Chapter 4: Just Another Comfort Woman

Villawood Montana, 1959

Sam was dressed in a red satin bustier trimmed with black lace and garters which were attached to sheer black fully-fashioned black stockings. She wore matching red satin panties and black high heels. Over this ensemble she wore a long black transparent robe. Her makeup was heavy but perfect: black eyeliner and mascara to accentuate her emerald green eyes, a dusting of rouge to accent her cheekbones and bright red lipstick to highlight her full red lips. She was waiting for Bill Brody to visit her as he did every afternoon when he finished work.

Sam was diminutive in stature but blessed with long legs and rounded buttocks, her beautiful face framed by a brunette pixie-cut which was growing out into a shag bob. Her stature and movements were graceful and feminine. She’d been practicing them for months and they now came naturally. She had stopped thinking about herself in the male context completely. Samuel Steele, her alter ego, had been left behind in a prison cell in the United States Disciplinary Barracks Fort Leavenworth.

The beautiful butterfly that was Samantha Steele had burst from her cocoon a little over three months ago when Staff Sergeant William Brody, the self-appointed Company Commander of the little town of Villawood, signed an edict ordering Samantha Steele and Wendy Meakins to live full-time as women and to provide comfort to the other four occupants of the town.

Most of that comfort came in the form of sexual services but the women also provided companionship and even entertainment. Wendy Meakins services were made available to Private Dale Snitterman, who was the cook, Senior Airman Buddy Flintock, the engineer and Seaman Victor Benning, the electrician. Airman Samantha Steele was the nurse practitioner and the sole property of Bill Brody.

This bizarre situation was brought about by Colonel Johnathan Flagg who was conducting a study as to how men would behave if they were totally cut off from the outside world for an extended period of time. Would the rank structure remain? Would good order and discipline prevail or would anarchy reign?

So far, with the exception of two of the subjects being initially forced, then willingly changing their genders so the men had female companionship, the experiment was going well.

Samantha had become quite content with her life. In prison she was forced to work long hours and confined to a cold bleak cell, under constant threat of intimidation by the other inmates and the corrections officers. Here in Villawood life was easy. She conducted and compiled the weekly health checks required for the study and collated the psychological reports the subjects were required to complete each fortnight. She also tended to cuts, colds and runny noses and made sure the men kept themselves fit and healthy. She had her own home, ate her meals at the Cobalt Café and had drinks and provided entertainment at the Copperlode Bar in the evenings.

She recalled playing dressup as girl when she was younger but didn’t recall a compunction to dress in women’s clothing although she liked women’s fashion and had a fetish for lingerie and nylon stockings. Maybe she had supressed the feelings of femininity that she now felt; who knew? She didn’t try to psychoanalyse herself, she just acknowledged that she totally accepted and enjoyed living as a woman and had no compunction whatsoever to present as male even if free to do so.

Her relationship with Bill Brody was complicated because Bill Brody was complicated. There was no doubt that Bill Brody desired her and wanted her. He used Sam sexually daily, often twice daily. When he was particularly concupiscent he would visit her at the infirmary during the day and gratify himself or have Sam report to his office for a little dalliance.

He complimented her, he was very passionate and often tender with her and she could propose that he even adored her, after all he kept her for himself. But after sex he became broody and distant and at times could be cruel. Sam liked the sex although at first she had been reticent and then surprised at her response but those first few times sex had been forced upon her.

She liked the sex as much for the pleasure it gave her as for the closeness she felt when she and Bill were making love. She didn’t want to feel lonely. Her family had disowned her when she was sent to Leavenworth and she had no one else, so she forgave Bill his transgressions and was content with what she had. Bill’s tastes were eclectic and sex wasn’t always penetrative. He liked being fellated and was sometimes content to climax through masturbation. He particularly liked to rub his penis on her ass while she was wearing transparent nylon panties and Sam didn’t mind one bit. Whatever form of gratification Bill demanded, Sam usually achieved climax along with him.

Sam guessed that Bill’s post coital regret was due to guilt, because he hadn’t fully reconciled to himself with Sam’s gender. Yes she was not completely a woman, her physiology was a little different; the term transgendered had not yet been coined but that’s what Sam was for all intents and purposes and Bill had no problem with that most of time except after sex.

