Liberty Weekend

[esercito sconfitto]

Liberty Weekend
by AngrySoup,






"In the Marine Corps, discipline is the key to success! Discipline brings victory! A lack of discipline bring death! Do you understand, Recruits?"

Martha Greene, the Chief Drill Instructor for the new all female Centennial Naval Academy, shouted her words at the formation of Marines Recruits with a thoroughly unnecessary volume, as they were standing only a few meters away from her.

"Yes, ma'am," came the responses from twelve young potential Marines.

"I can't hear you, Recruits!" shouted Greene.

"Yes, ma'am!" came twelve loud shouts from the formation.

"Good," nodded Greene as she walked across the front of the formation, studying the young women as they held themselves stiff and straight at attention. "Good. Now that the importance of discipline has been repeated to you, I hope you understand why you twelve are here this Saturday morning, instead of out on liberty weekend! I hope you understand that it is solely due to your lack of discipline that while the rest of your fellow Recruits are enjoying their weekend of freedom, you are here to be supervised by your Drill Instructors in hours of tedious, thankless labour!"

"Yes, ma'am."

"I can't hear you, Recruits!"

"Yes, ma'am!"

Greene seemed pleased with herself as she turned to Drill Instructor Rosenblum, a veteran of countless combat operations in the Middle East who was on foreign exchange with the Academy.

"Drill Instructor Rosenblum, I trust that you and Drill Instructors Luisito, Wagner, and Robinson will see to it that these recruits will move these crates off of these trucks and get them unloaded and prepped in short order?"

"Yes, ma'am," responded Rosenblum, as she eyed up the twelve Recruits. "I will have all the crates unloaded and prepped within the hour."

"I'll hold you to that promise, Drill Instructor!" said Greene before departing for her office. "I'll be back in one hour, and if those crates aren't unloaded and prepped, it will be a failure, and my beloved Marine Corps does not tolerate failure, is that understood?"

"Yes, ma'am!" came the roaring response from the twelve Recruits and four Drill Instructors alike. Even as Greene turned and began to march towards her office, the Drill Instructors began to shout at and direct the Recruits towards their work.



09:30, Saturday Morning

Chief Drill Instructor Greene entered the warehouse where the crates were to be unloaded, but was perplexed to find it dark.

"Drill Instructor Rosenblum? What is going on here?"

Only silence greeted Greene... or what seemed like silence. As she listened closely, she thought she could hear something -

"Now!" a voice shouted as the lights suddenly came to life and a pair of toned, feminine arms wrapped themselves around Greene's neck and captured her in a chokehold.

"Auugggggh -" went Greene, her cry of surprise more of a gurgle, which even then was cut off by a swift punch to the stomach. Winded and in pain, it wasn't long before unconsciousness claimed her.



********************



"You'll never get away with this you idiots! You fucking - oww!"

Greene heard the shouting, followed by the loud slap of a well delivered backhand, as she slowly came back to consciousness. Her eyes went wide as soon as she realized what she was seeing, as it was a sight that she had never anticipated.

"What the hell is this?" she said to herself as she realized that she, alongside her four Drill Instructors, had been stripped naked and hogtied with cargo straps from the shipment of crates.

"Oh, look who's awake!" said one of the Recruits mockingly, leaning down towards Greene's face.

"What is the meaning of thi - aaaaugh!"

The Recruit grabbed one of Greene's exposed nipples and twisted before she could even finish her sentence.

"Don't speak out of line, Chief Drill Instructor," said the Recruit mockingly.

"Stop it! Let her go!" came the angry demand from Rosenblum.

"Shut up!" shouted one of the other Recruits, before delivering a painful kick to the helplessly hogtied woman's side.

The Recruits laughed as Greene and Rosenblum groaned in pain, not able to even squirm much as their hogties were so tight that their backs were arched and their fingers touched the soles of their feet.

"They're not so big and scary now, huh?" said one Recruit, as she picked up a pair of panties from the pile of discarded uniforms, shoes, and underthings that once adorned the bodies of the five formerly authoritative women.

The five hogtied women watched in pained silence as the Recruit examined the panties in her hands. "Size Medium, Nylon/Spandex, Machine Wash, Macy's," she read from the laundry label. She seemed to ponder them for a moment. "Drill Instructor Robinson, these lovely orange ones are your's, isn't that so?"

Robinson glared at the younger woman handling her panties, and said angrily, "yes, what's it to you?"

The recruit just laughed, and began to march in exaggerated fashion towards Wagner.

"Oh, I just wanted to make sure I wasn't gagging Drill Instructor Wagner here with her own panties," the Recruit said as she shoved the panties at Wagner's closed mouth.

"Come on, Wagner, you old bitch, open up!" the young Recruit said, frustrated as she tried to force the panties through the resisting 41 year old woman's closed lips.

"Here, let me," said another Recruit as she reached in and pinched Wagner's nostrils shut.

"Mmmph!" came the surprised grunt from Wagner, her eyes suddenly wide as she found herself without an air supply.

"Leave her alone!" said Greene, rocking from side to side in her bonds as Wagner's face turned a deep shade of red.

"Wait your turn!" shouted the Recruit with the panties, before returning her attention to Wagner just in time to see her mouth open up and suck in a deep breath of air that was immediately followed by the light orange nylon/spandex panties of her comrade.

