BARRACK ROOM BETTY CH. 06
STORY INFO
Michele submits to Knocker so he won't defile the TV Wrens.
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MicheleNylons
MicheleNylons
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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 protege's as much
as she could, teaching them makeup tips, taking 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 thing 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.