He treated Sam like she was his special lady, but after sex he developed self-loathing and he took it out on Sam. When she was naughty or disobedient Bill used his belt on her. Sometimes she was deliberately defiant and although she found the consequences repellent, she took a form of sick debauched pleasure from them, although she wouldn’t admit this to anyone including herself. She liked it when Bill was controlling. It was another part of her psyche that she didn’t psychoanalyse.

There was a knock on the door and Bill Brody entered still wearing his faded fatigues. Everyone else in Villawood wore civilian clothing at all times but Bill insisted on wearing uniform when at work.

Sam greeted him and kissed him and he took her in his arms and kissed her passionately, his hands drifting to her ripe buttocks which he squeezed and Sam squealed like a schoolgirl. She took his hand and led him upstairs to her bedroom, Bill fondling her ass the whole way up. She undressed him and led him to the bed.

The room was bright and breezy with fresh cut flowers in a vase. Her vanity was strewn with cosmetics, jars of makeup sponges, brushes, perfumes and other girly gewgaws. Three wigs: blonde, redhead, and glossy black were arranged on wig stands because sometimes she liked to look different and Bill liked her blonde when the mood took him. The bed was made with satin sheets and covered by a pink brocaded comforter with a stack of matching pillows. The bedroom smelled of perfume, powder, soap and potpourri, even the drapery was pink with ivory lace sheers. The room screamed femininity.

Bill lowered Sam onto the bed and lay down on top of her, kissing her and stroking her face, telling her how beautiful she was. His hard cock was pressed against her belly and Sam was delighted. She loved the feel of Bill’s hard muscled body pressing on hers, she loved the manly scent of him, she loved looking up into his ice-blue eyes set in his tanned handsome face. His body was lean and rangy, his teeth white and his sandy hair clean and combed until she tousled it. He rolled off her so they were lying side by side.

“It’s good to have you here again darling,” she said sweetly.

Sam’s voice had always had a falsetto quality and she had trained it to inflect a softness and a lighter articulatory intensity so that it sounded naturally feminine.

“Where else would I go?” Bill brushed the hair out of Sam’s eyes and kissed the tip of her nose.

Sam liked the small talk before they got into the heavy petting and sex. To her it validated her relationship with Bill even though she knew that he had come here solely for the sex. If she was to be a comfort woman then she wanted to comfort Bill in all ways possible.

“Busy day?” she asked, knowing that the townsfolk of Villawood were seldom busy except for the engineers.

“Flagg wanted more data. He wants more in-depth personnel reports because some of the diaries are conflicting. I think he might be thinking of wrapping up the study,” Bill stroked Sam’s cheek.

“So soon? It’s a strange thing to say but I like it here. I like my life. I like what we have,” Sam’s brow furrowed.

“What do we have Sam? You’re my comfort woman. It’s not like we have anything like a conventional relationship,” Bill sighed.

“Why do you talk to me like that Bill?” Sam sounded wounded.

“Let’s not spoil the afternoon. Let’s enjoy ourselves,” Bill kissed her and Sam forgot about what they had been talking about as his tongue entered her mouth and his hand went to her thigh.

Bill knew that stroking Sam’s stocking-sheathed legs drove her wild and he caressed her silky thighs and then the creamy white flesh above her stocking tops. Sam reached for Bill’s penis and stroked it to full tumescence. She loved the feel of the sleek, veiny shaft and the velvety glans. It felt powerful and provocative. Bill’s fingers working on her legs were having the desired results and Sam squeezed his cock and wriggled her tongue in his mouth.

Bill’s fingers strayed to her satin panties. He loved the feel of the garment and particularly liked the way they clung to her buttocks. When Sam was tucked he liked to stroke the front of them too but he never went anywhere near her penis. He enjoyed every part of Sam’s body, even her miniscule breasts but was careful to never deliberately touch her cock.

They kissed and fondled each other until Sam could tell Bill was ready. He reached for the tube of K-Y Jelly that Sam kept on her nightstand. Bill also kept a tube in his pants in case he felt like springing himself on Sam unannounced.

