Chapter 2: Wren Division Ho!

The four Leading Recruits were hungover and hungry and in the grey dawn and cold bleak light of day they weren’t sure that their prank was really worth it. They entered the cabin and found the four ‘Wrens’ stood at attention and immediately began to break down in laughter.

“Of my fucking god you guys look stupid!” Jean Burgess burst out laughing.

Leading Recruit Spike Jones however was not so amused. His brain began to tick over.

“Stow that bilge Leading Recruit Burgess!” he snapped and the three other Leading Recruits stopped their guffawing.

“Report!” Spike ordered.

“Recruit Nyland reporting Collins Division for inspection,” Mike Nyland snapped.

“Wrong, try again fuckhead,” Spike snapped his cane against his thigh.

Michael Nyland was confused for a second and he realised what was expected.

“Recruit Wren Nyland reporting Collins Wrens Division for inspection,” he corrected himself.

Jason Jones strutted along the formation of the four recruits dressed as Wrens, looking them up and down.

“A piss poor effort Nyland,” he snapped.

“They look like they’ve been dragged through a hedge backwards!”

“You don’t look too bad but the rest of this bunch look pathetic. Lift your skirts!”

“What?” Doc Holliday exclaimed.

“Silence on parade! Lift your skirts!” Spike Jones bellowed.

The three bemused recruits looked at Mike Nyland who nodded at them and lifted the hem of his skirt exposing his thighs clad in the dark nylon tights. The others followed suit.

“Higher!” Spike demanded.

They all lifted the navy blue skirts up, exposing their hairy legs encased in black nylon and their white cotton full-cut panties enclosed in the darker gusset of their tights.

“Pathetic!” Spike Jones yelled.

Jimmy Lovejoy, Jean Burgess and Billy Marron were pissing themselves laughing at the four recruits dressed in the Wrens number two uniform. They looked pathetic. But actually they were surprised at what a good job they had done to emulate recruit Wrens. None of them would admit it but they didn’t look half-bad in a weird sort of way.

“I’ll give you this Nyland; you made an effort but not up to my expectations,” Spike strode up and down the line of ‘Wrens”.

“Drop your skirts and stand to attention!” he snapped.

“Recruit Cook Holliday, David Holliday, you are now Wren Cook Doris Holliday. You pathetic porker. Go to the galley right now and start breakfast.”

“What dressed like this?” Doc was bemused.

Spike’s cane flicked up and caught Doc on the thigh; the pain excruciating in the cold.

“Yes Leader,” recruit Holliday responded and doubled away to the galley to make breakfast, glad to be gone regardless how she was dressed.

“Recruit Wrens Perkins and Maine, you want to be Stewards so you can commence your cleaning duties. Start at our block and make our racks and clean the cabins, heads and showers. When you have finished take your breakfast and report to Leading Recruit Burgess who will have a work list for you. Do you understand!”

Both recruits nodded in unison, fell out and doubled away, even though they were dressed as Wrens it was good to be nowhere near these bullies when their blood was up.

“Recruit Wren Nyland. I gave you a task and you only partially completed it.”

“But Spike...”

The cane whipped out and caught Michael Nyland across the cheek. The blow was glancing, just enough to cause immediate pain but not hard enough to leave a lasting blemish. The Leading recruits knew how to discipline their charges without leaving any evidence. Any marks that they made would deliberately be on a part of the recruit’s bodies covered by clothing.

“Don’t you ever refer to me that way again! I’m Leader or Leading Recruit Jones to you!” Spike’s face was crimson with anger.

“I gave you a task and you haven’t completed it to my satisfaction!” he growled.

“I wanted four Wrens on parade this morning and except for you, who I may add, barely passes muster, I have a bunch of clowns in bad makeup, shithouse wool hair, and poorly fitting uniforms.”

“I did the best I could with the resources I had leader,” Mike responded.

“Hey come on Spike I reckon he did pretty good,” Jimmy Lovejoy piped in.

“We just wanted then dressed as Wrens so we could take the piss.”

Spike turned to his three comrades.

“How do you expect these slackers to make the grade if we don’t insist on perfection!” He screamed.

“You and I are the Leaders, they are the followers. They need to follow our orders and instructions to the letter!”

Jimmy, Jean, and Billy looked at their compatriot a little bemused. This was supposed to be a jolly, a prank. There was no way they could justify their treatment of the four grommets even under the harsh rules and regulations that applied under HMS Chelmsford Standing Orders. But ... they were not going to argue. With PO Knocker White comatose in the DI cabin, Leading Recruit Jason Jones was running the rock show at HMS Chelmsford.

“Bend over Wren Nyland,” Spike said authoritatively.

Mike Nyland had been beaten before with the ‘rod’; the cane that some ratings and Senior Sailors kept hidden from sight but used judiciously when they thought it was necessary

He complied and bent over, offering his behind to his superior.

