had renamed ‘Barrack Room Betty’s Gentlemen’s Club’.

Michael got busy in the personnel office using the Gestetner copy machine to make special business cards. The card had a jet-black background with the stylised picture of a Wren perched on a barstool with her head thrown back smiling with red lipsticked lips. Her cap was perched at a jaunty angle and her hands rested on her knees, the hem her skirt high on her thighs displaying the welts of fully fashioned stockings. Her legs were crossed at the ankles with one black high heel dangling from her right foot. There words ‘Barrack Room Betty’s Gentlemen’s Club’ were embossed in gold at the top of the card and 6QDA in the bottom right corner.

On the Friday before the ship was due to deploy, a perplexed Able Seaman Steward Ray ‘Mary’ Maine posted on board and was met by her three compatriots from HMS Chelmsford Recruit School who led him down to their new messdeck where the situation was explained.

“Fuck me Michele! If there is anyone that can turn adversity into opportunity it’s you!” Mary gasped.

On the Sunday night before the ship sailed, Michele, Mary, Polly, and Doris dressed in the evening gowns they would be wearing as hostesses at the gentleman’s club. They met with Rod, Knocker and Spike in the bowels of Her Majesty’s Ship Ark Royal in 6QDA Barrack Room Betty’s Gentlemen’s club and toasted their new venture with Champagne.

The dingy disused storeroom had been converted into a small, elegant, gentleman's club.

“Well everyone, Michele and I did the books today and it’s cost us just under one thousand and five hundred pounds to refit this space and the compartment below and to pay for bar stock, the girls necessaries, and to pay off the regulators who provided the materials and workforce,” Rod stated sagely.

“Fuck!” they all gasped in unison.

“And we should make that back in the first two weeks, operating seven nights a week,” he beamed.

“And everything else is profit!” Michele beamed.

Michele dimmed the overhead lights, turned on the party lighting and dropped the arm of the record player onto Roxy Music’s debut album. While they danced and celebrated Michele stood duty behind the small bar ensuring they all had plenty to drink.

Knocker and Polly danced cheek to cheek, previous sins forgiven after their interlude on the last night at sea. Rod danced with Mary and was pleased to see the newest member of the stable of transvestites was as alluring as her counterparts. Jason danced with Mary but it was obvious she was uneasy in his embrace.

As the evening wore on and the booze took its toll things quietened down. They sat around the new gaming tables chatting and laughing. Rod took Mary by the hand and led her to the new ‘workroom’. Michele made herself busy pouring drinks and emptying ashtrays. She sneaked over to the valour curtains that separated the workroom from the club and peeked through the drapes.

Rod was naked and lying atop Mary who lay on one of the double beds. Her evening dress, which was split on one side to the thigh, gave Rod unfettered access to her and he had torn open her tights and was grinding away at her while her legs were raised high, her ankles crossed behind his back. She raised her behind to meet his thrusts as they kissed and caressed each other.

Michele smiled and closed the curtain. She turned around and collided with Jason who had crept up behind her.

“Oh fuck! Sorry Spike; I didn’t know you were behind me,” Michele exclaimed and made to move around him.

Spike gripped her upper arm and pulled her to him.

“That used to be us Michele. What happened?” he stared into her eyes.

“Things change Spike,” Michele sighed.

“You used to call me Jason; and you were my girl,” he looked searchingly in her eyes.

“I was for a while; but when I gave myself to Knocker to save what we had at Chelmsford you called me a whore and a slut. Even after that you became obsessed with me and treated me like a slattern,” Michele responded.

“Yes but…” he tried to answer.

“Yes but you made friends with Knocker White and had no compunction in blackmailing me and forcing me into the hands of Rod and Knocker. It’s only my own intellect and guile that has turned the tables and made this what it is.”

“Lets just let it go Jason and make the best of it. We’ll both be rich when this deployment’s over,” Michele brushed past him and went back into the club.

Knocker and Polly were still dancing close together; Polly had her hand inside Knocker’s trousers and Knocker’s hand was inside the split of Polly’s dress.

“Knocker and Polly? Who’d have thunk it?” Michele giggled to herself and went over to the bar and poured herself a large scotch.

Michele propped herself on her barstool and watched as Jason approached Doris and lifted her to her feet to dance. Doris looked over at Michele questioningly and Michele gave her a perceptive nod.

Doris was well drunk by now and was enjoying the attention as Jason scrunched her buttocks and kissed her forcefully, glaring at Michele sporadically.

Knocker led Polly over to the velvet curtain and they disappeared inside. Michele sipped her drink but her curiosity got the better of her and after a while she wondered over and peeked through the curtain again.

Rod and Mary were rutting away, obviously close to climax; the ‘thwok, thwok, thwok’ sounds as his groin slammed against her buttocks testament to their lust. They were kissing and grinding and pawing at each other as their orgasms approached. Mary drummed her heels on Rod’s torso and arched her back, lifting her buttocks off the bed as Rod released his seed inside her.

Knocker was fucking Polly doggy style on the other bed and they too were obviously close to extremis. He had lifted Polly’s dress over her back and pulled her panties aside in his haste to penetrate her and Polly obliged by rocking on her knees to meet his thrusts. Knocker gripped her hips and pulled her back hard against his groin and ground against her as he orgasmed and Polly obligingly wriggled her buttocks. They both gasped and Michele grinned as she saw Polly’s semen drip from her saturated panties onto the counterpane.

“Fuck! That’s another thing! We need to pay off the laundry wallah so we can get our bedding and bar towels done,” Michele lamented, ever the pragmatist.

When she turned back to the bar, Jason had Doris bent over one of the tables and was fucking her hard and fast.

“Oh! Oh! Oh!” she squealed.

Jason looked at Michele intently as he pulled out of Doris’ anus and sprayed his issue over her creamy white buttocks as he held her pinned to the table.

His grin was vicious but Doris was unaware and giggled drunkenly as Jason’s hot semen scalded her buttocks.

Michele returned to her pew.

She poured herself a scotch and lit a cigarette and blew a plume of blue smoke into the air.

“It’s going to be a fucking long deployment,” she sighed.

To Be Continued.

Barrack Room Betty

By Michele Nylons

Chapter Twelve – Pleasuring an Old Friend

Ark Royal sailed for her deployment in a small Task Group of three ships and on the first night Barrack Room Betty’s opened for business and was an instant success. At first the main earner was gambling and booze but as the ship got further away from her home port the temptation for the punters to ‘tap’ the attractive transvestite hostesses became more frequent.

Michele divided her four ‘Betty’s’ into two watches. As they had no other duties on board other than to run 6QDA Barrack Room Betty’s Gentleman’s Club and as the girls lived in the compartment below, it was pretty easy to manage. The ‘on watch’ girls cleaned up Betty’s after the previous night’s entertainment. Betty’s didn’t close until the punters had had enough so it was usually the early hours of the morning.

They cleared away the empties, washed glasses and ashtrays, wiped down tables, vacuumed the carpet and restocked the bar. Michele was meticulous in ensuring their Club was kept spotless. Then the next two ‘on watch’ Bettys changed into their evening gowns and glammed up ready for the first punters to arrive at 1700. The ‘oncoming watch’ of the other two Betty’s joined their compatriots in the club around 2000 when things got busy.

That way the girls had every second day off to rest, relax, and attend to their own personal needs. Michele had the collateral duty of keeping the books with Rod Latham. The books and cash were kept in a safe that they had installed in the girl’s messdeck.

Rod, Knocker, and Spike had their parts of ship to deal with during the day but they arrived at the Club around 1600 to help set up for the night’s entertainment. They would sometimes rub up against the girls and try to get a freebie but Michele was adamant that what the girls did on board was business and if anyone wanted sex it had to be paid for.

Jason (Spike) Jones continued to implore Michele to rekindle their relationship but Michele told him in no uncertain terms that it was over. She treated him like a pest rather than taking anything he said personally; she was just too busy to worry about his feelings.

At Michele’s insistence Rod had done a deal with Chief Sick Berth Attendant or (SBA) to ensure the girls got a weekly health check and venereal disease test. As a ‘cardholder’ the CPOSBA was a member of the club and he had the choice of taking payment in gambling chips or a free fuck from one of the girls.

The girls spent most of the day dressed casually as women and only dressed as sailors in the forenoon when they surreptitiously made their way up to the port after ladder bay for fresh air. As the ‘Captain of the Maintop’, PO White put the area out of bounds every forenoon ‘for deck scrubbing’ and it was AB Spike Jones’ job to police the space and ensure the four sailors were left in peace in the unlikely event that someone questioned where they worked on board.

Membership to 6QDA Barrack Room Betty’s Gentleman’s Club was strictly controlled by Rod and Knocker. Recommendations for membership were passed to them by word of mouth and applicants were closely vetted to ensure they would keep their membership an absolute secret and that they had the funds to pay their way. As a CPO Writer, Rod had access to the pay office and could check to see how much pay each of the potential applicants were drawing each fortnight. Barrack Room Betty’s was strictly a cash only business.

The dichotomy was that they needed to build membership fast to start making a profit but they could only enrol those they implicitly trusted. As it turned out it didn’t take long to get a membership pool that was big enough to start making a good profit within a couple of weeks of departure from Pompey.

As is the want of the RN even today, the Task Group didn’t just sail off on deployment, they remained on station off the British coast conducting exercises and by the time they arrived in Gibraltar for an overnight fuelling stop it was fourteen days since they had left Pompey.

‘BRB’ as the girls and punters had begun to call the club was closed alongside as everyone except for the duty watch would take short leave and step ashore.

Michele, Doris, Polly and Mary were entered into ‘Cooks and Stewards’ Leave Book so they had leave on arrival and did not have to wait for libertymen to be piped at the end of the working day.

They changed into male ‘steppers’, abbreviation for ‘stepping rig’ or civvies, and stepped ashore overseas for the first time. There wasn’t too much to see in Gib but they saw what there was; the monkeys, the old fortress and browsed in a few shops for ‘rabbits’ which is what sailors called gifts bought ashore. They ended up in an old pub drinking ‘pussers neaters’ rum, which was no longer issued in the RN but stockpiled in Gib and sold in the hundreds of pubs on the small rock.

They woke up in their messdeck with horrendous hangovers in the late forenoon of the next day, the ship having sailed at 1000.

They got to work getting the club ready to open that afternoon but were hopeful there would not be too much of a crowd, almost everyone on board having been ashore the day before and likely as hungover as they.

But Michele was in for a pleasant surprise.

AB Jason Jones’ job when the club was open was to be the doorman and bouncer. The door to 6QDA was a standard steel waterproof door which, opened outwards held in place by six dogs or clips. But on the inside was an ornate solid wood door that opened inward and when the club was in operation the steel door was clipped open and access was through the wooden door which was policed by Spike Jones.

In keeping with making Betty’s a refined establishment, Jason wore a black tuxedo and white ruffled shirt. At first he had complained about having to wear the suit but Knocker convinced him otherwise.

On the first night at sea after the stop in Gibraltar, business at Barrack Room Betty’s was slow as expected. At around 2100 a young Lieutenant wearing officer’s night clothing consisting of blue uniform trousers with dress shirt and dinner jacket came down the ladder into 6QDA and approached AB Jones.

HMS Ark Royal had embarked twelve Phantom FG Mark 1’s from 892 Naval Air Squadron and LEUT Steven Winters, having spent his time in purgatory at HMS Chelmsford, was one of the pilots. There was no flying programmed for the next day and it was obvious that he had imbibed quite a bit of alcohol at and after dinner in the Wardroom.

“I say old chap, I presume I am in the right place,” LEUT Winters held up a BRB business card between two fingers.

Spike recognised Steve Winters immediately and his blood boiled. He remembered him arriving at their Recruit School Christmas Party and taking his then girlfriend Michele away and fucking her in his office and then driving off laughing in the night in his MG sportster. He also remembered Michele being disappointed that LEUT Winters had not come back for more at their New Year’s Eve party.

“Sorry sir the club’s closed,” Spike replied condescendingly.

Just then the door burst open and a rather inebriated Petty Officer scrambled over the combing.

“Fuck me! Good evening sir; hope your luck’s better than mine I just dropped fifty quid on blackjack,” he hiccupped, surprised to see an officer and staggered over to the ladder.

Music and loud banter drifted through the door and Spike blushed with embarrassment. The door opened again and CPO Rod Latham came out; he too was dressed in an evening suit. Michele had insisted that the club exude class.

“Good evening Lieutenant Winters sir; the Chief Steward told me that you had joined our select band of miscreants. Allow me to escort you to a table and get you a drink on the house,” Rod beamed at the young pilot.

Steve Winters raised his eyebrows at Jason Jones disapprovingly and entered the club. Rod led him over to the blackjack table and went to the bar and poured a gin and tonic and gave it to Polly and nodded over towards toward Steve Winters and winked. Polly sauntered over and delivered the drink.

“Welcome to Barrack Room Betty’s,” she beamed.

The smile on her face changed to one of amazement when she realised whom it was.

“Lieutenant Winters sir; it’s a pleasure,” she curtsied.

Steve Winters was surprised that the attractive transvestite knew his name but she looked vaguely familiar. Polly saw him frown as he tried to recollect from where he knew her.

“HMS Chelmsford sir, the Christmas party?” she smiled.

“Oh course, enchanted,” he took her hand and kissed it and motioned to the seat beside him.

Spike was looking through the door and was relieved that LEUT Winters was sitting with Polly. Michele was ‘off watch’ as they were not expecting many customers this evening but he still felt his jealousy rage through him at the suave sophisticated young officer who had fucked his girlfriend.

Steve drew some chips and began to play blackjack with Knocker White dealing and Polly keeping him company. There were two other punters at the table and the conversation was casual, to do with anything but the navy.

Doris was Polly’s fellow watchkeeper that night and she was sitting in the corner being pawed by a PO stoker who she was about to tell to pay up and fuck her or just fuck off. She was quite amazed when she saw Steve and Polly sitting together at the blackjack table and she extricated herself from the lap of the drunken stoker. He showed his disappointment and waved a tenner at her.

“Ok luv; I’m up for it,” he whined.

“Oh just sit there and wait; if you haven’t had a wank by the time I come back I’ll take you next door and fuck you if you can get it up,” Doris pronounced.

She expeditiously made her way over to the sound powered phone connected to the messdeck below and cranked the handle. Michele answered the phone.

“Ok I’m ready I’ll be right up she snapped.”

Michele was on standby to supplement Polly and Doris if it got busy but she was still hungover and hoping she wouldn’t be needed.

“Guess who’s in the club?” Doris giggled.

“I’m in no mood for fucking around Doris! What the fuck is going on?” Michele sniped.

“Well Miss fancy pants! It’s only your ex paramour Lieutenant Steven Winters, fighter pilot and tranny lover extraordinaire.”

Michele felt totally discombobulated and a thousand thoughts ran through her head.

“I’ll be up shortly to help out,” Michele said matter of factly.

“No bother babe; there’s not many here, me and Polly have it covered. Go to bed honey,” Doris teased.

“I’ll be up shortly!” Michele quipped tersely and Doris giggled and hung up.

Michele nervously checked her makeup and touched it up; she brushed her hair and smoothed her clinging evening dress and almost skipped out of 7QDA and scampered up the ladder to the club.

Michele sauntered across the club but Steve Winters was busy playing a hand and didn’t look up. A little miffed she sat on a stool at the bar ensuring the spilt in her dress exposed a long elegant leg encased in glistening hose but still she could not attract LEUT Winter’s attention.

Doris found this very amusing but her stoker was getting irritated and business was business so she snatched his tenner and took him into the workroom and got busy.

Michele eventually decided on direct action and walked over to blackjack table and tapped Polly on the shoulder.

“I’ll take it from here Poll, you can take the rest of the night off if you like. I know it’s been a long day,” she smiled.

Polly glanced up at Michele.

“I’m just fine dear; why don’t you take the night off,” she smiled back; but her eyes burned with impudence.

“No Polly, I’ll look after Lieutenant Winters,” Michele hissed through gritted teeth.

“Well I believe you have once before dear but he seems quite content with my company,” Polly replied.

“Oh for fuck sake ladies will you shut up! I’m trying to concentrate on this hand!” Steve Winters snapped.

Then he laid his eyes on Michele. She was wearing a red sequined gown that clung to her every curve; it was spilt at side all the way to the waist exposing her long shapely legs clad in fifteen denier fully-fashioned stockings, her feet shod in silver high-heeled sandals. Her makeup was perfect; smoky eyes, long lashes, dark eyeshadow, ruby red lips and her exquisite cheekbones defined by rouge. She wore a short black bob and had accessorised with silver jewellery. The dress had a Chinese collar that emphasised her graceful neck.

Steve smiled up at Michele.

“Well I’m enchanted. Ms Michele Nyland if memory serves me correct and I’m sure it does,” he beamed.

“As am I. Lieutenant Steven Winters, RN if I’m not mistaken,” Michele smiled back.

Steve indicated the chair to his left and Michele sat. He was now braced by Polly and Michele and obviously enjoying himself.

“What an inordinate pleasure to be in the company of such attractive and sensuous ladies.”

Steve drew a six to his seven and eight, giving him twenty-one and a winning hand.

“And you’re bringing me luck already!” he guffawed as he raked in his chips.

