New recruit

Author: jackbootlad
Title: New recruit
Date: 09 November 2010

Dean had always fantasised about joining the German army ever since he had learned about the world wars. What these soldiers did wasn't what got him going. It was the uniforms: the german uniform was the best in the world, as far as he was concerned. As a boy on the farm, he would wear his black rubber boots all day and every day whenever he could, imagining that he was in the German infantry. To make them look like jackboots, he would put on several pairs of socks so that the boots looked as though they were tight against his legs. Then he would practise the goose-step around the farm yard. His dad was amused by it: what harm could there be? If the lad wanted to play at being soldiers, that was fine by him. Who knows? Perhaps he would join up and become a real man.

Dean was certain through his adolescence that he would sign up. He wanted to be part of a machine, one cog, one number marching with all the other lads. He was a good shot too. HIs farm experience meant that he could kill a rabbit at up to 500 mteres away. He had a couple of his mates regularly went out shooting at the weekends. A certain ritual always had to be observed on these occasions. First, the gear had to be right. Combat trousers, army green T-shirt, army parka, thick woollen army socks with his trousers tucked in and a pair of green hunters over the top. All three of them wore fingerless gloves made out of green wool and army green beanies. Dean had been given a set of dogtags for his 16th birthday so they were round his neck as well. On a shooting night, the three boys would meet up on a Saturday morning and would set off across the fields each carrying a small rucksack with supplies and water. They always planned to sleep out during the summer nights. No change of clothes was necessary: the kit they wore would be what they would wear whatever the circumstances. The fact that, especially in the summer, young adolescent male feet were pretty sweaty inside woollen boot socks and boots was not an issue. Lads don't care about that sort of thing: as far as they were all concerned, this was all part of being a man anyway.

On his 17th, Dean signed up as a raw recruit at the local army cadet training base. They liked the look of him: he was physically fit from his farmwork and he had some skill in the shooting department. On the day of joining up, he signed the paper work for a 5 year tour of duty and was ordered straight off to military supplies for kit. THe standard issue combats, boots, beret, socks, pants, belt and gloves were handed out in a pile to him. His training began. The early morning runs, the parade square bashing, the boot polishing and coping with the lance corporals became second nature to him and he loved it. He was slowly being moulded into a soldier and, in the process, was shining amongst the lads.

His progress did not go unnoticed. One day, the SM came to the barracks and ordered him to the CO's office. It seemed as though the British Army was setting up an exchange with the Russian army. This was all in the name of thawing out of relations. The exchange involved sending 50 British lads to Russia to serve their tour of duty and for 50 Russian lads to serve in the UK. Dean had been chosen as a potential recruit. He thought 'why not?' and agreed to the transfer. Within a week he had arrived at the Russian military base and was being corralled with the other lads towards the barracks and ordered out to supplies to pick up their new uniforms.

The uniform was, of course, pretty close to the German army uniform and when Dean saw it, he knew that what he had fantasied about was about to come true. The non-dress uniform consisted of a pair of grey trousers, tunic and a black belt together with a military cap. The boots were standard issue jackboots - thick leather, heavy duty soles and in need of quite a bit of work polishing them. They were also issued with foot wraps. No socks. Instead, Russian soldiers would wrap cloth around their feet and up their trousers to a certain height, pinning it to the trousers before pulling the boots on. THis was to ensure a tight fit and no slipping socks inside the boots.

When Dean got back to the barracks, one of the NCOs was waiting for them in uniform without his boots on. The lads were to get dressed and he would then show them how to put the wraps on and their boots. Dean quickly mastered this and in no time was pulling on the heavy duty jackboots. The boots made him feel powerful and his cock, of course, had already stood to attention long before. The boots were very heavy but he would soon get used to them. They had to train in them, march in them, run in them. At sunrise, uniforms went on straightaway before breakfast and uniforms and boots only came off at sundown. Each solider showered daily using army soap so although they were always clean, the lack of deoderant and the long hours in their boots meant that he barracks always contained a strong, natural male smell. This was what Dean loved and jacking off at every opportunity was now part of life. He couldn't get enough of the life. The goose step marching around the square was excellent training: it stamped out individuality in favour of the corporate spirit. Goose stepping looks totally stupid on its own but when done in a platoon of other soldiers it's an expression of male aggression and military dominance

As far as Dean was concerned, he was now living the dream. Passing out came and the dress uniforms were issued. The crisp light green trousers and tunic, the peaked cap and black leather gloves were a great fit round Dean's well toned body but the boots were things of beauty. Knee high and made out of black leather on which you could produce a mirror shine with metal heel and toe plates, Dean could hardly contain his cock the first time he pulled them on. On the parade square, he lined up with the hundreds of other lads: lines of jackbooted soldiers all dressed to kill...