Belly of the Beast Pt. 04 - SEDUCTION

I often joked with Sergeant Meyers that hell in this non-war was missing Jerry. Otherwise, with Meyer's help, I had permission to live off -- the installation in my house. I slept in my own bed, was driven to work in Meyer's official vehicle and drew rent money for renting rooms both to myself and to Meyers. In effect financially I was better off, with Meyers having replaced Jerry. Moments before Meyers and I were taken, while transporting our cargo of Rejects to SSM Hospital, Meyers warned that I was in for an eye -- opening ordeal. I would have to show I had the integrity to keep the faith and trust which entitled me to all the benefits.

I returned a stony silence to Missy's ramblings. My stern glare may not have been as penetrating as Meyer's, but it worked. "It's quiet down at the portal in Reception where I'm assigned. So, I wandered up here milling." The quizzical look on my face drew her out to justify herself, "Milling looking busy, wandering from place to place looking officious. I'm confined here -- 30 days, 24 / 7. I have to keep myself occupied nosing around -- just to stay sane in this nut house."

"Good," I snapped, "Point out some of the patients who are cooperative in the exercise routines. We're on a mission." When Missy hesitated, I baited her with the promise of learning how to control Dr Velour.

With Missy I trawled through the wards to pick out personnel who might fit Meyer's criterion: self -- starters. "There are 12 over -- crowded wards on this floor. We need at least 25 people, one to be selected to eventually lead each ward."

When Missy and I returned with 30 volunteers only three of whom were men, I peered in on Meyer's meeting with Dr Velour to report the arrival of a prospective cadre. Standing firmly feet apart stretching from side to side as she spoke, Meyers interrupted his discussion with Dr Velour to consider the appropriate action. After a pause, she ordered, "Start them on a run, length of the floor and back 30 times. Pick one capable of leading and advise me."

Outside I announced the run. "Join us," I ordered Missy, "Meyers might want you as an assistant. Maybe, if I throw a hit, Meyers could get your restriction lifted." As I shed my coarse Humanitarian Services frock and massaged my nipples rubbed raw by the fabric, I told Missy, "Lift off your frock. It'll get in your way."

A stupid look came across her face. A silly embarrassed look crossed her face. I smiled. "My bra, hmm, it looks so much better on you. I guess under those boxers you're wearing my lacy frilly thong."

An embarrassed look came over Missy's face. She reached for the elastic band of the boxers. I grabbed her hand.

"Fortunes of war. It's a prize you get to keep," I chuckled. Hanging our frocks on a peg on the wall, I unhook her bra and removed it, suggesting her, "Let your boobs swing naturally. Now," I paused, "Let's run."

As we ran to -- and -- fro down the full length of the floor, the naked people sitting around on the floor barely turned a head to pay us any notice. "Here the commotion," I chanted, "keep up the pace, of thundering feet fleeting, hard butts bounding, busty boobs bouncing, stepping out with grace, a mass in motion."

When the proposed cadre returned to the entrance to the padded cell where Meyers and Velour were discussing plans for the new physical training program, I had the out of breath mass do push -- ups.

I started them off in cadence, "We brave whores, lusting for war, pushing up against the floor, 25 cunts sucking sand, we can whip any man, do we must, to defend our faith and keep our trust."

Popping up to my feet, I tapped Missy to keep it going. Inside Meyers complimented me, "Nice jingle. I suppose your husband Jerry drilled you into shape with it."

"We prepared for the call up," I recalled my performance in the qualification testing at the induction center, "I somehow missed qualifying for Armed Services -- by a point or two perhaps."

"Here's the problem," Meyers explained, "in the Induction Center, most people would have preferred not to be there, but were afraid -- afraid of ending up in Humanitarian Services working as cheap help in hospitals and nursing homes. So, inductees were reluctant, but tried. Here, you have the Rejects who believe they can get - over by sitting around. So, to gain cooperation, I have to make something worse than being here."

"I have isolation," Velour responded.

"Not good enough too comfy in here," Meyers rejected the idea. "Initially, we can clear two of the wards and devote those wards to my cadre in training. Stage two, your cadre, almost all are ineffective. Exactly what are your cadre supposed to be?"

There are some Certified Physical Therapists, even a RN or two, most are Health Care Associates, untrained personnel," Dr Velour admitted.

"In the Second phase, I will test," Meyers decided, "the cadre you have and ship the ones who don't make the grade out to the hospitals and nursing homes and replace the unfit cadre you have now with the people I've trained."