He lifted his empty glass with the remaining shards of ice and waved it at Polly.

“Be a dear and fetch me a G and T darling.”

Polly reluctantly stood and retired to the bar to fill Steve’s drink. His eye’s followed her tight buttocks and long legs displayed in her tight dark blue mini cocktail dress.

“She is quite delightful,” Steve commented staring at Polly.

Michele reached under the table and squeezed Steve’s thigh. She moved her lips to his ear and slid her tongue along his lobe and then bit it as her fingers found his semi-erect penis and squeezed it through his trousers. He inhaled her perfume and shuddered as his prick sprang to full tumescence.

“You know what? You really want to stop fucking teasing me or I’m going back below to sleep off my hangover and you can fuck second best,” she whispered in his ear as her long fingernails scraped against his now tumescent member.

“Cash me in!” Steve shoved his chips into the middle of the table and threw a one pound chip as a tip at Knocker.

He lifted Michele out of her seat and led her to the curtained off workroom.

Polly returned to the blackjack table with Steve’s drink and was visibly miffed to see Steve and Michele had left.

“Fuck! Michele just has to have everything her way!” she swallowed the gin and tonic in a single gulp.

“Don’t worry Poll; I still think you’re stunning, so sit at the bar and drink on my tab. I’ll pay the ten quid and we can get it on when the punters have left,” Knocker smiled and winked at her.

“Thanks Knocker. Glad to see there are some gentlemen in the lower deck too,” Polly winked back and went to sit at the bar.

The ‘lower deck’ was sailor’s slang for the ratings, who in days of sail lived in the crowded lower decks of the ship’s hull while the commissioned officers lived in cabins on the upper decks, or ‘uppers’.

Behind the curtain the workroom was divided in to two cubicles by ‘privacy screens’ that didn’t really provide much in the way of privacy at all. The sounds of Doris and her stoker having sex were quite loud and Steve smiled as he pulled Michele to him and slid his hand inside the split in her skirt.

They kissed and Michele reached between them so she could undo Steve’s flies and stroke his cock. He grunted with pleasure but kept kissing Michele and his hand found her satin panties and reached inside and freed her hardening cock from its gaff. Michele was a little surprised; most of the punters didn’t play with the girls cocks and in fact a lot of them fucked the girls with their panties or tights still on so they wouldn’t even have to see the girls cocks at all.

She sighed with pleasure as Steve gently stroked her penis and she stroked his with the same rhythm. They fell down onto the bed but remained glued together kissing and fondling each other.

Then Steve surprised Michele even more when he broke the kiss and lowered his face to her groin and engulfed her cock and began to slowly suck it.

“Oh my god!” she groaned and riffled her hand through his hair.

After he had fellated her for a minute or two Michele eased his head from her lap and lay down on the bed and indicated for Steve to top and tail. He shucked out of his shoes and trousers and climbed on top of her and they sixtynined for a good fifteen minutes. Michele sucked and slathered at Steve’s tumescent organ, running her tongue around the bulbous glans, causing him to leak pre-seminal fluid, which she lovingly licked off his glans and swallowed. Steve reciprocated and Michele thrust up, fucking his mouth.

Michele was close to orgasm and she sensed that Steve was too so she quickly extricated herself from underneath him, hiked up her dress and climbed on top and lowered her puckered sphincter onto his rock hard cock. Steve thrust upwards and slowly inserted his throbbing cock deep inside his transvestite lover.

“Oh god that feels so good!” Michele gasped as she rode him.

“Oh god yes honey!” Steve replied and gripped her hips and lifted her up and down as he fucked her.

Michele rode with him, allowing the tip of Steve’s cock to retract almost to the entrance of her anus then she ground down on him, wriggling her buttocks to increase his pleasure. Steve stroked Michele’s cock as he fucked her; pre-cum was dribbling from the eye and dripping onto his belly.

“Oh! I’m going to come!” Steve gasped.

Steve lifted Michele off him and lowered her onto the bed on her back and flung himself on top of her, impaling her on his penis. He fucked her hard and fast while he kissed her and her legs wrapped around him.

Michele was overstimulated by his cock pressing on her prostate, her cock rubbing on his belly and his wild passionate kisses. She orgasmed; quivering and shaking with the intense pleasure of it and then she felt Steve grind against her, forcing his cock in as far it would go as he ejaculated inside her.

They both pawed at each other and smashed their lips together as they came and rode the vehement waves of gratification cursing through their bodies.

Eventually they were sated and Michele lay underneath Steve while he gently kissed her and stroked her hair.

“You are still my favourite Wren Michele Nyland,” Steve kissed her nose.

“Can we make this a semi-permanent thing? Can I always ask for you when I come to BRBs?” he smiled down at her.

“BRBs?” Michele looked up at him quizzically.

“It’s what us in the know call Barrack Room Betty’s,” he replied.

“Well yes; of course you can ask for me whenever you come to the club. The customer is always right,” Michele smiled and then lifted her face to the handsome young Lieutenant and kissed him.

Spike was standing inside the access door to BRBs when Michele came out from behind the curtain leading LEUT Steve Winters by the hand. Michele’s hair was mussed, her makeup smudged and smeared and her stockings laddered. It would have been obvious to anyone what they had been doing behind the curtain.

Spike’s blood boiled when Steve whimsically stuffed a twenty-pound note into Michele’s cleavage and then pulled her to him and kissed her tenderly. Michele lifted a heel as she kissed him back.

Spike was clenching his hands so tight with restrained rage and jealousy that his fingernails pierced his palms and drops of blood fell to the deck.

To Be Continued…

Barrack Room Betty

By Michele Nylons

Chapter Thirteen – Naples – Whores and Princesses

The Ark continued her voyage through the Mediterranean Sea, exercising with the Task Group as she went and arrived in Naples a week after she left Gibraltar.

Lieutenant Steven Winters, RN became a regular at Barrack Room Betty’s whenever there was no night flying. He entered into an arrangement with Michele that she would always be available for him at thirty pounds per week. In 1974 that was quite a considerable sum but Steve came from a wealthy family and was comfortably well off, plus he received flying pay and tipped Michele ten pounds every time they met.

For all intents and purposes Michele and Steve behaved like lovers whenever he was in BRBs. She sat in his lap, canoodling and encouraging him to bet as he played blackjack and poker. Michele might have had a soft spot for Steve but she was a businesswoman before anything else.

Spike Jones was becoming quite belligerent and jealous and both PO Knocker White and CPO Rod Latham had to take him aside repeatedly and tell him to get over his envy and do the job for which he was being very well paid.

Michele was doing very well for herself. The girls got half of what they earned for sex; ten pounds for a fuck and five pounds for a blowjob. They all split the profits made on booze and gambling once the outlays for bribes, bar stock and consumables had been deducted. Also Rod Latham and Michele received an extra ten percent for running the books and the business.

Prior to the ship berthing in Naples, an Executive Officer’s Temporary Memorandum was issued regrading details of the visit. The Memo laid down the ceremonial and administrative requirements for the visit, but as the four Betty’s did not exist on ship’s watch and station and duty watchbills they were not concerned with those parts of the document. But they intently studied the parts of the Memo that detailed the leave restrictions and provided general information about the city.

Michele sat on her bunk and read out the Annex concerning areas of the city that had been placed out of bounds during the visit.

“The part of Naples known as ‘The Alleys’ is out of bounds to all Ship’s Company as it is an area well known for illegal activities. The area is rife with prostitution, illegal weapons sales, and the general sale of contraband. ‘Femmenielli’ or transsexual prostitutes are prevalent in the Alleys and are known to take advantage of unsuspecting sailors,” Michele verbalised the Memo.

“Sounds like our kind of place,” Michele grinned.

“Oh for fuck sake Michele, it sounds downright dangerous!” Mary lamented.

“And we have to step in rig!” Doris enjoined.

The Memo stipulated that all sailors had to proceed ashore in uniform.

“Oh for fuck sake girls; we haven’t had a nature run in drag since Pink Pussycats,” Michele chided.

A nature run was Pussers slang for a run ashore where sailors maintained their decorum.

“What if I step on arrival in rig and check it out. If I can find somewhere decent we’ll have a girls night out just like at Pink Pussycats?” Michele implored.

“Wouldn’t it be good to go out together again as girls without having to suck sailor’s cocks or bend over for them for money?” Michele said, making her point.

“Ok Michele. As usual you win. But only if it’s safe and I’m coming with you,” Polly declared and Doris and Mary nodded agreement.

On arrival in Naples ABs Brian Perkins and Michael Nyland signed the Cooks and Stewards leave book and stepped ashore in their white bell-bottoms and white fronts.

They hailed a taxi at the end of the wharf and were prepared to have to try and use hand signals and broken English to direct the taxi driver.

“Hello boys. Welcome to Napoli. Don’t worry I speak English good; I lived in Melbourne Australia for twenty years and my sons and daughter are still there. I only here to take care of my sick Mama,” the taxi driver said in very accented but easily understood English.

“Well I’ll be fucked!” Polly exclaimed.

“Maybe later tonight,” Michael jested.

Michael explained that they wanted a nice safe hotel in the Alleys that was close to a club frequented by femmenielli.

“Ah! I understand. You lads want the company of the lady boys yes?” the taxi driver grinned.

Michael could see that Polly Perkins was about to enter into some laborious story so he cut off his shipmate.

“That’s right chum; but we want somewhere nice and decent to stay and a club that is safe or as safe as it can be,” he replied.

“Ah! No worries mate! I have just the place!”

Michael and Polly laughed at the taxi driver’s ‘ocker Australianisms’ spoken in a broad Italian accent.

The taxi driver drove them in and around and up and down the Alleys and the two sailors suspected he was dragging out the journey to inflate the fare but they didn’t mind. They were too busy looking out the window at the narrow Alleys cluttered with ancient apartment buildings, quaint cafes, small shops and grocery stores and restaurants that spilled out onto the already crowded narrow sidewalks.

What they both noticed were the prostitutes on almost every street corner. Some were glamorous and some were quite shabby but they obviously had their own niche markets. In some cases men were haggling and cajoling the girls as they bartered for a price agreeable to both parties. They also noticed that a considerable number of the girls were femmenielli or transvestites as they would be called in the UK.

Eventually the taxi stopped outside of a small apartment block and the taxi driver made a hand gesture for them to stay in the cab while he disappeared inside. He came out about ten minutes later with an older large Italian woman who greeted them like long lost relatives and bustled them inside. She sat them in a small parlour and attempted to speak to them in broken English.

Using the taxi driver as a translator they established that they wanted four rooms for two nights in her rundown but quaint, rustic, establishment and were willing to pay twenty English pounds each.

This made the Mama very happy particularly when it was agreed they would pay in pounds not Lire. They all knew the woman would get a better rate on the black market with Stirling as opposed to Lire, which was plummeting every day.

Michael and Polly did a deal with the cabby and he took them back to the ship so they could pick up Doc Holiday and Ray Maine and he would wait while they packed a suitcase each.

The small taxi was crowded with four passengers, even though they were all slight, and four small suitcases, two in the trunk and two on the roof rack but they made it back to the small hotel, which at this stage they only knew as ‘Mama’s Place’.

The four sailors tipped the cabby and Mama came out and helped them with their bags. The four rooms were on the second story, quite small but adequate. They had to share a toilet and bathroom but that was ok.

They took turns carrying out their ablutions then they all met in Michele’s room and did their makeup and got dressed. I was a nice sunny day out so they did their makeup lighter than usual and dressed in short skirts and short-sleeved blouses, tan tights and blonde or brunette wigs. Lightly accessorised and wearing high-heeled sandals the girls came downstairs and Mama immediately doted on them.

“Mama Mia! Such bella femmenielli!” she cooed and poured them a glass of chilled Chianti each.

Without the taxi driver to translate, most of the conversation consisted of smiles and hand gestures but the girls got the gist that Mamma saw herself as the girl’s assistant and protector. She doted on them offering them cigarettes and another glass of wine. She interrupted their little party to make a brief phone call and tried to explain to the girls the substance of the call; they couldn’t understand but they were enjoying themselves regardless.

About twenty minutes after the call a handsome bronzed-skinned young man with wavy black hair came into the parlour. He was wearing tight black jeans, a spotless white singlet, and polished black leather boots. His lustrous black hair shone with an application of Brylcreem; his eyes were deep, dark, and framed by long eyelashes; his muscles bulged. The girls gasped as he entered the room.

“Now that’s what I call an Italian stallion,” Polly giggled.

Michele gave her a sharp look and Polly petulantly stuck out her tongue.

All of this was lost on the man who was embroiled in a heated discussion with Mamma in Italian until finally he sighed and lowered his head in acquiescence.

“Sì, si, mamma, naturalmente. Of course; of course,” he said in his lustrous deep voice.

“I think I’m in love,” Polly tittered, earning another scornful look from Michele.

“Ladies. I am Antonio, err Tony, and this is my mother,” he began.

“My Mamma says you are most welcome to stay in our albergo, that is hotel.”

“She says that such beautiful young femmenielli as yourselves should enjoy your first visit to Naples, but that Naples can be a dangerous place for strangers.”

The girls looked at each other and frowned.

“No! No! You are not to worry. Mamma has requested, that is, she insisted that I be your guide and your protector during your stay,” he continued.

“As you can see; I speak very good English and will also be your translator.”

“Ladies; Antonio De Lucca at your service,” he bowed magnanimously and smiled.

Mamma smiled too and clapped her hands and nodded vigorously.

But Michele could see that the smile did not extent to Tony’s eyes; he was carrying out his mother’s wishes as an obligation and under duress.

Polly, Mary and Doris laughed with pleasure and clapped their hands with Mamma. After introductions were made, the three girls immediately began to flirt with Tony and requested he tell Mamma how grateful they were to be staying here and very appreciative of Tony’s protection and generous offer to show them around the city. They engaged Mamma in a back and forth banter, with Tony translating.

Michele remained withdrawn and sipped her Chianti and smoked a cigarette. She picked up a magazine and flicked through it, her impatience evident.

Tony glanced across and noted Michele’s slur, his eyes turned briefly icy and hostile and then warmed as he returned to the conversation with his Mamma and the other three girls.

Michele stubbed out her cigarette.

“Well this is all wonderful but I didn’t come to Naples to sit in a hotel parlour all day. I’m hungry and I saw lots of nice cafes on the way here,” she sniped.

Mamma motioned over to Michele and then said something to Tony, which was obviously for him to translate what Michele had said, which he did.

“Oh certamente! Certamente!” Mamma rose her bulk out of the sofa and came across and patted Michele on the arm.

After many more thank yous, compliments, and general banter back and forth between Mamma and the girls, despite Michele’s obvious impatience, they all rose to leave, leaving Mamma on the couch sipping more Chianti.

Tony led the girls along the narrow alleys providing a constant narrative explaining about the buildings, the plazas, churches, statues, fountains and icons, of which there seemed to be thousands. Polly, Mary and Doris crowded around Tony obviously smitten while Michele hung back slightly from the main group.

“Ladies, this is my favourite café, let’s take a seat outside and order caffè,” Tony beamed and waved his hand dramatically at a table with red and white chequered tablecloth and four chairs.

Polly, Mary and Doris vaulted into the chairs before Tony could pull them back for the girls in a gentlemanly fashion. They fought over who would sit next to Tony; oblivious to the fact that Michele didn’t have a seat.

Tony realised his mistake immediately and smacked his hand to his forehead and arose to take a chair from the adjacent table but Michele ignored him and sat down in the chair he was about to relocate.

“I’m fine here thanks. It will be too crowded with five at that small table,” Michele huffed, searching in her bag for cigarettes.

“Nonsense! This is Italy; we are known for crowding our tables and speaking boisterously,” he laughed.

“I’m fine here thanks,” Michele extracted and lit a cigarette.

Tony went into the small café to attract some service.

“What’s up her arse?” Doris asked.

“Fucked if I know but it won’t be Tony cause I’m having him up mine,” Polly guffawed and the others laughed along with her.

Tony came outside followed by a jolly fat waiter wearing a spotless white apron. He went over to Polly, Mary and Doris while Tony sat next to Michele.

“What is your problem?” he hissed but kept a smile on his face as a façade.

“You’re just doing what you’re doing because your mother told you. You don’t really want to be with us,” Michele quipped.

“Well that was true at first; I will always do what my Mamma wants me to do, but I’ve since found the company of your friends quite delightful,” he smiled.

“Sure. Whatever. You have those other three fawning over you but I’m not convinced,” Michele drew on her cigarette and Tony went back to the other table where the girls where bamboozled about how to order coffee.

“Tony? What is cappuccino, and latte, and espresso? It’s all just fucking coffee to me,” Polly batted her eyelashes at him.

“Mama Mia!” he smiled and raised his hands in the air comically.

“Ok you English roses, let me educate you about coffee. I bet the only coffee you have drunk was powder from a tin or jar.”

The banter about coffee went on for a while and Tony ordered cappuccino for all of them.

“In Italy we usually only drink cappuccino before lunch, never in the afternoon or evening, but I think you will like the experience,” he beamed at the girls.

“I ordered a nice Prosecco so go with it. Two bottles because you girls seem to like to drink,” he laughed and Polly, Mary and Doris laughed along with him.

They drank Prosecco and coffee and Tony ordered a platter of anti pasti which they shared. Michele joined in the conversation now and then but remained seated at the adjacent table.

