Somewhere in Afgan. Fictionalised story of torturing the gooks. All names changed to avoid repercussions. None of the actions can be verified as they are against Kings regulations.
There was a knock on my door.
“Come," I answered,
“Prisoner and escort Sah!” shouted Sgt Major Riley in an ear splitting roar completely inappropriate for a small hut after an all nighter in the mess.
“Well come on in,” I invited. I surveyed the biggest and ugliest Arab “Woman” I had ever seen, at least the murderous eyes and UK size 17 bovver boots which was all I could see with the huge all enveloping Berk-er it wore gave that impression.
“Sah, Prisoner will advance, wait for it, Hep Tight, Hep Tight Hep tight Alt, Prisoner Sah, Gook impersonator woman Sah, Tranny Sah, Tranny wi no Fanny sah.”
“I think I get the picture, “ I agreed as the surly individual glared atme through the slit in its Burkah.
“Geneva convention, woman's need to be interrogate me,” it said as it leered hands tethered behind its back.
“Absolutely, just check for tackle Sergeant Major.” I ordered.
The gook just about had a fit as Sgt Major Riley lifted his Burkah revealing some very fetching Khaki shorts and a very dirty white shirt..
“Kecks off,” I ordered.
Gooky muttered about Human rights, “I’ll give you human rights when the DNA tests come back and only then if them says as your Human!” Riley replied.
Now it seems Gooky, as we nicknamed our prisoner had touch of queer about him for as Riley hauled down the gooks kecks and some M+S Y fronts its cock appeared, with the sounds of sticking plaster unsticking.
I handed Sgt Major Riley my swagger stick and when he it rammed up the Gooks rectum the cock reached quite a creditable size.
“What do we think Sarn’t Major?” I asked.
“Bloody big clit if you ask me.” he said.
I drew my sword which had been in its scabbard beside my desk, “Look out it’s her time of the month,”
My sword twitched, not for nothing had I been regiment of foot Fencing champion of my year at Sandhurst.
Razor sharp, The gook never even felt a thing, until blood and piss started pouring from where his cock root used to be, then he felt it.
“Gook’s a woman all right better get a woman before she bleeds to death.” I advised.
“What about the cock skin?” Sgt Major asked.
“Save as much blood and gore as we can, and fill the cock skin so cook can make a nice German Cock Wurst for the other gooks tea.” I suggested.
“Good thinking sah!” Sgt Major chuckled.
“Is that all Sarnt Major.” I asked.
“Yes sir, ah no sir, some of the lads sir, they say youse’ an easy touch but you ent sir are you, your the biggest bastard on camp really,” he said admiringly.
“They blew my best friend up,” I said, “I haven’t even started and I have a bloody headache so how about you fuck off?”
“Sah, fucking off now sah,” he laughed and part frog marched part dragged the gook out of the office leaving a trail of blood.
Next thing the bloody RAF were on my case, “It’s just not good enough,” one of their top brass moaned, over the secure phone link the gooks spent all day listening to. “We were supposed to drop a wire guided Hell Fire missile on the gooks and what did we find, your idiot pongoes had loaded two dead insurgents on the hard point so we dropped them from ten thousand feet instead.”
“Serves you right for not doing a walk round, your chaps sit in Whitehall flying the drones while it’s my chaps who have to re arm them under fire half the time, well, my chaps need some fun too.” I said boldly.
“We said no more dead gooks as Passengers on Predator drones,” he insisted.
“The previous two were alive,and these two were on a hard point not necessarily on the drone if you want to be pedantic.” I insisted.
“Do you get some perverted sexual thrill from torturing and killing gooks?” the RAF chap asked.
“Yes, I suppose so," I replied.
“Me too,” he agreed. “But please no more gooks on Predators.”
“How about in the wheel wells on Voyagers?” I asked.
“No and no more throwing them off the ramps of Hercules,” he added, “Mind you we did get some fantastic video of them skydiving straight into the rocky desert floor, Bong, Splat.”
“Best bit was they had the static line rip cord round their privates instead of a parachute,” I laughed, “Silly little pink wiggly things left behind.”
“Anyway,” He insists, “No more gooks on planes dead or alive please, Toodle Pip.” and he put the phone down.
An Aircraftsman 3rd class was next in the queue of people sent to annoy me.
“Beg pardon sir but Sgt Major Riley said to clean up trail of blood and it led here,” the chap said like some timid little mouse.
“Why did he ask you not one of his squaddies?” I asked, “Was there a reason.”
“Beg pardon sir, not blood sir, Hydraulic Oil, looks like blood, smells like blood, except its not blood. RAF business not Army sir,” he said, “Blood spills go in the accidents book and Hydraulic fluid only gets reported if we spill a significant amount like half a gallon.”
“King’s regulations no doubt, very well, carry on then fuck off,” I ordered.
“Beg pardon sir but did someone cut themselves shaving or something?” he asked.
“Oh no, a Gook Transwoman had her period,” I explained, He looked puzzled. “I did a cock ectomy with my sword, well he was dressed like a woman, it wasn’t as if I forced him or anything.”
He looked sick, probably wished he hadn’t asked.
My Boss Major Lancaster,Major Susan Manchester arrived, just as the RAF chap left.
“Sexual Harassment in the work place,” she started.
“Drop your knickers and I’ll be with you in a mo,” I agreed.
“I do like a subordinate with enthusiasm but a bit more stamina would be good,” she reminded me.
“The last time a Bloody RPG round went off, no wonder I shot my load early,” I reminded her.
“Well don’t do it again,” she said as she bent over and wiggled her ass.
Who could resist. Certainly not me, It might be against Kings regulations but who cares what that jug eared prat thinks anyway?