The auditorium was filled with a hundred nervous soon-to-be-former civilians. They eyed the uniformed women stationed near the exits with a mixture of lust and apprehension; the appearance inspired the former, the attitudes the latter. Like every new batch of recruits throughout history, these were wondering just what the fuck had happened that they found themselves here.
At the front of the auditorium, six men entered, nude, in single file, nude. They marched to a point where the group was centered behind the podium, then turned with military precision (what else?) and stood at attention. Their genitals were tightly bound, penises fully erect; their pubic hair was gone, tattoos reading Property US Army in its place.
The recruits knew well enough to stand and face front without prompting from the uniforms as another woman entered the room. Somewhat tall, she wore the casual working uniform of the New Army - a green cap, a T-shirt of the same shade, and Lycra shorts.
The uniform seemed a size or two too small on her ample proportions. Her breasts tested the simple cotton of the T-shirt and the shorts seemed almost painted on. It was an obvious choice in a society where female sexuality and authority were becoming synonymous.
She stood behind the podium and looked at the group. They didn’t look so very different from the others that had come through since Reorganization. Nervous, a bit disoriented perhaps, primarily in need of someone to show them a way for the world to make sense again.
She had the traditional army plan for that. Tell them loud, tell them crude, tell them simple - do your duty and let your superiors worry about everything else.
“Welcome, gentlemen”, she started amiably enough. “My name is Captain Amy Masterson. I am the commander of this company. As you are no doubt aware, the Army has been re purposed, like every other institution in our society. Therefore, the role of the soldier has been re purposed.
“You will not be called upon to bear arms against the armies of other nations. That era of human history has passed. However, as soldiers always have, you will still be in the service of the CUNT-ree”, deliberate annunciation, “you will be trained, you will learn to obey your superiors. Your superiors…will be anyone with tits.”
She paused. There were some light chuckles, some sounding a little forced That was about normal.
“That is the literal truth, of course. The Officer Corps is by definition female. There are no female enlisted troops.” It was amazing how many of them didn’t realize that. “You will respond to your superiors with enthusiastic deference; you will internalize unthinking obedience to females.” Some of them almost certainly would not; they were the future toilet cleaners and potato peelers, permitted to masturbate once a week under supervision. The best thing about that type was they were identifiable almost immediately and they were becoming steadily fewer in number.
“There is no time like the present to start the habit of obedience to your superiors, gentlemen. At this time, all of you will disrobe completely and I do mean completely. No wristwatches or headgear of any kind. Right down to your bare ass.”
Most of them knew this was coming; hell, it was why some of them were here. There were shocked faces here and there, but the ROTC cadets, college women mostly, were on them quickly.
Capt. Amy noted that this group was a bit older; mostly in their 30’s, so there wasn’t much weeping. Deemed unnecessary, redundant, incompetent, overpaid, or simply in a female’s career path in the outside world, they would become raw material in the New Regime, their minds and bodies molded to suit its purposes. She felt useful, damned useful, to be doing this work; what would be done with these men otherwise?
“You should know it is a myth that you will be punished for unauthorized erections in the Army. I don’t know how some of these urban myths get started. Your officers like hard cocks. We regard them as an expression of the desire to serve.”
Their officers also considered their erections to be playthings, discipline opportunities, clothes hooks, bookmarks, and who knew what all else, but Capt. Amy knew the boys would be finding that out soon enough. No need to get the poor dears all flustered until there was some kind of purpose to it.
Some of the faces were stoic, some clearly embarrassed, a few dazed and disoriented. One alone seemed angry and resentful, staring directly at her. She saw him without looking at him - about six foot, thick-trunked workman’s build, dark hair, striking eyes, and very, very erect. Interesting.
“I will now administer the oath of induction. Raise your right hand and repeat after me.
“I do solemnly swear to serve my country and uphold its laws…to obey the commands of my superiors…to learn and perform my duties to the best of my abilities…and that I will adapt my attitude and behavior to my role in the New Regime, so help me God.”
She paused, waiting for the last arm to drop.
“Congratulations, gentlemen. You are all now members of the US Army. I suggest you obey your officers.”
Capt. Amy left the auditorium, followed by her honor guard of six. There would be some time before she had to address the battalion again; more than enough time for her to have her privates present their privates.
In the auditorium, the ROTC cadets had taken over. A set of double doors had been opened on one side of the auditorium and the recruits were being herded through. The riding crops were also making their first appearance.