“So you don’t feel degraded having to keep company with femmenielli?” Michele asked during a break in conversation.

The other girls lifted their eyes to the heavens in a ‘here she goes again’ exhibition of annoyance.

“These are the Alleys of Napoli. There are many femmenielli; a lot are puttanas, whores, some are not. You ladies are different. No one has seen English femmenielli and you are very beautiful. And you are definitely not puttanas,” Tony said, talking as much with hands as with his words.

“Ah! If only you knew!” Michele exclaimed.

Tony frowned and others gave Michele a baleful look and Michele backed off.

“So there are clubs here where four English femmenielli could go to and be safe?” Michele asked.

“Yes there is a good one near Mammas. It is small and but it is clean, the music is good, and there is seldom any trouble,” Tony replied.

“Mamma has already instructed me that I am to be chaperone you tonight and see that you enjoy yourselves and that you are safe.”

Polly slid a hand along Tony’s taught-muscled thigh.

“And I’m sure you will,” she gave him a coquettish look and squeezed his thigh.

Tony blushed and Mary and Doris giggled. Tony blushed even redder. Michele gave Polly a look of disgust and drained her coffee in one gulp.

“Ok let’s get back to Mamma’s and get changed,” Michele pushed back her chair.

Polly leaned in and gave Tony a kiss on the cheek and then rubbed at the lipstick she had left on his face. If it was possible, Tony blushed even more and he choked on the last sip of his coffee when she moved her hand across his thigh and squeezed his penis through his tight jeans.

Tony leapt to his feet; his face still flushed.

“Well come on, let’s get back to the albergo before it gets dark,” he proclaimed, obviously flustered.

Polly, Doris and Mary laughed again at Tony’s discomfort

“Cloth-eared bints,” Michele huffed under her breath.

The walk back to the hotel was pleasant, the three transvestites fluttering around Tony and Michele bought up the rear about fifty yards behind. Every now and then Tony would turn around to check on her. He smiled at her but Michele remained stoic.

Two hours later Doris, Polly, Mary, Mamma and Tony sat in the parlour chatting and laughing, drinking wine and smoking, waiting for Michele to come down from her room. Doris, Polly and Mary were dressed to go clubbing. Short hemmed black cocktail dresses were the order of the day, their makeup perfect, two blondes and a brunette wearing spiked high-heels, sheer black tights and sparkley jewellery. They had little clutch purses to carry cigarettes, makeup and cash.

Conversation stopped when Michele came down the stairway.

She was wearing a red satin evening gown that clung to her every curve. It was split at one side almost to the waist and every time she took a step it opened to reveal a long shapely leg clad in shimmering taupe hose, the dark welt clipped to a jewelled black garter. She was wearing matching red satin-finished high-heels; a black bob framed her immaculately made-up face. She had accessorised with silver jewellery and clutch, her spangly drop earring drew attention to her elegant neck. Her bright red lipstick and nailpolish matched her dress.

Tony gasped and the others stared in admiration.

“The bitch knows how to make an entrance I’ll give her that,” Polly opined.

One the step before the last on the narrow staircase Michele’s heel caught in the frayed carpet and for a second it looked like she was going to tumble and Tony sprang forward and pulled her to him to stop her fall. She pressed against him and he felt heady in the bouquet of her perfume. Their faces were inches from each other, caught in the moment, he could taste her sweet breath and she his masculine aftershave. They felt each other’s heart beats quicken.

And then the moment was over and Michele regained her composure, she disengaged from Tony and stepped into the room, her face slightly flushed.

“Like that wasn’t staged!” Polly hissed.

“Come on Poll; even Chelle wouldn’t risk breaking a leg for that hunk,” Doris whispered.

The conversation picked up again with Mamma fussing around the girls, straightening this, adjusting that, making little fixes to their makeup. All four of the girls were glad when they were finally outside and even gladder when they arrived at the club only two streets over. Walking in high-heels on cobbled streets was no fun.

Michele’s mood brightened as soon as they were settled in the club. They found a large booth and ordered drinks; they were well aware that all eyes were on them. Not because they were attractive transvestites, there were plenty of other pretty femmenielli in the club, but because they were English.

They were soon dancing with a string of admirers, who, although they couldn’t speak English, were able to communicate well enough in the noisy crowded club. The Italian men were very ‘grabby’ and the girls were constantly having to move groping hands from breasts, buttocks and thighs but it was all meant in good fun and the girls were having a great time. As the evening wore on Doris and Mary had settled on two dark handsome men and they were slow dancing with them making no effort to stop their groping hands and engaging in long fervent kisses.

The crowd had thinned and the dark and smoky club was quieter; the DJ playing slower dance music. There was no longer the need to shout to be heard.

Polly had made it quite clear to Tony that she was available to him if he wanted her. They chatted and danced together for most of night but Tony insisted that she dance with a few of his friends when they came over and asked to dance with the beautiful English woman.

Michele had danced with quite a few partners during the night and happily chatted with those who tried to strike up a conversation but she had repeatedly turned down any attempts to do anything more than dance or chat.

It was while Polly was dancing with Georgio, one of Tony’s friends, that Tony came over and sat down next to Michele and put two gin and tonics on the table and lit a cigarette for them both.

“You are having a good time?” he asked.

“Yes,” Michele smiled genuinely at him and his face lit up.

“And you are enjoying the chore of being our escort at your mother’s insistence?” she replied sipping her drink; her eyes smiling at him under her long eyelashes.

He engaged her with his eyes. Her eyes sparkled, set off by black eyeliner and mascara and smoky eyeshadow.

“It is no chore escorting la principessa,” Tony beamed.

“Which means?” Michele smiled back.

“The princess,” his eyes searched hers.

Michele blushed.

She was about to reply when there was a commotion on the dance floor.

“Where is she! Where is that fucking tranny cunt!”

Michele recognised the voice immediately. It was Able Seaman, Spike Jones.

“Oh fuck! It’s Pink Pussycats all over again,” Michele sighed.

Across the club Spike had Mary gripped by the arms and was yelling into her face.

Tony leapt from his seat and dashed across the club and began to wrestle with Spike.

“Fuck this! I’ve had enough,” Michele whimpered.

She slunk around the walls of the club while everyone was either engaged in the scuffle or watching it and made her way out the door. She walked quickly down the street and ducked into a dark alley, glad to be free of the violence and the racket of the club. She scrambled around in her purse and found her cigarettes and lighter.

She shakily lit the cigarette and blew out the smoke in a long plume. She drew on the cigarette again and felt a little better. A shadow appeared in front of her and suddenly she was in the grip of a large man who smelled of stale sweat and cheap wine.

He pressed his body against hers and Michele tried to scream but he clasped his large hand across her mouth and pinned her against the brick wall. His breath was rancid and she squirmed in his grasp until he put a blade to her throat.

He spoke in a foreign language, probably Italian she thought, and although she couldn’t understand him she knew what he implied and she stopped struggling.

The man grunted and took his hand from her mouth. He kept the knife pressed to Michele’s throat and he put his hand inside her dress and roughly caressed her breasts and then her thighs. His hand moved to her flimsy nylon panties and explored inside while Michele sobbed but stayed still. His fingers soon found her gaffed penis and laughed.

“Ah femmenielli! Puttana!” his breath was atrocious but Michele endured it.

He lowered his disgusting mouth to hers and Michele suffered his kisses while he clawed at her groin and her thighs.

After a minute he eased his body from hers but kept the knife to her face. His other strong hand gripped her shoulder and pushed. It was obvious what he wanted as he forced Michele to her knees.

Once Michele was kneeling he kept the knife on her cheek and opened his trousers. The reek from his groin was worse than from his mouth and Michele began to gag as well as sob.

He extracted his long thick cock and prodded at Michele’s mouth.

Pressing the knife to her cheek he grunted indicating that Michele should open her mouth and take his member.

From out of nowhere a fist crashed against the man’s face whilst at the same time the knife was ripped from his hand and thrust into his thigh.

The thug screamed and put both hands on the handle of the knife sticking out his leg. Then a series of blows pummelled his face and he fell first to his knees and then lay prone on the ground as the assailant kicked the mugger repeatedly until he was unconscious.

Michele’s rescuer gripped her wrist and lifted her to her feet and half dragged her out of the alley.

Michele recognised her saviour as Tony. She clung to him as he helped her along the street and when they were well clear of the alley he stopped under a streetlight and looked searchingly at her face. He gently brushed her hair out of her eyes and looked her up and down and then met her eyes again.

“Are you ok? Did he hurt you?”

Tony’s concern was evident in his voice.

“I’m ok. I’m more scared than hurt,” Michele whispered.

She looked down at her feet quietly crying.

Tony lifted Michele’s chin and gazed lovingly in her eyes.

“No one hurts my principessa,” he whispered.

Michele smiled and he pulled her into his arms and kissed her passionately.

They made their way back to Mammas and upstairs to Michele’s room.

Their passion was ardent and intense. They kissed in the doorway and Tony kicked the door shut and pinned Michele to the wall, his tongue invaded her mouth and he lifted her wrists up high over head and pressed his hard body against her. Michele grunted and pushed back against him, scouring her body against his, kissing him and writhing as their desire intensified.

Michele lifted a leg and wrapped it around his thigh and pulled Tony to her. He released her wrists and she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled his face to hers, slathering, licking and sucking at his mouth.

“Oh my god,” she gasped as Tony took a breath and then crushed his lips to hers.

He gripped her thighs and the split in her dress opened wide as he lifted her feet off the floor, bracing her against the wall with his body, her heels dangling as she hung on to him, her hands clasped behind his neck.

Michele released her hands from behind Tony’s neck. She was effectively pinned to the wall by Tony’s weight, his strong grip on her thighs taking her weight. She reached between their bodies and found the belt on his jeans and eagerly unbuckled it, and then her fingers scrambled at his flies and then yanked his jeans down to his thighs.

Her fingers explored his underpants and she gasped at the girth and length of him as she squeezed his throbbing hard manhood.

Tony gasped in her mouth and he groaned as Michele pushed her groin forward and guided his swollen member to the entrance of her anus. When his glans was nestled in her sphincter she lowered herself very slowly allowing his engorged phallus to gradually slide inside her. Michele locked her hands behind his neck to help support her weight.

“Oh! You are so big!” she squealed as her entered her.

Tony restrained himself and ceased lowering the beautiful transvestite onto his bloated weapon but Michele shook her head and pushed down on him.

“I want you inside me! I want you to fuck me! I want you to use me like a puttana!” she gasped into his mouth.

Tony gasped and thrust himself tentatively into Michele as her anus gripped him like a velvet glove. She sobbed with pleasure and ground herself against him as he held her pinned to the wall and fucked her.

He plunged in and out of her slowly but steadily as Michele gasped at each thrust; his glans was stimulating that special place deep inside her and she wriggled and bucked against him, encouraging him.

Tony slammed himself deep inside her and Michele felt his penis dilate and pulse as he orgasmed, filling her with scalding semen. Michele drove herself down on him and pulled him closer, kissing him frantically as she filled her panties with her own issue.

They kissed and caressed each other as they climaxed, mewing, moaning and gasping.

Tony kept Michele braced against the wall until they were both sated. Tony pulled Michele against his body and still impaled on his phallus, he walked over to the bed and lowered them both down so that he lay on top of her, between her legs which she locked behind him and held him close, still kissing and caressing.

Tony broke the kiss and gazed into her large bright eyes. She smiled up at him.

“You are my saviour,” she giggled.

“And you are my principessa,” he smiled down at her.

Later the evening Michele lay on top of the bedspread dressed only in panties, stockings, garters and heels. Tony had insisted on removing her brassiere and breastforms so that he could kiss and caress her small breasts and nipples. She had brushed her hair, changed her panties, and fixed her makeup when Tony went down to the kitchen to get a bottle of Chianti and two wine glasses.

They drank, smoked and talked late into the night. When their passions rose, which was often, they would kiss and caress each other.

It was around two in the morning when they heard Polly, Doris, and Mary return and clump up the stairs, each with a paramour in tow by the sound of it.

Tony and Michele smiled at each other.

The footsteps stopped briefly outside their door then they heard two of the couples move off down the corridor to their rooms but it was obvious there was someone outside the door.

“Once again Michele gets whatever the fuck she wants!” Polly bellowed drunkenly outside Michele’s door.

“Well fuck you Barrack Room Betty! I’ve get the best looking bloke in the club in tow and I’m going to fuck him ‘til he’s exhausted,” she screeched.

“Bella Miss Polly; let’s go to the bedroom, my manhood desires your attention,” a drunken heavily Italian accented voice implored.

“Come on Georgio; I need a shag!” Polly hiccupped, and their footsteps faded as they made their way to Polly’s room.

Tony beamed.

“Ah! My friend Georgio! He is a good fellow and will take good care of your friend Polly,” he grinned.

Michele raked her fingernails along Tony’s torso as she lowered her face to his groin.

“Well I think it’s time you took good care of me again,” she whispered hoarsely.

She looked up and smiled at him and then lowered her face and took his manhood in her mouth.

To Be Continued…

Barrack Room Betty

By Michele Nylons

Chapter Fourteen – Supergirls Bangkok

“I’ve fucking had it with Jason!” Michele spat at Rod Latham

“That fuckwit tracked me down and found me in a bar in Naples and created an absolute shitfight. And every night I’m here in the club he carries on like a petulant child whenever I work a punter and in particular Lieutenant Steve Winters who is one of our best customers.”

“When is that fuckstick going to realise what happens on board this ship is just business and what I do ashore is my own affair!” Michele seethed.

“Either he goes or I go!” she crushed out her cigarette.

Michele Nyland and Rod Latham were sitting at a table in 6QDA compartment, otherwise known as Barrack Room Betty’s bar on board HMS Ark Royal. Ark Royal was four hours out of Naples heading for South East Asia.

“Yeah. I know, I know,” Rod capitulated.

“He’s bad for business,” Polly chimed in.

“The punters are scared of him,” Doris agreed.

“He’s a pain in the arse; literally. I mean every time Michele takes Steve into the workroom he grabs me and fucks me senseless. He pays for it; but its revenge sex,” Mary interjected.

“The boy’s gotta go,” Knocker White emphasised the point.

“He’s costing us money and upsetting the punters, and Michele, who is our main draw card,” he concluded.

Michele, Doris, Polly, and Mary were dressed enfemme, but casually, in denim skirts or short shorts with T-Shirts and sheer tights, bob wigs, light makeup and low heels. This had become their dress of the day except when they went up to the port after ladder bay to take in the fresh air and get some sun when they dressed like the sailors they actually were.

It was the strangest of situations. Four transvestites living seven decks below the flight deck of an aircraft carrier. One deck above their quarters was an illegal gambling den, sly grog shop, and brothel. They were all Able Bodied Seamen in the Royal Navy and scrutiny of naval records would confirm that they were posted on board the HMS Ark Royal; but you would not find their names on any watch and station bill.

Even when the rest of the Ship’s Company fell in for payment, as they did in 1976 to be paid in cash; Able Seamen Nyland, Holiday, Perkins and Maine were excused. They were allowed to attend ‘missmusters’, the Navy’s term for sailors who were on watch during ‘general payment’ and were handed their pay packets by CPO Rod Latham and simply signed the missmusters payment ledger.

Michele had called the meeting after their interlude ashore in Naples. All of the Barrack Room Bettys had had a wonderful four days ashore at Mamma’s hotel and at the nightclub nearby. The exception being when Spike had turned up at the nightclub and made a fracas the first night ashore. The girls had all hooked up with local men and had a great time although Polly was still pissed with Michele for stealing Tony De Lucca from her.

“So we are agreed? Jason ‘Spike’ Jones gets his share of the money we have made so far from Barrack Room Betty’s and he gets the arse,” Michele stipulated.

Everyone at the table nodded and took a shot of grappa, which Rod had acquired in bulk at a ridiculously cheap price from a smuggler ashore, and sculled it down.

“We’ll give Spike the bad news and Knocker you work the door tonight; there won’t be many punters first night out anyway. You girls get sorted and make sure two of you are here ready to take the first watch at 1700,” Rod concluded the meeting.

Rod and Knocker found Spike sleeping off a hangover in the Bosun’s Store and gave him the bad news. He didn’t take it well but Knocker acting as the enforcer ensured Spike was aware of the consequences should he compromise the secret of Barrack Room Bettys.

“I’ve been in the Pussers for over twenty years and during that time quite a few sailors have fallen overboard,” he hissed, grabbing Spike by the collar.

Rod gave Spike his payout in cash; nearly seven hundred pounds.

“That’s a lot of money for an Able Seaman. Spend it wisely and keep your mouth shut. And stay away from 6QDA or I’ll let Petty Officer White loose. Do you understand?” Rod looked him in the eyes.

“Yes Chief,” Spike conceded.

“Alright. Now fuck off and turn too in your part of ship,” Knocker clipped him around the ear.

Rod and Knocker interviewed a few trusted agents who were regulars at BRB and finally settled on Leading Seaman Steve Smith. He was a muscular young sailor who had just enough common sense to realise he was likely getting the best job he would ever get in the Royal Navy.