“Lift your skirt.”

Mike Nyland rucked up his navy blue skirt exposing his trim thighs and tight buttocks encased in black nylon tights; the white panties visible under the gusset of the tights. All four of the Leading Recruits would be lying if they said they didn’t find the sight somewhat arousing.

Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack!

The pain was excruciating and tears leaked from his eyes and ran down his cheeks in runnels tinged with mascara but other than grunting when struck he refused to cry out.

“Wren Nyland Ho!” Spike commanded, snapping the cane to his side.

Mike stood erect and pulled down his skirt, smoothing it out he stood to attention.

“You want to be a Writer? A scribe?” Spike stepped in close to Mike, almost nose to nose.

“Yes Leader,” Mike responded passively.

“Good. Then square yourself away Wren Nyland, get some breakfast and report to me in the Regulating Office at 0830. You’re going to be my Wren Writer, the Regulating Officer’s Secretary.”

“You are from now on, Wren Michele Nyland; understood?”

Mike nodded and the cane flicked out catching her on the thigh again.

“Yes Leader!” she responded.

“Good, now double away and I’ll see you at 0830,” Spike sneered.

Michele Nyland doubled away as best she could in court shoes and skirt.

“Fuck that was funny Spike,” Billy Marron laughed and the others joined in.

“Oh yeah, well I’ve only just started with these grommets. I’m going to make real Wrens out them,” he snarled.

Jean Burgess interjected.

“Aren’t we going too far Spike? I mean really?”

“Fuck no! I’ve only just begun. You know what I think? I think we can we can make these grommets into real Wrens for the next six weeks,” he mused.

“Really?” Billy Marron asked bemused.

“Fuck yeah!” Spike replied.

“Now let’s see what Wren Holliday has cooked us for breakfast shall we?” he chortled and led his conspirators out of the Wrens block and over to the recruit school main cafe.

“Jimmy, you take PO White his breakfast, we don’t want him coming to the café and finding out about what we are up to.”

After breakfast Wren Cook Doris Holliday stayed in the galley and cafe, cleaning the mess traps. Wren Stewards Polly Perkins and Mary Maine reported to Jean Burgess who gave them a work list that would take them through to lunch. Wren Michele Nyland presented herself to Spike Jones at the Regulating Office.

“Sit!” Spike pointed to a seat in front of his desk.

Michele slid her hands under her skirt to smooth it under her as she sat down and then she crossed her legs at her ankles. These gestures were not lost on Spike; they were feminine gestures that she did without thinking they would come naturally to a woman but not to a man. It seemed to Spike that Michele knew far too much about femininity than she could have just picked up when he ordered the grommets to dress as Wrens.

“Ok Wren Nyland, You actually didn’t do too bad and I accept your excuse that you had limited resources but this is the task I’m setting you.”

“I want my four Wrens fully femmed. Fuck off those stupid wool wigs and get something decent; I’ll give you the master key to the base hairdressers and the canteen. Also get rid of those fucking horrible tights and cotton knickers; I want my Wrens in nice sexy panties and stockings. Work on their makeup; you look half-decent, they look like shit. And get rid of those hairy legs; I want my Wrens legs shaven and stocking-clad get it?”

“But Leader; I thought we were only going to be dressed as Wrens for one day?” Michele responded.

“I’ve changed my mind! You can make a start this morning on your own, find what you need to feminise my Wren Division and after lunch you get the other three Wrens to work on. When you fall in for rounds tonight I want to see four Wrens who look like real Wrens understand?”

“But...” Michele stammered.

“Fuck but! Here’s the master keys; find everything you need and I want to see four sexy, feminine Wrens by 1800,” he snapped and threw the keys at her.

“Sexy? What do you mean?” Michele asked naively but she knew what he meant and she was not happy where this was going.

“Just as I described, now turn too Wren Nyland,” he said dismissively.

Michele wandered through the deserted depot until she came to the base canteen, she unlocked the door and roamed the aisles finding what she was looking for and tossing the items into a basket. There were a couple of aisles that catered to the Wrens and here she found stockings, lady-shavers and more makeup. She had no idea how or if payment was going to be made, nor did she give a fuck. She bagged her selections and proceeded next door to the base hairdresser, a separate facility to the base barber.

Most of the Wrens wore their hair in short bobs for convenience so the hairdresser had wigs for sale, a small selection as only the CPO, PO, LS and Senior Wrens could wear them ashore with civvies but there were enough to meet Michele’s needs. She selected a black bob, a blonde shoulder-length, and two brunette shoulder-length wigs. She helped herself to hairbrushes and hair care products.

She looked in the mirror and ripped off the stupid wool wig she was wearing and replaced it with the black bob. She adjusted it so it fit nicely and then brushed it out. She was very pleased with her appearance; she could quite easily pass for a Wren now at a short distance.