He kissed her again and handed her tube. It was part of the ritual, a way of imposing his dominance over her. She dutifully uncapped the lubricant and smeared a dollop along his hard penis. She knew exactly how much to use to ensure she felt no discomfort but ensured she got the full benefit of Bill’s large cock in her tight anus. She enjoyed rubbing the lotion into Bill’s flesh and Bill did too by the look on his face as she did so.

She put her mouth on his and gave him a long lingering kiss as he climbed aboard her. She lifted her legs up high so that Bill could see her shapely buttocks encased in the satin panties.

“Open your panties,” Bill said; his mouth dry.

The ritual continued. His dominance established as Sam pulled the gusset of her shiny red panties aside, exposing her pink winkle.

“You know where it goes,” Bill whispered, his dominion over her unfailing.

Sam liked being subservient to Bill. She worshipped his power and his manliness. She took his cock and guided it to her puckered furrow. She nestled it in her sphincter and smiled up at him.

“Fuck me Bill,” she whispered and put her arms around his neck and raised her head off the pillow to kiss him. As his steely shaft pierced her rectum she let out a gasp. It was always a little uncomfortable at first but as Bill eased more of himself into her the pain turned to deep fulfilling fullness. As he did so Sam wrapped her silken-shrouded legs around his body and pulled him close.

Their prolonged kiss became progressively more passionate as Bill lay on top of her, content to feel his cock deep inside her, her anus girding his penis, holding it tight, rippling occasionally, a trick Sam had taught herself. He delighted in the feel of her lips on his, her tongue in his mouth, his body bearing down on her satin-sheathed torso, the feel of her stockings on his tender flash as she rubbed her legs on his flanks.

Bill could come like this. Just lying on top of her with his cock buried deep in her ass and Sam could too. Her cock was lying along her belly held in place by her panties, Bill’s hard belly pressing on it, rubbing it when he moved.

But not today. Today Bill was in the mood for a good fucking and so was Sam.

She spurned him on as he began to slowly thrust his cock in and out of her anus. Sam whimpered and writhed beneath him as his cock wrested circlets of pleasure from her sphincter and produced a delightful deep warm throbbing from her prostate.

“Fuck me Bill. Fuck me hard,” Sam groaned.

Sam was careful how she spoke when they made love. Sometimes he wanted her to be demure and sometimes he wanted her to be a slattern. It was obvious what Bill wanted today.

Sam held him tighter with her silky legs and scratched his back with her heels. She raised her buttocks up off the bed to meet his thrusts because she knew this encouraged him, which it did. He pushed her down into the bed and fucked her hard and fast. His cock hammering in and out of her anus was causing her incredible rapture and his belly pressing on her pantied cock caused her cock to shudder and dribble precum as she got closer to her orgasm.

Sam’s rectum was a tight slippery sheath and Bill loved driving his hard cock in and out of it. Her anus clung to his cock and encircled it with her tight anal muscles, kneading his phallus, causing it to leak copious amounts of pre-ejaculate. Bill mushed his lips against Sam’s and pawed at her as she writhed beneath him like a whore.

“Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me!” Sam squealed as she felt Bill’s cock balloon inside her, swelling and quivering as he ejaculated.

Sam was overcome with passion as she flooded her panties. She clung to Bill, kissing him, driving her body into him, scratching and biting as a paroxysm of intense pleasure coursed through her body. Bill felt her anus spasming, milking him of every drop of his warm musky seed. Her arms around his body, her silken-sheathed legs scissoring on his flesh, her mouth sucking on his escalated his delight to a new high. Bill could feel her warm issue on his belly and he knew that she had come too.

Utterly exhausted he fell on top of her and Sam lightly circled her arms and legs around him to comfort him. She nuzzled his neck and tousled his sweaty hair and whispered that she felt contented and happy whenever he was with her.

Bill listed to her endearments and enjoyed lying on top of her, his muscled body protective of her diminutive form. He liked how she nuzzled his neck, stroked his cheek and tousled his hair. He loved the smell of her, the feel of her, the sight of her. He loved everything about her except he couldn’t get over the feeling of her cock on his body. He could feel it though her panties slowly deflating, he could feel her semen on his belly and it repulsed him.

