Her Finest Hour-and-a-Half
Her Finest Hour-and-a-Half
By Wakboth
In the early spring of 1945, the US Army was moving into Germany, and the German Army was not really motivated to fight them. Oh, they fought, but they didn't really have the spirit in them. "Better that the Americans conquer us than the Russians, nicht wahr?" seemed to be the general mood.
This resulted in a very uneven pace of advance, and frequently meant that smaller units had to be detached from the main forces, either to chase down some wandering Germans, or to take and hold locations that lay off from the path of advance. So, on one nice April day, the Davey Company of 39th Infantry was detached to investigate the village of Kaltenbusen.
They drove in their trucks and Jeeps through the German countryside towards Kaltenbusen. Riding in the back of the company CO's battered Jeep was Billie Jean March, BJ to her friends; a 2nd Lieutenant in the Women's Army Corps, aged twenty-three and fluent in French, German and Spanish. The young bear woman had joined the WAC straight from the college, mostly because of patriotism, but also because she was getting increasingly bored waiting to hear from her boyfriend, David, who was flying planes against the Japanese in the Pacific. Thanks to her linguistic skills, she had immediately been trained as an interpreter, then shipped to Europe and attached to her current unit.
As a WAC officer, she was obliged to ride in the Jeep instead of in one of the trucks with the men, both for reasons of rank and propriety. And with the fresh air, warm sun and the budding German spring all around them, she had no complaints about the matter; if she hadn't been wearing a uniform and surrounded by armed men, she could have thought she was joyriding back in the States.
In the front of the Jeep, beside his driver, sat Captain Johnson, a fox with a weak chin and a bluff manner; in the back, seated on either side of BJ, were the company radio operator, PFC Hobbes, a skinny young cat who was currently deep asleep in his seat, and the company NCO, First Sergeant Brown, a bear like herself: quiet, capable and even somewhat handsome, in a rough way.
The drone of the Jeep's engine and the warm sun made BJ drowsy, and she felt her thoughts starting to wander. She thought of the time she'd been driving in the countryside with David and a couple of their friends, Jilly and Bob. He'd been talking about the war in Europe and how the Americans should give the English more help, until BJ had shushed him and told that today they were just going to have fun.
They had parked at the shores of a small lake, and had a picnic. Afterwards, Jilly had dragged Bob off, to walk around the lake as she said, but the way she was giggling when she said that made BJ think they probably wouldn't get far once they were out of sight.
Almost as soon as Jilly and Bob had vanished behind the copse of trees, she and David were in each other's arms, their tongues wrestling in a deep kiss. She didn't mind a bit when David put his hand on her jumper-covered breast; feeling bold, she replied by reaching behind his back and giving his short bear tail a squeeze that made him jump. Breaking their kiss, he started giving her small pecks on her muzzle, her ears, and on her neck. As his hand moved down her body, caressing her stomach, she closed her eyes and started slowly rubbing his tail. Now David's hand was on her thigh, giving it a slight squeeze through her skirt. BJ sighed happily as he slowly moved his hand up under her skirt, caressing her inner thighs, before touching her panty-covered sex. Closing her eyes, she responded by placing her free hand on his groin, and starting to lightly rub the hardening bulge in the front of his pants in time with squeezes of her hand on his tail...
A severe jolt of the Jeep shook BJ out of her daydream and flung her against the hard body of Sergeant Brown, sitting next to her. Blushing slightly, she immediately straightened and looked around her, noticing that they had left the main road and were now bouncing down a narrow and badly rutted dirt road.
The first thing about Kaltenbusen that BJ saw was the castle, situated on the rocky bluff beyond the small Rhinelander village. Even in the afternoon sun, it looked brooding and ominous, even more so than all the numerous tiny castles and ruins of castles she had already seen in France and Germany.
"That's one ugly pile of stone," Captain Johnson commented over his shoulder from the front seat of the Jeep. "The Krauts that the Easy Company captured on Monday said that there was some kind of an SS depot or something there, so we're checking the place out."
BJ nodded, trying to keep her cap on her head as the Jeep bounced over some potholes in the dirt road. She was starting to feel that it would have been more comfortable to ride in one of the trucks with the troops, but that could not be helped. So she hung on, and tried not to wince every time she was jostled into Brown by the bumps in the road.
The village of Kaltenbusen was a small one, but judging by the buildings and the presence of the castle, it had been there for centuries before BJ's distant ancestors left England for the New World. She would have thought it picturesque, if not for the fading posters on the walls, displaying swastikas, Nazi eagles and the all too familiar mousy visage of the Fuehrer.
The trucks and Jeeps stopped in the small, empty town square, and the soldiers dismounted in a wave of green uniforms, helmets and rifles. BJ waited patiently in the Jeep until the CO had finished giving orders to his XO, First Lieutenant Kreuss, to Brown, and to the platoon leaders; she knew perfectly well that she would only get in the way.
When the soldiers started spreading outwards from the square, BJ finally got off from the Jeep, tugging her skirt down as she did so. What surprised her was how silent and somehow empty the village was; the German civilians did not welcome the American invaders with the anything approaching the enthusiasm of the French or the Belgians or the Netherlanders, but in her experience they didn't really shrink back, either. Now the only sounds and movement came from the American soldiers, and it was making her feel vaguely nervous.
"I wonder where everyone is," she said, looking around the square at the dark, bare windows. She had not directed her comment to anyone, but Captain Johnson answered her.
"Probably hiding in their attics and cellars and hoping that we won't stop," he said, pushing his helmet back on his head and wiping his brow with the back of his paw. "When they see we're here, they'll come out. You'll see."
Hobbes, who was fiddling with his radio nearby, did not look convinced and muttered something under his breath. BJ didn't feel convinced, either. In her opinion, the atmosphere in the village was distinctly creepy.
A few minutes later, the search teams started returning. One by one, they reported seeing nobody. BJ saw from their faces that they were unnerved by the strange emptiness, even though they were trying to hide it. Even Captain Johnson was starting to look less sure of himself.
Just then the last two squads returned, bringing with them some German women, mostly mice and cats, with one young dog among them. They were all thin and looked tired, but seemed almost relieved to see the American soldiers around them.
One of the squad leaders, a young buck-toothed rabbit, jogged up to the CO and saluted. "Sir, them's all we found. They were hiding inna bakery, and looked really scared at first, but when the saw we were Americans, they came willingly."
Johnson nodded at him. "Good work, Corporal." He looked at Brown, who was standing nearby with a slightly worried look on his face. "Sergeant, see that these women are given some food; extra rations will do. We want to win their hearts and bellies."
At the sight of the US army rations, the women's eyes grew wide. They snatched the food quickly and tore into it, as if they hadn't eaten for days. As they finished eating, BJ stepped up to them. In her experience, civilians opened up better to a female interpreter, and this time was no exception.
They were thankful for the food; they had run out of food the day before yesterday, but with the rumors of the Americans, they hadn't dared to leave the village. No, there were no men here; most of them were in Wehrmacht, or in work details in the big cities.
"Ask them about the castle and the depot," Johnson urged BJ.
The instant she breached the subject, the women became wary and guarded again. Yes, there had been a Schutzstaffel garrison at the castle, but they hadn't seen any of the SS-men for weeks. Probably they had run away. No, they didn't know where they had gone, or if they had left anything behind. No, they hadn't been at the castle, and they weren't going there, either.
Captain Johnson didn't seem at all surprised when he heard this, but the other officers and NCOs who were listening to BJ's translation looked vaguely disconcerted.
"They're afraid of the SS, and afraid of us," he said, "and don't want us to think they had anything to do with the castle and its garrison. Well, I have my orders, and I don't care. Harris, Caletto; second and third platoon will secure the village and prepare a place for us to spend the night. I'm taking the first platoon and checking out the castle. Lieutenant March, you come with us; if there is anyone at the castle, I want to be able to talk with them."
As BJ walked back to the Jeep, she heard running footsteps from behind her and turned to look. It was the dog girl, who looked very agitated. "You mustn't go to the castle! It's very dangerous for all these men to go there," she spoke rapidly.
"But didn't you say that the SS-men had left?" BJ asked, surprised by the look of anguish on the girl's face.