The Ark was now enroute to Bangkok Thailand after a fuelling stop in Djibouti, which the sailors referred to as “that shithole”. No leave would be granted in Djibouti so Barrack Room Bettys was flat out for twenty four days and by the time the ship transited the Chao Phraya River and berthed in Bangkok everyone was looking forward to a break

The ship was to undertake a fourteen-day logistic visit that included a maintenance period so the Ship’s Company were effectively divided in half into two watches so that they all got a good break. This did not concern the Bettys of course, as they were not on the ship’s duty watchbill.

The four Bettys, Rod, Knocker and Steve spent the first day alongside stowing the contraband alcohol and other requisites that Rod had pre-ordered. The bootleg stores came on board with the ship’s stores so no one was the wiser. The appropriate people had been bribed to ensure the contraband was delivered 6QDA hatch and the team took it from there.

When they were finished they sat at the bar and had a drink.

“So what are you girls getting up to here in Bangkok?” Rod asked sipping a pint of cold lager.

“I’m getting a hotel room in town and relaxing,” Michele replied.

“Me too,” piped in the other three Bettys.

“I’m going to find myself a pretty Kai Tai and spend a few days drinking and whoring,” Knocker quipped, sipping a scotch and soda.

“Aren’t us Bettys good enough for you?” Polly laughed.

“No offence girls. You are all smoking hot when you’re dressed up, but Kai Tais have that something extra you don’t have,” Knocker made a hand gesture to indicate breasts.

They all started laughing but Michele remained pensive.

“Ok! Fuck this; let’s get our shit together and get ashore. I’ll see you all in fourteen days,” Rod finished his pint and slammed the empty glass down on the bar and stood up to leave.

Michele found a reasonably priced hotel close to Soi Patpong which is a notorious red light district in Bangkok and famous for Ladyboys. She settled in her hotel room and decided to hit the bars in male mode as Michael Nyland.

Patpong was totally different to anything Michael had experienced before. There were street vendors selling everything from copy watches to deep-fried grasshoppers. He had dinner and then hit a few bars looking expressly for Ladyboy bars of which he found many. Too pissed to take any of the ‘girls’ home but sober enough to be impressed by the gorgeous Ladyboys and observe their modus operandi, he woke the next day with a plan of action.

Michael went to a bar called Supergirls on Patpong Road early in the evening and sipped an ice cold Singha while he took stock of the Ladyboys working the bar.

There was everything from post-op transsexuals to pre-op transsexuals to young looking homosexual men available for a price. A stream of transsexual Ladyboys looking to engage him for ‘short-time’ or ‘long-time’ assailed him, but Michael sent them packing.

Then he spotted what he was looking for. A lovely, feminine Ladyboy dressed elegantly rather than in the hotpants and T-shirts or go-go miniskirts that most of the other girls wore. She wore an evening gown split at both sides to the waist, sheer pantyhose, high-heels, perfect makeup and her silky black hair cascaded to her shoulders. She was older than the other girls, likely in her early thirties, and the other bargirls seemed to defer to her.

Michael waved her over and she joined him at his table.

“I’m Michael. Pleased to meet you.”

Michael had bought a tourist guide and made a study of local customs and used the traditional greeting or ‘wai’ and stood and bowed slightly with his palms pressed together in a prayer like fashion.

“I’m Ying, pleased to meet you too,” she smiled showing her perfectly white teeth.

“May I buy you a drink Ying?” Michael asked.

He knew full well that the bargirls were expected to get the punters to buy them ‘cocktails’ which were in fact mostly soft drink but for which they charged exorbitant prices and split the proceeds between the girl and the bar.

Ying called over one of the other bargirls, who executed a perfect wai, took their order and skipped over to the bar. Once Ying had her cocktail and Michael had his Singha they engaged in pleasantries that Michael knew would eventually evolve into a negotiation for short time or long time.

But Michael was surprised. Ying seemed genuinely interested in the young sailor’s conversation and asked him about life in England and his service in the RN. Unlike the other bargirls she didn’t espouse a life of poverty and the need to send every Baht she earned back to her family so they could survive. She was vivacious and entertaining, laughing at his jokes and telling a few herself. Not only that, she was drinking real drinks, Thai whisky and coke.

They chatted for a while and were completely engrossed in each other and time slipped away until eventually Ying looked pointedly at her gold watch.

“So Michael? We need to make an arrangement or I will have to move on. I need to make money even though I find your company enchanting,” she said.

Ying spoke perfect English with a slight American accent.

“And the bar-fine is?” Michael asked.

“For how long?” Ying asked.

“How about five days?” Michael asked.

Ying grinned.

“You seem like a really nice person and I would love to spend five days with you but you know you will have to accommodate me, feed me, and look after my needs” she smiled morosely.

“Yes, Yes I know,” Michael smiled at her.

“Two thousand Baht?” Ying said tentatively expecting him to haggle.

“Done!” Michael said and smiled at her.

“Follow me. Let’s make our transaction out of the public eye,” Ying said and led him to a small room outback where Mammasan sat over an ancient cash register.

Michael counted out the bills and the transaction was complete, he and Ying stepped gingerly down the steps of Supergirls and hailed a cab.

Michael and Ying took the cab the short distance back to his hotel and Ying engaged the cab driver in Thai. Michael was pleasantly surprised when cab fare was half of what he had paid on the way there.

“You will find that you will now be paying the local price for most things while I am with you,” Ying squeezed his thigh and smiled.

Michael was very excited. But now came the tricky part; how to explain to Ying that he was actually a transvestite and wanted to explore that peccadillo further.

Although the Bettys had been friends for a long time and had often been involved in group sex; they never explored the ‘girl on girl’ experience, even with the other transvestites they had met in the various clubs they had been to.

Michael took Ying to the hotel reception desk and Ying engaged the concierge and handed over her identity card.

“You pay him five hundred Baht and it’s all good, I can stay in the hotel with you” she smiled and Michael shelled over the cash.

Ying clung to Michael as they walked through the lobby and was surprised when he led her to the bar instead of going straight up to the room. They sat at a small table away from the main crowd and he ordered drink for them both.

“I thought you would want to go straight up to the room for ‘fucky-fucky’,” she deliberately used bargirl slang and laughed when she said it.

She squeezed him under the table and found him erect and she raised her eyebrows questioningly.

“Ok Ying I want to ask you something. Do Kai Tais ever have sex with other Kai Tais?” he stumbled over the question and Ying beamed at his embarrassment.

“Oh all the time but you should have said before we left Supergirls, then I could have got another nice girl to come with us so you can watch us ‘fucky-fucky’,” she giggled and Michael wished she would talk more softly as several heads swivelled their way and smirked.

“Fuck you know what? This is just going to be easier if I show you what I mean.”

“Stay here in the bar for an hour and then come up to the room ok?” he gave Ying a handful of Baht and stood.

Ying looked a little amused, but after years of servicing ‘Farang’ customers nothing really surprised her. She was happy to sit in the bar and spend Michael’s money.

Just shy of an hour later Michele was ready to receive Ying. She’d already ensured she was smooth all over so she just needed to freshen and shave her face again. She had got to work applying makeup and although it was late afternoon she’s used smoky eyeshadow, black eyeliner and mascara and rouged her cheeks. She’s used her favourite plum-red lipstick on her lips and matched it with her nailpolish.

Michele chose a simple black satin bra and panty set and after securing her breastforms into the cups of the bra she slipped into a pair of sheer-to-the-waist, fifteen denier, flesh-toned tights. She pulled on her panties and shimmied into a tight black cocktail dress. She scrunched her feet into black heels and adjusted a blonde shoulder-length wig on her head. She had just enough time to accessorise and spray herself liberally with perfume before there was a hesitant knock on the door.

“Ok! Here we go?” she said in her practiced falsetto.

She walked over to the door and flung it wide open and was greeted by a stunned look of amazement on Ying’s face. ‘For once, she’s speechless’ Michele though, and smiled.

“Oh sorry! I have the wrong room; so sorry,” Ying was so surprised she reverted back to broken, heavily accented English, forgetting the fluent English she usually used.

“No Ying; this is the right room,” Michele smiled at her.

Ying frowned and then she smiled as she understood what was going on.

“Oh that’s why Michael asked if I would go with another Kai Tai! He wants a threesome with his wife and me. You are his wife? Girlfriend?” Ying asked.

Michele gripped Ying by the upper arm and pulled her into the room and closed the door. Ying looked around perplexed; searching the room for Michael.

Michele laughed; she finally had the upper hand on the sassy Kai Tai.

“Ying! Look at me!” Michele said.

Ying stared at Michele.

“You don’t know who I am do you?” Michele asked; amused.

Ying shook her head slowly in confusion.

Michele stepped forward and kissed Ying full on the lips, pulling Ting’s stiff body close to hers.

“I’m Michael. But I’m not really; I’m Michele,” Michele whispered in Ying’s ear dropping her falsetto on the last sentence.

Ying pushed Michele out to arm’s length and studied her; Ying looked stupefied and suddenly it dawned on Ying who Michele was. Ying's face broke into a beaming smile.

“You are Michael! Of course!” Ying grinned.

Ying stepped forward and embraced Michele, pressing her body against Michele’s. It was a unique and intoxicating feeling for Michele as their two soft bodies pressed together. Michele felt the swell of Ying’s breasts against her body and inhaled their blended perfumes; their soft lips met and Ying opened her mouth to accept Michele’s exploring tongue.

Michele had not gaffed and her penis became rigid in the confines of the gusset of her tights and when Ying’s long delicate fingers slid along Michele’s thigh, found her penis and squeezed her through the silky satin panties and sheer nylon tights Michele nearly fainted. The kissing became frantic and Ying guided Michele over to the King-sized bed and lowered her down on the quilt.

The two transvestites explored each other’s bodies, stopping briefly to remove various items of clothing until they were both dressed only in lingerie and high heels. Ying ripped off Michele’s bra and removed her breastforms; Michele reached behind Ying’s back and unclipped her brassier releasing Ying's full breasts which Michele cupped in her hands and then her fingers gently caressed Ying’s nipples. Michele noticed the fine surgeon’s scars under Ying’s breasts then she lowered her face to Ying's chest and sucked on her nipples.

Ying gasped and held Michele’s head to her bosom while Michele sucked Ying’s erect nipples then Ying lowered her face to Michele’s diminutive breasts and reciprocated.

The girls kissed, cuddled and rubbed against each other until eventually Michele lay on top of Ying, their penises pressing together though layers of silk, satin and nylon. Michele thrust her groin against Ying and Ying responded; raising her buttocks off the bed to meet Michele’s thrusts. Within a few seconds both their panties were sodden with pre-seminal fluid.

They continued to kiss and caress each other and Ying lifted her legs and enclosed them around Michele’s, the feeling of their nylons rubbing together was ecstatic, the hiss of sheer nylon broke the silence of the quiet hotel room, along with various squeals and gasps of pleasure.

“Oh my God Ying this is so amazing; I think I’m going to come,” Michele moaned.

Ying felt the urgency in Michele’s thrusts and eased Michele away from her and flipped her over.

Ying spun around so the they were pelvis to face. She lowered her mouth to Michele’s rampant member still trapped inside her hose and panties. She licked, nipped and slathered at Michele’s throbbing phallus and encouraged Michele to reciprocate, which she gladly did. Ying pulled aside Michele’s panties and bit into the gusset of Michele’s tights and freed Michele's penis, which sprang straight into her mouth.

“Oh my god!” Michele screamed with pleasure.

Ying expertly fellated Michele, backing off whenever she felt Michele might reach extremis. Michele followed suit, tearing open Ying’s pantyhose taking her engorged member into her mouth. To some extent the concentration required to orally please the other partner negated the urgency to orgasm and the girls were able to orally pleasure each other without either of them climaxing.

The oral pleasure continued until Ying decided it was time to explore the joys of each other’s bodies in another way. To Michele’s disappointment Ying ceased fellating Michele and extricated herself from Michele’s embrace.

Michele’s disappointment was shortlived however when Ying lay back on the bed with her lustrous black hair fanned across the pillows with her legs opened invitingly and her heels high in the air. Ying had slid out of her panties and tore at the crotch of her pantyhose revealing her puckered bud, glistening with lubricant below a considerable scrotum and rather large erect penis.

Michele fell on Ying and Ying opened her arms and pulled Michele to her. Ying wrapped her legs around Michele and her fingers found Michele’s fully engorged penis prodding between her buttocks, seeking the entrance. Ying guided Michele’s phallus to her precious bud and raised her buttocks up off the bed and, holding Michele still, she pushed up until the girth of Michele’s member was deep inside her.

Michele had not been inside a woman for so long she that she had forgotten how it felt and this was the first time she had been inside a transvestite. Ying’s anus contracted and squeezed Michele’s shaft but Ying prevented Michele from thrusting; she drew Michele’s face to hers and only when they were kissing each other passionately did she release her grip and allow Michele to slowly fuck her.

They made love that way for what seemed like an eternity to Michele; slowing grinding against each other whilst lovingly kissing each other. Their smouldering passion became a raging fire as they kissed, stroked, and slowly fucked each other. Slowly their ardour grew and the fucking became faster and deeper.

Ying gripped Michele’s buttocks and looked up into her pretty face and nodded and smiled, locking her legs around Michele’s waist. Michele took the cue and began to increase the tempo. Ying gripped Michele’s turgid member with her anal muscles as Michele fucked her harder. Both women were grunting and groaning as they smashed their lips together. At some stage Michele tasted blood and realised that either she or Ying had cut their lip during the frantic kissing but she felt only pleasure.

Michele felt her orgasm approaching and she smiled down at Ying who indicated that she too was close to climax.

Michele ground herself against the gorgeous Kai Tai and bellowed as she emptied herself deep inside Ying. This triggered Ying’s climax and her cock shuddered and discharged her load and Michele felt the hot viscous fluid soak into the gusset of her tights and warm her belly as the last of her semen spilled deep inside Ying.

The two transvestites kissed and caressed each other as their orgasms subsided. Michele’s deflating penis fell from Ying’s anus with an audible plop and they both laughed. Michele’s seed dribbled from Ying’s sphincter and soaked her pantyhose.

They lay side by side stroking, caressing and kissing each other, both amazed at the other’s beauty. Their semen had not even cooled before both of them responded to their passion and their penises began to grow to tumescence again.

“This time I fuck you; Farang Kai Tai,” Ying sniggered.

But Ying’s snigger turned to a deep groan as Michele slid under her and took Ying’s engorged phallus in her fingers and guided it to her entrance.

An hour later they were sated. They had showered together; resulting in another extended session of foreplay and were now naked, wrapped in the large, white, terry-towelling robes provided by the hotel. Ying and Michele had fixed their makeup standing side by side at the large mirror. Ying had brushed out her lustrous long black hair and Michele had combed out her blonde wig.

They lay side by side on the bed, propped by pillows, drinking cold Singha beer from the hotel fridge.

“This is very exciting Michele. You are the first Farang transvestite I have met and you are far too feminine and experienced to be new to this,” Ying said, thoughtfully sipping her beer.

Michele glanced at Ying and smiled.

“And you are too sophisticated and your English is too perfect to be a peasant farm boy who became a Kai Tai to earn money for your family like so many of the other Kai Tai,” Michele said.

“I’ll tell you my story then you tell me yours,” Michele reached up and kissed Ying gently on the lips.

Michele told Ying about how she always had the compunction to crossdress and about being caught dressed by her Uncle Bill who had treated her as his lover and fanned her carnal desires. She told of the shame she felt when her family found out and Uncle Bill’s betrayal when she was told to join the Navy or be shamed out of the family.

Ying was absolutely intrigued when Michele told her of experiences at HMS Chelmsford; Ying became teary when Michele told her of her repeated violation by PO Knocker White and her rescue by Jason ‘Spike’ Jones and then of their falling out.

“It is always the same with men; they become jealous and petulant like children,” Ying commiserated.

“Oh it gets better,” Michele went on to tell of her first experiences aboard HMS Ark Royal.

Ting frowned and then was amazed when Michele described turning the dingy compartment that was 6QDA into ‘Barrack Room Betty’s’ bar and casino.

“And of course; brothel,” Michele added.

Ying laughed.

“So Michele; you are a Kai Tai bargirl just like me?” she playfully slapped Michele on the thigh.

Michele explained that both Knocker White and Spike Jones were on the ship and that although she had been able to forgive Knocker White, she couldn’t reason with Spike Jones, who was infatuated with her.

“In Bangkok us Kai Tai have ways of dealing with men like your Spike Jones so they don’t come back,” Ying said nonchalantly puffing her cigarette.

Michele narrowed her eyes at Ying and then finished her story with a summation of the last port visit to Naples.

“Again this Spike seems like a petulant child who needs a good spanking,” Ying said thoughtfully.

Michele lit a cigarette and poured them both a gin and tonic. Michele had bought two bottles with her from on board the Ark.

“Ok. Your turn,” Michele crawled back on the bed and snuggled up to Ying.

Ying told Michele about how as a teenage boy Ying had gone to school in America, living with his uncle and aunt. But when his parents could no longer pay he had had to return to Thailand and by then he was tormented by his gender dysphoria and wanted to live full time as a woman.

Ying explained that she had undergone breast augmentation and other transformation surgeries and now lived as a Kai Tai full time, sending some money home from what she earned in the bar and from prostitution.

Michele was fascinated about how Ying had undertaken breast augmentation surgery and asked Ying to go into detail about it.