Bill didn’t mind that she orgasmed; in fact he wanted her to. He delighted in pleasuring her and right up until he climaxed. He didn’t even care that she had the same equipment as him in her panties but afterwards a fog of guilt descended on him. Had he committed another mortal sin? Bill was not religious but the way he had been raised, the way he had lived his life, fighting alongside his fellow soldiers, seeing some of them get wounded or die; it built a camaraderie, a masculine bonding. Men were men right? Even though he cherished Samantha Steele more than she would ever know it was just something he couldn’t get over.

As the black fog descended Bill disengaged and climbed off Sam and picked up his skivvies and made his way down to the bathroom where he took a long hot shower using a hard loofah on his belly, rubbing it raw. He dried himself and padded barefoot back to Sam’s bedroom where the miasma of perfume and potpourri assaulted his nose but lightened his mood a little because it affirmed Sam’s femininity. She had fixed her hair and makeup, changed her panties and put the black translucent robe back on and sat in a chair smoking, as she often did after sex.

There was nothing about this stunning young woman that Bill found repulsive but he knew that she was sitting on a secret and that secret niggled and gnawed at him when his guilt arose and swallowed him. He cleared his mind as best he could and began to dress.

“Some of your medical screenings are overdue,” Bill sat across from her pulling on his boots.

Sam detected his change of mood and it was expected.

“Benning and Flintock have been too busy fixing the backup generator and the transformers after that big lightning storm hit us to come in for their medicals,” Sam explained.

“I don’t want fucking excuses Sam. Flagg wants his data. Get them fucking done ASAP,” he growled.

“Are we dining together tonight Bill?” Sam tried to lighten things.

“You dine with Meakins. I’ll dine with the men. I might catch you at the Copperlode later,” another way to punish Sam was to distance himself from her when in the company of others and deny her affection.

“Ok Bill; I’ll see you at the Copperlode hopefully,” she rose up to kiss him goodbye and Bill deliberately turned away so that her kiss landed on his cheek instead of his mouth.

Sam took the rebuke in good spirits and after seeing Bill to the door she went to take her own shower and dress for dinner.

Villawood Montana, 1959

It was after midnight, dark and cold and everyone in the small mining town of Villawood was snuggled under their blankets fast asleep. Everyone except Dale Snitterman that was.

As he approached the gates in the electric fence surrounding the town a jeep emerged from the shrubbery set back from the fence. The jeep’s lights were extinguished and when the driver was fifty yards from the gate he climbed out of the jeep and made the breaker that deactivated the electricity flowing through the gate.

Specialist Monroe hated touching the fence after he had isolated power to it; how could he be certain? Dale chuckled as he watched Monroe touch the fence gingerly and quickly remove his hand. As if that would stop him being electrocuted if the power was still applied.

Monroe opened the gate and Dale hopped into the jeep and after Monroe had locked the gate and reset the power they drove the three miles down the dusty road to Colonel Flagg’s headquarters. The HQ consisted of half a dozen Quonset huts and an aircraft hangar. A DC-3 was hunkered down in the hangar like a dog sleeping on a kennel. There were lights in one of the Quonset huts and Monroe pulled up next to it. He saluted Dale Snitterman when he hopped out the jeep.

“You don’t need to do that Private and certainly nowhere near Villawood,” Dale snipped.

“Yes sir,” Monroe said and then realised his second gaffe.

Dale Snitterman just shook his head and went into the Quonset hut, saluted Flagg, poured himself some coffee and sat down at a conference table. The Villawood subjects diaries and other paperwork were arranged neatly in front of Flagg who was smoking a cheroot and sipping hot coffee.

“An interesting development wouldn’t you say Captain?” Flagg took a big drink of coffee.

“We never envisaged this. We thought there might be some homosexual activity and we knew that Meakins was a fag but who would have guessed Brody would have forced those two to become women,” Dale took out his cigarettes and lit up.

“Well they are the two weakest. Meakins has a history of crossdressing and Steele is effeminate anyway. I just can’t get over how convincing they are,” Dale continued.

“And those boys are fucking em?” Flagg asked very matter-of-factly as if it was nothing.

“Brody requested you provide prostitutes now and then but you refused. The mindset in Villawood is strange. None of those boys knew each other inside Leavenworth, one of the reasons they were selected for the study, but they had all been locked up for at least ten years. Freedom has done strange things to them. They enjoy the freedom they have living in Villawood but they have no female companionship but they are constantly reminded of it,” Dale responded.