"Ok, if I need to do that. I may get flak from higher -- ups from some favorites moved from a soft post," Velour acknowledged.

"Then, if the particular non -- entity is so well connected," Meyers pointed out, "the non - entity can be moved to a different soft post or, if transfer is not realistic, you can remove privileges, impose restrictions, violate them and put them in hospital status pending medical, physical or mental evaluation. You have to crack the whip or -- what's going on out on the ward, few cooperate, most don't -- will continue. If you are unwilling to let me run the program, you might as well leave me locked away doing my calisthenics until I figure a way out."

"If I agree," Velour asked, "What next?"

"Cadre get a uniform of sorts," Meyers insisted, "they have to stand out from the other rejects."

"How am I going to do that?" Velour protested.

"There are plenty of boxer shorts in supply," I interjected.

"Hmm, Boxer shorts," Myers clutching her square chin pondered, "Boxers might work, loose in the front for gals, it'll send a cool breeze up the slot. OK, Problem solved. Warbler, escort our cadre to supply, if you please," Meyers ordered. Turning to Dr Velour, Meyers demanded, "Also, I need gym clothes."

"Warbler," Velour ordered, "check in Mr Whisker's drawer --." Looking up at Meyer's with an evil grin, "You know where Whisker's draw is. You might find something that could be stretched to accommodate Sergeant Meyers."

"Last," Meyers announced, "I'll establish my office in here. I need two desks and a computer terminals ... Warbler," Meyers turned to me, "Carry on."

"Hold it there, Warbler," Dr Velour ordered, "I want to settle one issue. Warbler remains my aide."

Chuckling, Meyers squinting at Velour's epaulets, commented, "Colonels have come to wear the brass in the middle of the shoulder. I guess it suits the Colonel's fancy to imagine getting catapulted ahead in the race for the stars. Still a Colonel isn't entitled to a personal valet, but if you want, Warbler may remain at your side, aide, you say," Meyers ordered, "but also she must serve as my liaison to you. If we are of one mind in executing this task" Meyers looked directly at me to say, "in good faith with mutual trust, there ought be no conflict in executing a dual role toward a common end. Warbler, you shall also train a person suitable to assist me. Do you have someone in mind?"

"Missy!" I responded.

"Scatterbrained, bound to get you in trouble," Dr Velour grunted, "I had to restrict her for inattention failing to supervise a physical inspection of Warbler when Warbler was detained at the portal. Warbler has every reason to detest Missy. I'm surprised Warbler would recommend Missy."

When Meyers turned to me, I declared, "Personalities and personal spite aside, my recommendation is made to keep faith and trust with performance of the mission."

Shaking her head, Velour yielded, "Take Missy before Missy does something that gets me in trouble. Anything else?"

"Warbler runs through PT in the morning, so do you," Meyers insisted, "We need to set the precedent: no one is exempt." Meyers took a deep breath. "Now, what am I preparing these people for?"

"Before we get into that," Velour turned to me with an icy glare, "We don't have any further need for Warbler in this discussion. Do we?"

Within a day, Meyers had two wards cleared for the cadre. Standing in a new gym shorts and tank top lifted from Whisker's drawer under Dr Velour's bed, Meyers greeted Dr Velour with a scowl as Velour and I joined daily exercises at 5 AM as directed. "Bare breasted for cadre is the uniform," roared Meyers with large hands unhooking Velour's bra, freeing her cup B breasts. Instinctively Velour covered her chest. Casting Velour's bra aside, Meyers observed, "see, you don't have much to worry about.." Pausing for a second, "The natural fabrics in cotton boxer shorts are more hygienic than the nylon lacey frillies you're wearing, Dr Velour. That's why boxers are the uniform for exercise drills."

"I do have proper gym outfits," Velour, holding the boxers in her hands, looked around nervously as she protested, "I thought the uniform for these exercises was underwear."

Meyers looked to me to provide the response, "A uniform promotes, a status, an identity, pride, a sense of belonging, a feeling of equality and comradeship." I caught the smirk on Missy's face at the word "equality."

"Then, if everyone is naked, I wouldn't have to use my budget to buy boxers for the complement of cadre," Velour asked, "Won't leaving the cadre nude do the same thing? Aren't inductees held naked at the Induction Center?"

Again, with Meyer's nodding to me, I returned the answer, "Inductees are held naked pending classification because they have no status. They are no longer civilians. Their civvies, civilian clothes, are surrendered upon reporting in. They haven't been assigned to a service, thus no uniform. Inductees are equally nothing, thus held nude."

