BARRACK ROOM BETTY CH. 03
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Tranny Wren tells her boss about how her uncle fucked her.
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MicheleNylons
MicheleNylons
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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 run 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.

"Its 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.