“Form two lines! Form two lines out the doors!”
“C’mon, now, which part of two lines don’t you get?”
“Not so close! Keep your dicks out of each other’s asses. If you wanted to do that you should’ve joined the Navy.”
“Hey, you! Yeah, you. What’s your name, honey?”
“Form two lines!”
Through the doors were teams of barbers, working in pairs. The recruits were placed on a contraption which very closely resembled a gynecologist’s examination table. Stirrups held their feet wide apart; their buttocks were completely exposed and available.
The barbers worked at a frightening pace, trimming pubic hair away into piles on the floor, lathering the trimmed pubic area as well as their scrotum's, perineal area, and buttocks; not the wispiest layer of down was left to cushion the blows they’d receive from their officers. The ‘Property US Army’ stencils were applied front and back in lime green, guaranteed to show up against any skin tone.
From there, they were directed to a room filled with bins of incrementally sized cock harnesses. The cranky woman with the hang-dog expression actually loved her job and was very good at it; there was just no percentage in letting a bunch of raw recruits see how much she enjoyed handling them.
“Lootennit”, she drawled, “they dicks is all hard.”
“So get the test tubes, Calloway,” a cadet answered.
Calloway was perfectly well aware of the test tubes; she just liked talking about dicks. She had a carton of test tubes and some markers.
“Just squirt it in here, boys, and write ya name on the side. Never can have too many samples”, she said with a throaty chuckle.
“I - you want me to do what?” asked a lanky redhead.
“Spank that monkey, soldier!” barked the cadet who left a stripe on his ass.
Calloway, amused, made a jerking motion with her arm. “I know you how, honey. Don’t be shy.”
Blushing furiously, the recruit held the test tube to the end of his cock and began to stroke. The others with erections followed suit; those without stood meekly as Calloway hefted their genitals in her hands appraisingly, then handed them each two harnesses.
“One’s a spare, but don’t lose t’other - those lootennits will smack you if you do.”
Of course, the lieutenants smacked them anyway, as that’s what lieutenants do, but the recruits appreciated even the slightest sympathetic notion.
It took some time for them all to come under Calloway’s gaze; the first recruits through the room cooled their heels for over an hour - the ‘hurry up and wait’ mentality of the army hadn’t changed. At length, they assembled in another auditorium-type of room, this one featuring low benches, spaced well apart.
The men milled about aimlessly, the instinct of waiting for the women to tell them what to do already asserting itself. The cadets checked their clipboards and began writing numbers on the recruits’ chests with red marker.
The time also allowed Capt. Amy to catch up, albeit with just four of her honor guard. Two of them, ravaged and unconscious, lay sprawled where she left them in her quarters. Feeling rather kittenish (ravaging two such brutes in such a short period of time was something of a feat, even for her) she put her game face on and entered the room.
She looked for ‘Blackie’, as she had dubbed him, and spotted him toward the back - just where she’d expect an attitude case to be. He was not openly defiant, but he completely lacked the meek, confused air of the others; this one was clearly in need of a hard hand, she thought. Just her type.
“You have a number written on your chest”, Capt. Amy called out. “If that number is one, come stand behind the bench front left. If it is two, bench front right. Three, the bench behind one. Four, the bench behind two, and so on.”
They managed it relatively easily, only a couple of them needing a cadet to pull them into place. Not bad for a hundred raw recruits.
“Get on your knees on the bench in front of you”, she projected. They obeyed with minimal hesitation. “Now put your hands on the floor in front of you.”
Now the hesitation was not minimal. A few of them simply weren’t well coordinated and almost fell off the bench. Rather more of them seem to sense what was coming and looked around as though they’d find a way out of it. No such luck; the cadets soon had them all positioned. Blackie, she noted, had stayed statue still, ignoring the promptings of his cadet, until every other male was in position. Only then did he comply, placing his hands on the floor smoothly, in complete control of his body. Oh, yes - just her type.
She paused, digging a whistle out of her pocket. This was a delicious moment - two hundred dangling testicles, two hundred quivering buttocks. She liked letting their predicament, the gender subjugation, soak in.
“You are about to receive your first lesson in the Army chain of command. You have been broken down into squads of five. Each squad has a squad leader. Squad leaders, introduce yourselves.”
She held the whistle to her mouth and blew five sharp staccato notes. The squad leaders, paddles in hand, brought down five sharps smacks on the ass of the recruit on one end of their bench.