"Yes, the men, they're all gone, but there were women there as well. Very evil women! They were doing some kind of black magic for the SS," the girl explained hastily. She noticed BJ's disbelieving expression and grasped her arm. "Please, you must believe me! They know evil magic to make men lose their minds, and to drain their strength; that's why all our men left. We didn't want to lose them. Don't go there!" With that, she let go of BJ and ran away, casting fearful glances over her shoulder.
The stout figure of First Sergeant Brown appeared at BJ's side. "What did she want from you, ma'am?" he asked, a slight hint of worry in his deep voice.
"Oh, nothing," BJ said slowly. "She wanted to warn me; apparently, the villagers think the SS had witches or something up at the castle. That's why they are afraid of going there. Just superstition," she finished, trying to laugh lightly but failing.
Brown looked thoughtfully at the running girl as she vanished behind a corner. "I thought it must be something like that. They seemed awfully afraid of the castle, and relieved that we had arrived." He shrugged and turned towards the Jeep. "Come on, ma'am; we are leaving."
As the Jeep climbed up the winding road leading to the castle, BJ got a better view of the place. It was built in a square shape, with a round tower topped by a conical roof at every corner, and a main keep in the south-eastern corner, overlooking a steep drop to the small river flowing fifty feet below the castle. The place looked decidedly inhospitable, with small, narrow windows set high in the grey stone walls.
The main gate was open, and the drawbridge, made from thick planks and reinforced with bands of iron, lowered across a ditch before the walls. There was no movement and no sounds; a German truck standing in one corner of the stone-paved yard indicated that the drawbridge was safe to drive across.
Nobody shot at the first scouts, and they soon appeared back at the gateway, gesturing for the rest to drive in. This time, BJ climbed off of the Jeep as soon as it stopped; she didn't like the look of the place, but she didn't want to be left behind or pushed aside, not in this place.
She noticed the soldiers around her looking more cheerful and less tense than in the village, below; she realized that this kind of a situation, where there was a real danger of SS stragglers willing to take pot-shots at them, made them feel more comfortable than the eerie emptiness of Kaltenbusen.
"All right, everyone," Captain Johnson said. "Lieutenant Robbins, you take the first squad and check the towers and outbuildings surrounding the yard; the rest, follow me. We are going to the keep." He noticed BJ and frowned, unsure what he should do with her. "Sergeant Brown, you take care of Lieutenant March."
"Yes, sir," Brown said and moved closer to BJ, a SMG held in his big paws. Unlike some WACs, BJ did not mind the men protecting her; quite the opposite, in fact. They were here to fight the Nazis, after all, while she was here to help them talk with the locals afterwards.
The soldiers moved into the keep, quickly but with some caution. Even if all the SS were gone, they might have left behind mines or other sorts of traps. BJ remained well in the back of the main group, where she was out of the way of the men and, hopefully, out of the way of any explosions or gunfire.
The inside of the keep was dimly lit. It looked like it had been occupied fairly recently, but again, there was nobody in sight. BJ was starting to relax when one of the soldiers detached by Johnson to check the adjacent rooms gave a loud yelp of fear, followed by the sounds of scrambling and a thump.
Suddenly, all the men flung themselves at the walls, weapons pointed to the direction the sounds had come from. BJ found herself pressed against the wall, with Brown standing in front of her, looking intently in the direction of the doorway.
"Jesus fuck!" the soldier in the next room was saying. "He's like a goddamn mummy!"
Johnson scowled. "Blue, Delacy, what the hell happened there?" he asked in a low, angry voice.
"Sorry, sir," Delacy answered back in an equally low voice, while Blue kept muttering something about freaky unnatural corpses. "We found a dead Kraut here, SS by the looks of him. Dog, I think, or maybe a wolf; it's hard to say 'cause he's all shrunken up, just bones and skin and fur." There was a moment's pause, before Delacy continued. "Sir? He's got no pants on."
This got a reaction even from Captain Johnson. "Delacy, are you bullshitting us?" he snarled, while all the other soldiers were looking at each other with expressions of confusion, disbelief and disgust on their faces. BJ found herself wondering what a mummified SS soldier with no pants on looked like, and decided that she really didn't need to know that.
"No, sir! Hey, I think there's another in the next room over here..." Delacy's voice moved away. "Yeah. This one's definitely a dog. Just like the first one, no pants on... oh fuck, what the hell happened to these guys?"
"Mind your language, soldier!" Johnson said and glanced quickly at BJ's direction. "Are there any doors in there?"
"Yeah, sir! And there's a staircase leading up, too."
Johnson nodded. "Okay, men," he said. "We'll check that side first. Sergeant, get Hopper and Quinn back from there," he said, gesturing towards the room on the other side of the hall."
Sergeant Oates moved over to the door and poked his head in, then stopped. He turned to look back at the CO and the rest of the platoon. "Sir, they're not here. The door at the end of the room is open, but I can't see Hopper or Quinn through it."
The Captain looked surprised and angry. "What the hell they are up to?" he muttered.
"Sir, I'll take the rest of the squad and we'll go look after them," Oates volunteered. "They can't have gotten far, and we would have heard something if they had been attacked."
Johnson looked unhappy with the suggestion, but reluctantly nodded. "We'll move to check the left side. You return here when you find those two fools; no exploring further until we get back."
As the rest of Oates' squad moved off, BJ thought she heard some kind of an electric hum, coming from somewhere behind the wall she was leaning to. Nobody else seemed notice anything, so she decided she had just imagined the noise.
They moved to the room where Blue had found the first dead SS soldier; BJ did her best not to look at the withered corpse in the dappled green uniform jacket and black boots. To everyone's surprise, private Blue was not in the room. Nor was Delacy in the next one, either; only the corpse of the SS dog was sitting in the corner, a death's grin on its withered face.
By now, everyone was getting really worried, really quick. Johnson stared at the dead Nazi and swallowed. "All right. We'll all pull out from here, and get Robbins and his squad; then we'll come back and comb this place thoroughly."
Suddenly, a sharp electric humming, followed by a single gunshot - an American M1 Garand, by the sound of it - came from the rooms where Oates' squad had gone. Suddenly, everyone forgot Blue and Delacy; this sounded more like what they were used to.
BJ found herself, once again, at the very back of the group; to be honest, she felt it was the best place for her to be at the moment. Without a weapon she'd only be in the way. And whatever had happened to Blue and Delacy, shooting was a definite threat.
Thus nobody, not even First Sergeant Brown, noticed how a piece of panelling slid open in the wall behind BJ, and a pair of strong, white-furred arms striped with black reached out for her. BJ felt someone grab her by the waist while a large hand covered her muzzle; she had no time to struggle before she was pulled through the secret door that slid quietly shut after her. Only her WAC cap, lying forgotten on the floor, was left behind.
"Do not make trouble," a deep but obviously feminine voice whispered into BJ's ear in thickly German-accented English. "I haff a gun, und vill shoot you, if you are trouble. Turn around."
She obeyed, and found herself facing a muscular, pale-furred tigress with black hair pulled into a thick braid hanging down her back. The tigress was wearing what BJ took to be the pants of a Waffen-SS uniform and a grey-green shirt, which had had its sleeves ripped off; despite half the buttons being undone, the shirt was straining to cover her large, heavy breasts. In one hand, she held a big, nasty-looking German automatic pistol, pointed straight at BJ's chest; in the other, she had a broad leather collar attached to a leash. "Put this on," she ordered, tossing the collar to PJ.
BJ stared at the tigress, then looked at the broad collar, not quite believing that the tigress was serious. It was one thing being snatched by some female SS goon like a heroine in a radio show, and threatened with a gun; it was a wholly another thing to be ordered to wear a collar, like some dumb animal! She opened her mouth to protest, then considered the pistol and the leering, cruel expression on the tigress' face, and decided to obey.
The collar felt heavy and awkward around BJ's neck; as soon as she had closed the clasp, the tigress gave the leash a slight tug, as if to test it. "Gut. Und now, move," the tigress ordered, nodding towards a steep, almost ladder-like staircase at the other end of the narrow little room. Swallowing hard, PJ did as she was told.
As she climbed, the tigress followed her, holding the leash in one hand and the gun in the other. "Nice ass you have there, American bitch," she commented in German. "Makes me want to spank you." BJ stumbled in shock at this point, which earned her another, harder yank from the leash and some German invective. She could feel her face and ears burn under their fur with humiliation mixed with a good dose of fear; there were all kinds of nasty stories about the SS. And the worst, by all accounts, were the rare female troopers. She suddenly hoped that her unit would find her very quickly.