Velour clutched Meyers muscular shoulders as Meyers assisted Velour step out of the lacy frilly panties. Left naked, her panties tossed aside, Velour nervously fidgeted as Missy standing nearby, blurted out the comment, "Hmm, full bush! Under all that crust, Velour is just another girl, a shrinking violetta at that." Realizing what she had let slip, Missy covered her face with her hands.

Meyers announced, "Ladies and those who are not, "Wear boxers or go bare, your choice."

"After the run, you two can shower off with your girls," Meyers ordered Velour and me as Velour stepped into the boxers.

Finding myself brushing shoulders with Missy, as Meyers made announcements in preparation for the exercise drill, Missy whispered, "I love the way your Sergeant bosses Velour around. Why do you suppose Meyer's able to do it?"

"Meyers knows how to take charge," I replied, "Meyers makes people want to listen and to obey. She's a natural leader."

"Velour doesn't give away anything," Missy declared, "she doesn't expect to cash in on." Shaking her head, Missy asserted, "The project is Velour's piggy bank. Velour expects Meyers to make the project work or Velour wouldn't spend the money or lower herself to mingle with the Rejects or with underlings and other inferiors like you or me or submit to Meyers' orders and demands."

"What could that end be?" I asked.

"What did Velour do before she landed this?" Missy replied. "Her work ..."

Before Missy could complete her answer, Meyers thundered, "Talking in ranks! Missy, Warbler drop down and give me 25."

Once the punishment push -- ups were performed, Sergeant Meyers yelled, "leave us went on the run. Warbler, lead us in cadence."

"Crazy cunts on the run // these loose ladyships // are out for fun // screaming curses from luscious lips // bravely swaying tantalizing tits // bobbing, bulging, bouncing breasts // pride swelling from swollen chest // propelled by swinging hips // feet in motion // setting the strut // of bounding rounding butts // feel the notion // of thundering thighs // guys pulse quicken // hear them sigh // as our cunts go racing by."

Several times during the run, Meyers ran up near different runners to urge them forward singing the cadence. It seemed Meyers urged Velour forward whenever the jingle reached the word, "cunt." Laughing together with Missy cost the both of us 25 push -- ups.

Meyers squatted down to check to see if our boobs crunched into the floor on the down swing. We both drew 25 more. Helping Missy to her feet, we hugged each other. Missy whispered, "I'll love you forever if you can my restriction long enough to get me a chance to go home for a few hours and straighten up the mess there."

"See," Meyers, pointing Missy and me out, told Velour, "Exercise drills promote unity. Be sure to be back at 1600 for the evening run."

Standing uneasily in line naked waiting to enter the shower, Velour displayed none of the pluck she had in strutting into the communal shower at the Fertility Clinic where I had worked for her as a Nursing Assistant. In the clinic, Velour would swagger swinging her hips, with complete abandon into the communal shower. If Dr Velour asked me to soap her back, everyone would politely, quietly slip away leaving me alone with Dr Velour. I had composed a ditty about her unrestrained entrance.

She strode in with a flair // distant smile, body bare// Over the shower fell a hush //others filed out in a rush// sparkling sprinklets spread from neck// to gluteal cleft// gone the crowd// at the waist she bent// and spread her cheeks.

In the morning communal shower at St Stephen Martyr Hospital (SSM), there was no of that electrifying pizzazz. Under the same spigot with me once again, Dr Velour was more like a docile, drenched puppy than an uninhibited vixen. "Like old time, Dr Velour," I chided her as the cadre looked on.

Cutting the water off, Meyers remarked, "As a doctor, you must appreciate my insistence on hygiene. I need you to provide sanitary pads to the girls."

"Anything else?" Velour shot a frosty glare.

"Yes," Meyers added, "the cadre need sneakers. Too many were slipping and sliding on the run."

Exasperated, Velour scowled, "I'm afraid to ask to find out that you probably want more."

Huddling together with me, toweling down, Missy observed, "Your sergeant is dazzled by the gift of power, presented to her. When Velour decides to unload the Sergeant and plant a replacement, Velour will need a crowbar to remove Meyers from the post."

"Seduced by power?" I prodded her.

"No different than Mr Whiskers, the trans -- man or so he said," Missy said, "Whiskers played the trans-man to use the opportunity of inspecting inbound females at the portal to examine the plumbing with his plunger," Missy giggled, "snaking out the lines!"