Michele looked at herself in the mirror and memories returned and she daydreamed for a little while; reminiscing about herself crossdressed as she used to quite regularly before she joined the ‘Andrew’. She shook herself out of her reverie, picked up her goody bag, and began the slow slog back to recruit school; the cold grey morning and snow flurries reflected her mood.

She dropped the bag full of goodies back in her cabin and then made her way across to the Wren’s block. The gate had been opened so obviously PO White had opened up the ‘restricted areas’ so that Collins Division could carry out their caretaking duties. She opened the block and went from cabin to cabin, taking what she needed. Recruit Wrens, like their male counterparts were not allowed to keep anything but their pussers issued kit in their kit lockers but they had one big deep drawer under their bunk where they were allowed to keep personal possessions.

This was where Michele found what she was looking for; perfume, sexy knickers, suspender belts and in one case a pair of black patent leather high-heels which she slipped into and found fitted her perfectly. In the same drawer she found a nice satin and lace bustier step-in. She also found various items of jewellery. She kept notes from where she took each item so they could be returned. No one in the RN tolerated thieves.

Michele dropped the step-ins and high heels into her personal drawer. She wasn’t sure why she had even taken them but she just wanted them. She sorted out the rest of her loot, dividing it up into four piles on the recruit’s racks. She checked her watch and saw it was time for scran. She made her way over to the cafe and found Doris tending the scran line and Polly acting as Steward for the four Leading Recruits. They slapped her arse and generally took the piss out of her. Billy Marron even slipped a hand under her skirt.

“Fuck me Wren Perkins; you seem to have a package in your panties,” he guffawed and the other three laughed.

Michele sat down at same table as Mary Maine, as far away from the Leading Recruits as possible. Polly and Doris joined them with their lunches now that they had finished waiting on the Leading Recruits.

“Fucking pigs! Did you see him put his hand up me skirt?” Polly whined.

“You sound like a real Wren, Recruit Wren Perkins,” Mary jibed.

“This fucking rig is so uncomfortable. These tights keep bagging around my crotch and I can hardly walk in these court shoes. This makeup has got into my eyes and it stings,” Doris whined.

Michele had to suppress a laugh; Doris had ‘panda eyes’ her mascara had run and clown’s lips, her lipstick had smudged and her wool wig was askew.

“Where did you get the hair by the way? Why do you look not half bad Wren Nyland?” Mary Maine eyed her compatriot suspiciously.

“I’ve got no good news for you girls. Spike had me scran everything needed to make us look like proper Wrens and I have all afternoon to do it,” Michele said around mouthfuls of tiddy oggie and mashed potato.

“What do you mean ‘proper Wrens’” Doris asked but was cut off.

There was a sudden bellow form the Leading Recruit’s table.

“Do you hear there; on completion of lunch Wrens Holliday, Nyland, Perkins and Maine are to make and mend clothing,” Leading Recruit Lovejoy announced.

“Shit hot; a fucking makers!” Polly beamed.

The pipe ‘hands to make and mend clothing’ was an old RN term for sailors to take time away from their duties to attend to their kit. In modern parlance it equated to an afternoon off and was referred to a ‘makers’.

“You fucking dickhead. This is exactly what I was telling you about. Spike Jones expects me turn you into ‘real Wrens’; wigs, makeup, stockings, panties and all,” Michele explained.

“Come on Wren Nyland, take charge and get your rabble of Wrens over to the block and sort them out as per my instructions,” Spike Jones barked.

“Aye, aye Leader,” Michele knew this was no time to piss off the cohort of leading recruits.

“Have Wren Holiday prepare scran, leave it on the line and then report to you in the block. If your Division passes inspection during rounds at 1800 you girls get a scran. If not it’s tough titty said the kitty,” he snapped.

“Come on boys, lets ‘up spirits’’, Spike said to his three oppos, dangling the key to the wets in their faces.

Michele marched Doris, Polly and Mary over to the blocks and when they entered the block Michele gave her three oppos the bad news.

“I have to have us looking like four sexy Wrens by evening rounds,” she said.

“What do you mean ‘sexy Wrens?’” Doris asked again.

“You said ‘proper Wrens’ before; what’s the difference?”

“The difference as far as Spike is concerned is fuck all now stop asking questions and just do what I say. Take off those stupid wool wigs, get out of those uniforms and get down to the heads and showers,” I’m going to turn you scranbags into Wrens! Shit-hot sexy Wrens!” Michele announced, she ripped off her wig and began to strip.

Down at the showers she distributed lady shavers and shaving cream.

“Shave those legs and while your about it shave your chests,” Michele ordered and three others knew better than to argue.

They had little body hair anyway and it was nice to spend time under a hot shower on a cold bleak afternoon. Michele got them to shave their faces and led them back to cabin, wrapped in towels and blankets.

“Ok makeup for beginners,” Michele had them standing two to a mirror.