She emerged from a cupboard into an otherwise empty room, weakly lit by the setting sun. The tigress followed her, closing the door at the back of the cupboard without ever pointing her gun away from BJ. "Be quiet and nothing vill happen," she said, but her toothy grin told BJ otherwise. She shuddered as the tigress' eyes lingered on her breasts and hips; as a WAC, she had gotten her share of trouble from overenthusiastic men, but this was the first time in her life when she was being mentally undressed by another woman. The experience was not one that she liked in the least.
From a distance, she heard a couple of gunshots, then after a moment, one more. Then silence, except for a steady electric buzzing. The tigress pointed towards the room's only door; BJ obeyed her. They emerged into a corridor, with doors on both sides. She was marched down the corridor, towards the source of the buzzing sound. Passing through the door at the end of the corridor, BJ found herself on a balcony, overlooking what appeared to be the keep's main feast hall. What she saw below made her gasp.
Every man in the platoon was standing in the hall, stripped of their helmets, combat webbing and weapons, which were all piled along the walls. There were a couple of bruised-looking men, some with black eyes or split lips, as well as two with bloodstained bandages on their arm and shoulder. Everyone, including Captain Johnson and Sergeant Brown, were staring wide-eyed and slack-jawed at the figure standing on a low dais in the middle of the hall.
The person was a female wolf, probably in her early thirties, wearing the black peaked cap and the rank tabs of an SS Hauptsturmführer, or a captain. Her glossy black leather boots were probably also of regulation issue, but the rest of her garb most definitely wasn't. She was wearing an open-topped black leather corset that lifted her grey-furred breasts prominently up, as well as a garter belt holding up long black fishnet stockings, but no panties. Numerous small lamps and strange-looking electrical components seemed to be sewn into her clothes with copper and silver wire, and connected to what looked like the innards of a radio transmitter carried on her back. In one black-gloved paw, she held a riding crop; in the other, a black box with several switches.
"I have the American bitch, Hauptsturmführer," the tigress called down to the wolf.
"Good. Bring her down here, I wish to talk with her," the wolf shouted back.
"Yes, Hauptsturmführer!" The tigress turned to look at BJ. "Hauptsturmführer Dreschen vill speak to you," she said.
She led BJ down a spiral stair and into the feast hall. The buzzing sound was stronger now, and BJ could smell what she thought was ozone. None of the men paid any attention to her, but they took notice of the tigress when she passed nearby, following her with their blankly staring eyes. BJ noticed Brown standing in the front row among them, his eyes glazed and a trickle of drool falling from the corner of his mouth.
They stopped before the dais, where the she-wolf was pacing back and forth, swatting her riding crop against her gloved palm, until the attention of all the staring GIs was fixed back to her. Satisfied, the wolf sat carefully down in a tent chair on the dais, her legs apart and hands on her knees. She looked at BJ with an expression of vaguely benevolent interest, but something in her cold blue eyes made BJ's fur stand on end.
"Sprechen Sie Deutsch? No matter, I can speak English," the she-wolf said, not waiting for BJ's reply. "Sit down, please."
BJ glanced around her; there were no chairs in the room, except the one the wolf was sitting in. "On the floor," the she-wolf explained, as if talking to a child. BJ noticed the tigress moving beside her, no doubt intending to push her down, and sat down quickly on her own. Sitting on the floor, she had a disturbingly good view of the wolf's groin, where the pink labia were clearly visible in the grey fur.
"I am Hauptsturmführer Angelica Dreschen, of the SS, and she is my assistant, Oberscharführer Ulla Brust. And you are?"
"Lieutenant Billy Jean March, Women's Army Corps, serial number L-271382," BJ answered as she'd been taught in the officer training, back in the States. She was starting to doubt whether her captors would follow the Geneva Conventions, however.
"Ah, good. I did not know you Americans had female officers, as well," Dreschen said. "More enlightened than I would have expected of you! I see you are wondering about what is going on here, and about my dress, ja?"
BJ nodded. "Yes, ma'am. This all seems very strange," she hazarded, looking around her.
"Indeed! First, I must ask you a few questions," Dreschen said. "Do you know Tantric Yoga, or any other form of Tibetan Sex-magic? What about the orgone theory of Herr Doctor Reich? No? Oh well, I did not really expect you to do so. Even here in Germany, the discoveries of Dr. Reich are almost forgotten because of his political leanings; almost, but not quite! I have combined his theories with the ancient Aryan occult science preserved in Tibet, and with the help of modern German engineering, produced a weapon that will win the war for the Reich, and ensure that it will last a thousand times thousand years!"
BJ stared at the ranting she-wolf. It was obvious that Dreschen was not playing with a full deck, and that made her even more dangerous. Being captured by the Nazis was bad enough; being captured by what appeared to be a madwoman and her henchbitch was a lot worse.
"That sounds... intriguing," she said in a conciliatory tone of voice she had used to calm down the drunken, weepy GIs who had decided that the company WAC was the only one who would understand their problems with their girlfriends back in the States. The way she saw it, her best bet was to learn as much as she could about what was going on; perhaps she could later have a chance to release the soldiers from their thraldom to the SS she-wolf. "And that is why they are all like that?" she asked, pointing at one of the silent soldiers.
Dreschen nodded vigorously. "Yes, indeed! You see, the machinery in my suit concentrates and projects the orgone energy, creating an effect of sexual hypnosis in the males that leaves them helpless before my will. They will obey my every command, my every desire! Look!" She flicked one of the switches, and the hum rose slightly in pitch. "Slaves, undress!"
BJ turned to look, and gasped at what she saw. Moving slowly and fumblingly, the men were opening their belts, pulling off their shirts and undoing their pants. In just a few moments they all stood naked before her, their uniforms scattered on the floor around them. BJ had seen naked men before - she was not the innocent virgin her parents back in the States had thought - but the sight of forty naked young men was making her heart flutter and her loins tingle unlike anything she had experienced before.
"You see?" Dreschen spoke behind BJ, her voice triumphant. "Ulla, for all her admirable qualities, cannot appreciate my genius fully; she is a homosexualist, after all. But you, my good American lieutenant, surely you can see! The Third Reich shall become an empire of love! We shall conquer the world by sex, not by the force of arms! All the nations shall bow before our hypnotic Nordic libido, and worship us as our willing slaves! It will be a glorious new age, and you have the honor to be present at its dawn!"
The buzzing of Dreschen's orgone projector rose in pitch again, triggering a reaction in the naked soldiers. One by one, their members hardened and became erect, jutting out from their groins. BJ felt her face burn, and found she just wouldn't look away.
"I'd be interested of hearing your opinion, as a fellow officer, as to which of these men give the most satisfying sexual performance?" Dreschen asked, her voice suddenly all businesslike again. "I have been deprived of the sacred male essence these last couple of days, ever since that feedback loop drained Franz and Kurt. They were the last ones."
BJ shuddered; now she knew why the dead SS-men had not been wearing any pants. "Ah, err, I wouldn't know," she stammered out, shocked by the German woman's assumption that she had been sleeping with the men of the company. "I haven't even really thought about it," she said truthfully. Now, however, she had difficulties in thinking about anything else; the broad chest, well-muscled body and the generously sized cock of First Sergeant Brown were driving her to distraction. Even Captain Johnson was starting to look alluring, despite his vacant expression.
"Ach, you Americans are all so repressed!" Dreschen sighed. "The fox looks good; he was your Captain, was he not? And that brown-furred dog is very impressive as well. Yes, I think they will do very nicely indeed!" She pointed at the two soldiers with her riding crop. "You, and you! You will have the honor of pleasuring me tonight. The rest of you, at ease! You may sleep; I won't need you until the morning."
Johnson and the dog, PFC Yates, shuffled forward, their cocks bobbing with their steps, while the rest of the men seemed to lose their interest in Dreschen again, their erections slowly subsiding. "Ulla, I will be retiring for the night. You may take Lieutenant March for yourself, but don't damage her. I like her conversation, and we will need her later," the she-wolf said. Followed by Johnson and Yates, she walked out of the room, leaving the now very afraid BJ alone with Ulla Brust and the hypnotised platoon.
