("`-''-/").___..--''"`-._
`6_ 6 ) `-. ( ).`-.__.`)
(_Y_.)' ._ ) `._ `. ``-..-'
_..`--'_..-_/ /--'_.' ,'
(((' (((-((('' ((((
K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
_________________________________________
WARNING!
This text file contains sexually explicit
material. If you do not wish to read this
type of literature, or you are under age,
PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!!
_________________________________________
Scroll down to view text
--------------------------------------------------------
This work is copyrighted to the author © 2009. Please
don't remove the author information or make any changes
to this story. All rights reserved. Thank you for your
consideration.
--------------------------------------------------------
Forced March
by Francine (address withheld)
***
This story was dynamically reformatted for online
reading convenience. This story is laid in the years of
World War II, when female soldiers first began to enter
the American Army in numbers. It involves a training
march through open country, with a small detachment of
women surrounded by male soldiers, and their tough
female sergeant, determined to show her charges as both
rugged and proper. No real sex, just a bit of "hold it"
and some wetting in a military situation, and on a
somewhat mass basis. (F, ws, military)
***
The time was the mid-1940's; the war in both Europe and
the Far East was in full swing. America's military was
growing daily, and women in uniform, once a novelty,
were in increasing numbers.
Sergeant Dorothy Showalter had the army in her blood.
The daughter of a career army officer, she had grown up
on military posts, familiar with the military life and
ritual, and strangely drawn to it. As a girl, the only
women she had seen in uniform were a few army nurses,
and she had barely hoped to one day proudly wear her
own uniform.
In 1942, with the formation of the Women's Army Corps,
her chance had come, and she had signed up when the
first call for recruits went out. Now, at 41, with a
husband in Europe awaiting the long-expected invasion
of the continent, and a brother with the marines in the
Far East, she found herself wearing the stripes of a
First Sergeant, leading WAC recruits through their
early training.
She had charge of a platoon of some forty women, most
of them much younger than herself, many fresh from high
school or college, and eager for the adventure of
military service. "Dot", as she was known to her
friends, had the task of turning these raw recruits
into something resembling soldiers. Later they would go
to army technical schools where they would learn to
become truck drivers, mechanics, radio operators, or
one of many other military specialities; but, to Dot,
they were raw material to be molded, however harshly,
into the tough elements of which victorious armies are
made.
She answered her summons to the CO's office with
military crispness, but was soon put at ease by her
commander, Capt. Mary McCaulley. "Dot", she began, in
friendly manner, "For tomorrow, your platoon has been
chosen to participate in a training exercise which will
involve a 24 hour forced march through the west
country, about 32 miles total. Two battalions of male
soldiers will comprise the bulk of the exercise, but we
have been asked to assign a platoon of women to
participate.
"As you know, women are being sent into the overseas
theatres in increasing numbers, and are going to be
close to combat situations. Frankly, General Early is
interested in how women will stand up to rigorous field
conditions, and it is up to us to give him a good
demonstration. I have selected your platoon because I
know you can show him what a group of tough women can
do. I will be going along, but I'm to be assigned to
the colonel's staff, so the troops will be in your
care.
"The march will begin at 0300 hours, and I will show
you the route on the map. Your group will be trucked to
the starting point, so have them lined up, with packs
and field equipment, including a day's rations, at
0230. There will be a few short rest breaks, and one
longer break at the Signal Corps station, but they
won't do much sleeping. The trucks will pick them up at
0330 the following morning for return to the barracks."
The Captain went over the map and logistical
arrangements. Dot absorbed her orders attentively. Mary
gave her one final admonition. "Dot, you know there
will be hundreds of men and a lot of officers looking
at your platoon. They will be looking for any signs of
fragility, or what they will consider 'female
weakness'. I expect that they will see none. Got it?"
"Got it. Affirmative," Dot responded. She shook hands
with her CO, then departed with a crisp salute.
