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Introduction:

Do you REALLY think the world would be different if women ran everything? Some things never change.
Day 1

The young Asian sentry paces her rounds, rifle slung over her shoulder. It’s almost 4 A.M. and almost the end of her watch, and she can’t wait to get out of her boots and into her nice warm bunk! A 17 year old regular infantrywoman, she is on guard here at army headquarters in a quiet sector of the devastated city, and the battle has shifted elsewhere. There’s not an enemy soldier anywhere near here she reflects happily, and a smile creases her pretty face as she continues her pacing, secure in the knowledge that she will not be staring death in the face this day as will so many of her comrades.

The sentry never hears the stealthy approach of the hunter emerging from the shadows. Her eyes open wide in amazement as the hand reaching out from behind her clamps firmly over her mouth, and she feels the agonizing sear of the razor sharp knife burning into her throat. In disbelief, she sees the red jet shoot out from her throat as it is slashed from ear to ear in one seamless cut. All goes black as the hand is withdrawn from her mouth, allowing her already lifeless shell to drop heavily to the ground, the still wide open eyes now staring into oblivion, as the red pool gushing from her throat grows larger.

The Blonde trooper, her blood reddened knife still in her hand, motions her fellow soldiers forward. Stealthily creeping forward, the two platoons of Blondes cautiously fan out and deploy in attack position in front of their objectives. The two platoon corporals will lead the assault with ten troopers ; the sergeants, Amy and Karen, hang back with a reserve of ten more troopers, alert to any unexpected countermoves made by the enemy. This is too easy, thinks Amy’s platoon corporal, Katie. Only one sentry? This has got to be some kind of trap! Katie nods to her fellow corporal, and then moves forward with five of her troopers. They will neutralize the barracks first. Without expecting it to open, Katie tries the door to the barracks, and is shocked when it pushes open under her hand. Their security is pathetic! she can’t help but think to herself. The snug warmth generated by the sleeping bodies of 19 young human females caresses Katie’s face as she sticks her head into the darkened barracks. They’re all asleep, she thinks joyfully. Surprise is complete. Katie and her troopers position themselves around the bunks of their sleeping enemies, allowing a brief moment for their eyes to adjust to the darkness. At a signal from Katie, the carnage begins. The first half dozen Asian infantrywomen never wake up. Huddled fast asleep in their blankets, some in their panties, others (against regulations) completely nude, their dreams are cut brutally short and they are sent spiraling into the eternal darkness as three quick, savage bayonet thrusts delivered to each of their bodies extinguish their lives. Even as they fall into the arms of death, blood continues to flow from their destroyed young bodies, saturating the blankets that will serve as their funeral shrouds. The Blondes now move quickly to eliminate their remaining enemies.

The 17 year old Asian infantrywoman is in deepest sleep, her beautiful young body with its perky breasts deliciously naked in her blankets. Under the covers after lights out, she wiggles her way out of her ungainly regulation issue panties, and delights in the feel of her completely naked flesh against the sheets on her bunk. It’s against regulations to sleep in the nude, I know, she muses, but nobody checks on us anyway. She is deep in an explicit, erotic dream when to her frustration the dream dissolves and she slowly begins to surface from her pleasantly heavy slumber. Some outside force is pulling her out of deepest sleep. Groggily, her first blurred, semi-conscious thought is how wet her pussy is. That was some dream I was having! And to wake up right in the middle of it! Her hand slides down below her waist and she is just about to insert a finger into her yearning young womanhood, when her expanding consciousness pulls in the sound of commotion, of movement in the barracks, and could she have really heard it? A muffled groan? Her sleep heavy eyelids are just on the verge of forcing themselves open, when the blow hits her in the stomach with brutal force as the bayonet slashes through her blanket and its razor sharp blade, already glistening with the blood of a prior victim, slices into her flesh. She can feel the blade quickly being withdrawn, and can feel the flow of blood escaping from the opening it has created, followed by the hellish pain that seizes hold of her entire body. Eyes now wide open, she opens her mouth to scream, but the scream dies in her throat as a second bayonet thrust punctures her heart. Her body’s engine gives one last feeble sputter and she can feel the third and final thrust of the bayonet brutally slam into her body even as life is extinguished and she drops into the abyss of eternal darkness.