Five more sharp staccato notes for the next recruit and so forth, until the squad leaders had been introduced to each of their new recruits. “Whenever your squadron leaders have taken the time to address your asses in this way, you are to thank her. You say, ‘Ma’am, thank you, Ma’am!’ Say it now, say it loud!”
The few half-hearted ‘thank you’s she heard were scarcely better than silence.
“That sucked! Squadron leaders, introduce yourselves double time!”
This time it was ten blows of the whistle, the paddles swinging with an intensified vigor. The sound filled the room.
“And now you say -“
“MA’AM THANK YOU MA’AM”
“That’s what I like to hear! Now then - each pair of squadron leaders reports to a patrol leader. Her rank is Second Lieutenant. \\Lieutenants, introduce yourselves to your patrols.”
Each Lieutenant introduced herself to her ten-man patrol, ten times each. Their patrols bawled out their thanks in unison, quite enthusiastically. Capt. Amy felt very confident that Blackie was just mouthing the words and not actually making a sound.
Next came the platoon leaders, four First Lieutenants. Each delivered ten each to her twenty -five recruits, some of them whimpering by the time she was finished. Names were taken.
Capt. Amy now stepped away from the podium, taking her small strap from a peg on its side. She motioned to one of her honor guard, the blond, who stepped forward.
The recruits were put back on their feet, a few of them none too steady. Blackie, of course, stood straight and scowling.
“I am your company commander”, Capt. Amy lifted her voice to them. “I will now proceed with the last of our introductions. This is how it’s properly done.”
Her blond, cock as stiff and straight as his spine, saluted smartly.
“Private Loyal Anderson, ma’am!”
He spun and bent over.
“Note the position the private has taken”, Capt. Amy directed the group. “Insides of his feet shoulder-width apart, grasping his shins just above the ankles, knees slightly bent. You will assume this position when I approach. This way, you see, I can get at your balls.”
Pvt. Anderson was wearing the same type of harness as the recruits, forcing his testicles away from his body, dangling and vulnerable. Capt. Amy grasped them and pulled them back between his legs.
“I am charged by the Army to ensure that you have two intact testicles when you enter the Army, and that your testicles are still intact when you leave. I will test first one thusly -“
She brought the end of the strap down smartly on Pvt. Anderson’s left testicle.
“Ma’am, thank you, Ma’am!”
“Then the other.”
“Ma’am, thank you, Ma’am!”
“It is imperative that you acknowledge otherwise I cannot know that your balls are still attached! We commence - now!”
The first recruit, eyes wide in horror at being first, looked at his squad leader. She responded by laying her crop across his ass.
“Obey your orders!”
“Private Harlan Papelu, Ma’am!”
He spun, nearly fell over, then steadied himself. Capt. Amy held her hand over his ass, still radiating heat from meeting his many superiors, before pulling his testicles back and giving each one a healthy swat, his buttocks clenching. Much to his own relief, Pvt. Papelu cried out a ‘Ma’am, thank you, Ma’am!’ at the appropriate time.
“Remain in position.”
She proceeded to greet the other members of his squad, then excused them to their squad leader, eyes watering, reddened buttocks jiggling ever so slightly.
She moved quickly through the company, saving Blackie for last.
He was smart; he calculated his hesitation to within a millisecond of insubordination, then assumed the position.
“Private Monty Briggs, ma’am.”
Spoken rather than yelled. His squad leader laid one across his exposed buttocks and raised her arm for another, but Capt. Amy held up her hand to stop her.
She cupped his balls in one hand, laying the other one over the top. They were spongy and warm and a bit outsized, and she flattened them between her palms, slowly, by degrees.
Pvt. Monty Briggs exhaled after a minute or so, a bit raggedly, but the rest of his body held steady. She released with her top hand, keeping them cupped underneath, and took up her strap.
“Ma’am, thank y-“
“Ma’am, thank-”, he winced in anticipation of a blow that didn’t come, “ma’am thank you ma’am!” he finished quickly.
Amy struck the other one rapidly, ignored his ‘thank you’ and reached for his cock.
It was fully, completely engorged.
I knew it.
She pulled his erection back between his legs, gave it a very solid swat, then released it to thwack! against his belly She gave the squad leader a meaningful look; the younger woman nodded.
“Be all that you can be, Private”, she said before walking away to gather up her honor guard as the squad leader bellowed at her charges. “I love this fucking job”, she whispered to herself.