Dot assembled her charges for their orders. Having them
fall out beside their barracks, she gave them a quick
inspection, making certain that no one was found
without a flaw. There were thirty eight women, with
four more on sick call. Dot gave them no rest. "All
right, you pansies!" she began, "We've pounded
soldiering into your heads. You've been read the
Articles of War and you'd better know your General
Orders! Tonight you'll do some pounding with your feet!
You're to fall out here at 0200 - that's right, 0200!
Fatigues, packs, full canteens, and you'll be issued
field rations.
"What you need you carry, and what you take out, you
bring back! You're going to march thirty odd miles over
rough country, so don't tell me your feet hurt! Field
shoes and extra socks! And if any of you have monthly
problems, carry your supplies with you, and bring back
the stuff you take off - I'd better never hear that
some male soldier had to pick up some smelly used pad
that a female left on the landscape! I'm supposed to
make soldiers out of the crummy stuff they send here,
so you're going to act like soldiers? Got it?"
Dot barked her instructions in a twenty minute tirade
to the assembled recruits, took no questions, and
finally dismissed them to the mess hall, afterwards to
clean the barracks, police their area, and soundly
sleep until awakened at one thirty in the morning.
The following day, Dot assembled her charges at two
A.M., led them through twenty minutes of calisthenics,
inspected their dress and equipment, berated them
thoroughly over every offense she could imagine they
might have committed, and marched them to the waiting
trucks. At 2:30, three truckloads of tired, sleepy
women were being hauled to the assembly point. Each
wore the regulation army olive drab fatigues, pants and
jacket, with heavy field shoes over thick socks. Each
carried her pack, canteen, and side arms.
Three A.M. They climbed out of the trucks at the
assembly point. Capt. McCaulley met them, gave them a
quick word of encouragement, then introduced Dot to an
officer at her side. "Major Ervin, this is Sgt. Dorothy
Showalter. She will be in charge of the WAC platoon."
Turning to Dot, she added, "I will be with the command
post - Major Ervin will be your commander for the
march. I know you will give him a good show!"
Major Ervin was, at the moment, less than impressed. He
quickly informed Dot of his expectations. "Sgt.
Showalter, this is a military training exercise. Your
group is just like the rest of us. You have been
assigned a central position in the line of march - you
won't have to lead, so you won't go astray; and if you
leave any stragglers, the troops in the rear will herd
them back to you.
"I expect no more - and no less - of your women than of
any other soldiers. You are expected to keep up, and no
concessions. You get the same rest stops as the men. I
want to warn you that you have about forty women here
among nine hundred men. I expect discipline. I want no
unnecessary fraternization. We're not here for fun. I
expect your women to hold their own, and I don't expect
them to distract the men or look for any special
favors. Particularly, I expect them to stay in uniform
and make no displays of themselves. Is that clear?"
Indeed it was, and Dot repeated the orders, with
appropriate emphasis to her 38 recruits. Loudly she
commanded them to fall in, and they took up their
positions in the pre-dawn darkness.
The column began its movement across the countryside
after an appropriate waiting period. At first they
marched briskly in cadence, but gradually the formality
subsided and they slogged along, but at a quick pace.
The stride was set by the men, and some of the women
were pushed to keep up. At the first sign of a whimper,
Dot passed by the ranks of her troops.
"You are soldiers - soldiers, do you hear me?
Miserable, poor, inept, and uncouth excuses for
soldiers, but still soldiers! Hear me! I don't want to
hear a cry, a whimper, a complaint! I don't want to
hear that anyone's nose runs or that your butt itches!
I don't want to hear your feet hurt, or that anything
else hurts! Every one of you is going to act like you
can do this as well as any man in this army; and the
first one I see with tears, or crying or complaining,
will spend the next few weeks of her army life
scrubbing latrines!"
Dot had learned well the manner of the drill sergeant.
Not a sign of female weakness would escape her eye, or
go unpunished.