"It is time ve vill learn to know each other better," the tigress said. "Now, stand up!" she ordered, tugging BJ's leash. She marched the poor WAC out from the feast hall, through a different door than Dreschen and her thralls had used, and up yet another staircase. From the narrow windows, BJ could see a few faint lights down in Kaltenbusen, below, and wondered how long the rest of the company would wait before they started to worry and came looking after them.
Ulla noticed her glance, and gave a purring laugh. "Don't have any hopes! Ve made your Hauptmann call Kaltenbusen and tell everything is in order. Tomorrow, ve shall visit them, und make them slaves, too. Then ve can get out here, und not too soon."
"You sound like you don't quite believe Captain Dreschen," BJ commented as she climbed up the stairs. She had heard the tigress snort derisively during the she-wolf's rants, and had been around enough soldiers to recognize the body language of a soldier who doesn't respect her superior officer.
"Oh, you are clever little bitch," Ulla said and laughed again. "Ja, Hauptsturmführer is mad as - how you Amerikans say? As nutter? The war, it's almost over. But her machine, it vorks, and ve can make slaves of your company and get avay, into Bayern und Alps. There you Amerikans von't find us. You vill learn to like Bayern, little bitch."
They reached the landing at the top of the stairs, and Ulla pointed at one of the doors. "In there."
The room BJ found herself in was obviously Ulla's personal quarters. There were piles of German dry rations and canned food in the corners, and small wooden crates full of various-calibre ammo. Carpets, curtains and bed sheets hung on the walls, covering the cold stone and the small windows; a carbide lamp on the table lit the room brightly. A large, somewhat rickety-looking four-poster bed, with the canopy missing, dominated the room; leather straps hanging from the bedposts and an arrangement of crops, whips and other instruments of discipline on nightstand offered disturbing evidence of Ulla's pleasures.
"Und now, undress," Ulla commanded BJ, who hesitated. "Undress, or I vill rip off your clothes," she said in a voice that indicated she would have enjoyed that greatly.
Giving in to the inevitable, BJ started to strip. Ulla's unwavering observation, combined with her reflection in the cracked mirror hanging in one corner of the room, made her unusually self-conscious. At five feet eight, she was pretty tall for a woman, with a svelte figure not often seen in bear ladies; BJ considered her well-toned legs, thanks to playing hockey at the college, one of her best parts. And even the infamous khaki-colored non-sexy bra and underpants issued to WACs could not hide her shapely breasts or the curve of her hips.
"Leave the collar. Take all else off," the tigress said, her gaze roving on BJ's body. Blushing furiously, BJ did as she was told. In the mirror, she could see Ulla tear open her shirt, buttons flying. The tigress was massively stacked, but on her muscular body the large breasts looked quite fine.
"Get on the bed," she ordered, kicking off her boots and uniform pants; she was not wearing any underpants beneath. With her long, striped tail twitching behind her, Ulla marched towards the bed and BJ.
BJ, for all of her comparatively sheltered, middle-class upbringing before the war, was quite aware that some women slept with other women. She had been first introduced to the concept by "Fanny Hill", which she had nicked from her father's library and read under her blanket when she was fifteen; going to an all-female college and observing some of her fellow students had brought the matter home on a more practical level, yet she had never thought she would find herself in a lesbian situation.
Unfortunately, things were at the moment out of her hands. Oberscharführer Ulla Brust's approach to making love was the same as to making war: overwhelm your target with speed, force and ruthlessness, and pillage them at your leisure.
Without warning, she pounced at BJ, pinning the hapless bear beneath her and tying her wrists to the bedposts. Her pale breasts, capped by large pink nipples, rubbed against BJ's smaller brown ones, as the tigress ground her hips against the captive American's body. "Now, little bitch, we'll see if I can make you beg," she growled, slipping back into her native German, and pressed her lips roughly onto BJ's mouth.
The only rational course of action would have been to lie still and take whatever Ulla was going to dole out; she was bigger, stronger, more experienced and literally on top of the situation. However, BJ's self-respect and patriotism could not let her give up; besides, she felt that the tigress wanted her to struggle, but not so much as to become troublesome.
So she kept up a level of resistance: not giving into Ulla's kiss until the tigress grabbed her jaw with one hand; trying to squirm out from under her warm, furry bulk; struggling against the muscular thighs pushing her legs apart. As the tigress groped her breasts, BJ found that she was starting to feel actually excited by the situation!
A questing finger in BJ's groin told Ulla the same thing. "Oh, you really like this! We are going to spend much time together, it seems," she purred, bringing the moistened digit up to BJ's face, and rubbing it against her nose.
Lifting herself off from BJ, Ulla straddled her shoulders, her sex above BJ's face. "Lick me," she commanded. Poor BJ stared at the German tigress' cleft pussy, aghast at the idea; playing along at Ulla's assault on her body was one thing, but to take such an active part in the proceedings was more than she was prepared to do.
Annoyed by her hesitation, Ulla yanked her leash, pulling BJ's head up and against her crotch. With her nose pressed in the tigress' musky-smelling pubic fur, BJ found her lips against Ulla's hot labia. Reluctantly, she gave the moist slit a tentative lick; instantly, Ulla's tail started whipping back and forth across BJ's body.
"Ja! Like that!" Ulla gasped, closing her eyes in bliss. Holding the leash taut, she started kneading her breasts with her free hand as BJ timidly explored the folds of her vulva with her tongue. The tigress tasted sweet and sour and smoky; her vagina was hot and wet, feeling almost like a mouth. On the whole, this part proved much less disagreeable than she would have thought.
As she licked and nuzzled her captor's sex, BJ found Ulla responding to her actions. Merely licking at the tigress' labia drew low sighs and grunts of pleasure from her; sticking her tongue inside her brought forth louder groans of pleasure, which turned into moans as she flicked the tip of her tongue back and forth inside her hot pussy.
Despite her perilous situation and previous misgivings, BJ was getting into this thing. Quickly noticing that the more pleasure she gave to Ulla, the less the tigress would yank at her leash, she started experimenting with her mouth. Soon, the tigress was purring loudly as BJ sucked at her slick flesh. The best results were achieved by alternating between licking Ulla's cleft and toying with her clitoris, poking out from beneath its hood; this triggered short, sharp yowls of pleasure from Ulla every time that BJ's tongue touched the quivering little nub.
Just as she thought she was getting the hang of it, Ulla started shuddering, and BJ realized that she had brought her to climax. With a deep, throaty roar, the German tigress came, her sex juices flowing onto BJ's tongue and dribbling down her chin. Sighing contentedly, she released her grip on the leash, allowing BJ to lower her head back to the bed and giving her strained neck muscles a welcome rest.
"You learn very quick," Ulla purred, looking down at her captive as she idly flicked the tip of her tail across BJ's groin, sending little shivers of pleasure up her spine every time as it brushed against her erect clit. "Ve haff to teach you more advanced things soon," she promised.
Already aroused, the teasing of Ulla's tail was making BJ breathe faster now, and she was flushing hotly. She started squirming again, but this time to maintain contact with the tigress. Ulla noticed this and grinned. "Ask for it, Amerikäner bitch," she said, reaching to pinch one of BJ's nipples. "You vant it! Beg me, und I vill be nice..."
The taunting tone in Ulla's voice brought BJ back to her senses. Her body was yearning for the pleasure that the tigress promised, but her spirit was recoiling. Giving in would mean giving up, and where would that lead? She recalled Dreschen's dream of world domination, and shuddered. In her mind's eye, she saw the she-wolf towering over the Europe like a half-naked colossus, her shadow falling across the Atlantic and over the United States, while at her feet the Allied armies were throwing their weapons away and worshiping her... and saw herself standing between the shadow and her homeland. This had to be snipped at the bud, right here in Kaltenbusen and right now, before Dreschen could reach the main German forces.
BJ swallowed hard and worked her raw tongue until she felt she could speak. "The hell I will," she said in German, immensely satisfied by the sight of Ulla's eyes widening in surprise. "I am not playing your games, you sick Nazi bitch!"
