Date: Sat, 7 Jan 2017 18:32:33 +0000 (GMT)
From: "rampage938@btinternet.com" <rampage938@btinternet.com>
Subject: RAMPANT RANDY RECRUITS - Chapter 4 : Uniforms, Undies, Unclothed. . .

Chapter 4 : Unclothed, Undies, Uniforms . . . Security

After what seemed to the recruits to be only a few hours of sleep they were
rudely woken at the ungodly hour (to them) of 05.00 to begin the first day
of their new lives. Before anyone had an opportunity of getting out of bed,
the door crashed open and a fully dressed, ready to go Corporal Trafford
burst into the room, yelling at the top of his voice, "W-A-A-A-KEY!
W-A-A-A-KEY! Hands off cocks! On with socks! MOVE IT!"

"What the fuck's going on? Is something on fire or what?" grumbled a blond
tousle haired youth, sporting a mouth-wateringly sizable hard cock leaking
precum and scratching his scrotum to make sure his balls were still there.

Moans, groans and much bad language filled the air as the recruits began to
realise they had no choice. They were in the Air Force now and they were
just beginning to realise it! Corporal Trafford proceeded to stride down
the centre of the barrack room, grabbing hold of bedding as he passed by,
pulling it off the beds on to the floor in an action that revealed a large
number of prime morning hard-ons and naked bums in the process. Voices were
raised in protest but the corporal ignored them and continued his
manoeuvres. As the recruits struggled to their feet, picking up the first
bit of clothing they could find to cover themselves and regain a measure of
decency, they were being given their first indication of what life was
going to be like for the next several weeks. When they were all standing to
attention and decently clothed, the corporal resumed his monologue.

"Right, you lot, listen and digest. You will go and shower, shave and then
dress yourselves ready for a busy day. Jeans and tank tops will be fine so
no dinner suits are required. I shall return at 06.15 to march you down to
the Mess for breakfast. Now that don't give you much time, so get a move
on. By the way, the Senior Man for this hut will be Senior Aircraftman 187
Deighton Cunningham. He has already achieved promotion as a result of being
in the Air Cadets. He will be responsible to me for you lot, so treat him
gently. Like you, he's a stranger to all this and he has already found out,
as you all will, that there is a big difference between being in the Cadets
and full time adult servicemen. Go on, don't waste time looking at me like
a herd of dozy cows! MOVE!" With that, he turned round and stomped back to
his bunk.

The occupants of the hut were galvanised into frantic action and realised
that they would have to put a spurt on to get ready to march down to the
Mess in time to grab some brekkie. If you or I had been able to sneak into
that ablutions block we would have been confronted with 40 swinging cocks,
40 hanging pairs of tight balls and 40 taut youthful arses. These young men
had arrived last night still with youth's natural modesty - within less
than twenty-four hours that had disappeared and they were all rushing
around to shower, shave and attend to other early morning functions,
without any sign of the embarrassment or shyness the casual observer would
expect simply because they were on display to other naked young men who
could see what everyone had between their legs! "After all," said one
bolder than the others, "we're all men and we've all got the same
equipment, so what's to be shy of, eh?" No doubt, quite a few of them had
their own ideas of what there was to be shy of and were secretly hoping
that in due course, they would be very shy with the possibility of one of
those big dicks exploring deep and hard inside their arses!

They soon found themselves outside the barrack hut forming up to march to
the Mess. Corporal Trafford appeared at exactly 06.15 and they set off at
double time. When they were dismissed outside the Mess there was a mad
scramble to get inside for their first meal of the day. While they were
stuffing themselves with food, an officer appeared accompanied by a
sergeant toting the inevitable clipboard. He got the men to stop their
chatter and clatter, and handed over to the officer. He was surprisingly
young in appearance and polite when he addressed them, having been briefed
these lads were still technically civilians and would not officially become
'airmen' or 'recruits' until they had taken the Oath of Allegiance. He
began by welcoming them to RAF Lavington and proceeded to outline what lay
in store for them in the following days.