Dawn broke, and with rising of the sun, the summer heat
would soon become apparent. A little after six, word
was passed down the column to allow a ten minute break.
Dot ordered her group to fall out, and they began to
break ranks and wearily take seats on the ground. Men
were in front of them, and behind, in fact, all around.
Dot allowed a few words of greeting, but beyond that,
she saw that the male soldiers kept their distance. She
did notice many of the men slipping back a short
distance from the column, obviously to relieve
themselves, and several did so with their backs to the
women.
Dot wished they were a bit more modest about this, but
the country was largely barren, and there was little
cover. She started wondering about her own troops.
After all, they had been up now five hours, and for at
least four hours she knew none of them had had a
bathroom break. Her attention was drawn to this
situation when one of her soldiers cautiously
approached her, asking "Sergeant, can we go the
bathroom -I mean, some of us would like to pee!"
Dot really couldn't figure out how to handle this -
there was no place of privacy, men were all over. She
had been warned to keep her women "in uniform" and not
to distract male soldiers or ask for special treatment.
If she asked the men nearby to turn their backs, or
move away, she would be accused of demanding special
treatment - after all, no one had asked the women to
look away when men were answering nature's call nearby.
However, if she just let the women drop their pants and
squat, surely someone would complain of the women's
immodesty or find that in relieving themselves, they
were a distraction to the men. Dot's job right now was
to prove women were tough. She would. She would also
hope for a bit more seclusion at the next rest stop.
Abruptly, Dot gave her answer. "No. Right now you wait.
I'll tell you when you can pee. Until then you hold
it!"
Dot hardly had to repeat the answer. Most heard it, for
she made it loud and clear. Women were tough. They
would hold it. To herself, Dot hoped it wouldn't be for
too long.
The march resumed. An hour or so later, they were
allowed a short break for breakfast - such as it was,
from their field rations. It was getting warmer, Dot
noted. Also, there was no shelter, yet. The "no pee"
edict remained in force. Although several women asked
if they could somehow relieve themselves, there was no
open rebellion, no vocal complaint. For the moment,
they were compliant.
A new problem was arising. Dot noticed the women were
reluctant to drink; many were not opening their
canteens, and it was getting warm. Soon it would be
hot. They were marching, sweating, and they would be
getting dehydrated. One thing she didn't need was a
bunch of women suffering from heat exhaustion, maybe
even passing out. This was not going to demonstrate
that women were tough soldiers. She gave an order to
her group, "All of you! You've got to get water in
yourselves, or the heat's going to affect you! I want
every one of you to drain at least half of her canteen
right now! You can refill from the water bags on the
truck later! Drink up! NOW!"
Her command was in earnest. The women complied, looking
nervously at each other. They couldn't pee, and now
they were being ordered to fill up on water. Things
were going to get worse.
The day went on, the column still moving at a fast
pace. The women were tiring, and many were getting
quite uncomfortable. Dot knew she was receiving urgent
signals from her own bladder demanding relief, and she
hadn't found the solution. About half past ten, the
women had gone over eight hours without urinating, she
reflected. Something would have to give, and something
did. She gaped at Ellen, marching in an outside
position in the third rank. A dark spot was spreading
in her fatigues, and her pants were dripping.
Dot grabbed her, demanding, "What are you doing?"
"I'm sorry, Sergeant," she replied, "I just couldn't
hold it any longer - I had too!"
"You're a soldier" snarled Dot to the almost tearful
girl. "Stop it! Now! I told you you can pee when you
get permission - not before!" Quickly Dot pushed her to
an inside position, moving another woman to the outside
rank. Then she took the girl's canteen from her, and
inspected it. It was full - she hadn't been drinking
much. "Drink it - all of it - NOW!" Dot noisily
commanded, so all the others could hear her.
The girl continued to march in place, while chugging
down the contents of her canteen. When at length she
emptied it, Dot handed her own canteen to the girl, and
commanded, "Drink this, too - all of it!"