Ying had undergone breast augmentation surgery with implants and a tracheal shave to reduce the size of her ‘Adam’s apple’.

“I am lucky because like you I have a very feminine face, figure and form. Some of the other Kai Tai have also had facial surgery and buttock augmentation,” Ying explained.

Michele quizzed Ying about her surgery. Where did she get it done? How much did it cost? How long did it take? How much did it hurt?

Ying laughed but was happy to share her experiences with her new friend.

“And what about this?” Michele smiled and slid her fingers inside Ying’s robe and found her penis.

“When I have enough money I will exchange it for a vagina,” Ying said determinedly.

Michele raised her eyes; a little surprised.

She still had her hand inside Ying's robe and she raised her face to Ying’s and kissed her; squeezing Ying’s dilating penis.

“Now show me how you do that trick with your anal muscles,” Michele grinned and climbed on and straddled Ying.

The two transvestites made love until the early hours, switching roles until they were exhausted.

The next day Michele dressed in hotpants, sheer tan tights, platform high heels and a cap-sleeved blouse. She wore a black bob and light makeup, applied with Ying’s assistance and the two girls went shopping.

Michele hired a taxi for the day negotiating a good price with Ying’s assistance. The girls shopped, had lunch, and Michele even had Ying take her past the surgery where Ying had her augmentation operation.

After a late afternoon love making session Ying encouraged Michele to visit the hotel pool.

“But I’m so pale Ying?” Michele bemoaned.

“That’s why I wear tights or stockings all the time; my legs are lily white.”

“Most of the English Farang are pale; that’s why they laze around the pool to get a tan,” Ying laughed.

She was able to coax Michele into a swimsuit and suitably gaffed and with breastforms in place she looked quite feminine.

“I can’t swim in this wig,” Michele whined.

“Hardly anyone swims. We sunbathe, splash around the shallow end of the pool and of course we drink some cocktails,” Ying beamed.

That night they glammed up and went back to Supergirls to watch the shows. Michele even recognised some of the sailors from the Ark but no punters from BRB.

The other Kai Tais fawned upon Michele; the Farang Kai Tai fascinated them, and Michele had a wonderful time. She danced with some of the bargirls and even with some of the punters but she went back to hotel with Ying.

Michele and Ying had a wonderful week together, shopping during the day, afternoons by the pool drinking cocktails and nattering. Michele became tanned and they spent their evenings out on the town.

Despite the myriad of offers, Michele and Ying always went home together. They became friends as well as lovers and Michele extended her offer to Ying to stay with her for whole port visit. Ying wanted to waive the bar-fine but Michele wouldn’t hear of it; she knew Ying needed the money.

They had a wonderful time together until the second last night in Bangkok when Michele and Ying were having a night out at Supergirls.

Michele went to the toilet leaving Ying chatting with a few of the bargirls at their table. She peed and was fixing her makeup in the mirror when suddenly Spike Jones burst through the door. He was drunk and angry and Michele knew this wasn’t going to end well.

“Spike! What are you doing here?” Michele was astonished.

She made a dash for the door but Spike tripped her and she crashed to the white tiled floor. Michele tried to scramble to her feet but Spike pushed her down and slammed the locking bar across the door.

“You fucking bitch! I lost my job and I lost my heart to you!” Spike blubbered.

“Jason! Come on! Stop this! Let’s go to the bar and get a drink and talk this out,” Michele pleaded.

“Talk this out you cunt!” Spike grabbed Michele by the arm and dragged her across the floor.

Michele screamed but no one could hear her over the unce, unce, unce bassline of the music thundering out the speakers in the bar.

“Jason please!” Michele begged.

“Jason please!” you fucking ungrateful cunt, he mocked her.

“You wouldn’t be where you are now without me. I made you! I made the Barrack Room Bettys and you all shat on me!”

Michele knew that Spike was beyond reason. He was drunk and likely high on drugs.

Spike reached down and gripped Michele by the neck. She began to choke as Spike pulled her to her knees.

“Jason; I can’t breathe!” Michele implored, choking and gagging for breath.

“Try breathing around this you bitch!”

Spike unzipped his fly and pushed his flaccid penis into Michele’s mouth.

Michele knew the best way to deal with Spike was to try to appease his lust so she willingly sucked and slathered at his cock. She tried her hardest but could only get his penis semi-erect. Spike thrust his cock in and out of Michele’s mouth while she suckled the pliable offering hoping to get him erect and to orgasm as quickly as possible.

“Fuckkkk!” Spike screamed, furious that he couldn’t gain an erection.

“It’s your fault you slag! I can’t even get hard for you any more you slut!” Spike bellowed.

He dragged Michele to her feet and threw her against the washbasins, her head crashed into the mirror and she moaned. Spike’s cock twinged. Hurting this bitch was turning him on.

He pushed her head down into the sink and lifted her dress exposing the globes of her buttocks clad in gossamer thin pink nylon panties.

“You fucking slut! Fucking slut panties!”

He gazed down at her soft white buttocks clad in the transparent pink panties, the beige welts of her flesh toned stockings delineated her tanned thighs. The bitch had been suntaning herself!

Spike ripped the flimsy knickers from her body and kicked her legs open. He shoved Michele’s panties in her mouth. Michele was dazed and could do nothing but capitulate as Spike gripped the back of her neck, pushing her head down into the sink as he spread her legs.

He tried to push his semi-erect penis into her anus but she was too tight and he was too flaccid.

“Fuck!!!” he screamed again.

He reached over her and squirted liquid soap onto his hand from the dispenser and lubricated his organ. He pushed forward and Michele grunted as his glans passed her sphincter.

Her muffled cry of pain stimulated Spike and his phallus gradually became tumescent and he pushed again, forcing his phallus slowly all the way inside the pretty transvestite.

By the time he had his cock fully embedded in Michele’s anus he was rampant.

“Fuck! You! Bitch!,” he hissed.

Every expletive was followed by a thrust as he penetrated his hard cock deep inside Michele. He thrust into her harder and deeper, becoming more aroused as she cried. He looked in the mirror and saw mascara stained tears streaming down Michele’s face; the pink panties stuffed in her mouth.

“Fuck! You! Bitch!” he screamed and ground against Michele's soft buttocks emptying himself inside her.

He pulled her buttocks against him until his orgasm subsided and then he yanked his deflating penis from her anus and pulled her panties from her mouth and wiped his penis on them and threw them in the corner.

“Yeah! Fuck you bitch!” he snarled drunkenly.

It took Spike three attempts to unlock the door and when he did there a small crowd of bargirls outside.

“What the fuck are you looking at you cunts!” he bellowed and they scattered from the big angry Farang.

Michele slammed the door shut to ladies toilets again and locked it. She went over and sat on one of the toilet bowls, expelling as much of Spike’s issue as she could. She hobbled over to the sink and washed between her legs and then splashed water on her face. She straightened her clothes and fixed her makeup and opened the door to the ladies toilet.

Ying burst through the door.

“What happened to you my lover? Oh my god! It was that was the Spike man you told me about wasn’t it?” she asked.

Michele shook her head dismissively and had Ying help her back to their booth.

“Get me a double scotch please Ying,” Michele looked at her solemnly.

Ying came back with drinks and sat beside Michele in the booth and pulled Michele’s head onto her shoulder and Michele sobbed. She sobbed until there was nothing left. Michele sculled the double scotch.

“Get me another!” she said angrily and pulled out her compact and fixed her makeup while Ying was at the bar.

Ying returned and looked at Michele closely, she gasped when she saw the purple bruises on Michele’s neck and arms.

“Can you get me a pair of panties?” Michele scrambled in her handbag for money.

Ying slapped Michele’s hand away from her handbag and gave her a stern look.

“We are lovers; but more importantly we are friends. Now stop that!” Ying said tersely.

She yelled something in Thai to one of the bargirls. The bargirl returned within a few minutes from markets below with three pairs of brand new panties. Michele selected a pink pair similar to those that Spike had ripped from her body and Ying and the bargirl provided a screen while Michele pulled on the new panties.

Michele felt better now; some of her dignity had returned. This beating was nothing worse than what Knocker had done to her at HMS Cheltenham.

“Come Michele, let’s go home,” Ying implored.

“No! That coward won’t stay around here now. He knows we will have the bouncers on him in a flash. Come and dance with me,” Michele stood up.

Michele was rickety at first but managed to stay standing on her heels and reached out for Ying and dragged her onto the dance floor.

Unseen by Michele, Mammasan had come out of her back room and instructed the bargirls that Michele was to drink free and sent her doormen and bouncers out to find Spike with instructions to give him a severe beating if they found him.

Michele danced the night away despite her injuries; drinking double scotches to kill the pain.

In the early hours of the morning snuggled up to Ying in the safety of their hotel room, Michele was drunk and almost unconscious when she asked Ying a question.

“You told me that in Bangkok, Kai Tais have ways of dealing with men like Spike Jones so they don’t come back. What did you mean?”

Ying told Michele what she meant, going into some detail about how for a certain price vengeance of varying degrees could be enacted.

Ying wasn’t sure how much Michele had heard before she fell asleep. She kissed Michele’s forehead and pulled up the quilt and folded Michele in her arms and held her tight. Michele snuggled against Ying in her sleep and Ying stroked Michele’s hair. Ying turned out the bedside lamp and gently nuzzled Michele’s bruised neck until Ying finally fell asleep herself.

To be continued…

Barrack Room Betty

By Michele Nylons

Chapter Fifteen – Bettys Down Under

Michele had an emotional last day with Ying. As well as lovers they had become good friends. Michele promised to write to Ying and vowed that one day she would return to Thailand and they would reunite. Their last night together was a sex charged boozy affair and Michele rose early the next morning and left Ying fast asleep in the hotel. She was emotionally drained and didn't want an extended farewell. She left an envelope with a considerable amount of cash on the bedside table; kissed the sleeping Ying on the cheek and left.

When Michael returned on board HMS Ark Royal dressed in his uniform, he went straight down to the Betty’s mess and climbed in his bunk exhausted.

Michele awoke around midday, dressed, applied makeup and went up the ladder to find Rod, Knocker, Steve, Doris, Polly and Mary sitting morosely around the bar. They looked sad and sullen and it was obvious the girls had been crying.

“What’s going on?” Michele asked.

“Here; have a drink,” Knocker poured Michele a scotch.

Michele sat at the table with the other girls and Knocker bought the drink over and rubbed Michele on the shoulder.

“It’s a bit early to be getting on the lash isn’t it? We’ve got to set up and be ready to open at 1700,” Michele said.

The girls looked at her incredulously.

“You haven’t heard then?” Polly whispered.

“Heard what?” Michele replied sipping the scotch.

Polly looked meaningfully at Rod and Rod pulled up a chair next to Michele and took her hands in his.

“Jason Jones was found dead in the Chao Phraya River last night. It looks like he’d been beaten and thrown in the river to drown,” Rod spoke very softly.

“Well let’s face it; he was a belligerent drunk who went looking for trouble. I’m not really that surprised,” Michele responded and sipped her drink.

“You heartless bitch!” Polly hissed.

“He used to be your lover.”

“Yeah used to be. Then he became a petulant, jealous arsehole. You saw what he did to me at Pink Pussycats, and again in Pompey, and again in Naples; and even on board here. We had to sack him for fuck sake!” Michele replied.

“Yeah but he didn’t deserve that!” Polly cried.

“Really? Ask Doris about how he used her for revenge sex? Ask Rod about how he constantly harassed Lieutenant Winters, our best customer? But don’t ask me about the torture he put me through because you saw what you saw but you didn’t see everything!” Michele replied.

“Look it’s a sad occurrence but who knows what Spike got up to in Bangkok. We all saw how confrontational he became when he was drunk. If he started a fight with those Thai street gangs or nightclub bouncers, then anything could have happened.”

“Now. We’ve drank to his demise and yes there will be some fond memories of him but let’s get over it and get this place ready to open for business,” Michele concluded.

“Cold bitch!” Polly whispered under her breath and looked at Michele suspiciously.

Eventually the girls and lads turned too and opened Barrack Room Bettys for business as usual. It was a five day voyage from Bangkok to Singapore, exercising with the task group along the way.

BRB was busy and Michele made an effort to be her gregarious self. The other three girls were attractive and engaging but there was no doubt that Michele was the Belle of BRB.

Outside of work Michele had become withdrawn and moody; she was drinking more than usual and was often quarrelsome. The others put it down to sorrow at the loss of Jason Jones and Michele had told Polly, who despite their differences still remained her best friend, about Ying, and they also assumed Michele was pining for her Ladyboy lover.

The Ark berthed in Sembawang Basin Singapore, the last bastion of the Royal Navy in South East Asia. The first day was busy as usual storing ship and for the Bettys, stowing away contraband that Rod had ordered ahead of the ship’s arrival.

Michele went ashore in Singapore on her own just like she had in Bangkok and got herself a hotel room in the city not far from Bugis Street where the Singaporean Ladyboys, known as Beanie Boys, plied their trade.

The first night ashore Michele wondered down to Bugis Street which was renowned internationally for its nightly parade of flamboyantly-dressed transvestites and transsexual women and attracted hordes of Caucasian gawkers who had never before witnessed Asian queens in full regalia.

The Beanies would tease, cajole and sit on visitors' laps or pose for photographs for a fee.

Others would sashay up and down the street looking to hook half-drunk sailors for an hour of profitable intimacy. The adage amongst Westerners was that one could easily tell who was a real female and who were not; the transvestites were drop-dead gorgeous, while the rest were real women.

Michele was able to witness one of the ‘hallowed traditions’ bestowed upon the area by sojourning sailors, the ritualistic ‘Dance of the Flaming Arseholes’ or ‘Flamers’ as the sailors called it, on top of the infamous flat-top outdoor toilet’s roof. Their compatriots on the ground were chanting the signature "Haul 'em down you Zulu Warrior" song whilst the matelots performed their act.

Michele did take a couple of Beanies back to her hotel the first two nights in port and they too were amazed at the English transvestite but it wasn’t the same as it was with Ying and in fact all it did was make her melancholy.

Michele stopped bringing Beanies back to the hotel and engaged a few of the British soldiers stationed in Singapore who were more than happy to fuck a beautiful white transvestite as a change from the local Beanies. The sex was emotionless and Michele just used it as a distraction and to sate her own desires. She charged the men for sex, something she had never done except in BRB, and often went through multiple partners each night; venturing out to Bugis Street where she quickly picked up a punter and bought him back to the hotel for ‘short time’.

The Beanies became a little belligerent with her taking their trade and the Mammasans would scream abuse at her as Michele sashayed drunkenly down Bugis Street displaying her wears. Michele increasingly found herself drinking more than she meant to and by the time the port visit was over she made a conscious decision to curb her drinking and get her life back in order.

She’d made quite a profit from prostituting herself in Singapore and deposited the money into her ever-growing bank account on board the Ark.

Michele sobered up during the passage to Sydney Australia and put all of her effort into her work at Barrack Room Bettys. The others noticed that she seemed more cheerful and were relieved.

During the two week passage from Singapore to Sydney BRB did a roaring trade. Their throng of ‘trusted agents’ issued with the black BRB business card with the familiar logo of a Wren perched on a barstool with her head thrown back smiling with red lipsticked lips, had swelled and BRB was packed every night.

Michele and Rod were getting a little worried that the secret of BRB might get out and the hierarchy in the ship find out and close them down and charge them under Naval Regulations. Rod had most of the key people in ship bribed but Ark Royal was a big ship and he couldn’t bribe everyone. Some of their punters had got tattoos in Singapore of the smiling Wren on the barstool with ‘BRB’ stylised underneath. There was little they could do but hope their secret remained a secret.

The Bettys, dressed as sailors in uniform, leaned on the guardrail in the port after ladder bay and watched as the ship approached Sydney Harbour. Ships of the Royal Australian Navy came out to greet the RN Flagship and they entered Sydney in column with HMS Ark Royal leading. The Betty’s were impressed when they saw the magnificent Harbour Bridge and the Opera House but then it was time to go below so the real sailors could fall in for entering harbour ‘Procedure Alpha’ which meant all hands on deck in their dress uniforms.

As usual contraband was loaded on board and struck down before the Bettys proceeded ashore in uniform carrying their female accoutrements in their bags. They would all stay at the same hotel this time and Michele had got Rod to do some research before the ship arrived so they knew where to go.

The ship was berthed at Garden Island Naval Dockyard which was located at the bottom of the Macleay Street hill which led to Kings Cross, Sydney’s red light district. Halfway up the hill was the Chevron Hotel, which was a perfect base for the Bettys. The girls went to their rooms having stopped at the ‘bottle shop’ underneath the hotel to get ‘take away’ beer, spirits and mixers. They wasted no time getting changed into their finery and met in Michele’s room for drinks.

“Here. Listen to this brochure I found in the foyer,” Michele said.

“The Kings Cross district is Sydney's bohemian heartland being both Sydney’s main tourist accommodation and entertainment mecca, as well as its red-light district. The ‘Queen of the Cross’ and Australia's first widely known transgender person, Carlotta, headlines the world famous all female impersonator revue at Les Girls nightclub,” Michele read aloud from the pamphlet.

“Sounds like our sort of place,” Polly grinned.

