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abusivelittlebunny · 1 year

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Hey have u seen this??

https://www.tumblr.com/littlemarylil/712509124270751744/this-is-felix-kammerer

This is our Paul bäumer!!! Waoo. I have got so many ideas after seeing this pic. He is so pretty and delicate❤

He didn't know where they got the dress and the wig from; all he knew was that the men around him have been eyeing him restlessly more and more in the last few weeks. They whispered amongst each other too, but never let in Paul to learn what about. But he felt watched, surrounded, like a bird in a cage.

When he was led to the captain's tent and given a bucket of clean water and a bar of half used soap, smelling faintly of chamomiles over the blood and grime and death around him, he almost sobbed in relief, not even questioning why he was the only one given such luxury.

"Clean yourself. Thoroughly." Then the dress and wig was put on the chair by his side, his captain impatient. "Then get into this."

Paul's eyes shifted to the fine material, translucent and elegant; a lady's gown or more like lingerie. He frowned at the wig, first mistaking it for a shawl; it was long, almost his natural hair color if he washed the grease and dirt out of his own. "What for... sir?"

"For the men, what else." His captain scoffed, like this was a rule Paul should have been well aware of. "Entertain them. They're lonely and pent up."

"B-but why me?" He didn't know how he could entertain a crowd, he wasn't well-versed in theater or dancing, and he only ever sung at school, not too well either. "I'm not really good for this sort of thing."

His captain looked his frame over with a judgemental eye. "By the looks of you, you're only good for this sort of thing."

Paul wanted to ask what he meant by that but then his captain was gone and he was left holding onto the bar of soap like it was a shield, his only refuge. He swallowed hard before deeming it better to do as he was told than to be ungrateful. He felt more refreshed with every splash of water, even his soul felt cleaner by the end of it, like a heavy weight of grime and dirt and fear and rot have been scrubbed off; he almost felt like he was worthy of the dress when he got into it. It fit him remarkably well, maybe a bit too loose at his hips and chest, but at least it was comfortable; not very warm though. He put on the long wig and adjusted it against his scalp with the ribbon it came with; just as he was thinking of how silly he must look, playing dress up like he used to when he was a kid rummaging around in his mother's closet, his captain came back in the tent and stopped shortly by the entrance.

Paul felt truly like a lady, almost gasping and trying to cover himself; he didn't have any underwear below and the dress was practically see through. Suddenly he missed the dirt and grime that stuck to his skin before, obscuring him from the captain's prying eyes.

His captain watched him for far too long to be considered polite before he slightly shook his head as if to clear it and walked over to Paul, looming over him and clearing his throat before commanding, "Sit. Please."

The "please" wasn't necessary, Paul would have done anything asked of him anyway, but the captain seemed bashful from his feminine appearance; he tried to be a gentleman.

Paul gingerly sat back on the chair, careful not to crease his gorgeous dress and looked up at his captain expectantly, who now seemed unable to meet his eyes properly, fidgeting with the box in his hand before getting down on his knees. It felt far too intimate and inappropriate as his captain took him gently by his bare ankle and raised it to rest on his thigh before dipping his handkerchief into the soapy bucket of water and cleaning Paul's feet.

Paul was blushing, he was aware, squirming slightly in his seat as he watched his captain, his gruff, mean, demanding and degrading captain, now wipe his scarred feet clean and rest them on his thighs like they were of a cherished doll's. They did seem tiny in comparison to his captain's bulking frame, his coarse hand able to wrap completely around his small ankles and then some more; he also seemed to enjoy holding them, doing thorough and gentle work of his cleaning before wiping them dry and opening the box by his side with a heavy swallow.

Paul shouldn't have been surprised by the box's content, but he still was, digging his nails into his palms, trying not to make a sound. Stockings. Sheer and light and translucent and lacy at the hem. He was going to put on stockings. Or, well, he wasn't going to do them by himself, the way his captain started bunching them up methodically, before raising his foot by the heel.

