Motivation
Warning: The folloing contains material certain prudish types might get all in a tizzy over, but is pretty tame by my standards. In any event reader discretion is advised and the story is copyright Leslie Rashana.
- * * 1944: Somewhere in the jungles of Burma. The Lieutenant called a halt and let his weary men have a much needed break, they were in a bad situation and were falling behind the rest of the column, "Sergeant, what's our situation" "Bad and getting worse Sir. Bad enough the higher ups ordered the whole unit on this crazy hike through the jungle but we happen to have drawn the shortest straw, this is absolutely the Worst path through here anyone coulda picked for us. We'll be lucky if we can rendezvous if we hoof it all night." The young officer nodded and sighed in defeat, the jungle had almost beaten them, almost. He needed something to get his men to find that last little spark and put it to work.. something.... "Sergeant.. Bobby-Jo is in our Mule team isn't she? I thought I saw that straw hat in there somewhere." The old soldier nodded, "Yup, she's with us.. what've you got in mind?" He asked suspiciously. "Sergeant, have her load distributed among the rest of the team and bring her up front here.. have two satchels ready one full of BAR ammo and one full of grenades, now hop to it" The Sergeant, still a little bewildered went back to the Muleteer and gave him his orders. Not unlike in wars previous Man's best hoofed friends were pressed into service carrying the supplies that keep a soldier on his feet and fighting, the only difference in this war was they walked on two hooves this time. Genetic science had been pursued most aggressively since the first theories of heredity were formed leading to the development today of much smarter work animals including the bipedal mules this army used for much of it's Grunt work. The Muleteer singled out one among the small group this bunch kept with them and ushered her forward. She was easy to spot even in larger herds. Bobby-Jo Burro as she'd been named by the rest of the unit was an unusually well-fleshed Mule, some would say voluptuous when they weren't in earshot of anyone above the rank of Captain. Her figure certainly was a contrast compared to the slim and often lanky profiles of the other Jennies. To make her stand out even more unlike the rest who were issued plain G.I. boxers and tank-tops she was given a pair of shorts made from Army fatigue pants cut in a style that later generations would call "Daisy Dukes" which clung tenaciously to her full rump, her top-shelf assets were contained by a fatigue shirt with the sleeves and buttons removed and tied in a knot in the middle of her cleavage. To cap it all a straw hat with holes for her long ears cut in it sat atop her head. The display was vulgar to some more conservative elements and others might think they were being cruel to the poor creature, but those elements were thousands of miles away and truth be told B-J (as she was called with a wink and a smile) enjoyed the attention. The Lieutenant managed somehow to maintain his composure when he saw Bobby coming up at a trot with her breasts threatening to bounce clean out of her makeshift top. She dug her hooves in and stopped her forward movement but the shimmy and shake of her chest took a few beats to settle down as she saluted. "Private First Class BJ Burro reporting as ordered Sir!" "At Ease," ordered her commanding officer, motioning her Sergeant to hand her the satchels, "Bobby, as you know the further we get into this jungle the closer we get to enemy territory.. now we're not expected to be in engagement range for a few days yet but I wouldn't put it past those sneaky Japs to send scouting parties this far out. If and when we meet up with one of those things are gonna get hairy pretty fast and we're only gonna survive by dumping as much firepower at whatever opens up on us as fast as possible. Now one of those satchels is loaded with clips for the automatic rifle so I want you to stick up here with me and our BAR man out in front, the grenades in the other one will also be invaluable if we get into a fire-fight so that's why I'm moving you up here in front instead of leaving you at the rear with the rest of the team, do you understand?" The Muleess mulled it over in her equine mind and nodded, pulling the satchel straps over her head and shoulder catching them criss-cross between her expansive bust. "Yes, Sir." The Lieutenant smiled and nodded to her, "Oh one other thing.. I noticed you seem to be a few sizes too small on your lower garments.. since we've no time to re-issue any out here and I'd rather not see you get any saddle-sores or their equivalent out here in this heat and humidity we'll just rescind the un-written rule for now." BJ's eyes lit up for a moment, "Sir? are you sure?" He nodded, "Positive, I'll take responsibility." She nodded enthusiastically and began un-doing her too-tight shorts, "Thank you Sir" tucking them in a side pouch on one of the satchels and enjoying the cool breeze over her buttocks and more intimate regions, something that was not missed by the men. The Sergeant struggled to contain his mirth, that Lt. was smarter than he looked as he ordered them to move out again with the bare-bottomed muleess swaying her hips in front of all the ogling soldiers in her wake. A soldier gets tired but Mules don't know the meaning of the word and the old sarge knew come hell or high water the rest of his boys weren't gonna fall behind BJ's pace. Well, not Too far behind.