The outcome was that they spent the next 48 hours or so going through
unimportant trivial archaic military procedures probably dating back to the
Battle of Omdurman. They also had to complete endless reams of repetitive
paper work. They were hardly given enough time to feed and sleep, clean and
polish their barrack room and other interminable activities which had
doubtless been dreamt up by the NCOs which also appeared to be completely
pointless. There were seemingly endless examinations of their physical
fitness, the most usual of these tests involved the sudden appearance of a
medic in his white coat and stethoscope hanging round his neck. He would
line them up, walk slowly up and down the line, make his choice and then
put a couple of fingers underneath a man's balls, tell him to cough and
gently tickle the recruit's scrotum as he removed his fingers. When he had
made his notes he would disappear as suddenly as he had
materialised. Nobody complained about this as most of them were about to
endure at least three haircuts which would give them the shaven bald headed
look they had noted on other squads of recruits shortly after their
arrival.

It came as a great relief to them when Corporal Trafford lined them up
outside the hut on the third afternoon and told them they would be marched
- they had to march at double time everywhere they went - to the Clothing
Stores the following day. He described it as being a "fucking big
warehouse" in a vast converted hangar which had originally been used to
store inflated barrage balloons towards the end of World War 1. They were
to wear only the minimum of clothing that morning as they would be
receiving their first uniform issue and would be required to strip once
they reached the hangar. A number of sly glances were exchanged when the
corporal mentioned "stripping" and amongst them was DC. He had had his eye
on a good looking youth occupying the bed space closest to his own. Arnie
Waghorn seemed to be very friendly and chatty and DC had been keeping an
eye on him; he had noticed certain tell-tale glances from the youth at the
well filled pouch of DC's underpants. Corporal Trafford finished his
monologue with a dire warning that if there were any signs of anyone
getting an erection during that procedure then they would be in BIG
TROUBLE!

Inside the huge cavernous hangar, they found line upon line of trestle
tables with piles of air force blue jackets, trousers, greatcoats, berets
or forage caps, stacks of white vests, underpants, socks, woollen gloves, a
garment known as "long johns" which were a kind of combined vest and long
pants covering the wearer's body from just below his neck down to his
ankles and also had a padded pouch in the crotch. There were the usual
dirty remarks when the men saw this and several of them declared they would
die rather than wear a long john. On separate tables at the far end of the
hangar were heaps of camouflage shirts, jackets, trousers, rough khaki
socks and various other accoutrements needed to complete this part of the
issue. This obviously drew forth more uncouth remarks and filthy jokes from
men. These garments were, in fact, modelled on surviving wartime issue and
were still being issued to new recruits to avoid the Ministry losing money
on items which still had a life. It was freezing cold in that vast space
and standing behind the tables were men in uniform blowing on their fingers
to get them warm, their breath hanging like a miasma in the air. At the top
of each table stood a sergeant, complete with his inevitable clipboard. The
recruits were made to line up and DC discovered that theirs was not the
only hut being kitted out that day. There must have been close on two
hundred young men, freezing their balls off and being made to stand about
in nothing but their underpants. DC wondered if anyone would be sporting a
hard-on today!

Eventually, one of the sergeants brought everyone to attention and having
laboriously made sure the occupants of the various huts were all in the
correct line, several of the Stores airmen went along each line handing out
cardboard boxes. A sergeant barked at one intrepid youth who queried what
the boxes were for, "What the fuck do you think they're for, dimwit? No,
they are not for your uniforms but to put your old civilian clothes in
ready for storage." At this a murmur ran through the assembled ranks and
the sergeant continued. "Right then, anyone wearing coloured or patterned
knickers get 'em orf NOW! If you're wearin' sensible white ones keep 'em
on." There were a number of louder protests at this but these were ignored
and the offenders had to remove their jazzy undies and stand there in the
nude to await the arrival of someone who would begin issuing them with new
clothes. Some of the other guys were giving DC openly admiring looks at his
wedding tackle. DC could not tell if this was because he was Senior Man or
because he was one of them standing naked. He and Arnie were standing next
to each other and he was well aware that Arnie was eyeing him up and
down. This open admiration of his tackle by Arnie was becoming difficult to
ignore and his cock was gently beginning to swell. While they were all
waiting for the next thing to happen, some of the NCO's took to walking
along the lines pointing out to each other those men who were sporting
partial or full-on erections so that everyone present knew who the
'offenders' were. Shit, now that was embarrassing!