Ulla's mood changed instantly. Snarling with rage, she grabbed BJ by the collar and drew her fist back to strike her. For a moment, BJ thought she was going to get seriously hurt. But instead of hitting her, Ulla hesitated and then glared sullenly at BJ. "You understood Hauptsturmführer's words, didn't you?" she asked in German.
BJ nodded, and Ulla let go of her, cursing foully. "Don't think this is over yet," she growled as she started to untie the leather straps holding BJ's arms to the bedposts while kneeling heavily on the bear's throat. Once she was released, Ulla immediately rolled BJ over and tied her hands behind her back. "Now, get up and walk. And no tricks, or I will forget my orders!" With the lamp in one hand, and the leash and her pistol in other, she led her captive out of the door and onto the landing again. This time, she chose another door, herding BJ into the room beyond.
The room was much like Ulla's room had to be under all the cluttered comforts and looted goods: a wedge-shaped slice of the tower, with bare stone walls and a roughly planed wooden floor, pitted and darkened with age. There were a few old ammo crates, full of miscellaneous junk, in the corners, but otherwise the room was bare.
Ulla led her to the curving outer wall and tied her leash to an iron hook jutting from the wall. There was enough of it for BJ to be able to sit or crouch, but not enough to lie down comfortably, and with her hands tied behind her back, she couldn't remove the collar or reach up to untie the leash. "You could have slept on my rug in a warm room," Ulla growled. "Now you're kneeling on bare wood."
"At least the company will be better," BJ retorted, making Ulla snarl with anger.
With the grip of her pistol, she smashed the small panes of the only window. "The night air vill cool your feelings. We'll see tomorrow if you are so feisty then!" the tigress said, walking out of the room. BJ could hear the click of a sliding bar, and then Ulla's faint footsteps fading away.
BJ listened for several minutes, until she was sure that the tigress was gone. Then, with the day's events finally registering, she allowed herself to break down completely. She cried until her eyes hurt and her tears ran dry, and messily wiped her nose on her naked shoulder. That was a problem she hadn't thought of; the weather was fairly warm for April, but a cold wind blew from the north and in through the broken window, making her shiver.
As she tried to find a better position, something cold and sharp stung her in her bare bottom. Yelping in pain, BJ jolted away. The source of the pain remained in her buttock, however, and fumbling with her tied hands, she managed to find it: a triangular shard of glass, sticking out of her butt with the fur around it wet with blood.
Wincing, she pulled the shard out of her butt; it felt as almost an inch and a half in length, and about half an inch wide at its base. Feeling the sharp piece of glass in her fingers, BJ couldn't help smiling. She had never thought that the staple of pulp stories and radio serials, a conveniently placed piece of glass found in the cell that the heroine uses to cut her bonds, could actually exist in the real life. "But then again," she thought, "Here I am, trapped naked in the tower of a European castle, held against my will by a mad scientist and her brutal henchwoman, and threatened with a fate worse than death!"
The realization made her giggle. When put in that way, it sounded completely ludicrous. But Captain Dreschen and Ulla Brust, no matter how unlikely and unbelievable, were certainly real and very dangerous. And even if the fate worse than death had proven to be quite tolerable, even pleasurable, she had no doubt that much worse things would await her unless she could, somehow, escape, and release the men of her unit from their hypnosexual slavery. With the image of forty naked, fit young men held vividly in her mind, BJ set to the task of cutting her bonds with the shard of glass.
Reality proved to be more difficult than fiction. It took a long time - probably hours - to saw through the leather strap with the shard, and by the time she was finished, she was tired and her fingers were aching badly. She had even dropped the shard a couple of times, and had to carefully search for it again, and then pick it up with great difficulty.
With her hands free, the first thing that BJ did was to remove her collar. The second thing she did was to flop down to the floor, in a spot where she knew there weren't any shards from the window, and enjoy the feeling of lying down. Shivers of cold made her get up soon, however, and crawling around on all fours, she started investigating the room.
The junk-filled boxes proved a veritable treasure trove. In short order, BJ managed to find a pair of SS uniform trousers, with holes at the knees and in the pockets, that she immediately put on; some old, badly torn bed sheets she used to cover the broken window, and to fashion a crude bra (it covered much less of her bosom than it revealed, but it kept her breasts from jiggling as she walked, and made her feel less naked); and a packet of gnarly Italian cigars and a half-empty match box. She had smoked back in the college, until her hockey-playing had started suffering; after that, she had not touched tobacco. "To hell with it," she said and lit one of the ugly black cigars.
The rest of her night passed in fitful slumber on the floor, afraid that Ulla would sneak in before she could hear the tigress approach, and catch her again. Her dreams were weird and disjointed; BJ found herself back in her parents' house in the States, wearing only Captain Dreschen's orgone corset and her WAC cap, and trying to introduce naked Captain Johnson and First Sergeant Brown to her parents as her new fiancés. From there, the dream turned into a sexual one, with BJ ordering the men to please her in different ways - sometimes one at a time, sometimes together - until she woke up with her hand between her legs and her sex wet with arousal. At least her parents had vanished from the dream before that part, she thought vaguely, and fell asleep again.
The morning saw BJ standing beside the door, a heavy board which she had managed to twist off from one of the crates in her hands, and waiting for Ulla or anyone else to open the door. She did not look very much like the respectable WAC of yesterday, neat even in the field: her light brown hair was in a tousled disarray, her fur matted and dusty, her face stained with Ulla's dried juices, her clothes an ad-hoc combination of loot. Only the expression of fierce determination on her face looked fitting.
Ulla, when opening the door, did not see BJ. She barely had time to notice her prisoner was not at the opposite wall, where she had been left, before the board, swung with every anger-backed ounce of strength in BJ's arms, smacked her in the face.
Yelling in pain, Ulla stumbled back and fell on her back, her pistol clattering away on the stone floor. In an instant, BJ was out of the room and rushing for the gun. But even when surprised, knocked over and dazed with the pain radiating from her broken nose and bruised muzzle, Ulla Brust was an enemy to be reckoned with.
BJ felt the tigress' tail wrapping around her ankle, and fell, the board in her hands flying off. She started scrabbling towards the gun, only to feel Ulla grip her leg. "You broke by dode!" the tigress groaned, blood trickling from her nostrils. "I'll dear your dids obb for dat!" she threatened as the situation turned into a wrestling match.
Unlike last night, things were more even; Ulla was half blinded by pain, while BJ was fighting with the desperate strength of someone with nothing to lose. For several minutes, they rolled back and forth, each trying to get the upper hand so they could knock their enemy into submission and either run away or drag her back for punishment.
Ulla's greater experience counted, however, and BJ found herself pinned beneath the tigress again, her hands held to the floor. "I vill break you apart!" Ulla growled into her face. In response, BJ did what she had once seen in a fight between GIs and been duly impressed with: she head-butted the German woman in the face.
Screaming in agony, Ulla released BJ and rolled off her, her hands flying to her abused muzzle. BJ, despite the pain radiating from her own forehead, wasted no time clambering up and starting to run away; she had entirely forgotten Ulla's pistol, lying on the floor a little way off. As she ran through the corridor, she could hear Ulla getting up behind her, and starting to stagger after her, yelling threats and German obscenities in a pain-choked voice. The tenacity of the tigress was terrifying; the only good thing was that in her pain and fury, she had also forgotten of the gun.
Turning a corner at the end of the corridor, BJ found herself at another landing, with the staircase leading down. Hearing Ulla's yells behind her, getting closer and closer, gave her a sudden inspiration, and she flattened herself against the wall next to the corridor door.
As Ulla came through in a stumbling half-run, BJ, with the expertise of a hockey player, stuck her foot out between the tigress' legs, and for a full measure gave her a good shove on her shoulder. Yelling, Ulla tripped, and carried by her momentum vanished down the stairs. Her yell was suddenly broken off, and a series of ugly thuds and bumps followed. Then it was quiet.
BJ looked down the stairs, and saw Ulla, lying in a heap, at the bottom. The German woman was not moving, so she went down carefully. Upon a closer inspection, BJ found that Ulla was still breathing. Her arm and her left leg were twisted in a very unnatural way, however, and there was a huge bleeding bruise on her head; it was obvious that she was out cold for a long time, and no threat to her. Somehow, the knowledge that she hadn't killed the tigress gave BJ relief and made her victory seem sweeter.
