Lieutenant-commander Drew McKnight, Navy 'Brass' girl

The colossal scale of Diesel City going to war was something that beggared the imagination - a grandiose engine that daily devoured a continent's worth of resources (organic and inorganic). Euphemistically, the endless war material produced and stockpiled by Diesel City was often collectively referred to as "Liberty" or "Patriotism". And indeed, everything Diesel City gifted the armed forces with was designed for form as well as function. Every car, every plane, and every gun carried a message with it. They were gas-guzzling missionaries, preaching the word that ever-greater speed, power, and size were what mattered; that the new ways were best and the old world was getting left in the dust; above all, that the United States was the greatest country in the world and wasn't shy about making sure everyone knew it.

Of course, Lt. Drew McKnight lamented to herself as the mega-train carried her and another couple thousand newly-minted Navy Brass to their first real assignments, the uniforms that Diesel City produced for any women who might serve aboard those mighty American machines sent a different and far simpler message:

"Use me for sex."

In fact, Lieutenant McKnight reflected as she idly checked her appearance with a hand mirror, compared to what some of the women had been assigned as 'uniforms', she was actually modestly dressed; a black latex long-sleeved minidress in the style of an officer's jacket, with two lines of polished brass buttons down the middle and a deeply plunging neckline, the skirt of which didn't reach even halfway down her shapely thigh. With high cheekbones, full lips painted ruby red, and eyes that exuded perkiness and playfulness even when she was trying to be serious, Drew was easy on the eyes and she knew it. Before shipping out she'd gone back to her hairdresser and gotten her chestnut brown hair trimmed very short, specifically requesting the exact same trim as a young man shipping out on his first deployment, without even a hint of feminine length in the back or along the sides.. She'd thought that might send a message to some of the guys that she wanted to be a no-nonsense officer who was taken seriously, not just another convenient sex toy.

Much to Drew's chagrin, the train steward who'd singled her out in the halls during the trip and her to suck him off five times a day didn't seem to have minded her style in the slightest. The brocade-trimmed hat with the symbol of the Navy she worse proclaimed her authority - but the white boots with high heels advertised her availability.

Four years ago when 'Lieutenant McKnight' had signed on to the academy after graduating near the top of her class from a girls' military school, she had told herself that it wouldn't be so bad - that women in the military and government were safer by far than a dame who lived in a bad part of Diesel City. And for a few years it had seemed like it really wouldn't be. Most of the male officer candidates had been Squares who kept themselves to one girl every so often, or Blue-bloods who brought their personal household staff along with them and were well taken care of. Sure, a couple of the instructors had been horny old goats, but they just didn't have the stamina to defile every fresh-faced young woman being put in a USN uniform now. McKnight hadn't been exactly untouched by the time she'd left but things were pretty tame. Every so often you'd get invited to a guy's room to 'check his uniform' or vice-versa; and if you had a reason for declining, they left it at that. For a while Drew had been better than alright - she'd been having the time of her life. Sex could feel pretty good, if the guy was doing it right.

When she'd been made an ensign on board a training cruiser in the safe harbor of the pollution-choked Lake Superior, Drew's experience had taken a turn for the worse very quickly once she came in contact with 'real' officers. Every one of them aboard that ship were demanding, domineering assholes who didn't just use their female subordinates but took great joy in publicly humiliating them. In fact, the worst sadist had been a woman herself. Even so, as rough as it had been, then-Ensign McKnight had been lucky there too, as she'd kept out of the rough grip of the enlisted men. They were habitually run ragged by the officer corps even in training and when they got time to 'play', they played hard. The female proportion among them was lower than for officers and the enlisted girls tended to wind up an awful mess at the end of their watch. That was the first time McKnight had seen a girl being taken by a whole crowd all at once, helpless to do anything and left covered in sexual fluids that she herself then had to mop up. Even when a female officer was assigned to 'morale-raising duty' and spent her watch blowing or fucking a score of men, they were ever-aware of the officer/enlisted dynamic and would always restrain themselves. Fear of facing the lust of that mob with no rules to hold them in check had kept McKnight obedient and made her very good at putting on a brave face of cheerful enthusiasm.