The blood is now completely soaking through the blankets and seeping into the thin mattresses on the bunks of the slaughtered infantrywomen as Katie advances towards the last two remaining bunks at the far end of the barracks. All of the occupants of the other bunks are now deep in the sleep of oblivion. As Katie nears the bunks of the two survivors, a terrified young Asian, clad only in panties, scrambles out of the bunk, holding her arms high in the air. Covering her with her rifle, Katie orders one of her troopers, “Get her out of bed,” indicating with a nod the still fast asleep occupant of the last bunk. The Blonde trooper flings back the blanket and brutally yanks the recumbent figure out of bed. Presently, blinking her sleepy eyes and groggily trying to comprehend what is happening, this second young infantrywoman, also clad only in her panties, is standing next to her comrade. “OK, let’s clear out of here,” orders Katie, and escorting their two prisoners, the Blondes exit the barracks. As the last trooper shuts the door behind her, she can hear a faint, soft splashing sound. The blood of the slain infantrywomen, having soaked completely through their thin mattresses, is now beginning to drip onto the floor beneath the bunks.

The young Asian infantrywoman now lies on her back, her mouth and unseeing eyes both frozen wide open, her naked flesh now growing cold, as blood oozes out of her deep bayonet wounds. Her interrupted erotic dream is now not even a memory, her consciousness obliterated along with her life. Soon, they will come for her and mercifully cover her contorted face with the blood soaked blanket. With her pretty bare feet peeking out from under the blanket, she will be carried out of the barracks and laid on the cold, hard ground outside, her toes pointing at the open sky. Later, she will be placed side by side with her comrades in a long trench and covered with earth. All trace of her existence obliterated, the only fleeting reminder of her young life is the blood stained pair of panties she had slipped out of the night before, now lying on the floor of the barracks next to her bunk.

The operation is a success. “Good job taking out that sentry, trooper,” Amy praises Linda, the quiet, beautiful blonde who had slit the young sentry’s throat without giving it a second thought. The Blondes have seized their objective and have suffered no casualties. The only source of disappointment is when Karen’s corporal emerges from the General’s quarters and announces, “The General’s not here, sarge.” The General’s capture had been a key objective of this operation. What will headquarters say, when they learn that she has escaped?


Five prisoners are lined up before Amy and Karen. One of them is an Asian Captain, standing proudly erect in her smart black uniform coat and skirt, with highly polished black patent leather boots. She had been captured in the command post while her infantrywomen were being slaughtered in their bunks. “Where’s your General?” Amy asks the Captain. “She left last night,” comes the reply. “Where did she go?” Amy persists. “That is all I will tell you,” the Captain replies contemptuously. “We won’t get anything more out of her,” Karen interrupts the impromptu interrogation. “I’ll have two of my troopers escort her back to headquarters. They’ll interrogate her there and then process her out.” Two members of Karen’s platoon step forward and escort the Captain away. “Let me get my platoon squared away. You can deal with the rest of these prisoners,” Karen tells Amy cheerfully, and begins rounding up and reorganizing her platoon.

Amy and Katie survey the four remaining prisoners. Two are the infantrywomen, the only survivors of the slaughter in the barracks, standing before their captors in nothing but the panties they had been captured in. According to the birthdates on their identity tags, both are 17 years old. Those regulation panties are so unattractive, Amy can’t help but think to herself. These girls would look so much better in little lacy undies. The other two prisoners form a remarkable contrast. They are both dressed in the tightly fitting uniform coats and skirts of the Asian Cadet Corps, their feet shod in high heels. High heels in a war zone! Amy shakes her head. The cadets, captured along with the Captain in the command post, are even younger than the infantrywomen. Both are only 15. “Are we sending them back to headquarters?” Katie asks. “No, of course not. We’ll just process them out right here,” replies Amy. “Them too?” Katie asks, indicating the cadets with a nod of her head. “Of course. Why wouldn’t we process them out?” Amy replies, almost incredulously. “Well, they’re so young, plus they’re just staff girls,” reasons Katie. “They’re old enough to be in uniform, so that means that they’re soldiers, and since they’re soldiers, they get processed out,” Amy responds firmly. “The enemy does the same to our young girls.” Amy looks again at the prisoners. They’re all such pretty girls. It is a shame, but war is war, she thinks to herself, looking quickly away as she sees tears standing in one of the cadet’s eyes. “Bullet or bayonet?” Katie now asks, abandoning her efforts to save the cadets. “Bayonet,” replies Amy. “We don’t want the enemy to know we’re here. Two at a time. Detail Janine and Donna to process them out.”

“I know you feel sorry for those cadets, but you do realize that if we send them to headquarters, they’ll just be processed out anyway?” Amy asks Katie, pulling her off to one side. “I know,” Katie replies hesitantly. “But you wanted to give them another 48 hours of life, didn’t you?” Amy gives voice to Katie’s unspoken motive, and Katie nods affirmatively in response. “All that would happen is they would get their hopes up that they were going to be spared, and they would both just end up getting a bullet through the heart anyway. Believe me, it’s much less cruel this way,” Amy reassures her corporal. “Go do what you have to do, corporal,” Amy now says decisively. “Yes, sarge,” replies Katie. “And remember, follow regulations. Regulations state that all prisoners must be fully stripped before being processed out.” “Yes, sarge,” Katie replies again and turns to go. What a silly regulation, to have them stripped like that, thinks Amy as she watches Katie go. Who came up with that regulation anyway? Sounds like something a man would dream up.