One of them who was pointed out by more than one NCO was a guy named Shane
Sadowski, from an American-Polish family. He was lined up a couple of rows
in front of DC and a little to the left, so our boy had a perfect view of
him and his fine large cock projecting in front of him. His father had come
to England during WW2 as a GI and had never gone back to the States. He
married an English woman from Leicester and six months later she gave birth
to a baby boy. Shane had inherited his father's good looks, height and eye
catching sexual equipment. Everything about his physical appearance was in
good shape. His back supported the great 'V' shape of an athletic guy, from
his broad shoulders down to his small waist just above one of the firmest
arses DC had yet seen. He could not make out the colour of Sadowski's hair
as a result of the savage barbering they had all been subjected to. DC
murmured to himself, "Fuck, I wish he'd turn round so I could judge the
colour of his hair from his pubes - and judge how big he'll be when he gets
a hard-on." He thought no one else had heard him but he was wrong. A
certain young man named Arnie Waghorn had heard him and was quietly
grinning to himself as he thought, "So, our senior man's one of us, is
he. I'll try him and the Yank when we settle down."

The recruits eventually finished their first uniform issue parade, picked
up the boxes containing their civilian clothes and endeavoured to quick
march in double time back to their huts. This heralded the first time they
were to experience the Drill Instructors really going bananas on them. The
frosty air was filled with loud voices almost screaming streams of abuse at
the struggling lines of men clutching flimsy over-full boxes containing
piles of uniforms and trying to keep in step, all at the same time. It
seemed to be impossible for the recruits to stay in step or keep their
balance on the wet paths. However, no one fell or strained too much and
eventually everyone double timed it to the Mess for the evening meal,
afterwards spending time before Lights Out sorting themselves and their
lockers. When Lights Out rattled gratingly over the Tannoy, everyone was
already in bed and soon settled down for the night. DC and Arnie lay in
their bunks, facing each other. They were both aware they were sporting
throbbing erections and DC could not resist giving himself a decent wank
under the bed clothes. He quickly realised Arnie was doing the same, so he
pushed his bedding down to give his big erection plenty of space and
continued masturbating for all he was worth. To his amazement, Arnie did
the same and almost simultaneously they both dumped their loads on to their
sheets. They lay quiet with silly grins on their faces, licked their sticky
fingers clean and when they had recharged they grinned at each other,
whispered "Good night" and fell into a dreamless sleep.

The next morning saw the start of their training. Much to their surprise,
the recruits had finished their early chores, had breakfast and were then
told to remain in their hut for a visit from their officer, the one about
their own age who had been so pleasant when he had first appeared in the
Mess and given his short briefing on what was likely to happen on the first
day. The morning wore on but there was no sign of anyone, officer or NCO,
until it was almost lunch time. Suddenly the door to the hut banged open
and Corporal Trafford came in accompanied by three Drill Instructors (known
as DI's) and the officer following them.

"Right, you lot," Trafford growled, "you start your training as of
now. This is Flying Officer Norman Goodbody who will be your officer
throughout the time you spend here. He is going to brief you in some detail
about the new, revised training schedule you will be involved in. Listen
most carefully, as there will be no time to go through the whole rigmarole
again. Over to you, sir."

"Thank you, Corporal Trafford." Flying Officer Goodbody waited until the
corporal had left then continued. "I want you all to sit down on the floor
in a circle, as close together as you can."

The men looked rather puzzled at this but orders is orders, particularly
when you've only been in the Services for three or four days. They all sat
down as requested but the space was so constricted they had to sit with
legs spread apart with the guy in front between them. It was quite a
squeeze and soon developed into a case of the guy in front's arsehole
pressing against the swollen cock of the guy behind - or vice versa, if you
prefer. Flying Officer Goodbody said nothing and the three DI's took up
positions outside the circle. The officer took up a fourth position where
he could be seen by everyone. He began by giving them some things that they
had expected to hear and a bit about completing their recruit training to
"avoid suspicion" from other Flights. He then gave them details of how
their new, revised training programme would work out. It was towards the
end of his speech that he sprang his surprise on them.