The girl, fearful, finished what was left in Dot's
canteen. Now, with a stomach sloshing with water, she
looked tearfully at her sergeant. Dot called to the
whole group, "You see what she got? Fortunately for
her, with the hot sun, her pants will dry out in a
while. Now she's got enough water in her to give her a
bigger problem than she had before! When I say hold it,
I mean hold it! You'll be told when you can relieve
yourselves, and don't try doing it until then!"
Another twenty minutes and Dot spotted her second
casualty. Marge, in the rear rank, was trying to
conceal what was obviously a leak into her pants. While
she appeared not to lose as much as Ellen, she was
clearly out of control. Again Dot scolded her severely,
moved her position to a less conspicuous location in an
inside rank, and commanded her to fill herself from her
canteen.
The truck with water bags was not far away, and Dot saw
that all of the canteens were refilled. Again, at a
rest stop, she ordered the women to drink deeply of the
water. She had to keep them from being dried out and
subject to heat stroke, even if they got painful
bladder problems.
Her own bladder was beginning to hurt, having passed to
stage of just discomfort. She knew she couldn't bully
the women into holding themselves much longer, and she
was trying to think of an acceptable solution, when
another emergency became apparent.
She got a quick look at Julie, as she moved up slightly
from her rest stop. On her pants could be seen a very
noticeable red spot. Dot called her to account, and in
her most brusque manner, demanded an explanation. Julie
tried to answer softly, greatly embarrassed. "It's my
period - I need to change my pad, but there's been no
chance - I didn't mean to make such a mess, but - what
can I do?"
Dot quickly had three other women stand around Julie.
She was ordered to loosen her fatigue pants just enough
to allow her to reach inside and try to do the changes.
Much embarrassed, but with the help of two others, she
managed a change. The red spot was still much in
evidence.
Dot looked at her in apparent disgust. "You'd better
wash those pants out right now! The pants will dry, but
you need to wash out that color. Now!"
The girl look incredulous. "Wash it? With what? I've
nothing to use!"
"You've got a load of it to use! Pee! Now! In the
pants! And don't tell me you don't have a full bladder
- everyone here does!"
The command was incredible to the others, but Julie
complied. Her pants were saturated. The red spot didn't
disappear, but it faded considerably as it washed all
over the remainder of her fatigues. A nearby voice
called, "Can I do it, too, please?" The plea was met
with a thundering "No" from Dot.
Dot knew she was in deep trouble, and she was on the
verge of just ordering the women to wet their pants,
realizing this would surely make them he laughing stock
of the army. As the march resumed, Dot could see the
signal station ahead - the intended site of a longer
rest stop. A plan was emerging, if she could just force
the women to wait a bit longer.
She knew what trouble they were in, for her own bladder
was stretched to almost unbearable limits. It felt as
though the bottom of her stomach had a huge swollen
spot with an increasingly severe ache. She secretly
admired her women for being able to torture themselves
this far.
Another three quarters of an hour saw them arrive the
signal station. It wasn't much, but it served as a
landmark. It had several antennas, a small wooden
building for communications equipment, and behind it a
small barracks building for the small detachment of
soldiers assigned here, with a wooden building housing
a latrine next to it.
The several hundred men stayed well away from the
station, since they had no real business there and it
served only as a landmark for the march route. As she
had noticed before, the men found other places to
relieve themselves, in fact virtually anywhere along
the route of the column. "If only to be a man", Dot
thought, realizing what problems women had with what
men considered a simple bodily function, easily done
almost anywhere outside. "Well, easily done if only in
male company", she thought.
It was arranged that the troops be given a one hour
rest break here. The column broke up, as units
decomposed into bodies of men sitting and standing
along the route of march. Dot was not so easy on her
group. "At ease!" she commanded, "For the moment!" and
left her thirty eight women standing in agonized
discomfort as she walked a few steps to the station.