Paul pointed his toes and raised his skirt up to his knee without a word, swallowing hard too now, letting his captain roll the peachy powder pink stockings up his shin.

"Put it on my shoulder." His captain breathed, rough and low, and it took a moment for Paul to realize he was talking of his foot. It was embarrassing, the way his skirt slid up his thigh from the angle, and it didn't feel appropriate at all to put his legs over his captain's shoulder, but his brain couldn't think further as those hands caressed up his thigh to roll out the stocking to the very end. Touching him right beneath the dress. His touch lingered, acting like he was smoothing out the lacy seam when he was just fondling the meatiest bit of his thigh. There wasn't much to fondle though, Paul was thin as a paper, but his skin was smooth and soft. Hairless. He didn't have much body hair really, and even what little he had was faint, scarce and blond.

"My captain," Paul whispered when the older man didn't move for a couple long minutes, only groping him beneath his skirt, his gaze transfixed. His captain jolted out of his stupor, clearing his throat before drawing his hands back and reaching for the next stocking.

"On my shoulder, please," his captain slurred as Paul arched his left foot for him, this time his leg pressing against the solid body a bit braver. He felt a bit of confidence pooling in his stomach at the effect he had on the usually stern and gruff man; how polite he became from seeing Paul dressed as a girl, how bashful. He could feel him swallow as his ankle brushed against the side of his neck, the way he shivered as his shin slid along his shoulder the higher he pushed the stockings.

Retreating his legs from his shoulders when his captain was done felt strangely disappointing, but then he got given pretty black shoes, women's of course, narrow and a bit too small with heels. His captain adjusted the clasp on them and then put his feet down to rest them on his thighs, not letting his shoes touch the ground.

"Don't dirty them." His captain grumbled under his mustache, his cheeks red like he just drank a whole bottle of liquor, giving Paul's ankles a little rub before reaching in his breast pocket and producing a small tin jar. "Here, use it."

Paul took the tin, marveling at the rose drawn on the lid and before he could ask what it was, he read the label, faint and cursive beneath the flower: Rouge.

"I don't have a mirror." Paul said quietly, but his captain was already reaching back into his pocket to produce a small shaving mirror quickly. It had a crack on one side, but it was still usable. "Thank you, sir."

"Of course," his captain said quickly before he could stop himself, biting his lip after in embarrassment for treating Paul like an actual lady. "Get on with it quick." He added with a cough to save his ego.

Paul opened the tin and scooped a little bit of the rosy pink cream on his middle finger, smearing it on his lips once he got a good look at himself in the mirror in his other hand. He could see his captain staring at his face from the corner of his eyes, still on his knees in front of him; Paul wondered if he noticed that he was rubbing at his ankles or if it was an unconscious decision. He parted his lips delicately, dabbing more of the lipstain on and adjusting it around the edges and he could hear his captain breathe harder and swallow loudly. He wiped the excess rouge on his cheeks to give himself a rosy blush before he looked at his captain.

"How do Iook, sir?"

"Beautiful." His captain spoke like he was afraid of the word but couldn't take his eyes off of Paul, no matter how embarrassed he was at his obvious focus. "One more thing..." his captain cleared his throat and rummaged around in his sachet, cursing low under his breath before triumphantly handing over two earrings to Paul who could only stare at the fine pearls dangling from them. Were they real? Couldn't have been, could they? The golden body of it felt heavy though, despite its delicate size. They were clip-ons too, not requiring Paul to have pierced ears.

As he was watching them in his palm, mesmerized the way the lamp light made them glint, his captain took the mirror from his lap and held it up for him to look. Paul swallowed but nodded in thanks, adjusting his hand for the right angle, the touch feeling so intimate before he retreated his hand and watched himself in the mirror as he tried to fit the earrings on himself. The clip hurt a bit, but the jewelry looked so pretty against his hair, he couldn't mind. He felt like a pretty lady, looked like one too. A look to his captain confirmed that he agreed, his eyes blown and his lips fallen open, and when Paul dared a glance down, he could see the outline of his cock, hard and fat and twitching against his thigh beneath his trousers, a couple centimeters away from Paul's foot.

