The WM Captain quickly brought herself under control. “The last time I brought my delicate laundry here, one of your privates managed to tear a strap off of a slip and catch a bra hook in my panties and twist them completely out of shape in the drier. I want someone with at least the experience of a Lance Corporal handling my delicate laundry! No Privates, no PFC’s. I want lingerie laundry bags used to wash and dry my things. It is unacceptable to have them damaged by inept under-experienced personnel. Have I made myself clear Lieutenant?
It felt like his psyche was on a runaway roller coaster! Only his white knuckled grip on the counter kept him from falling over, he was dizzy and confused. “Y-yes ma’am” finally escaped his lips after what he felt was a suspiciously long inability to utter a sound. He was certain she would notice the guilt on his face that was screaming at her in his mind. She looked him up and down, seemed satisfied, then turned on her heel smartly and left.
The stunned Lieutenant stood there for a full minute before he had pulled himself together enough to stagger back to his office on rubber legs. For the love of Chesty Puller, he swore he heard someone snicker behind him. Then laughter from the work floor below him as he ascended to the upper floor. Rolie collapsed in the office chair breathing heavily from the close call. Or… it suddenly occurred to him, my God, that was a setup! His legs were shaking! The Marine put his face into his hands and gave a ragged sigh, almost a sob. At that moment the phone on his desk rang. “Crap, now what?”, Rolie growled aloud.
Rolie unsuccessfully tried to clear his dry throat then picked up the phone and barked roughly “Lt. McManly”
A woman’s voice answered in a cloying baby talk, “Did my widdle babykins sweep well wast night? Did my widdle baby girl wet her bed? I bet she did! Yes, I bet she did! DIDN’T YOU! : Aren’t you so precious, your widdle ruffled panties and your binky going suck suck piddling in your widdle bed. I think baby needs diapers…”
Rolie yelled, “WHO THE HELL IS THIS?” His voice cracked like a teenager.
The phone clicked and went dead.
Laughter rang out from the far side of the building.
Lieutenant McManly gathered his wits and called his Yeoman into his office. He informed her that he had some errands to run and that she needed to cover for him for a few hours. With that, Rolie bolted for the door and galloped down the outside stairs. So far he had just been a victim, rolling with the punches all morning. He needed to be aggressive, to take action.
He had to gather up all his baby items, his stolen lingerie, and his sex toys then dispose of them permanently. Destroy them. It was purge time! A clean sweep, even his girlie magazines trashed and his hidden laptop reformatted. Everything. All traces gone.
The young Lieutenant double-timed it back to his quarters, a duplex that was converted into a quadplex for unmarried junior officers, and rushed into his room. He grabbed a plastic trash sack from his hall closet and hurried into his bedroom. What he saw sickened him. The plastic bag floated to the floor.
His footlocker was open and his things were neatly folded on his bunk. The false bottom lay leaning against the outside of the footlocker and it’s incriminating contents were missing! He had had a quick access “nasty stash” of rumba panties, pacifier, baby bottle, tinkie ribbon, booties, a blanky and bonnet in there! His butt plug was in there too!
The credenza was pulled away from the wall far enough for somebody to easily get behind it. With an unholy dread Rolie looked behind the credenza and saw that the loose floorboard was pulled up. His secondary stash had been looted. His bag of very feminine panties and bras as missing as well as his hanger bag with a WM Lieutenants uniform and accessories. He reached his arm under the floorboards and discovered that it had been completely cleaned out, down to his shoebox with WM pumps and pantyhose. But worst of all his porn packed laptop was missing!
“My God, oh my God!” Rolie said out loud as if beseeching the Lord. All of his adult baby porn, his sissy porn, shemale-gay porn was on that laptop. Including a hundred or so bookmarks and months of internet history of some of the most incriminating websites on the internet. His auto-login to SissyKiss.com was there for the plucking!
All the girlish things he said there, all of those sissy cappies! His avatar was even a WM from here on the base taken through a secret hole in the laundry’s courtesy changing room! If that ever got back to her, his ass was officially grass. Mowed grass, neatly edged, and decorated with his balls on a rusty hook.
Rolie was in a dead panic and at a total loss at what to do. Blindly he stumbled into the head and stepped into the shower fully clothed. A few turns of the knobs and he stood in a stream of cold water, water which refused to warm. The heater pilot had gone out again. Just his fucking luck. With his hands against the wall, he faced the shower head and let it blast in his face. He was crying and he didn’t want even his self to know. He wasn’t that weak sissy he played in his sex fantasies, he was a United States Marine, blooded in Iraq, metaled for bravery, hardened like steel.
Rolie sank to the floor of the shower, he shivered while he sobbed like a little girl who lost her dolly and bemoaned his fate. The irony of the situation was lost on him. The years of using his officer rank to bully and belittle those beneath him on the base were not considered. The fact that the tables had been justifiably turned on him was not on his mind. It was pure maudlin self-pity from a man who never offered any to those in his charge.
The universe had changed that morning. As if a negative were imprinting it’s opposite onto photo paper. Those that had been tormented, were now the tormentors and they were out for psychological blood. His karmic bill has come due and his creditors were about to demand payment in full.