Quickly she approached a sergeant apparently on duty,
and loudly inquired, "Have you got a really dirty,
smelly latrine here that needs a good GI treatment?
Because I've got a bunch of lazy scrubwomen who think
the army is place for fun and games, and need a good
dose of toilet cleaning while the others rest up! Can
you help me?" The sergeant smiled. Not before had he
the offer of a female crew to house clean anything in
his area. He gestured toward the wooden building
housing the small latrine. "Feel free! They'll find
scrub tools inside the door!" He stood back to watch
the fun.
Dot returned to her platoon, standing with grimaced
faces and squirming bodies. She drew herself up in
front of the fatigue-uniformed women, knowing quite
well that under each of 38 sets of fatigue pants was an
extremely full female bladder.
After addressing her charges with appropriate
expletives, loud enough to be heard by many of the men
in the area, and rich enough in invective to be worthy
of the proverbial drunken sailor, she instructed them,
"While the rest of the soldiers here get a short rest,
you bunch of no-good lazies will have the privilege of
scrubbing out the local latrine, as a gesture of thanks
to the local inhabitants who have been blessed with the
dubious pleasure of your company! You will proceed to
that building, one rank at a time, and take turns
cleaning the place until the floor shines and
everything therein is bright enough to reflect your
disgusting faces! MOVE!"
The first rank of women headed for the building,
picking up buckets, scrub brushes, and cleaning rags
they found inside the door.
"MOVE!!" loudly commanded Dot, as the first group
entered the building and set to work. The little
building was small, just one room, in which were two
toilets, two urinals, two sinks, and a shower stall
with two shower heads and a drain in the floor. There
were no partitions - everything was in the open, true
military style. Loud with authority she directed the
handing out of cleaning items as the first rank went to
work. Then, in a low voice, to the women as they
entered, she added "and while you're scrubbing the
place you've got a private latrine to accommodate your
personal needs, and I suggest you be about it!"
She returned to the remaining ranks outside, and began
loudly reciting their numerous flaws and offenses. As
she stepped aside momentarily, she encountered the
station's sergeant. "Sarge," he began, "I don't know
that I'm yet in favor of women in the army, but I hand
it to you - you know how to treat recruits! Where did
you learn?" "Growing up as an army brat!" Dot returned
with a scowl, trying to cover up her own internal
torture as her bladder expanded to its very limits.
Dot entered the latrine, hoping she could soon withdraw
the first rank and send in the second. The scene that
greeted her was almost insane with chaos; both toilets
were occupied, with a second woman standing by each in
obvious distress. Four women were squatting in the
shower stall, pouring out forceful steams near the
drain, while two stood at the urinals, male style,
their pants and underclothes off, as they tried to
maneuver themselves in position to use the fixtures.
Three more were on hands and knees, scrubbing the floor
and pipes. The soldier positioned on the first toilet
was noisily crooning, "Oh, paradise is when you've had
to pee for hours and finally they let you!"
Shaking her head, Dot quickly moved the women to
cleaning work as they relieved themselves, then sent
several out to bring in the next rank.
The procedure continued, amid loud clanging of buckets,
dumping of water, and much evidence of activity as
women went back and forth through the door. At one
point, Dot unfastened her own pants as she went into
the shower, squatted with the others while she emptied
her bladder onto the floor, now awash with female urine
gradually running down the drain.
Half an hour after they had started, the women were
relieved and the latrine was gleaming from the work of
many hands. Approvingly, Dot inspected the results and
recalled her charges to the positions in the column of
march.
Loudly, she again scolded them for their poor
performance, but the smiles on their faces belied her
sincerity. The women, refreshed and much relieved, were
ready to resume.
The afternoon was extremely hot, and Dot knew she
wouldn't easily find another place like to station to
relieve her group. Nonetheless, she insisted that they
partake heavily of water to fend off heat stroke. They
trudged along, their spirits lifted with confidence in
their leader.