Paul shied away from his gaze, blushing at the reaction he elicited from him, the way the older man watched him so hungrily making him feel things he never felt before. He was scared but also... a little proud almost? For being so desirable to someone he looked up to. For making him erect.

"Gorgeous," his captain breathed, reaching up to hold Paul by the chin, guiding his face back to look at him. "So pretty. My pretty girl."

"Sir," Paul held onto the older man's wrist, not to push him away, just... as reassurance that he wasn't dreaming. His captain leaned close, one hand on Paul's jaw, the other fondling the inside of his thigh beneath his skirt, and Paul could smell the tobacco on his mustache from how close he was. "Captain?"

He didn't try to resist the kiss, letting the electricity of it wash through his body and warm his skin as he opened his lips to let his captain lick into his mouth and guide him closer by the back of his neck. Paul gasped into the kiss as he felt his captain's coarse hand caress further up and cup his little cock. When did he get hard?

"Captain," Paul whined, feeling that dry palm rub at his sensitive prick and balls, while thick fingers nudged at his hole below. "Captain, why..."

"You washed yourself here too?" His captain breathed against his cheek, pressing heated kisses everywhere he could reach, and Paul could feel him smearing his lipstain as he prodded at his asshole. "Are you a clean little girl?"

"Y-yes, but why-," Paul broke off in a whine as a thick dry finger slid up and into his hole, the pain eased by the palm rubbing against his crotch in pleasurable circles.

"Your pussy is tight, isn't it?" His captain groaned against his neck, leaving kisses there before retreating his hand and instead grabbing a hold of both of his thighs and spreading them out, exposing what Paul hid beneath his dress. It was utterly humiliating. "Such a pretty pink cunt. You don't mind me tasting it?"

Paul couldn't even answer before his legs were thrown over his captain's shoulder and his face was buried between them kissing and licking at his hole. Paul was speechless, clawing at the back of his captain's skull, feeling a pleasure he never experienced before; it was uncomfortable at first, the way that thick wet tongue prodded and lapped at him, but once he got used to the sensation it quickly grew exciting and pleasing, and his captain rubbed and played with his little cock too to ease his tension.

"Captain, sir..." Paul didn't know what to do, what to say, he could only hold onto his captain's head and lift his skirt to not get any saliva or precum on the material. His captain massaged at his thighs, pressing them close to his head to sandwich him in while his tongue begun digging into his hole, fucking him with it rhythmically. It felt so strange, but... nice. He let out a little moan when his captain thrust his tongue deeper than before, his legs squeezing around his skull.

"You like my tongue in your pretty flower? My gorgeous girl," his captain was rasping, drunk on his taste and eating him out savagely, "You're tight like a little virgin down here, like you've never taken a man before."

"I haven't, sir." Paul whispered, barely audible, but it was loud enough for his captain to hear it and come back up to face him. He looked confused and shocked, but he wasn't as intimidating as usual, not with his face so red and soaked with his saliva and his hair messed out of place by Paul's grabby hands. Paul felt shy now, holding onto his skirt protectively. "I haven't been with a man before, or anyone for that matter. I'm sorry, sir."

He didn't really know why he was apologizing, but it felt like his captain assumed he'd know perfectly well how to handle being taken by a man. Was that what he was referring to when he said he was only good for this sort of thing?

Suddenly his captain's second in command peeked in, raising a brow at the sight but not at all surprised unlike Paul who quickly covered himself up with his skirt, blushing wildly.

"Is our French hooker ready? The men have been waiting around for long enough for little Pauline to make an appearance." He lit himself a cigarette pointing with it at the captain. "You said you wouldn't hog him all to yourself, sir."

"There's been a change of plans." His captain replied, wiping his mouth, not at all embarrassed unlike Paul, who was utterly mortified at being caught in such a position. "The men will have to wait one more night. He's a virgin."