Katie now stands in front of the platoon with the two troopers selected to process out the prisoners. Donna is an attractive, large breasted girl of average height, considered somewhat slow witted by her troopers, but a reliable soldier none the less. Janine is petite and stunningly beautiful, but beneath her angelic features lies a deep streak of cruelty that makes her the perfect killer in the eyes of her sergeant. The Blondes, dressed in their neat olive drab fatigues, bayonetted M-16s at their sides, face the four prisoners. “The prisoners will strip!” Katie calls out, beginning the processing out.

The 15 year old cadet heaves a sigh as she unbuttons her uniform coat. Glancing to her side, she sees her fellow cadet starting to strip off her own uniform, and the two infantrywomen pulling their panties down to their ankles and stepping out of them. The cadet takes off her jacket, neatly folds it up, and places it on the ground at her feet. Spring is in the air, and as she begins to unbutton her blouse, her mind flashes back to her girlhood. She remembers the fresh spring air, the scent of flowers and the sound of birds singing in her parents’ garden. There is no life here, she reflects. No flowers, no birds. Only death. As she pulls off her blouse, revealing a lacy pink bra, she steals a quick, admiring glance at the two naked infantrywomen, noting with approval the long, luxuriant jet black hair, beautifully rounded young ass cheeks and the firm perky breasts, their nipples erect from the chill in the early spring air. We are all so young, and soon we will all be devoured by death. Our flesh is nothing but food for death. She slips her feet out of her high heels and the ground feels cold beneath her now bare pretty little feet with their pink painted toenails. She glances over at the inert forms of the dead infantrywomen lined up for burial, bare feet poking out from under blood soaked blankets, and realizes that soon, she will be sharing a common grave with them in this same cold, unforgiving ground that lies beneath her feet. She is surprised that she does not fear the thought. I will not be alone, I will be sleeping with all of them, she reassures herself comfortingly. She unhooks her skirt, lets it drop to her feet and steps out of it, revealing a pair of pink lace panties that match her bra. She gives another quick glance at her now bare breasted fellow cadet and can’t suppress a little smile on catching sight of the thong underwear her comrade is wearing. She always was a wild one, she giggles to herself, as she unhooks her bra, freeing her own young, firm pair of breasts. Finally, she slides her panties off her ass, down her thighs, and yet further down past her knees to her ankles, and steps out of them. She now stands as naked as the day she was born, and gazes once again at her now equally naked fellow cadet. The girls lock eyes for a long moment. Be brave, her eyes implore her friend. It will all be over in a moment. The Blonde corporal orders the two cadets to stand side by side. They will be the first to be processed out.

It is now time. At a shouted command from the Blonde corporal, the two troopers step forward, advance toward the cadets, and stop several paces in front of them, resting the butt ends of their bayonetted M-16s on the ground at their sides. A third trooper quickly moves behind the cadets and ties their hands behind their backs. The young cadet looks down one last time at her feet and wriggles her toes, with their pretty pink toenails. Looking up again, she takes a closer look at the Blonde trooper standing before her. The trooper is the shorter of the two Blondes. She’s so petite, thinks the cadet. And very, very beautiful, the cadet can’t help but think as she gazes in admiration at the woman who will be processing her out. The Blonde looks back at her, and the cadet can tell that the trooper approves of what she sees, as her eyes take in the long black hair, pert young breasts and luscious shaved mound of Venus. Yes, she thinks I’m pretty too, the cadet realizes. She locks eyes with the Blonde, and sees something new and even deeper in the eyes that stare back into hers. It is an unmistakable glint of deep seated cruelty. Yes, she is going to take my life, and she is going to enjoy doing it, the cadet realizes. She suddenly flushes deeply, and drops her eyes demurely in embarrassment. What’s happening to me? she asks herself in confusion. My pussy is getting wet! Can she possibly be excited at the prospect of her own death at the hands of this beautiful woman? She shyly raises her eyes, and can detect the slightest trace of a satisfied smirk on the Blonde’s lips. Yes, she knows, realizes the cadet. “Ready!” rings out the voice of the corporal. The troopers raise their rifles, bayonets pointed at the bellies of the cadets. “On my command! One! Two! Three! Thrust!”