“They have no real women so they made their own,” Dale tapped ash into a metal ashtray.

“But are they fucking those women?” Flagg grunted, making little air quotes when he said the word ‘women’.

“They call them comfort women,” Dale replied ambiguously.

“What about you Snitterman? You dipping your wick?” Flagg gave him a sardonic grin.

“With all due respect sir. Firstly, the men don’t know that I’m observing them; they think I’m Private Dale Snitterman the cook. If I dipped my wick as you put it, I would contaminate the experiment. Secondly, I’ve got pussy waiting for me over in that Quonset hut so as realistic and authentic as those women look, I don’t need to,” Dale smiled back at the Colonel.

“What did they say in their diaries?” Dale asked, sipping coffee.

“Flintock and Benning are keeping schtum, Meakins says she’s getting dressed in drag to entertain the troops and teaching Steele how to do it. Brody says he gave permission for the gals to dress up and perform for the men for morale reasons and it’s obvious that Steel’s diary has been tampered with. Brody rewrote it, poorly I might add, saying everything was hunky dory. Is that right?” Flagg asked.

“Brody’s keeping Samantha, that’s what we call her and it’s easier for me to keep referring to Sam and Wendy in the female vernacular so I don’t break character when I return. As I was saying, Brody’s keeping Sam for himself. Wendy is available to the rest of us and Flintock and Benning keep her pretty busy,” Dale explained and Flagg nodded in agreement.

“I think they’re jealous that Brody has kept the better of the two women for himself,” Dale went on.

“He spends a lot of time alone with her,” Dale extinguished his cigarette and reached for another.

“We never thought this would happen. We envisaged the men might become belligerent and sit around all day drunk while the town disintegrated. We envisaged they might turn on each other, even kill each other. We envisioned all sorts of scenarios but none where they made the weakest two become women,” Dale shook his head.

“But in some crazy way it’s working. Villawood is well maintained, the men are content, the, ahem, women are content also although I think Sam was reluctant at first. Good order and discipline is maintained. Brody is doing a great job, even if he’s using unconventional means to achieve it,” Dale summed up his report.

“For the life of me I’ve never seen anything like it,” Dale scratched his head.

Flagg picked up a file and tossed it across the desk and Dale picked it up and looked at it. It was marked Top Secret.

“Let me summarise the file for you Captain. In 1952 a navy fighter from USS Essex got separated from his squadron over the North Pacific. The pilot landed on Mirrocau Island in the Western Carolines. It’s a tiny place, uninhabited and long forgotten since the war,” Flagg refilled their coffee and lit up another cheroot.

“He claims his plane was repaired and refuelled by the inhabitants: all Americans, three men and a woman. He suspected there was something strange about the woman, she was very beautiful and feminine but what was a woman doing on an island that had been a forward operating base during the war?”

“The three men were survivors of a wrecked PT boat and they had done well for themselves because the Island had been well provisioned and then abandoned when the war moved on. They didn’t want to leave their idyllic paradise. Two of the men lived together in an open homosexual relationship and the Chief and the woman were living as husband and wife.”

“Before the pilot left, he discovered that the woman was actually a man who was presenting as a very convincing woman. The Chief swore the pilot to secrecy and the pilot agreed; he just wanted off the Island. He crash landed into the sea south Palau when he ran out of fuel but was picked by fisherman and taken to Koror.”

“The pilot was debriefed and interrogated and at first his story was not believed but his story made its way to people who were very interested. My people. We spent quite some time with the pilot hearing how four men had carved out an idyllic paradise for themselves on a deserted island, not wanting to be rescued. Only one of the men became a woman.”+++

“So you’re right Captain Snitterman, I never expected this to happen in Villawood, but it’s not unheard of,” Flagg tapped the file and took it back from Dale.

“How much longer Colonel? Are we ready to wrap up the study?” Dale asked, by now thinking of the woman waiting for him in the other Quonset hut.

“We’ve learned a lot but things are stable in Villawood; everyone has what they want so the isolation is tolerable. What we need is to create some tension between the subjects,” Flagg paced the room and Dale thought of the honey-blonde haired woman with the big tits lying in that big warm bed only yards away.