Dot was hoping they could last until dark before
another bathroom break. The women were sweating
profusely in the heat and with their continued
exertion. In mid-afternoon they experienced a moment of
triumph when they saw a male soldier fall out of ranks
and collapse in exhaustion. At least it wasn't a woman
who was the first to fall!
As dusk settled, the women had been six hours without a
bathroom break, longer, Dot noted, than most of the men
around them who were seen to be taking opportunities to
relieve themselves whenever there was a rest stop. Dot
was feeling fullness in her own bladder, but nothing
like what she had forced herself to endure in the
morning.
"Sarge, when can we pee again?" one of her women asked
her, now showing obvious anxiety. Rather than bully
them with her rough mannerisms, she answered quietly,
"when it's dark enough - it won't be much longer!"
Dark fell, but there were no rest stops soon. In the
darkness, with cooler temperatures, soldiers were
expected to last longer, and the pace was kept up.
Around eight o 'clock word was passed to break for half
an hour, and allow the troops to break out rations. No
lights, it was noted, could be allowed. They were to
stay in blacked-out condition, no smoking, no fires, no
lights. There was little moon, and it was difficult to
see beyond one's closest neighbor.
As they halted, Dot loudly commanded them to fall out,
but remain within touch of each other. Then, much more
quietly, she instructed them, "The area within our
perimeter is your latrine - use it, and keep yourselves
dry. The holding time is over, for now." Grateful
soldiers did as instructed.
The night was long, and they were exhausted. They were
allowed a two hour break, to sleep if they could,
before resuming the final stage at about one in the
morning. At long last, they were able to meet the
trucks at their terminal point, and the tired and dirty
soldiers climbed into the trucks for the ride back to
their barracks.
Dot had not seen Capt. McCaulley since the march began.
She began to wonder what had become of her. Finally she
spotted her Captain as the trucks unloaded. Mary
McCaulley summoned her for a report. At some length,
Dot recited the events of the day. The captain seemed
pleased. "I don't think there should be any real
complaints about our women soldiers. I'll be interested
in hearing what the male officers have to say, later."
About to depart, Dot hesitated. "Captain, could I ask
you one very personal question?" "Of course," Mary
replied.
"Well, Captain, you were with the headquarters group -
all men, except yourself, as I understand."
"Right, Dot. Your old Captain and a dozen or so men."
"Just for my future guidance, Captain, would you tell
me - how did you, er, handle the bathroom problem?"
Mary laughed. "Dot, when I first saw the men starting
to step off to the side to, well, we all knew it was to
pee, they would often excuse themselves with some
remark, like 'I need to take a leak' and I tried to
ignore them. Usually they turned their backs to me, and
they weren't trying to offend me. None of them made any
suggestion as to what I should do; and I kept hoping
there might be a tree or somewhere sheltered to which I
could excuse myself; but, as you know, the country was
pretty bare. By the time I saw men taking their relief
the second or third time, my bladder was hurting so bad
that I didn't care who was watching or what they
thought.
"So when one Major stepped aside after giving some
remark to excuse himself, I simply said to him, 'I need
to, too - I'll join you' and I did. I just squatted
down beside him when he got ready, and I think I shot
out the biggest stream I've ever done in my life. He
just stared at me, but I didn't care!"
"Weren't you considered a 'distraction' to the men?"
"No one said I was! I'm supposed to be an officer and a
lady - but just then it was a lot more of being an
officer and a woman! I may not have been a lady, but I
felt a lot better!"
"Captain, you will be glad to know that the members of
my platoon were soldiers AND ladies!" Dot responded,
reflecting to herself that they would probably have
much preferred to have acted as the Captain had.
END
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Please keep this story, and all erotic stories out of
the hands of children. They should be outside playing
in the sunshine, not thinking about adult situations.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Kristen's collection - Directory 65