"Who's broken now, bitch?" BJ said at her vanquished enemy as she, with shaking paws, lit a cigar stump she had left in her pocket. Then she headed off to find out what was going on with the enthralled soldiers and Captain Dreschen.
BJ passed several rooms, most of them empty, but a few with strange-looking things that must have been somehow related to Dreschen's experiments: beds with weird geometric patterns painted on the wall above them; anatomic charts of the body with needles stuck in them; and one room, full of broken-looking electrical equipment. Behind one locked door, she could hear the humming of the orgone projector, and what sounded like muffled cries of passion; now, at least, she knew where Captain Dreschen was.
A few doors later, she found herself at the feast hall again. The GIs were still there, still naked, but with most of them lying on the floor or sitting against the walls, asleep. BJ noticed that Captain Johnson was back, looking drained, but that there was no sign of Yates; Dreschen must have found the dog more to her tastes than the fox.
Moving into the room, BJ wondered how she was supposed to break the fascination Dreschen held the men under. Those soldiers who were awake didn't pay any attention to her when she moved among them. She found First Sergeant Brown, as naked as the rest of them, and stopped, admiring the firm muscles of his body, evident under his fur.
"I have to start with someone," BJ said softly to herself. Having made the decision, she started trying to attract Brown's attention. She shook the bear, waved her hand before his eyes, blew cigar smoke into his face, yelled drill commands at him and finally, in a fit of frustration, simply jumped up and down before him.
This, at last, got Brown's attention. The bear's eyes focused on BJ, though without losing their glassy look, and then moved down to her chest. She looked down as well, and noticed that her improvised halter had come undone, and her brown-furred breasts were hanging naked before him. "Oh, damn," BJ swore. "So like men! Can't you think of anything...?"
She shut up, noticing that Brown was getting a sizeable erection as he stared at her breasts. Of course he couldn't think of anything but sex! Captain Dreschen's invention had taken over their minds, placing the rational part of the brain under the command of the sexual parts, and made them willing slaves to her. Perhaps here was the key to solving the situation, she thought.
BJ looked at the man before her, and knew she would not mind looking for a solution with Brown; quite the opposite, in fact. Having been subdued, teased and used against her will last night, she was suddenly hungry for an orgasm, and the idea of being in charge was very attractive.
Reaching a decision, BJ took Brown by the hand and led him to the dais at the center of the room; the bear followed her without resisting. Stumping her cigar, BJ sat on the edge of the dais and pulled off her looted pants. The sight of her crotch fur, damp with arousal, and the dainty pink of her labia, obviously affected Brown; he started to drool slightly, and his cock swelled even more.
Up until now, BJ's sexual experiences had been fairly limited: some increasingly guilt-free masturbation through her high-school and college years; kissing and petting with a variety of boys; and one fumbling night of sex with David, before he left for Pacific where he still was, never once writing her. (She firmly ignored last night with Ulla; in her opinion, it did not count, as she had been under duress.)
Giving her curiosity a free rein, she started studying and experimenting with Brown's private parts. The thickly furred scrotum was warm and surprisingly heavy in her hand, the sergeant's testicles drawing up as she fondled them. Satisfied, she moved her attention to the meat of the matter: Brown's cock. Long and thick, nearly furless along its veined length, it shuddered as she wrapped her fingers around it. The bulging, dark red head glistened slightly, and as she watched, a small drop of clear liquid oozed from the slit in it.
BJ gave his shaft a few tentative licks; Brown reacted immediately, his eyes rolling back in his head and deep-voiced moans escaping from his slack mouth. For a moment, she considered the possibility of frenching him, but the size of the cock, as well as her aching jaw, made her decide against it.
In a hoarse voice, she gave Brown an order: "Please, kiss my..." She hesitated for the least improper word, and settled on one. "My pussy."
The bear just stood there, fully erect and drooling slightly as he stared down at BJ's naked body. Frowning, she repeated the order in different words, getting more and more crude as her frustration grew. Having depleted her stock of terms for cunnilingus, she sighed dejectedly. Apparently, although Brown was fascinated by her body and did not resist anything she did to him, he only took orders from Dreschen. That meant that BJ had to take things in her own hands.
Lying back, she grasped Brown's penis again and guided it into her groin. The feeling of the hot flesh against her labia was exhilarating, and reaching with her legs behind the bear's back, she pulled him towards her. His cock slid into her with little resistance, and she sighed with pleasure. For a few seconds, she merely enjoyed the feeling of being filled; then, just as she started to wonder if she had to do everything herself, something clicked in Brown's head, and he started moving.
Starting with deep, slow thrusts, Brown quickly picked up speed until he was pumping in and out of her at a brisk pace. He was so much bigger than David! To her surprise, BJ felt her orgasm coming almost immediately, a wave of pleasure rising until it crested. "Oh God! Ooohh! So sooooonnn! Ahh! Ah! Aaaannnggggh! Yes, yes, yeees, YES!"
Through the haze of her climax, she realized Brown was showing no signs of finishing. Her breasts bounced as he slammed his hips against her, pushing deep into her hot cunt, and in a moment she went over the edge again. "Ooooohyesss, yess, agaaaainn! Ah! Aaaah! NNNHH!" And still he wouldn't come!
As her third climax started slowly building, BJ felt Brown's grip on her hips tightening, and his pace quickening. With a loud, growling grunt, he pushed his shaft fully into her and came hard, filling her with his seed.
Above her, BJ could see intelligence returning to Brown's eyes. "What- Where am I? How-" He looked down, and seemed to really see BJ for the first time. His eyes widened in shock as he recognized the woman he was having sex with as the proper, efficient WAC lieutenant. "Oh my God, sosorryma'am!" he babbled, trying to pull out of her, but BJ's legs, wrapped around his waist, prevented that.
"You're - aaah! - not going - ooh - anywhere, sergeant! Not - oh yes! - until you make me come agaaaaaaain!" BJ yelled, then added a long, drawn-out "Pleaaaaaaase!"
First Sergeant Brown had no idea of what had happened, or why he was fucking the battalion interpreter. She seemed to welcome it, however, so he did his best to fulfill her request. The way she was squirming and bucking beneath him certainly motivated him and helped to keep his cock up, if not fully hard. Very soon, his long, slow thrusts, alternating with quick jabs, brought BJ to her third, eye-watering climax.
For a moment, both bears just panted, basking in the afterglow. Then Brown spoke. "Thank you for a hell of a lay, ma'am. Now, what the hell is going on here?"
BJ laughed wearily. "Please, call me BJ; I think we are close enough now. As for what is going on... well, I doubt you will believe it." Finding that the last thing that Brown could remember was entering the keep, she gave him a condensed version of what had happened, judiciously keeping the exact details of her abuse at the hands of Ulla Brust unclear.
"And that's the situation," she finished. "I was hoping that you could figure out a way to release the rest of you men from Dreschen's control."
Brown rubbed his chin, looking at all the men around him. "I'm sure we can find a solution," he said. The rest of the sentence, "Something that doesn't involve you fucking each and every one of them!" hung unsaid between them. Together, they set out to work.
A few minutes later, they were less optimistic. None of the GIs reacted to Brown in any way, except for defending themselves when he tried to punch a couple of them; they didn't try to continue fighting, however. BJ's naked form, however, did the trick every time, getting the men's full attention and giving them erections.
BJ and Brown were sitting, dejected, on the edge of the dais. When they had found that there was no quick way of waking the enthralled soldiers up, they had blocked the doors to Dreschen's room with furniture; the she-wolf could probably break out, especially if she hadn't drained her sex slaves too badly, but she couldn't do so unnoticed.
Finally, she sighed and looked up, her expression firm. "I'm going to do it," she said. "It's the only way."
Brown looked at her. "You don't have to, BJ! I can go and get the rest of the men from the village..." he started, but was interrupted by her.
"And then what? Sooner or later Dreschen will figure out what is going on, and then we're back where we started. She can't enthrall me, but as soon as any of you men see so much as a flicker of her, you are thinking with your dicks again. Or did you intend to bring those German women up here and make them fuck your comrades?" BJ asked angrily. "We're all soldiers, and sometimes a soldier must sacrifice herself for her unit!" The glare in her eyes made Brown swallow any thoughts he might possibly have had about pointing out that as a WAC, BJ wasn't quite exactly a soldier.