Apparently that had been what the Navy wanted, because Drew had been bumped up to lieutenant-commander and made the ordnance officer aboard a destroyer scheduled to be completed just 36 hours before it was to put to sea with a mostly untested crew. They'd be nervous and wound up, and the men would seek relief in the usual way.

When Drew had made conversation with the female Lieutenant Juinior Grades that shared her room on the ride here to Newport News, she'd felt free to criticize the P.R.A. and all this free-use business for a while. The vivacious blonde across from Drew had straightened up proudly and said "The Patriot Repopulation Act is only a temporary measure until the world is made safe for democracy. Our president said that, and I believe him."

Now blondie was bent over between two enlisted men, down to her knees by the one behind her while the one in front her jaw open to shove his hairy tan cock all the way down her throat. Drew gulped and tried to regard the scene with casual disinterest. Those two particular barrel-chested, scraggly-bearded brutes weren't using the patriotic Lieutenant J.G. in such a way that might lead to any 'repopulation' - and judging by the blonde's grunts of discomfort around the man-meat gagging her, the one behind her had gone for the tighter hole without even providing her any lube. Drew didn't know if that made the junior lieutenant lucky or not.

Dozens of giant cranes swung their cargoes chaotically overhead, loading pallets of shells and crates of dry goods into the latest squadron that the great shipyards would be spewing out. The sleek, arrow-like hulls of the frigates and destroyers being fitted eventually rolled forward, held between two sets of colossal multi-thousand-ton rollers, before being dumped into the Atlantic Ocean at last - giant projectiles that one continent was launching at another.

Lt. McKnight's wary awe of the industrial chaos above and around her was interrupted by an arm suddenly barring her way, the hand resting against her stomach to gently stop her in mid-stride.

"Excuse me, ma'am," a midshipman with a tiny, carefully-parted mop of red hair atop his otherwise shaved head and a voice that sounded like it belonged to a cartoon character smiled awkwardly at Drew. "I'm on break from loading DD-785 but they didn't give me long enough to go anywhere - y'mind if I use you for a minute?"

"Hah..." Drew said, raising her nose and giving the man her best dismissive look. "Sorry, seaman - I wouuuuld," she said sweetly, "but an officer's duty comes first. Dismissed."

To his credit, the disappointed-looking sailor straightened up and gave a sharp salute. Once she was past him Drew allowed herself a quiet sigh of relief. A few of the other men milling about in the sprawling dockyards had been on the hunt near her... but there were so many women coming in that those who had the time had plenty of options and didn't feel the need to get in the way of an officer who was stepping smartly as if she were on her way to some important briefing.

Lieutenant McKnight realized, though, as she came up to the gangplank of the aggressive-looking 2000 ton warship where she'd be spending the next three months at least (which would be the rest of her life if she was really unlucky), that she'd still probably end up needing a shower before she settled down in her quarters - she had to report to the captain first thing upon arriving.

As she reached the deck of the ship the petty officer standing watch, a portly balding man in his thirties, gave Lieutenant McKnight a dutiful salute... but when she walked past him he reached up her skirt and gave the left side of her bottom a hard squeeze, making her yelp and jump in spite of herself. She flashed the petty officer a dirty look over her shoulder.... but she couldn't really say anything. She passed through cramped hallways being painted and often had to step aside as buckets of grease and bundles of tools were hauled past. Luckily, most of the crew were far too busy to give her more than a quick salute.

Drew heard soft conversation coming from inside as she approached the hatch leading to the ship's bridge. She took a deep breath. "Alright," she said to herself, "just play it calm, smile and nod, and everything will be fine - captain's probably too busy to play grab-ass with the new girls." Putting on her brightest smile, she swung open the heavy metal door with a clang and stepped through the threshold - luckily the newer ships were being designed with threshholds that were flush at the bottom, so as not to cause too many collisions with the heels that so many female officers were assigned to wear now...