". . . and at night you will have from 21.00 to 21.30 to shower, write
letters or take care of your uniforms. This is not normally how the Air
Force trains recruits but you are going to be part of a unique
experiment. HQ Training & Education Command want me to explain the
background and rules before training begins. First of all, you have to know
something similar is going on right now in the Army, the Navy and the
Marines. As the boffins at the MoD were making their background security
risk checks on all of you, their investigators discovered that, without
exception, all of you have had more than one experience of having sexual
relations with other males." He paused, waiting for an explosion of denials
and threats, but the men had been stunned into silence by what Goodbody had
just said. They remained waiting to hear more. "This Flight will now be
known to all as 'A' Flight Special. You will not, under any circumstances,
tell your families, friends outside or any one else what 'A' Flight Special
does. For the next few weeks you will be treated as and act as ordinary
recruits being trained in the usual basic Service procedures. You will
understand the reasons for all this high security when I tell you that this
Flight is to be trained to determine if actively gay men can truly make as
strong, as valuable and worthwhile a contribution to the Services as
heterosexual men."

At this point, the expressions on the faces of the men sitting in their
circle were priceless; the DI's, however, maintained their standard grim
frowns and hard eyes boring down on these "erks". The officer waited for a
moment or two to allow the recruits time to absorb what he had just
revealed, then picked up his speech again. "What I am about to tell you is
very personal and must not, I repeat, must not under any circumstances be
revealed to outside inquisitive press reporters or the like. I also am gay
so I can understand your confusion at this moment. This is against all you
may have suspected about being gay in the Forces, so forget all the old
wives tales and hear what I am saying. These three Drill Instructors will
be your teachers as if you were a standard intake of recruits. They also
are actively gay men. I see some of you are beginning to grasp what I am
about to reveal, but first a little bit of ancient history. It was a strong
belief amongst the Ancient Greeks and subsequently the Romans that their
soldiers would be better warriors if they formed tighter bonds with each
other, the prime example being the Seven of Thebes. This is going to be the
foundation of everything designed to test you. All of your training will be
the same as anyone else's training at this unit, with one exception. During
that half an hour every night when you can write home, iron your shirts for
the morning, or whatever else you do in that precious free time, or after
Lights Out, you may if you so desire form closer relationships. Myself and
the Drill Instructors will, of course, be back in our own Messes out of
your way. We will not wish to know who does what to whom. Do you
understand?"

A murmur of "Yes, sir" ran round the circle. "Now, I have had my say so I
will leave you to begin making these barracks into a special place for
special men training for special duties. I will leave you in the capable
hands of the DI's. Please cooperate with them, they have their orders as
well so I do not want to hear of any problems. One rule you must always
remember: if you fancy having sex with one of your bunk mates, you must
leave it until after Lights Out. I hope you will quickly settle down and
enjoy your elevated status. One last thing, is SAC Deighton Cunningham
present?"

"Present, sir," came DC's voice. Flying Officer Goodbody went over to him,
looked into his eyes, smiled and said, "Fine. I think you will do the job
perfectly."

He swung round to the group of dazed men who were struggling to get to
their feet and trying to make sense of what they had been told. "May I have
everyone's attention for one moment longer?" They all stood still,
wondering what the fuck he was going to say now. "SAC Cunningham was made
Senior Man when you first arrived here. Under instructions from Command HQ
and as a result of his excellent Air Cadet record, he is now to be given
the rank of Acting Corporal. He will be second in charge of this Hut as of
now, whenever Corporal Trafford is engaged on other duties. He will also be
a close liaison man between myself, Corporal Trafford and all of you. He
will be expected to carry out the duties and responsibilities of the rank
of corporal and you will address him as such when in the official presence
of a superior. Finally, the success or failure of this experiment will be
dependent upon your accepting the changes in your training which, if
successful, will remove once and for all any stigma about being
gay. Hopefully, you will be making an historic change to the ethos of
military behaviour. I will now leave you to get yourselves sorted
out. Corporal Cunningham has already been given his instructions for the
next few days and he will take over when I leave. Thank you for listening
to me and. . ." Whatever else he had intended to say was drowned in the
massive cheer that went up as they all crowded round a rather shaken
DC. Someone yelled, "Let's all go down the NAAFI tonight and get blathered,
eh lads?"

"Not if you wanna keep your balls, son," came the loud, gruff voice of one
of the DI's, who had slipped back in as the officer had slid out. "You've
all got to have an early evening meal and then . . . the 'ard work
begins. Don't it, Corporal Cunningham?"

"It certainly does, sergeant. OK, boys, settle down. I'm not going to be
throwing my weight around like a RAF copper but we've got to get to work to
make this place shine. Our first test is going to be a full Commanding
Officer's inspection in a couple of days time, so it may take all night but
it has got to be done. Let's make a start, OK?"

Next: Chapter 5 - Getting to Work