"I think you are right," he admitted. "I don't like the idea, but... well, it's the only way, as you said. Uh... may I give you a few hints?"
BJ looked at him, surprised, and he continued, faint blush visible under the fur of his cheeks and ears. "There are other ways to get a man off. You could jerk them off, or french them, or go Spanish with them." Noticing her confusion, he explained. "You put his cock between your breasts and let him hump them. It's almost as good as the real thing, and you're built right for it..."
BJ looked down at her chest, then back up at Brown, who was blushing even more, and noticed that he had gotten hard again. "I see, sergeant," she started, then shook her head. "Sorry. May I call you John? It's John Brown, from Virginia, isn't it?" He nodded. "I'd like to give you a test run, John, but I don't think we have time for that. Maybe later, though?"
Brown grinned broadly. "I will take you up on that offer," he said. "But you're right, we don't have much time. I think you should start with the Captain; once he's back to his senses, he'll be able to explain the situation to everyone else."
The decision made, BJ brought Johnson to the dais. He was probably moderately hung, but suffered in comparison to Brown. After a moment's consideration, BJ decided that sucking him off was okay, and dived into her work. It took a considerable amount of time to get the Captain off; apparently, his stint as Dreschen's man-toy had drained his reserves badly, but after a few minutes, with a sharp bark, he spilled his seed into BJ's mouth. "Nhhh.... Wait, what is going on? Lieutenant March! Why- what- how-?"
Brown, who was now fully dressed again, pulled the confused officer aside and started to explain the situation to him in a low voice, while BJ spat her mouth empty and picked her next target, Sergeant Oates. The young hare came almost as soon as BJ had his cock in her mouth, but shooting so much spunk that she had to swallow it to keep from choking. "Yahhh! Thank you ma'am... Wait, wha-"
While Brown dragged Oates by his ears o the corner, where Captain Johnson was trying to find his pants, BJ set out to release the next man. And the next, and the next, and the next.
She sucked the GI's off, until she got sick of the taste of semen; after that, she started jerking them off. As she could deal with two men at the same time, BJ found this the quickest and easiest, but unfortunately also the messiest, solution; in no time, she was covered in spunk from a dozen dogs, bears, cats, mice and raccoons. This, of course, made giving the men breast jobs much easier, and if she got more jism spattered on her face in the process, it didn't bother her at this point.
Instead of finding the experience boring or demeaning, BJ was enjoying herself fully. For once she was in charge, fighting against the Nazi oppression in a very literal and personal fashion, and having the occasion of her life to get out all the kinks and suppressed desires she might be harbouring.
Soon, there were only six men remaining, then only four, then three. For a fitting finale, she took care of last three at the same time, sucking each one in turn, while she tugged and yanked at the cocks of the other two. She didn't quite manage to get all three of them to come at the same time, but the three jets of spunk, landing in her hair and on her face, were satisfactory in themselves.
Wiping the white goo from her eyes, she saw Brown standing in front of her. "We found the kitchen, and warmed some water for you to wash with, ma'am," he said in a low voice. "Follow me."
There was, indeed, a basin of warm water and some cheap-looking soap substitute waiting for her in the kitchen. Sighing happily, she started washing herself. She could feel his silent presence behind her, and suddenly wondered how he saw her now; indeed, how would everyone see her? Would she become the company slut? Would the rumors and stories reach back home to the States; to the ears of her proper, middle-class parents?
She drew a deep, shuddering breath, when Brown spoke behind her. His voice was low and nervous, quite unlike his usual, capable manner. "Umm... Ma'am, I mean BJ, I, err, I wanted to say thanks, on behalf of everyone."
Her eyes widened in surprise, as he continued. "I, um, discussed the situation with Captain and the others, while you were, err, releasing the others. We owe our freedom and reputations, maybe our lives, to you. So we decided that the least we could do was to keep quiet about this thing. Every one of us swore, on our honor, to never breathe a word about this. And if we find someone blabbing... trust me, we are going to shut him up."
The nervousness in his voice grew; BJ could imagine him fidgeting, trying to look anywhere but at her naked butt, pointed directly at him as she was bent over the washing basin. "Oh, there's one more thing... I know this isn't the right place, or time, and it's not my place to ask, but, err, umm..."
She felt a smile forming on her lips. "So like men," she thought, but amused, this time. She turned around, picking the hard little soap, and running it up and down in the wet fur between her breasts, lathering her cleavage as best as she could. "Shush," BJ said, noticing his stunned expression. "I made a promise, and of course I'm going to keep it. Just be quiet and enjoy, John."
BJ walked up to him, amused by the expression of surprise on his face. After what had happened, how could she begrudge him a simple little thing such as this? Pulling a small kitchen stool from the corner and kneeling on it before him, she undid his belt quickly and with sure hands, and pulled his uniform trousers down. "What a big bear you are," she teased him, rubbing her hand up and down the bulge in his underpants. "But this Goldilocks thinks you are just the right size..."
She pulled his underpants down and gave the erect penis a little kiss before placing it in her soapy cleavage and pressing her breasts around it. Slowly at first, she rocked her body back and forth, drawing a deep, happy sigh from Brown, who was looking at her with a mixture of shock, admiration and good-natured lust. "Don't you love how this looks," she asked in a quiet voice, looking up at him and smiling. "Seeing your big, hard cock, gliding back and forth between my soft breasts?"
Brown's only response was a groan. BJ took this as a positive answer, and increased her speed. Soon, he was actively participating, holding his hands on her shoulders and humping her bosom on his own initiative. BJ found this a relief to her poor knees, who had been treated roughly in the last twenty-four hours.
With a strangled gasp, Brown came, his cock twitching and jerking in the soft tunnel between her breasts, hot semen flying onto her breasts and into her face and open mouth. Despite her earlier satiation with the stuff, she found herself enjoying his salty taste greatly, and smiled happily at him.
Panting heavily, Brown slumped slightly. "Thank you," he said fervently. "That was so good... But... this wasn't what I had in mind. What I was going to ask was if you have... anyone, back in America, waiting for you? Because, if you don't... umm, well..."
BJ looked at him, then at her newly semen-splattered chest, and burst out laughing. "Oh! Oh! Oh!" She almost fell from the stool before she managed to get a grip on herself. "So sorry; I wasn't laughing at you, but at myself," she hastened to explain. But the question was a good one. Who did she have back in America? Her parents, certainly, but who else? She was an only child, and almost none of her friends had joined up in WAC; there would be a divide between them when she came back. As for her putative and non-communicative boyfriend, he was off somewhere in the Pacific, no doubt humping native girls with grass skirts and bare breasts.
"I don't, and I wouldn't mind getting to know you better, when the war is over," BJ said. She glanced at his softening penis and smiled impishly. "Things like finding out about your family, and your friends, and your interests... outside the bedroom," she finished, drawing a short laugh from Brown.
A knock on the door behind them made both of them jump. "Ma'am? Sergeant Brown? Are you ready with your washing in there?" they could hear Oates ask. "Cap'n wants to see you."
"Uh, just a minute," BJ called, hurrying back to the basin to wash her chest and face again, while Brown hastily arranged his clothes. She thought she could hear Oates muttering behind the door, saying "Them women! Always late..."
A few moments later, she was back in the hall, with the platoon standing, fully clothed and armed again, around her. She noticed that someone had used their tent roll to cover the come-stained dais and the floor before it. To her surprise, she felt not at all self-conscious, standing there bare naked in front of almost forty men, all of whom she had brought to a climax over the last hour and a half. The GIs, in turn, seemed to ignore her nakedness entirely; she realized that they, somehow, now saw her as a buddy instead of a woman; none of them, with the clear exception of John Brown, would probably ever think of her in sexual terms again. BJ wasn't sure whether she was satisfied or not by this; at least it made everything much easier, and that was the most important thing.
"We need you to go in and take Captain Dreschen out, somehow," Captain Johnson said, gesturing towards the door leading to the she-wolf's room. The GI's had lifted the benches and chairs off from before the room, and two men were now watching the door with rifles pointed at it. "She has Yates and Lieutenant Robbins and Hobbes in there, as well as Hobbes's radio. I'm sending a few men down to the village with a message to Lieutenant Krauss; they are to bazooka every vehicle coming from the castle, if they don't see you walking in front of them."