“Fuck it’s good to be in a country where people look like us and speak English,” Doris smiled, swigging a gin and tonic and sucking on a cigarette.

“Well sort of…Hey Mate!” Mary giggled.

“Yeah but all the blokes look healthy and tanned. I want one!” Polly laughed.

“Well let’s finish these drinks and go and get one. I fancy a quick shag then out on the town,” Michele beamed.

The girls clinked their glasses together in agreement.

It was early evening when the girls went down to the main bar under the Chevron Hotel which the Aussie sailors referred to as ‘The Shitfight’. It was a nice enough bar, very large and modern in comparison to the pubs the girls were used to in the UK but it was rowdy; packed with sailors, local identities, and women of varying virtue.

‘Trannies’, as the Aussies referred to the transgendered, were a common sight in the Cross so they were not out of place and were soon surrounded by Australian sailors wanting to buy them drinks.

The girls fended off the drunks and the displeasing and eventually they found a booth with four young, fit, tanned Aussie sailors dressed in ‘schooner-rig’ consisting of navy blue bell-bottoms and the square-necked, blue trimmed, ‘white front’.

The sailors and the girl were soon engaged in kissing, fondling and groping under the table.

“I’m Gary,” Michele’s beau introduced himself before taking her in his arms and kissing her.

His hand went straight under her dress and stroked her thighs.

“Yum stockings! I love a girl in stockings,” he smiled.

“How about you come up to my room and explore them further,” Michele grinned.

“Fuck you pommy trannies don’t muck about do ya. Ok let’s go,” Gary stood and Michele could see the erection tenting his uniform trousers.

The other girls rose and walked hand in hand with their beaus to the elevators. They crowded into the lift and it was soon filled with moans of passion as the four trannies and the four sailors groped, fondled and kissed.

Michele led Gary down the corridor and opened the door to her suite and pushed him inside, slamming the door behind her. She threw her small clutch purse on a nearby chair.

Gary surveyed Michele as she stood with her back to the door, reaching behind to lock it.

The tall, slim, transvestite with the pretty face was spectacular. He couldn’t take his eyes off her long legs; her stocking tops were actually visible below the hem of her mini cocktail dress. His cock began to thicken immediately.

They each made no pretence of being in Michele’s room for any reason other than to have sex.

“Let’s go Michele,” Gary took Michele in his arms and kissed her passionately, rubbing his body against her.

Michele slavered her tongue around in Gary’s mouth and felt his erection rub against her through her clothing. She manoeuvred a hand between their bodies and squeezed Gary’s penis through the material of his trousers. Gary groaned and pushed her back onto the bed and fell down on top of her, never breaking their kiss.

He humped away at her, his need for release overwhelming. Michele reached between their bodies and opened his flies and freed Gary’s cock from the prison of his trousers; it felt long, thick, and meaty. Gary pushed his trousers down while Michele reached out for the KY jelly she had purposely left on the bedside table and slathered his phallus with the lubricant. She had lubricated herself internally prior to going out for the evening in anticipation of having sex.

Gary didn’t even remove her panties; he simply slid the gusset to one side and then slowly slid his entire length inside Michele until his scrotum rested against her buttocks. Michele grunted as Gary’s cock filled her, but she liked the feeling of the hard member crammed inside her and especially liked the tingling feeling emanating from her prostate whenever Gary’s glans rubbed against it.

Their fucking was almost savage; Gary pounded away at Michele as she rose her buttocks up off the bed to meet his thrusts. They never broke their kiss and they gasped and groaned into each other’s mouths as their tongues entwined and teeth occasionally cracked together with the ferocity of the sex. Gary managed to shuck off his white front and when Michele bought up her legs and wrapped them around him he savoured the feel of Michele’s stockings rubbing against his skin.

The fucking became a frenzy, Gary jack-hammered his cock in and out Michele’s tight anus and Michele, impaled on Gary’s hard throbbing cock, clung to him and wriggled and shook her backside. She thrust her hips upward to match his strokes ensuring his full length penetrated her slick anal sheath and crossed her ankles behind Gary’s back, her stockings hissing as they rubbed together and against Gary’s sensitive skin.

Michele felt her orgasm approaching as Gary howled and moaned with the rush of his own climax. She felt Gary’s cock convulse deep inside her as he filled her back passage with his hot seed. Michele’s cock was erect and rubbing against Gary’s stomach through the flimsy material of her panties as Gary savagely fucked her. The pressure and friction induced her own climax and she groaned in ecstasy as she flooded her panties with hot semen. Gary’s cock pounding in and out of her anus further stimulating her and she was wracked by a very intense orgasm.

Gary’s thrusting slowed down as his orgasm subsided and eventually he lay still on top of Michele with his slowly deflating penis buried in her anus. He was still kissing Michele and he could tell that her orgasm was still raging through her body, he felt her penis convulsing in her panties and her hot seed flooding through the panty material and soaking his belly.

Michele’s climax began to subside and as she came down from the sexual high. Gary finally broke the kiss and smiled down at her.

“Well that was good” he smiled.

“Yeah; I enjoyed it” Michele grinned up at him.

“Well thanks darling,” Gary leaned down and kissed her.

Gary eased his cock out of Michele’s anus and knelt on the bed between her spread legs. He wiped his cock and belly with a towel. Then he stood up and put his cock back into his pants and zipped his flies; he shucked into his white front and tucked it in.

Gary passed the towel to Michele.

“Here honey, clean yourself up,” he said.

Michele wiped at her semen soaked panties and looked up at Gary. He was a well-built handsome young man. She thought that she could become quite attached to a man like him, but she had thought that about Spike too and look where that had ended up. She pulled down her dress and sat on the bed lighting a cigarette.

“Ok see you babe,” Michele got up and walked to the door.

“But!” Gary looked a little peeved.

“That was fun honey but I’m not looking for a boyfriend,” Michele hustled him out the door and closed it.

She burst out laughing.

“You naughty girl!” she smiled to herself.

She went into the bathroom to clean up properly and fix her makeup and change her knickers.

The girls drifted into Michele’s room one at a time having sated their lust.

They sat around drinking gin and tonics.

The girls compared notes.

“I tell ya Michele; expect for those Eyeties in Naples, these Aussie hunks are the best,” Doris smirked.

“He was this big!” Mary laughed.

She held her palms six inches apart and then slowly opened them until they were eight, then ten inches apart.

“Never!” Doris guffawed.

“I tell ya I’m walking bow-legged,” Mary burst out laughing and rolled on the couch.

“You’re quiet Polly?” Michele raised her brows.

Polly sat back with her head resting on the back of the couch.

“I’m just basking in the afterglow of the best rogering I’ve had since recruit school,” Polly beamed.

“Do you miss Jean Burgess?” Mary asked.

“Yes and no. I write to him; but I’m having too much fun to miss him that much,” Polly downed her gin and tonic and poured another.

“Certainly more than Michele misses Jason Jones,” she said cynically, looking at Michele over the rim of her glass.

“Fuck off!” Michele’s stared evilly at her friend.

Polly shrugged her shoulders and sipped her drink and lit a cigarette.

“Ok girls. Who wants to really have some fun?” Michele asked, changing the subject.

“What are we going to do now? Suck off some more sailors?” Doris laughed.

Michele rummaged in her purse and bought out four tickets which she held up for the girls to see.

“I have tickets here for Australia’s best rock and roll band, Billy Thorpe & The Aztecs,” she smiled at the girls.

“Upstairs at the Silver Spade Room. It’s a class venue and we have seats at a table for four. My treat,” Michele grinned.

The girls all clapped and smiled.

“Fuck me Michele; you’re a hard girl to dislike. Sometimes I think you’re a cold hearted bitch and sometimes I think I love you,” Polly said drunkenly.

“And you’re drunk…Woah! Here we go!” Michele grabbed Polly and led her to the bathroom.

She helped Polly to her knees while she vomited into the bowl. When Polly had finished, Michele took her to the vanity unit and put a cold compress on her face and the gave her a glass of water to rinse her mouth. She let Polly use her toothbrush and sat her down and fixed her makeup and brushed her wig.

“You know I love you?” Michele said as she stood behind Polly brushing her hair, fussing over her so she looked perfect.

“And I love too Chelle; but sometimes you make it hard,” Polly met her eyes in the mirror.

Michele and Polly came out of the ensuite together.

“Okay you Barrack Room Bettys, follow me to the Silver Spade Room. The champagne is on me and any girl that doesn’t get some beefy Aussie lifesaver to go home with her is a poofter!” Michele said in her best faux Aussie accent.

The girls had a ball at the concert. The band played hard rock for three sets and after the show had finished the guys in the band came out into the audience and a couple sat with the girls.

The Betty’s were quite drunk by now but were still having a good time.

“I’m Colin, the drummer,” the long-haired handsome man said as he seated himself beside Michele.

“Fuck me I’ve come twelve thousand miles and still can’t fuck a real musician!” Michele giggled.

“Hey!” Colin replied, a little bemused.

But when Michele kissed him and squeezed him through his skin-tight jeans all was forgiven. Michele slipped her spare room key into his hand.

“Room seven, seventeen. Give me half an hour to get ready,” she bit his ear playfully.

Ensuring that Doris, Mary and Polly had engaged with other men Michele snuck away. She was more than a little drunk but happy.

She went back to her room and freshened up, fixed her makeup and changed into something more alluring. She lay on the bed and was just about to fall asleep when she heard the key rattle in the lock.

Colin came through the door and liked what he saw.

Michele wore a full length white silk nightgown thrown open and spread out on the bed like angel's wings. A matching white bustier adorned her body, the garter straps clipped to white nylon stockings. He could just make out the triangle of white satin panties between her legs which were spread slightly apart; her feet were shod in white high-heel sandals, her white stockings gossamer thin, stretched taught over her red painted toenails. Michele held out a hand and beckoned.

Colin shucked out his denim jeans and jacket and his white T-shirt. He kicked off his boots and socks and dropped his underpants.

He strode towards the bed, his manhood erect before him, a rope of gleaming, clear pre-seminal fluid leaked from the eye, and Michele reached out and took him in a firm grip and pulled him onto the bed. She opened her legs wide and he knelt between them; neither of them saying a word. He bent down and kissed her passionately on the lips and she responded and moaned deep down in the back of her throat.

She still held his manhood in a firm grip as she slid herself underneath him and eased her panties aside with one hand and positioned his member at the entrance to her special place. She lifted her white nyloned legs up high and bought her calves up around Colin's lower back so that her high-heels were high in the air and almost touching. Michele pulled up her lower body and at the same time guided Colin's beautiful hard slick member inside her. They never stopped kissing. Michele rose up and locked her heels behind his back as Colin thrust forward so that she could force all of him inside her. They rode the waves of mutual pleasure slowly; Colin taking his time so that Michele's orgasm would come at the same time as his.

He released streams of his hot seed deep inside her and she responded by rising up and holding him tightly against her as she emptied her own emission into her panties. Michele could feel Colin's hot spend deep inside her. Colin could feel Michele's secretions saturating her panties, soaking through, warm and sticky against his lower belly. Their lips had never parted throughout their lovemaking. Colin begrudgingly drew his face away from Michele's just far enough so that he could look adoringly into her pretty blue eyes.

"I gotta go Michele," he whispered.

"You gotta go Colin," she whispered back.

Michele’s sleep was deep and satisfying. The best sleep she had had since the ship left Bangkok.

She awoke refreshed the next day and pulled open the curtains to be greeted by a bright sunny day.

Michele took Polly, Doris and Mary on a tour of Sydney to see the sights. The girls were passable, dressed in jeans, T-shirts, platform shoes, good quality wigs, breastforms filling their bra cups and light makeup. They had gaffed and talking in falsetto when dressed enfemme came naturally to them. A few guys hit on them, some figured out they were transvestites and some just thought they were girls, but the girls weren’t interested. They just wanted to have fun together.

The day finished with them riding the attractions at Luna Park and they caught the ferry back to Circular Quay licking icecreams. They got a cab back to Kings Cross and after a drink at the bar they went to their own rooms to shave, freshen up their makeup and get ready for another night on the town.

Michele picked up the house phone in her room; she was freshly showered, shaved, gaffed and made up and had her breastforms on. She was wearing a red satin bra and panty set and sheer-to-the-waist nude pantyhose.

“I’d like to speak to Rod Latham please,” she said into the handset.

She knew that Rod and Knocker were staying at the Chevron too.

Rod picked up the phone.

“Rod it’s Michele. I want to read you something,” Michele said.

“Sure,” Rod was nonplussed.

Michele had never contacted him ashore before.

“The ‘Queen of the Cross’ and Australia's first widely known transgender person, Carlotta, headlines the world famous all female impersonator revue at Les Girls nightclub,” she read off the pamphlet.

“So?” he replied, still confused.

“I want to see it. It’s just up the road at the intersection right next to the El Alamein Fountain,” Michele said.

“I want you to put on a suit and chaperone me,” Michele said.

“Well of course! Whatever the queen wants, the queen gets!” Rod replied.

“Don’t be a dick Rod. You’ll like it. I’ll meet you in the foyer at ten o’clock; shows start late,” Michele explained.

“Yes your majesty,” Rod replied sarcastically.

“Rod?” Michele spoke into the mouthpiece.

“Yes?” he replied.

“Go fuck yourself!” Michele said sardonically and put down the handpiece.

They met in the foyer; Michele resplendent in a blue sequined sheath dress split at the side up to her hips, blue suede high-heels, a blonde bob, heavy makeup and accessorised with silver jewellery.

Bob was decked out in a black tuxedo and looked very handsome. They made quite the elegant couple as they walked the couple of blocks to Les Girls on the corner of Darlinghurst Road. They paid an exorbitant entry fee and seated themselves at a table for two near the front of the theatre nightclub.

Michele was mesmerised by the whole show. The elegant beautiful transvestites clad in a variety of spectacular costumes sang and danced the evening away. Sure some of the songs were mimed but some of the girls could really sing too. They were so realistically feminine; a far cry from some of Kai Tais and Beanies in Asia.

“Fuck me Michele; that’s the longest you’ve ever shut up for, for as long as I’ve known you,” Rod chided her.

Michele kicked his shin under the table.

“Ow!” Rod whined.

“Oh shut up! Oh my god here comes Carlotta” Michele gushed and beckoned the star of the show over.

Carlotta pulled up a chair and Michele was amazed at how stunning and confident the beautiful transsexual was. She looked a little like Marilyn Munroe up close. Carlotta spoke with a feminine but smoky voice and she introduced herself and asked how they liked the show.

“It was amazing!” Michele gushed.

“Oh you’re a Pom? Well I won’t hold that against you darling. My god you’re beautiful enough to be in my show!” Carlotta laughed.

“Rod don’t just sit there like a shag on a rock; go and get us some champagne,” Michele ordered her escort who raised his eyes but walked off to the bar.

The two women were instantly attracted to each other and nattered away for ages while Rod sat at the bar smoking; watching the two gorgeous trans women and thinking carnal thoughts about them.

Carlotta explained how she had met Lee Gordon and began working as a showgirl in Kings Cross and how Lee had taken a trip to Paris where he discovered a revue featuring an all-male cross-dressing cast. He decided to bring the concept back to Australia and launched Les Girls with Carlotta as the star.

She was also up front about having sexual reassignment surgery and answered Michele’s questions candidly.

“Well, you gorgeous little Pommy tranny; I’d like to stay and natter all night but I’ve got to get ready for my next show,” Carlotta leaned down and hugged Michele and kissed her on the cheek.

“Your man has been very patient with us; you should reward him appropriately,” Carlotta gave Michele a mischievous wink.

Michele and Rod walked back to the Chevron Hotel. Ron had his arm around Michele and she leaned against him as it was quite cool.

It was a little awkward when they disentangled to get in the lift and Michele held her clutch purse in front of her and stared at her feet as the elevator ascended.

At the door to Michele’s suite Rod paused and pulled Michele to him.

Michele turned her face so that his kiss landed on her cheek and Rod blushed with embarrassment.

He turned her face to his.

“I was sort of hoping, you know?” he smiled at her.

“What?” Michele was being deliberately naive.

“Michele, my dick is as hard as algebra.”

Michele gently pushed him away.

“Come on Rod; you know I don’t mix business and pleasure,” Michele smiled coyly.

She kissed him on the cheek and he turned and started to walk away, head bowed.

Michele called after him

“Of course there are always exceptions,” she smiled at him.

Rod beamed and skipped back along the corridor.

“Don’t get too excited it’s only a nightcap,” Michele said turning to unlock the door.

Michele had forgot to leave any of the lights on and the room was dark. Michele entered the room and stumbled over a heavy leather-bound pouf and fell to the floor scattering her clutch and losing her high heels.

Rod entered the room and found the light switch and closed the door.

“Are you ok?” he went over to help Michele who was sprawled on the carpet.

Michele slid a red suede high-heel over her stockinged foot, her painted toenails visible through the reinforced toes of her pantyhose. The silver anklet around her left ankle sparkled as it reflected the light. Michele got to her feet and leaned against Rod to steady herself whilst she put on her other shoe. Michele heard him gasp as he wantonly ogled her. The split side of her dress exposed her sheer hosed legs right up to the top of her thigh and a glimpse of red satin panty.

"Christ you look good tonight Michele,” Rod smiled at her.