"No way," his second I'm command laughed, trotting in to the tent right up to Paul and passing his cigarette to the captain. "I thought a pretty thing like him wouldn't have been taken advantage of from day one."

Paul gulped as the man took him by the jaw and turned his face here and there to observe him from above and all Paul could do was stay pliant and not die of embarrassment.

"With a mouth like that you'd think he was a professional cock-sucker."

"Well, he's not." His captain batted away his hand, glaring up at him and passing the cigarette back after one drag. He was protective over Paul. He didn't know why that made him feel so good. "I'll train him for the night. The men can have their fun tomorrow once he's broken in."

"With all due respect, sir, why you?" His second in command sneered. "We've all been waiting for long enough."

"It was my idea."

"I supplied the dress."

"Strauss supplied the wig. Bertram the stockings. The list goes on. The point remains; he's never been with anyone. We can't overwhelm him on his first night." His captain started getting angrier, standing up tall to loom over the other man. Paul felt like a piece of meat two dogs fought over.

"Why not? I bet he could take it," the other man reached out to touch Paul again but his captain slapped his hand away, the loud crack of it deafening in the small tent.

"This is an order. Leave him to me." His captain growled, stern and intimidating again, like how Paul was used to him. The other man stood defiant for a minute before giving in and giving a slight nod, letting out a disappointed sigh.

"The men will not be pleased." Was all he said before giving a half-hearted salute and leaving without a dismissal from the captain. His captain just scoffed, watching him leave before turning to Paul when he spoke, voice small.

"Am I going to be a prostitute, captain?" Paul swallowed, feeling a bit betrayed and used. "Is that how I am to entertain the men?"

His captain sighed, tucking back a long lock of hair from Paul's red face, his eyes sympathetic. "Yes. But not tonight. Tonight I'll take care of you, Baumer."

"And tomorrow, sir?" Paul sniffled, leaning into his captain's hand involuntarily for comfort. "Will you throw me to them tomorrow, sir, after you're done with me?"

"There's a war going on, my boy," his captain crouched down in front of him, rubbing Paul's knee. "Everybody has to do their part to help. You should be grateful your part is something like this, not worse."

"Whoring? I should be grateful to be forced into whoring?" Paul flinched, shying away from his captain's touch until he was roughly wrung back to face him by the back of his neck, fat tears falling down his cheeks. "That hurts..."

"I can hurt you far worse." His captain growled, shaking Paul a little by his nape like an unruly kitten. "Listen to me, Paul, whether you like it or not, there are soldiers who are either too strong, too smart, or too crafted to waste, and then there are those that can be allowed to fall easily like pawns on the board, expandable. Do you not want to be one of the few crafted soldiers that we look out for, that we protect? I've met few boys nearly as pretty as you and they are cherished far above anyone else in their units because they're capable of something the others are not. Pleasing the men. Easing their worries if just for one night. Giving them a little pleasure in this rotten world. Something to fight for."

Paul finally looked into his captain's eyes, biting his lip and blushing at the encouraging words. Did he find him really so pretty? Was it just because of his dress and wig or maybe even before?

"It's not whoring, it's survival, my boy. It's a warm bed and a promise of not sending you over the line. It's safety. Do you want to be safe? Cherished?"

Paul sniffled but nodded after a couple seconds, wiping at his nose and eyes and his captain handed him his handkerchief to use instead of his hand. "...yes, sir."

"Good boy." His captain squeezed his knee before wrapping his arms around Paul and lifting him up and out of the chair bridal style, making Paul gasp in surprise.

"Sir!"

"Tomorrow, you're to be cherished by the whole unit, but for tonight," the older man huffed as he placed Paul down onto his bed, making quick work on undoing his own clothes while watching Paul's petite body hungrily. "I'll cherish you all by myself."

"...yes, sir." Paul could feel his face turn red, but his legs opened as if on cue for his captain. Maybe he was good for this.

#i actually still haven't watched it and im not sure if i want to but here have Paul getting dressed up like a doll and tongue-fucked #felix kammerer #all quiet on the western front #ask rambles #paul baumer

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