“You said that Steele is the better looking of the two and that Flintock and Benning are jealous?” Flagg ceased pacing.

“They are both convincing and attractive sir. Wendy is a bigger than Samantha but no less feminine but you know what it’s like? When someone has something you can’t have; makes you want it more,” Dale opined.

“What if we poke a stick in the anthill?” Flagg began to smile wickedly.

“What do you mean sir?” Dale was getting anxious.

He had until just before daybreak to ride that pretty woman across the way before he had to return to Villawood unseen by the others. The proximity of Sam and Wendy every day of the week and knowing he access to Wendy if he wanted kept him in a constant state of arousal. Flagg had agreed to fly in Snitterman’s girlfriend once a week so he could fuck her after he had been debriefed.

“Get Flintock and Benning fired up about not being able to access Samantha. Remind them that there is no real rank in Villawood because they are all prisoners. There was grief between Brody and Flintock when they were first put in the pen. Fire that up again and let’s see what happens,” Flagg closed the files in front of him, indicating the meeting was over.

“Dismissed Captain,” Flagg said and Dale Snitterman stood up; anxious to leave.

“One last thing. If you haven’t been utilising the services of the comfort women, you better start doing so otherwise the others will become suspicious. Unfortunately I’ve had to cancel your girlfriend’s flight. She won’t be able to come here anymore. National security and all that; I’m sure you understand,” the glint in Flagg’s eyes gave away his deviousness.

As Specialist Monroe drove Dale back to Villawood he cursed Flagg under his breath. Then he began to think about Wendy Meakins and Samantha Steele. ‘Any port in a storm’; as his navy colleagues were want to say.

Villawood Montana, 1959

The four men and two women who constituted the citizenry of Villawood Montana met at the Copperlode bar on Saturday evening for drinks.

As was the custom, Sam and Wendy acted as hostesses and put on a half hour performance for the men. Wendy was an accomplished pianist and singer and Wendy had taught Sam how to hold a note and stand seductively at the microphone. The little show pleased the men who were a little drunk and getting rowdy.

Dale Snitterman, who usually just sat and observed, had for some reason decided he wanted his fair share of Wendy Meakins and Buddy and Victor had to take their turn dancing with her while Bill Brody glided Samantha Steele around the floor whenever the mood took him.

Bill was coming out of his post-coital fugue. He and Sam had spent a long leisurely afternoon in bed and Sam had taken her time teasing Bill with her hands and her mouth and finally Bill had taken her doggy-style on the big bed. The pro with taking Sam doggy-style was that he didn’t have to see her cock and feel her cum on his body when she ejaculated; the con was that he didn’t get to look at her pretty face while he fucked her.

Because he hadn’t had to suffer the indignity of wiping Sam’s semen off his belly he had recovered from his post-coital tristesse sooner than usual and was in a good mood. He danced with Sam and paid attention to her and at one stage of the evening had taken her outside and kissed and fondled her and told her he would be taking her home that night.

It was unusual for Bill Brody to escort Sam home in the evening because he was usually still bellicose and broody from their afternoon sex but it was not unheard of. He never stayed the night however. Sam knew that Buddy and Victor took turns staying overnight at Wendy’s house. She was also a little surprised to see that Dale Snitterman intended on taking his ‘conjugal rights’ with Wendy. Previously he appeared to be just an interested observer.

Dale Snitterman whispered something in Wendy’s ear and she disappeared behind the bar and a few minutes later Dale followed. He found her in the alley at the back of the Copperlode waiting for him.

“You’ve never shown an interest in me this way before,” Wendy smiled sweetly as Dale Snitterman pressed himself against her.

Wendy was a little chubbier than his girlfriend but she still felt very soft and feminine and she smelled nice and was very pretty. Dale had drunk just enough and was sufficiently horny that he had totally forgotten that Wesley Meakins resided under the makeup, wig, skirt and heels. He knew that Flagg was denying him access to the comfort of his girlfriend in order to encourage him to become sexually engaged with the comfort women but right now Dale didn’t care. He had a ranging hardon caused by the close proximity of Wendy Meakins and he intended to do something about it.