“Help me over to where I can lean on something; I think I’ve sprained my ankle,” Michele winced.

He eased Michele over to the wall and pressed his full weight against her. Michele could feel his hot breath on her neck. Rod pressed against her, her back was pushed hard against the hotel room wall. Rod was breathing into her ear his breath quickening.

Michele felt the groan in the back of his throat and heat from his body as he lowered his lips to hers. He kept his lips locked on Michele’s and she felt him slowly start to rub himself against her, his member thickening in his trousers and pushing against her lower body. Rod's hands came up and pressed her arms tight against her body in a vice-like grip as he continued to kiss her.

Michele shook her head and broke the kiss.

“Rod. I’m not sure I want this,” she whispered.

“Sure you do,” he replied.

Michele tried to open her mouth to protest and he slid his tongue into her mouth and passionately kissed her. Michele resigned herself; she had sort of led Rod on and she sort of did fancy him. Rod slid his hand between their bodies, still kissing Michele and pinning her against the hard wall. He fumbled around; Michele knew what he was doing, and then she heard the rasp as he opened his zipper.

His hard penis leapt free and Michele felt the hard hot texture of it as it came to rest against the material of her dress. Rod groaned again and pushed her harder against wall; he pulled her face and lips hard against his; his free hand slid up her right thigh, his fingers whispering on the nylon of her hose.

Michele wriggled against him in a pathetically vain attempt to fight him off. Rod just pulled her face back to his and carried on kissing her, thrusting his tongue over her lipsticked lips and deep into her mouth. His hand seized the hem of her dress and wrenched it up; as he did so he adjusted his stance so that his hard hot penis pressed between her nylon encased thighs.

Rod groaned again and began to rub his engorged member in the crevice of Michele’s pantyhosed thighs. His hands sought her behind, taking one buttock in each of his big strong hands and squeezing as his cock nestled into the 'Y' shaped silken valley created by her hosed thighs and red satin panties. Rod pushed his phallus in and out of this silken trap, his cock pressing further between her legs with each thrust.

Michele gasped. She reached between their bodies and tore away her gaff to free her own penis.

Rod lifted Michele upwards so that her body slid up the wall and her feet lifted off the floor; she opened her legs for him.

Rod pressed his groin into her and Michele felt his turgid penis throbbing against the satin crotch of her panties. He adjusted his position slightly and Michele felt his cock begin to slide under the crotch of her panties and push against the sheer nylon gusset of her pantyhose.

Rod was panting with excitement and exertion and he kissed her hotly on her lips and face.

"Michele you're so lovely!" he moaned,

Michele moved her hands from his chest and wrapped them around his neck and slid her nyloned calves around his waist.

Rod was kissing her hard, his tongue assaulting her mouth. His rampant phallus slid back and forth, snug between the nylon of her pantyhose satin panties. He picked up the pace and pushed his cock harder into the crevice between her buttocks. He settled into a steady rhythm as he dry humped her, his pelvis thrusting back and forth as he pleasured himself. Michele hung on to him and responded to his kisses and pushed her buttocks against him to increase his pleasure.

Suddenly Rod slammed her against the wall and thrust forward and upwards with all his strength. Michele felt the glans of his member push firmly against the nylon of her hose and then felt the thin gauzy material stretch and finally give. His rock hard penis nestled in the bud of her sphincter and began to shoot hot spurts of semen. The warm slick liquid lubricated her puckered bud and his cock slid deep inside her, pulsing and spewing streams of his seed into her back passage. Rod's tongue slavered in her mouth and Michele responded as she felt an uncontrollable wave of pleasure wash over her.

The head of Rod's penis was pushing hard against her prostate, his pulsing rampant flesh shooting hot jets of semen inside her causing her to orgasm spontaneously. Michele emptied her seed into her silky pantyhose and satin panties as Rod's crotch pushed the filmy material against her scrotum, increasing the wonderful sensations.

Rod thrust her hard against the wall as he emptied himself inside her; Michele groaned and pushed back against him. Rod shuddered and moaned as torrents of semen spewed from his member and dribbled out of Michele anus and pooled in her panties.

As their orgasms subsided Rod eased her slowly to the ground and Michele tottered on her high heels and held on to him, the last of their kisses becoming softer and tender until Michele was standing on her shaking legs, her back against the wall for support. Rod adjusted himself and zipped up. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss on her cheek.

“Come on honey let’s get you over to the bed,” he whispered.

Rod lifted Michele into his arms and she wrapped her arms around his neck and nuzzled him as he carried her over to the bed. He helped her take off her heels and squeeze out of the sheath dress. He left her clad in panties, bra and hose and pulled the covers over her.

“Thanks Rod,” she smiled at him.

Rod smiled back and when Michele waved her fingers over towards the dresser he knew what she wanted and bought her over a gin and tonic and lit her a cigarette.

He sat on the edge of the bed and looked down at the pretty transvestite with the smeared lipstick.

“You really behave like a queen sometimes you know,” Rod grinned at her.

“La principessa,” Michele smiled dreamily back at him.

“What?” Rod looked confused.

“Never mind,” Michele yawned.

“Ok Princess; good night,” he reached down and kissed her nose and attempted to rise.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Michele pulled at his lapel.

She released him and pulled back the covers on the other side of the bed and patted the sheets.

In the early hours of the morning as they were drifting off to sleep Michele mumbled.

“I liked Les Girls. I liked Carlotta. I wanna be Carlotta,” she smiled dreamily.

Rod pulled her close and wrapped Michele in his arms and they drifted away.

To be continued…

Barrack Room Betty

By Michele Nylons

Chapter Sixteen – Barrack Room Bettys

The voyage back to Portsmouth was via Fremantle Western Australia, Colombo Sri Lanka, with a final fuelling stop at Gibraltar. It was uneventful until the last night at sea. Barrack Room Bettys had been filled to capacity every night as the ports on the return voyage were not particularly conductive to the sort of carousing that the sailors liked to get up to.

The girls of BRB literally worked their arses off but they made a fortune.

But all good things must come to an end and Michele and Rod knew that one day the inevitable would happen. What happened, happened quickly and quietly on the last night of the deployment.

At 1700 just when the girls and Rod and Knocker expected Leading Seaman Steve Smith to open the doors of BRB to the punters; he opened it up instead to five Masters at Arms or ‘Jossmen’ as the matelots called them. The First Lieutenant or ‘Jimmy’, and the Executive Officer were also present. They marched in without a word and handcuffed the three men and Michele and Mary then they went below bought up Polly and Doris and handcuffed them too.

One of the Jossmen pulled off the girls wigs and they looked quite humiliated dressed in eveningwear, high heels, makeup but with men’s short haircuts. A couple of the Jossmen sniggered but the First Lieutenant gave them a grave look.

“Pick up your wigs ladies if you will,” he said to the four Bettys.

“They ain’t ladies they’re…”

“Shut up Petty Officer Jennings and station yourself outside the door! We’re here to do our duty not humiliate people!” the First Lieutenant growled.

The Petty Officer broodily made his way to the door.

A few minutes later one of the Master Arms came up the ladder from the girl’s messdeck. Michele had left the safe unlocked and he had the BRB books and a small mound of cash. The XO rummaged through the ledger and then looked up at CPO Latham.

“You’ve made a quite the profit here Chief. I doubt there is any more cash on board than what we have on the table in front of us is there?” The XO glared at Rod.

“Deposited sir. In every port I deposited the takings into a numbered account,” Rod replied.

“I guessed that would be the case and I’m sure you all have money invested in your personal Bank of England accounts deposited through the Pusser,” the XO mused.

“Well I hope it’s enough for these five young sailors to live on for a while.”

The seven handcuffed sailors looked at each other quizzically. With the exception of Rod and Michele the others had no idea what was going on.

“Okay you lot; take off their handcuffs and wait outside, and close the door,” the XO ordered the Jossmen; leaving only himself and the Jimmy with the prisoners.

“Listen carefully; I will not be repeating myself and if anyone asks I never ever said these words. In fact I was never here,” the XO began.

“There will be no Courts Marshall, no Captains Table; there will be no public record of what has been taking place in 6QDA on board Her Majesty’s Flagship.”

“If word of this ever got out, the Navy would be disgraced and the officers and sailors a laughing stock.”

“You seven are so lucky! If it was up to me I’d keelhaul every one of you but I can’t.”

“So this is what’s happening. When we berth in Portsmouth tomorrow, after everyone has left the ship, you seven are also leaving; never to return.”

“CPO Latham and PO White, your discharge papers will be mailed to you. They will reflect an honourable discharge from the Royal Navy and your pensions will not be affected. If you ever attempt to re-enlist however, your files are marked ‘not suitable for further service’.”

“As for you four…whatever you are, and you Leading Seaman Smith. Your naval records will be permanently deleted. You never were and never will be in the Royal Navy. Whatever wages are owing to you will be deposited in your bank accounts. A file will be kept on you marked ‘not suitable for service’ in case you ever attempt to re-enlist.”

“That seems fair enough,” Steve Smith uttered and the others glared at him.

“Shut up you imbecile!” the XO shouted at him.

“If any of you; I mean any of you, tell of what occurred on board this ship you will be hounded down and thrown in cells. The charges will be such that you won’t be outside for years.”

“Get it?”

“Yes sir!” they all chimed in unison.

The Jossmen were called back and the four Bettys were each photographed with a Polaroid camera then taken below and made to strip, clean themselves up and then photos taken of them in their working dress. Rod, Knocker and Spike were also photographed and taken to their messes to clear out their lockers and then bought back to 6QDA.

“You will all spend the night here under the watch of the Master at Arms. Tomorrow you will leave the navy for good,” the XO ordered, spun on his heels and left, followed by the Jimmy and most of Jossmen.

CPO Latham, PO White, LS Smith, ABs Nyland, Perkins, Holiday and Maine spent the night sitting at the table, smoking, drinking and talking. The Jossman didn’t care what they did as long as they didn’t leave the compartment. He locked the door and sat outside with a case of beer.

“It was bound to happen; our luck couldn’t go on for ever,” Knocker said wistfully.

“How long do you think they’ve known?” Polly asked.

“For a while I bet. They would have had to get approval from the Admiralty to do what they’ve just done but there won’t be any records,” Rod espoused.

“Fuck! Imagine if this got out! The press would have a field day!” Mary laughed.

“Don’t even joke about it! We’re getting away Scot free and rich!” Michele stated.

“I’m packing my gear and hitting the rack,” Doris said and the others nodded and followed suit.

The seven of them met for one last time a couple of days later in a pub in Portsmouth. Rod handed out bankbooks to each of them.

“You all have your share; me and Michele double checked and it’s all there,” Rod advised his compatriots.

Michele and Polly were both dressed casually as women but Doc Holiday and Mary Maine were dressed in male civilian clothing.

“I’m thinking of going full time,” Michele said perusing her bankbook.

“What? Living full time in drag?” Doc looked astonished.

Michele just kept her own counsel.

She raised her glass.

“To Barrack Room Bettys,” she smiled and they all clinked their glasses together.

They sat and talked about old times for a while but the small crowd soon broke up and drifted away. They had exchanged phone numbers but they doubted they’d see each other again.

Michael Nyland bought a second-hand VW Kombi and travelled all over Great Britain. He grew his hair long until he no longer needed a wig and dressed as a woman full time using the name Michele.

Michele became naturally feminine living as a transgendered person full time. She stayed in cheap rooming houses or in the back of her Kombi van during her travels and kept mostly to herself except when she got the urge for sex, then she would find a tranny friendly bar and find a nice gentleman. She wrote to Ying almost daily; telling Ying of her adventures on the road.

Eight months after leaving Portsmouth, Michele drove her Kombi down Cheltenham High Street then onto one of the backstreets and pulled up across the road from Pink Pussycats. It looked deserted and decrepit. The dodgy souvlaki restaurant remained open but the club above had all the windows whitewashed over and the Pink Pussycats sign was faded and the neon glass sign was broken. It looked like an abandoned dump.

Michele hopped out of the van. She was wearing flared jeans; a tight purple velour top with long sleeves and cork-soled platform sandals with her red toenails peeking out of the straps. Her fingernails were painted the same bright red, which matched her lipstick, but except for some mascara her makeup was subdued and her shoulder-length hair was brushed out and left flowing. She wore ‘arts and crafts’ bangles, necklaces, rings and earrings, which she had picked up at various flea markets and she looked quite bohemian. She looked nothing like the elegant ‘lady of the night’ which had been her style during the BRB days.

Michele crossed the street and looked at the rusty and rickety concertina door. She rattled it and the rusty lock fell off and it screeched as she pushed it open.

She looked around; saw no one was looking, and then began to climb the stairs. The carpet was ripped and wet from water that dripped from the ceiling. Underneath the mouldy funk was the familiar smell of spilled beer and ground in cigarette ash. The yellow nicotine stained walls were peeling and the sconces and the chandeliers had been removed. The old mirror balls still hung forlornly from the ceiling. The remaining furniture, which was so bad no one had bothered to steal it, was stacked in the old booths along one wall.

Michele smiled as she remembered her and her Bettys partying the night away here on that evening so long ago. She was saddened briefly as she remembered Spike Jones spoiling the evening by throwing a drink over her.

She turned around and walked carefully down the rickety staircase.

“Hey lady! What you doing up there?” the fat Greek man in a filthy apron asked as she came out the entrance.

“Just remembering old times,” she smiled at him.

The man looked at the fresh-faced pretty woman and smiled. She looked like a hippy but there was something about her; something not quite right.

Michele was used to that look by now and shrugged it off.

“Well you should have asked first. That’s my place you know,” the man admonished her but smiled.

“Really? I wouldn’t fess up to owning that dump but never mind; I’ll buy a souvlaki from you how’s that?” Michele grinned.

“Hey a pretty girl like you? I’m buying you the souvlaki,” the vendor laughed and Michele laughed with him.

Two weeks later a hippy looking young man showed his passport at Heathrow airport and boarded a British Airways Boeing 747 bound for Bangkok. He was the youngest person sitting in Club Class and the longhaired, androgynous looking man drew the attention of business types and hostesses.

The plane landed at Bangkok twelve hours later and Michael had slept most of the way. He picked up his luggage and took a taxi to the Nanna Hotel and checked in.

It was Michael Nyland’s twenty-first birthday and it was the last day that Michael ever dressed as a man. He went straight to his room and transformed into Michele. On that day Michael Nyland ceased to exist.

There was a knock at the door and Michele opened it cautiously and was relieved to see Ying. Ying threw herself at Michele, almost crushing her.

“My sweetheart! My lover! My Michele!” she cried, tears streaming down her face.

Michele cried too and they held each other until they were both cried out. Michele closed the floor to ceiling curtains, turned down the lamps and took Ying's hand and led her to the bed.

Michele and Ying spent the next two days in bed, getting up only for essentials and to answer the door for room service. They explored each other intimately and their love for each other grew.

On the third day they sat across from each other, the curtains wide open, smoking cigarettes and sipping chilled water.

“Are you sure Michele?” Ying stroked Michele’s face and searched her pretty blue eyes; looking for any element of doubt.

“I’m sure Ying,” Michele whispered and stroked Ying’s face.

Four hours later they lay side by side on two hospital gurneys. Both a little groggy with the effects of a mild sedative they held hands while they waited. A nurse burst through the door and took the handles of Michele’s gurney.

“Ok it’s time,” she smiled.

“I love you,” Michele said and let go of Ying’s hand.

“I love you,” Ying smiled back.

Michele awoke in the hospital, groggy and unsure why she was there and then her memory returned and she smiled. She tried to sit up but the pain in her chest and neck was too severe. A nurse appeared and smiled down at her, took some readings and adjusted the intravenous drip-feed and Michele drifted off to sleep again.

When she awoke again she had been propped up in bed and the sun was shining though the curtains of the private hospital ward. Ying was in a bed beside her, awake but obviously in some pain.

“Are you ok. Does it hurt?” Michele croaked.

“If I cut your balls off and turned you cock inside out would it hurt?” Ying grimaced but her sense of humour shone through.

“Well if it makes you feel any better, having silicone bags shoved inside your chest and having your trachea peeled like an apple is no fun either,” Michele could hardly talk with the pain.

“Hey! No talking! Doctor tell you before the operation! No talking for long time!” A nurse who was hovering out sight came over to Michele’s bed.

Ying stuck her out tongue at Michele and smiled, and Michele drifted off again.

Three days later the two women were released from the hospital. Michele had leased a small house outside of the city and employed a nurse and housekeeper to look after them.

Michele recuperated quickly from her breast augmentation and tracheal shave; her voice was hoarse for a few days but she soon recovered and she now spoke with a sexy, smoky, feminine voice without having to make a conscious effort. She was constantly amazed at her breasts. She loved having them. The fine scars were healing nicely. Michele had chosen C-cup size breasts because they suited her lithe frame.

Ying was taking a little longer to heal after her vaginoplasty sex reassignment surgery, as was expected. As soon as she had healed enough she began using a dilator to keep her new vagina open.

A month later Ying was well enough to travel and they took a two week vacation to Phuket, hitting the beach, shopping and bar hopping. Handsome young men constantly hit on the exotic Asian thirty-something and the beautiful young Caucasian woman, but they only had eyes for each other. It raised quite a few eyebrows when the two bikini-clad beauties kissed each other passionately while sunbathing near the pool or rolled in the sand on the beach.