"There we go, isn't that tasty? Much more interesting than if we had you all just munch on your own!" whooped a Recruit between laughs as high strength military duct tape was wound multiple times around Wagner's head, sealing in the panties, before being wound around at her eye level as well to blindfold her.

"Mmmmrpghh," Wagner grunted in protest as the other Drill Instructors looked on in horror.

"We're not done yet, keep watching!" said one recruit as she approached Wagner with a pair of brown control-top pantyhose in her hand. With a sadistic grin on her face, the pantyhose went over Wagner's head, hooding her.

"Hahahaha, good one!"

"Look at that bitch, I bet she doesn't like what she's tasting now!"

"Smell is a big part of taste, and with that pantyhose gusset where it is, I think she's getting the full experience!"

The mockery continued as the five Drill Instructors one by one had their nostrils pinched shut, their comrades' panties shoved into their mouths, their faces wrapped with tape to gag and blindfold them, and their heads hooded by their comrades' pantyhose.

To their credit, the Drill Instructors remained defiant, and not a single one willingly opened her mouth to accept the wad of nylon or spandex or cotton that awaited it. They struggled and cursed and fought to the end, as their duty to their uniform dictated... of course, they weren't wearing their uniforms anymore, but the point still stood.

Once the Drill Instructors had all been rendered entirely helpless, hogtied, blindfolded, gagged and hooded, five of the Recruits dressed in their uniforms while the remaining seven picked up the still squirming forms of the real Drill Instructors and dumped them rather unceremoniously into the now empty crates that the Recruits had just been made to move and unload.

The lids for the crates were easy enough to nail back into place, and thus it looked as though the crates had never been opened at all. No one could ever guess that the crates contained the squirming forms of five military women by how they appeared from the outside, or even by how they sounded from the outside.

"What's that, Chief Drill Instructor?" shouted one Recruit at a crate, cupping her hands even though her lips were an inch from the crate's surface.

Only a faint, almost indiscernible sound was emitted in response.

"I can't hear you, sound off like you got a pair!" shouted the Recruit, before bursting out laughing at her impression of the commanding woman who now was anything but.

"Come on," said one of the other Recruits, now fully dressed as a Drill Instructor. "With the five of us in these uniforms, no one will challenge us marching you off base. Once we're off base, we can ditch these stupid fascist uniforms and enjoy the weekend. Come on!"

The twelve young women disappeared from the Academy without a second though, easily bluffing their way past the one checkpoint that bothered to question them. They went on to enjoy a weekend of gambling, alcohol, and drug use, while the older and wiser women who had been charged with turning them into Marines squirmed in utter defeat and helpless humiliation, their suffering invisible as no one even realized what had happened.



14:53, Monday Afternoon

Recruit Johnson hated remedial maintenance. She had behaved well all month and scored highest in her section on the rifle marksmanship course, but still, one of the Drill Instructors had assigned to go push around a broom while everyone else got to read mail from home just because she had turned up a tiny bit hungover on Monday roll call after liberty weekend. She wasn't alone either, as Recruit Purdue had been assigned to this as well, but that hardly made it better.

It just wasn't fair! Chief Drill Instructor Greene and some of the other Drill Instructors weren't even back on Academy grounds yet, they were probably still out there enjoying their free time!

Recruit Johnson continued to push her broom around the mostly empty warehouse, quietly fuming to herself about how unfair the situation was, until she realized that a few of the crates in the warehouse seemed to be leaking some sort of liquid.

"Hmmm, that's not good," Johnson said, as she leaned down, before standing immediately back up. "Whooo, that doesn't smell good either, smells like pee!"

Purdue, bored with her sweeping, came over and tapped the lid of one of the crates a few times with her broom. As she expected, nothing happened - at least, as far as she could tell.

"Imagine if it was pee? That would be so disgusting," said Johnson as she wrinkled her nose. "I wonder what's in there?"

"I don't know, but I think the more important question is, should we report this to the Chief Drill Instructor?" asked Purdue.

"It doesn't look major," replied Johnson. "And really, if we report this, it's just more work for us, and if it's nothing, the Chief Drill Instructor is going to yell at us until we go deaf."

"Hmm, that's a good point," said Purdue. "I don't want to get yelled at, she's honestly the scariest woman I've ever met."

"She's got a voice that could shake down a bunker, and a temper to match," said Johnson. "You've got me convinced - come on, let's just sweep up and get out of here, I don't want to get yelled at and made to do pushups because we took too long!"

And so the two Recruits swept for a while longer, before finally finishing their task and turning off the lights to the warehouse and leaving. They never had any idea that the very woman they so feared had been there the whole time, trying to scream through her panty gag and pantyhose hood and wooden crate prison for help. They never realized that she, along with four of her comrades, had been squirming and fighting against their ropes only a few feet away while the two Recruits swept.

For the Drill Instructors, it had been a desperate struggle, a chance to finally end their hellish weekend and escape the nightmarish captivity that they'd endured. For Recruits Johnson and Purdue, however, it had simply been sweeping a warehouse while ignoring some nondescript crates that were none of their concern.

The question must be asked though, considering the training methods that the Drill Instructors had used and continued to use, would Recruits Johnson and Purdue have done anything different even if they had they known what was going on and what was in those crates?