"A bit too transparent to be a very good fake," I commented.

Taken prisoner upon entering St Stephen Martyr Hospital Center, looking for Sergeant Meyers who had delivered a coffle of rejects, I was forced to strip at the portal. Teasing the frock clad purported trans -- man Whiskers, I swayed enticingly. Whiskers beady eyes followed my every rise and fall of my breasts.

Assigned to assist and chaperone Whiskers, Missy and her partner carefully examined the stitching in the seams of my tan Service Support uniform and argued over my boots. Missy cautioned Whiskers, "no need to be nasty. She's cooperative," Sighing Missy added, "Besides, you never know when Dr Velour might just pop up."

Following the warning, Missy, chatting with a co-worker oblivious to my protest that only my husband may enter me, ignored Whisker's attempt at outrage. Snuggling up to my bent frame, Whiskers brushed his hardened probe against my opening. A thrust of his hips would have launched his projectile inside. Only Dr Velour's deep "Ah -- hem," caused Whiskers to break off an attempt at penetration.

Behind me, Whisker's naked hairy body convulsed spreading ejaculate over the concrete.

"It's hard to forget," I reminded Missy, "Whiskers startled with Dr Velour's happening by, unloaded on the back of my legs."

"Velour knew Whiskers abused females for fun," Missy claimed, "Of course, it was illegal, but it was one of the perks of Whisker's job. Velour needs to show results in her project. Sergeant Meyers came her way, but Meyers could not be persuaded. Velour knew the way to seduce Meyers was through you."

"Meyers was combative," I prodded Missy.

"It took five of us to control Meyers long enough for Velour to give her Meyers the jab," Missy recalled, "We wanted to cut Meyer's uniform off. Velour forbid that. The uniform would serve a purpose."

"To what end?" I asked.

The question hung unanswered. Noticing us, Meyers ordered, "Missy, Warbler, you're not dressed. On your bellies 25 push-ups. This time I want to see you go down so far your boobs are ground into the floor."

Rising Missy told me, "I don't mind the exercise or the leadership role or running around topless. It helps me pass the time. I need the restriction lifted."

By the end of the day, Meyers was moving ahead. Enthusiastically approaching her task, Meyers ordered the clearing of another two wards. SSM personnel, assigned to the floor, found capable by Meyers' observation to take lead in training the rejects would be bedded down there during their instructions.

Conferring over Meyer's proposals, Dr Velour posed an objection that the move would cause dangerous overcrowding. "I might have to release some of the most uncooperative rejects or declare them dangerously crazy."

Thinking impassively for a moment, Meyers grasped her chin before she spoke. "Overcrowding? We have to make the recalcitrance so unpleasant, the Rejects will want to cooperate. As far as releasing Rejects, that's a reward. Reward recalcitrant rejects and everyone will give me a case of the ass."

"Then what would you have me do?" Velour asserted, "Wave my magic wand and make them disappear?"

"In a sense, Dr Velour, that's what we'll do," I answered the rhetorical question, "A Civilian has the right to be listened to, even among the most disciplined members of the services each Marines has a right to be heard, even a criminal has the right to a fair listen, but a nut? No one has to listen to a nut! What a nut says is by definition nonsense -- They're crazy."

"I can't shove rejects in the looney bin without a viable diagnosis," Velour protested, "Mere disobedience is not enough. I can't court -- martial them. Most of them failed classification tests. So, legally, Warbler said it right a few minutes ago: they're nothing. All I can do is hold them naked. As long as they're willing to remain naked, there's nothing I can do, unless evidence of an illness requires transfer to hospital status."

"Ascribe their defiance to pathological hormonal imbalance," I replied, "Females to the looney bin. Cantankerous males to the Hospital for correction of testosteronal deficiencies or testosterone poisoning with a recommendation for a full work up and review for possible surgical alternatives. Start with Mr Whiskers, an obvious case of testosterone poisoning that warrants surgical intervention."

"Hmm," Velour noted, "For my purposes I need only one virile male for every three to five females."

"Specialist Amy Warbler, she's my girl," Meyers complimented me. Meyers boasted, "that's why I need her to ..." Meyers caught herself, before she continued, "to maintain faith and trust." Did Sergeant Meyers recall that we were to have been released from the Induction Center to return to school? Her dark eyes gave no clue.

As to re-assignment of capable SSM to a new ward cleared for leadership instruction, Meyers might have kept them on ward on a 24hour basis had I not invoked the magic words, "faith and trust."