In their hotel room Michele lay back on the king-sized hotel bed while Ying caressed her. She flicked Michele’s nipples with her tongue.

“You should have got the Ds,” Ying teased as she kissed and stroked Michele’s new breasts.

“Shut up and keep doing what you’re going,” Michele giggled and pulled Ying’s face to hers so she could kiss her.

“What about this?” Ying waggled Michele’s erect penis and smiled.

“That’s staying right where it is,” Michele laughed.

“Yeah I think we’ll keep it cause as soon as this is ready I want you to stick it in me,” Ying smiled and pointed down to her still-recuperating vagina.

“In the meantime; my bottom is also off limits but I can still do this,” Ying lowered her face to Michele’s penis and licked it.

Michele groaned.

Michele wound her fingers in Ying’s hair and pushed her face down to onto her penis and Ying opened her mouth obligingly.

Ying used her tongue to slather the head of Michele’s penis and her lips sucked on her silky shaft. Ying got into a steady rhythm coordinating her breathing whilst sucking on Michele’s erect phallus, using her tongue at the same time to tease her.

Ying could sense that Michele was close to climax; she groaned louder and vigorously thrusted her erection in and out of Ying’s mouth. Ying looked up at Michele who was looking down at her. They smiled at each other and Michele moaned as Ying sucked and slathered at her lover’s throbbing member.

Ying felt Michele’s climax approaching and then she felt Michele’s cock spasm and discharge into her mouth. Ying swallowed Michele’s ejaculate as it erupted from her convulsing organ. Michele’s semen tasted warm and sweet to Ying.

Ying moved her free hand up Michele’s body and stroked Michele’s breast, gently milking the last of Michele’s seed with her tongue as she suckled the glans of Michele’s penis and flicked at her nipple.

Michele was still amazed at how much she loved having real breasts and how much she loved having them played with.

When Ying had drained the last of Michele’s issue; Michele pulled her up the bed and cuddled her; kissing her and stroking her breasts.

“I wish there was something I could do to satisfy you Ying,” Michele sighed.

“Your satisfaction is all I need for the moment my love,” Ying replied.

“But as soon as my vagina’s healed you better be prepared to use this thing on me constantly or I’ll be going elsewhere,” Ying chuckled and grabbed Michele by the cock.

“You better not girly!” Michele smiled and pulled Ying to her.

“When are we going Michele?” Ying looked questioningly at Michele.

“The guy is delivering our new passports tomorrow. We leave the day after,” Michele replied.

“Good! I want to see this fucking England you keep raving on about,” Ying grinned.

…

Ying was amazed at the opulence of the Club Class cabin.

As the aeroplane rolled down the runway Ying took Michele’s hand in hers.

“Michele, you paid for my surgery and now you are paying for me to come to the UK. I can’t believe you are doing all this for me,” she sighed.

“I love you Ying. You know that right?” Michele leaned over and kissed her lover.

“I love you too Michele. But this is like a fairy tale,” Ying smiled.

“Yeah well it’s just beginning babe,” Michele replied.

The plane levelled out and the girls ordered cocktails. The two gorgeous tanned girls dressed in mini-dresses and high-heels attracted plenty of attention. When they started to kiss and tenderly caress each other they attracted even more. After a nice dinner and a few drinks Michele and Ying pulled the complimentary blankets over themselves and fell asleep.

When the bell chimed to awaken the passengers prior to landing the two girls awoke and took turns going to the toilet to freshen up. Michele fixed her makeup, brushed her teeth and brushed her hair. She rummaged around in the gusset of her tights and found the small envelope she had secreted there. She swallowed her daily hormone regime and dropped the empty envelope in the trash. She had more secreted in her luggage. She was unsure if bringing female hormones into the country was illegal but she figured that it likely would be without a prescription.

After checking herself out in the mirror she took a deep breath and returned to her seat.

“Ok Ying. Our passports should be fine; I paid enough for them. Just act cool when we go though immigration. I’ll be passing through returning UK citizens and you will be passing through foreign visitors. Remember, you are coming to the UK to visit me for a holiday ok?” Michele said.

In 1975 passport control and emigration was a breeze. This was years before the Lockerbie bombing and decades before the war on terror.

Michele was subject to scrutiny by the customs officer but only because she was gorgeous; he gave her passport a cursory glance, his main interest were her breasts, her cute behind, and those long legs that seemed to go on forever.

Ying was asked a few questions when she got to the passport booth but only so the customs officer could ogle her. Exotic big-titted Asian women dressed in a minidress and ‘fuck me heels’ were not that common and the officer wanted to make sure he got plenty of ‘wank fodder’ for later.

Michele and Ying reunited at the baggage collection carousel. They both had two large suitcases full of new clothes, makeup and the odd bit of contraband hidden away.

“I told you Ying. The best way to get through Customs and Immigration is to be bold and flamboyant rather than to try to hide,” Michele grinned.

“Look there is our driver,” Michele pointed over to the liveried chauffeur holding up a sign.

‘Michele Nyland’ it said.

Michele and Ying checked into The Bently Hotel in Kensington. Michele took Ying on a whirlwind tour of London showing her all the tourist attractions. Michele took as much pleasure in her lover’s awe and amazement at the sights as she did seeing them herself.

But what she enjoyed most about returning home was that she was treated like a lady everywhere she went. There was the odd ‘is she or isn’t she?’ look every now and then, but very rarely.

Michele was busy on the phone whenever they were not out and about and Ying asked Michele about the constant stream of phone calls.

“I’m taking care of our future darling,” Michele would just say.

Michele enjoyed taking oral pleasure from Ying but she felt guilty that she could not reciprocate. Ying encouraged Michele to be patient. Ying was using larger dilators now that her vagina had healed. The doctor had given her specific instructions to keep dilating and not to rush into having sex until she could comfortably keep the largest of the dilators inside her for extended periods of time.

Michele had bought a new Ford Cortina XLE. She could afford something flashier but she liked the power of the mid-sized car and it was comfortable and fashionable without being gaudy. It was azure blue with a white vinyl roof.

She took Ying on long drives thorough the countryside to historical places, which Ying couldn’t get enough of.

“I love visiting the temples and sacred places in Thailand but your history is so rich and varied. You English have been conquered by everyone but you have always come through and retained your; well your Englishness,” Ting joked.

“Hey!” Michele laughed at Ying’s jibe.

Wherever the two stunning transsexuals went they garnered attention, be it a quiet pub in the country or in Harrods shopping for lingerie. They refused to dress down and always wore makeup, skirts or dresses, hosiery and heels. Their one concession was to change out of their high-heels to go walking though the countryside.

After a couple of weeks in country Michele finally got the phone call she was waiting for.

“Ying let’s go down to the beauty parlour and get ourselves glammed up,” Michele beamed.

When they were finished with their makeover and back in the room Michele poured them both a drink and lit a cigarette for them both. When they had finished their drink and stubbed out their cigarettes Michele made an announcement.

“Ok Ying get dressed in your best evening wear then pack up because we’re off,” Michele said.

Michele drove her Cortina down Cheltenham High Street then onto one of the backstreets and pulled up across the road from Pink Pussycats.

It was nine o’clock at night when she pulled up to the kerb across the road from the nightclub.

But this time it was different.

The souvlaki shop was gone and in its place was an elegant entrance to a new nightclub. It was all neon and glitz.

“Look,” Michele pointed to the rooftop.

Mounted high on the top of the building in twelve-foot high pink and blue neon were the stylised letters BRB.

“Oh my god! Look at the crowd!” Ying pointed.

A line of revellers went from the front door of the nightclub all the way down the block.

“Come on Ying,” Michele took Ying’s hand and led her across the street.

Michele was clad in a low-cut blue satin sheath dress that showed off her new breasts. It was split to the hip to also show off her magnificent legs clad in shimmering hosiery; her feet shod in silver high heels to match her jewellery and her clutch purse. Her recently coiffured brunette hair framed her professionally made-up face.

Ying was dressed identically except her dress was red and her sleek black hair hung down to her waist.

The two women made their way to the door and amid a few catcalls and hails of derision from the crowd; the red velvet rope was lifted to let them past.

“Looking good Steve,” Michele beamed at Steve Smith dressed in a black tuxedo.

Michele kissed him on the cheek and introduced him to Ying.

“So you’re the one who stole the heart of the woman I secretly love,” Steve grinned.

Michele playfully slapped him on the shoulder and the girls began to climb the stairs to the club.

“Oh my god it’s you!” Ying squealed.

A huge mural was painted on the wall, professionally lit. It was a stylised picture of a Wren perched on a barstool with her head thrown back smiling with red lipsticked lips. Her cap was perched at a jaunty angle and her hands rested on her knees, the hem her skirt high on her thighs displaying the welts of fully-fashioned stockings. Her legs were crossed at the ankles with one black high heel dangling from her right foot. There words ‘Barrack Room Betty’s Gentlemen’s Club’ were embossed in gold underneath the mural.

There was no doubt that the Wren in the mural was the one and only Michele Nyland.

“Ah memories, Ying,” Michele smiled.

They climbed the now resplendent mahogany stairway, complete with brass handrail, to the landing at the top.

There stood Rod Latham, also dressed in an elegant tuxedo.

He beamed at the two ladies.

“Welcome to Barrack Room Bettys ladies,” he bowed at the hip and kissed their hands.

Then he pulled Michele to him in a tight embrace and kissed her cheek. He squeezed her buttocks and kissed her chastely on her mouth.

Michele removed his hand from her behind.

“Easy cowboy,” she grinned at him.

He feasted his eyes on her breasts.

“Not even a friendly grope for old time’s sake?” he smiled.

“I’m a one woman, woman now Rod,” Michele smiled back at him.

“And you must be Ying,” Rod kissed Ying on the cheek.

“I can see why Michele fell in love with you,” Rod beamed.

“How we doing?” Michele asked, suddenly all business.

“We’re booked out all week and all next month,” Rod grinned.

“Well you certainly make a great concierge,” Michele said.

“And business partner,” Rod winked at her.

Michele looked around the revamped club. Cerise shag-pile carpet, crystal chandeliers, gold embossed wallpaper, leather bound seats in the booths and chairs; walnut and mahogany furniture. A huge bar ran the length of one wall and behind it Knocker White was taking charge of the bartenders and elegantly dressed waitresses.

The place was packed.

“I predict we will be making profit after the first month.”

“We better. I put every penny I had left into this place,” Michele grimaced.

“It’s all good Michele. Even with the renovations, stock outlay, and up front expenses, we’ll be rolling in it come Christmas,” Rod said.

“Speaking of which; here comes our main investor,” Rod directed his gaze into the club.

Looking resplendent in his mess dress, Lieutenant Commander Steve Winters strode over and made his introductions.

“Enchanted,” he said as he kissed Ying on both cheeks and gave her a hug.

“Watch him Ying! He’ll have your knickers down before you know what’s happening,” Michele laughed.

“Well I guess those days are over but I’m more than happy to be in business with such an enchanting and vivacious couple,” Steve smiled.

“Besides; my heart belongs to another,” Steve clasped his hands to his heart dramatically.

“Michele!” Polly squealed.

She was dressed magnificently in a gold lame sheath and ran across the room to join them, tottering on four-inch heels.

“Oh my god you look magnificent,” Michele beamed and hugged her friend.

They kissed each other and Michele introduced Polly to Ying.

“Great tits by the way. I want you to recommend me to the doctor who did the work on you, you look stunning,” Polly teased her best friend.

“Seriously?” Michele asked.

“Yes seriously. You’re not the only one going full time,” Polly grinned.

Steve put his hand around Polly’s waist and pulled her to him and kissed her.

“Congratulations on the promotion but as a naval officer…aren’t you…ahem…going to be subject to some difficulties having a transsexual girlfriend?” Michele asked.

“Oh fuck that! I’ve just signed up with British Airways and with what I’m going to make flying for them and mommy and daddies stipend I can do what the fuck I want,” Steve smirked.

“I didn’t know about you and Steve,” Michele said to Polly.

“Yeah. We’ve been together for six months now and I’ve been living as Polly since I left the navy,” Polly grinned.

“Of course I told my mom and dad that it’s your entire fault,” Polly chided and laughed.

“Anyway. Come over to our table I have a surprise,” Polly took Michele by the hand and Steve crooked his arm though Ying’s.

Rod followed them over to a booth and there was Doris and Mary both dressed resplendently in eveningwear.

“Oh my god! The Barrack Room Bettys are back together,” Doris laughed and then she began to cry.

The four Bettys all hugged each other laughing and crying with emotion.

Rod and Steve popped bottles of champagne and they all started talking at once.

“Where did you get those magnificent tits?” Doris grinned.

“Where did you get this magnificent creature?” Mary sidled up to Ying.

“Hey! Hands off! She’s mine!” Michele laughed.

Knocker White came over from where he had been tending bar with two trays of champagne glasses which he deftly filled from the opened bottles.

“To Barrack Room Bettys,” Rod lifted his glass in a toast.

“To Barrack Room Bettys,” the others clinked their glasses and drank.

Suddenly the house lights dimmed and a spotlight lit the stage where a magnificently dressed Carlotta Spencer stood resplendent.

“Ladies and gentlemen. All the way from Sydney Australia, via Paris and New York…The magnificent, the alluring, the one and only…Les Girls!” Carlotta introduced the night’s entertainment.

“We have them booked for four weeks,” Rod shouted into Michele’s ear over the roar of applause.

“Give me your keys and I’ll give them to Steve Smith so he can bring up your bags,” Knocker said to Michele.

“Why would he bring our bags to a nightclub Michele?” Ying looked confused.

“Because we live here darling. We have an apartment above the club,” Michele smiled.

Knocker handed Michele another set of keys and she took Ying's hand and led her upstairs.

Ying could not believe how extravagantly appointed the apartment was. It was open-plan with beautiful throw rugs on the mahogany floor, white leather settees with zebra-skin pillows, a large modern well-appointed kitchen and the biggest bed Ying had ever seen, with a mountain of pillows and a huge white down quilt.

Michele closed the door behind them and drowned out the sound of the club.

“I’ve had it soundproofed,” Michele grinned.

Ying sauntered over to the bed and fell on it; grinning up at Michele.

“Hey guess what?”

“What?” Michele asked.

“I’ve been using my biggest dilator for a week now and no problems,” Ying beamed.

Michele joined Ying on the bed and they both struggled to get out of their evening dresses. They took off each other’s brassieres. Ying reached down to unsnap a garter but Michele fell on her and drove her down into the soft pillows.

Michele crushed Ying's lips with hers and Ying wrapped her arms around Michele, pulling her close and then she lifted her legs and intertwined them with Michele’s. Their stockings whispered and rasped as their tongues explored each other’s mouths.

Michele lowered her face to Ying’s breasts and nibbled on her nipples and suckled them when they became firm.

“Oh!” Ying groaned and reached for Michele.

Michele was fully erect, her cock had sprung free of the gaff and tented her satin panties and Ying gripped it and squeezed.

“Yesss! Ying!” Michele hissed.

Ying slid her fingers inside Michele’s panties and freed Michele’s engorged phallus. She guided it to her groin and eased her panties aside and lifted her face to Michele’s. Ying kissed Michele as she pushed forward and upward and impaled herself on Michele’s erect penis.

“Oh lover; I have waited so long to feel this. The pleasure is indescribable!” Ying shrieked.

“Oh Ying; I love you,” Michele commenced to slowly thrust her hard cock in and out of her lover’s tight cunt.

Ying felt immeasurable pleasure but it was different from before; an intense sensation of gratification slowly spreading from her clitoris. She lifted her legs and wrapped them around Michele and ground herself against her mistress. Michele responded accordingly and slowly fucked her beautiful Asian paramour.

The two beautiful women made love; increasing the tempo, thrusting against each other, building the intensity of their pleasure. They kissed, groaned, moaned and cried as they rutted against each other.

“Oh,” Michele screamed and emptied herself deep inside Ying's pulsing vagina.

Ying felt Michele’s hot seed inside her and she orgasmed, grinding her clitoris against Michele’s pubis, her climax building then emanating outwards in increasing waves of delectation and ecstasy.

The two lovers held each other, kissing and caressing until they were sated, then they snuggled up to each other under the covers.

“Is this heaven Michele?” Ying smiled at her lover.

“If it’s not, it’ll do until heaven gets here,” Michele replied.

…

Across the road from the crowded nightclub a dark figure hid in the gloom staring up at the glaring lights and listened to the throbbing beat of the disco music.

James Lovejoy stared at Barrack Room Bettys with malevolence in his eyes. He concentrated his gaze on the single window of the apartment above the nightclub. His heart was cold and his hate was palpable; he could almost taste its bitter, coppery tang. He had a long-bladed flick-knife in his hand and he slid the sharp blade across his palm and felt the pointed tip with the pad of his finger.

His misery was all her fault. She has enticed Polly into Ark Royal and away from him. She had introduced Polly to Lieutenant Commander Steve Winters who had taken away the love of his life. She had somehow arranged to have his best friend Jason Jones killed in Bangkok. And now she had everything! And he had nothing.

He closed the blade of his flick-knife and put it in his coat pocket.

He turned and walked away down the dark cold wet street.

“She can wait. She can wait,” he whispered.

The End.