Both troopers lunge with their bayonets. The taller trooper gives a straightforward thrust into the belly of her cadet, burying the bayonet in her up to the hilt, and forcing an agonized gasp out of her victim. She then gives the bayonet a half twist, playing lethal havoc with the young guts that it slashes open. The petite trooper, maintaining unbroken eye contact with her cadet, slices into the soft young flesh with an upward thrust of her bayonet. The cadet does not break eye contact with her killer. She opens her mouth and gasps in agony, but masters herself and does not cry out. Yes, she wants me to suffer, the cadet realizes. And I must suffer, because my life has only been preparation for this moment. The pain increases to unbearable proportions as the Blonde pushes the barrel of the rifle upward, carving deeper into the ripe young flesh. The cadet feels her feet begin to lift off the ground, as the Blonde forces her onto her tiptoes. Yes, she is taking my life, but by taking my life, she will be making me a part of her, the cadet philosophizes in an effort to block out the unbelievable pain. The cadet begins to pant in agony as she is held up on her tiptoes for what seems like an eternity. The Blonde corporal, looking at her watch, determines that the prisoners have suffered through their regulation minute. “Withdraw!” she shouts. The taller trooper pulls her rifle straight back, sliding the blade out of her cadet. Eyes rolling back in her head, the girl thumps heavily face down onto the ground at the trooper’s feet. The petite trooper slowly lowers her cadet back down until her feet are once again flat on the ground and then pulls out her bayonet. The cadet can now feel the life literally drain out of her as she watches the red deluge flow from her devastated belly. Blackness begins to close in on her as she drops to her knees. Her breath now comes in quick little gasps. As from a distance she hears what sounds like a sob from the body lying off to her side, and then silence. I will be with you soon, my friend, she thinks, as she flops onto the ground on her ruined belly. She can feel the warmth and wetness beneath her grow, as her wide open eyes stare at the Blonde trooper’s boots. I won’t close my eyes, death will do that for me. The blood should make me feel warm, but now I’m starting to get cold. Why is that? she asks as the eternal darkness shuts down her brain and enfolds her in its embrace.

Two more bayonet thrusts and the two captured infantrywomen are skewered on Blonde bayonets. Soon, the cadet, her eyes wide open and her pretty little toes with their pink toenails pointing skyward, is lying in a trench sandwiched between her cadet friend and one of the infantrywomen. Twenty two young women in all fill this slit in the hungry earth. Soon, they will be lost to sight as their common grave is filled in and their once luscious flesh becomes nothing more than food for worms.

“Look at these heels! And the lacy undies! And this little slut was wearing a thong!” marvels Jan, looking at the discarded finery of the two slain cadets. “And did you see? They both had painted toenails! They really pamper those cadets!” exclaims Donna. “You and Janine really did a job on those girls!” Debbie chimes in enthusiastically. “We sure did!” Donna smiles proudly. “I made both of my little sweeties feel it, especially that cadet,” Janine purrs with a cruel smirk. “I sure miss wearing heels!” Jan remarks wistfully. “Me too,” agrees Donna. “We probably wouldn’t fit in these. They do have smaller feet than we do.” “Hey, Janine, you and Michelle should try on these heels! You’re both really small girls,” suggests Jan. As the other troopers look on, the two petite blondes pull off their boots and slip their feet into the now ownerless high heels. “They fit great,” Janine affirms, wriggling her toes in the shoes of the girl she had snuffed out mere moments before. “Yeah, they’re actually pretty nice heels,” agrees Michelle. “You should try on their undies, too,” Donna suggests mischievously. “No, thanks!” replies Janine. “It’s bad enough I’m wearing shoes that had another girl’s feet in them. Do you know what was in those panties?” All five troopers laugh uproariously.

Darkness is now falling. “So, are we pulling out tonight, sarge?” Katie asks Amy. “ I can’t believe they haven’t counterattacked us yet. We were taking an awful chance staying here.” “We’re not pulling out, corporal,” replies Amy. “Our orders are to hold this position at all costs. We should be getting reinforcements tomorrow.” “So this could be a major battle, then?” Katie asks in an almost awed tone. “Headquarters is going to throw a lot of women into here to defend this place, and you can be sure the enemy is going to throw a lot of women at us to get it back”, Amy responds. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about this earlier, but Karen and I were under orders to maintain strict secrecy,” Amy continues apologetically. “No problem, sarge. We all gotta do what we gotta do,” Katie answers reassuringly.
4 comments

anonymous readerReport

2013-07-15 00:39:04
I 100% agree with the little sister comment. They are evil succubae that suck the soul out of you and would slit your throat without a second thought just like the unfortunate sleeping platoon in the story.

anonymous readerReport

2013-03-24 08:53:34
Good work indeed. I wish to read other parts of those stories, other bayonets in naked female bellies, for I have a serious belly fetish. :-)

anonymous readerReport

2011-12-08 17:48:59
anyone that has a little sister knows how soulless a female can be, so I KNOW how much MORE bloody the world would be if it was ran by women

anonymous readerReport

2011-12-08 12:06:36
Not really a sex story, but you are a good writer nontherless

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