BJ swallowed. Somehow she had thought that her part would have been over with her escape from Ulla's clutches and subsequent release of the platoon. But they clearly couldn't leave their men in Dreschen's paws, and since she was the only person in the castle who could approach the she-wolf without being immediately hypnotized, the job fell naturally to her.
"Right," she said. "I need a weapon; a knife or a gun, something that's easy to hide. And some clothes, but not much. Dreschen is going to take me less seriously, if she thinks I'm slave to Ulla Brust." There was an immediate searching of pockets, equipment belts and boots; in a moment, BJ was offered several pistols, two combat knives, a stiletto and a sap. She selected one of the smaller automatics and the sap; she hoped she wouldn't have to kill the Hauptsturmführer.
The clothes she had salvaged from the tower room were found, and she dressed herself in them. One of the soldiers, a raccoon called Potter, fashioned the linen strips of her top into a little halter with vertical straps that barely covered her nipples; he mumbled something about being a designer of ladies' underwear as an explanation.
So equipped and armed, she walked to the door. Drawing a deep breath, she gestured the men to move away from it, and knocked. For a moment, there came no answer. Then she could hear Dreschen's voice. "Yes, what it is, Ulla?"
"This is Lieutenant March, Hauptsturmführer. I'm very sorry to disturb you, but Oberscharführer Brust sent me. She, um, wants to discuss your short-term plans," BJ improvised.
There came no answer for a moment. Then the lock clicked, and Dreschen spoke again. "Oh, all right. Step in, and tell me what problems she has now found."
BJ did as she was told. The door was closed behind her by Hobbes, naked except for his socks and an odd-looking leather harness that fit badly on his skinny body. The room she found herself in had an uncanny resemblance to Ulla's room in the tower: the walls were covered by hangings, there were piles of boxes, cans and bottles in the corners, and the bed was the obvious center of the room. There were differences, as well, such as the shelves full of old books and typewritten manuscripts, and a set of electrician's tools on a crowded desk.
The air in the room was hot and close; the place stank of sweat, sex and cannabis. Hauptsturmführer Dreschen was lying on her bed, naked except for her peaked cap; PFC Yates was lying between her opened legs, busy pleasuring his mistress orally. Lieutenant Robbins was kneeling by the bed, drooling and empty-eyed, listlessly masturbating into a small shot glass. A similar glass, empty but with pearly residue in it, stood on the nightstand next to an ash-tray full of the stumps of marijuana cigarettes, and the control box of Dreschen's orgone projector. The machine itself was nowhere to be seen, though its humming was clearly audible.
"You speak very good German," Dreschen observed, staring languidly at BJ. "That is very good. I can personally ensure that you will hold an important position as my assistant in the New World Order." She gave a quiet shudder and stiffened for a moment, as Yates' tongue apparently found a particularly sensitive spot. "Would you like to partake of the male essence?" she asked, picking up the glass from the table.
Noticing that it was empty, she twisted a knob in the control box, and the humming sound rose in intensity. With a gurgling groan, Robbins climaxed, spouting semen into the glass. As he stopped spurting, he lifted the glass to Dreschen, who looked at it with the look of an expert on fine wines who is offered a dubious sample. "I'm finding these American males unsatisfactory," she commented. "They have great initial promise, but little staying power. Why, this is only his sixteenth climax, and already his semen is like water!"
Ignoring her offer of it to BJ, she knocked the glass back and licked her lips appreciatively. "Still, there is an interesting taste to it. I think it must be due to your rations."
BJ couldn't take it any more. The smells and cannabis fumes in the room were making her dizzy, and Dreschen's obvious madness was making her skin crawl. The idea of becoming her underling for any prolonged period of time was nightmarish; with Ulla, only your body would be in danger. With Dreschen, who knew what she could or would do?
Drawing the sap from her pocket, she swung and clubbed Hobbes on the head with it. Despite her inexperience, the cat went immediately down; he must have been weakened by catering to Dreschen's sexual demands. She spun immediately back, the gun in her hand, pointing it straight at the surprised she-wolf. "Captain Dreschen, as an officer in the Women's Army Corps of the United States, I'm taking you a prisoner of war," she said. "Keep your hands where I can see them, and don't try anything!"
"Stop her!" Dreschen yelled at Yates and Robbins. Robbins lurched towards BJ, but after a single step fell flat on his face on the floor, apparently thoroughly exhausted by his job of providing Dreschen with her "sacred male essence". Yates stopped licking her crotch and rolled over, but didn't otherwise move; apparently, he was as worn out as his comrades.
Cursing, Dreschen reached out for her control box. Before BJ had time to shoot, she flicked multiple switches, apparently at random, and turned the knob to its maximum setting. The sound of the projector rose from a hum to a high whine that hurt BJ's ears. She saw flickering blue lights flashing before her eyes, and felt hot and cold flashes running up and down her body. There was a terrible feeling of vertigo, and she could feel every strand of her nervous system throbbing with weird energies. They concentrated at the base of her spine, exploding from there through her groin and clitoris, which started to swell and to grow, bursting through the fabric of her pants, becoming an enormous male penis that dwarfed Brown's erection; the slit at the tip became a vulva, its clitoris starting a similar process of growth just as she started to ejaculate through her new penis...
There was a loud bang and a flash. The whining noise turned into electric sputters and crackling, and died. Blinking, BJ found herself standing in Dreschen's room, a smoking gun held in her paw. Acrid smoke was billowing into the room from behind one wall hanging, where a bullet hole indicated where her shot had gone, hitting the projector. Still shaking, BJ peeked into her pants; to her relief, everything was quite normal, although she was practically leaking and her clitoris stood out, throbbing hard.
Dreschen was still half-lying, half-sitting on her bed; her eyes had rolled up in her head, and her mouth hung slackly open, drool trickling down her chin. A small curl of smoke wafted from her cap, which had fallen to the bed; BJ could see its insides were a complicated mesh of silver wires that looked somehow melted.
BJ turned back to the door. "It's over! I'm coming out," she called, and pushed it open. Breathing in relief, she stepped out of the stinking den and back into the normal world, away from the sexual madness and into Brown's waiting arms.
* * *
WAC Lieutenant BJ March was awarded the Bronze Star, for "unusual and self-sacrificing valor in saving the unit she was attached to from enemy action," this being the closest thing to the truth that the Army brass were willing to admit. If not for Captain Johnson's connections (his father was a Congressman) and insistence, they would probably had buried the whole thing. She remained in Europe until V-E Day, but didn't return to the front.
First Sergeant John Brown got through the rest of the war in Europe without a scratch. He pursued a relationship by mail with BJ, telling her much about his family, his friends, his plans and his interests outside of the bedroom. He and the rest of his unit were among the first to return to United States, where he promptly married BJ. Their marriage was remarkably happy and uninhibited, and resulted in one daughter, Mabel.
The platoon kept their mouths almost shut, and although the legend of a hard-fucking WAC saving her unit from their German captors became embedded in the canon of Army tall tales, it was never linked to any particular place or person, leading most people consider it entirely fictional. Still, it is probably not just a coincidence that the term "BJ" or "blow job" started spreading among the GIs, eventually supplanting "frenching" as a reference to oral sex...
Oberscharführer Ulla Brust escaped from the hospital of a Bavarian POW camp where she was being held in June, 1945. She was never caught, but after the war there circulated rumors about a bad tempered tigress with a limp and a hate-on for Americans, working for the escaped Nazis in South America.
Hauptsturmführer Angelica Dreschen never recovered fully; apparently, a feedback loop caused by the destruction of her orgone projector fried her libido. She remained in a German mental institute until her death in 1965; her later years were spent quietly growing flowers at the institute garden.
Dreschen's invention, or what remained of it, was quietly appropriated by the Army Intelligence. Later on, it fell into the hands of CIA researchers, who never were able to replicate it. The knowledge of its existence, however, was one of the main reasons behind the founding of Sensitive Penetration, Infiltration and Counter-Espionage unit, SPICE, which specialized among other things in all manners of sex-related intelligence business.
Authorial Notes & Thanks:
The story is based on characters and sketches by Greg Panovich; in particular, BJ, Ulla Brust and Angelica Dreschen have sprung from his imagination. His comments and suggestions helped greatly in finishing this story; thank you!