Fic: Sparkling Stars I: The Check-Up (1/1)
Title: Sparkling Stars I: The Check-Up (1/1)
Author: BradyGirl_12
Pairings/Characters: Quinton/Virgil, Lester Gruber, Harrison 'Tinker' Bell, Willy Moss, George 'Christy' Christopher, Joseph 'Happy' Haines, Andrew Martin, Molly Turner
Fandom: McHale's Navy
Genre: Angst, AU, Drama, Historical, Slavefic
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: If you're looking for the frothy comedic version of this TV show, you won't find it here, nor even a straightforward World War II drama. This series will focus on the concept of sexual slavery with a bit of a twist. Note: use of crude sexual language.
Spoilers: None
Summary: The crew of the PT-73 possesses their own sex slave, and that means a responsibility to keep him healthy.
Date Of Completion: July 7, 2022
Date Of Posting: July 19, 2022
Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em, Universal does, more’s the pity.
Word Count: 2908
Feedback welcome and appreciated.
Author's Notes: was in the mood for worldbuilding and was also binge watching McHale's Navy on YouTube. Blame my crazy imagination! Also Virgil with his shirt off in many episodes! ;)
The entire series can be found here.
Sparkling stars
Fall from a midnight sky
And crash to earth,
Shattering into beads
Of fine starstuff,
Melting and flowing away,
Like our freedom.
We remember the stars
As we pick up the pieces
And place them
In our lonely hearts.
Unknown Slave
"Sparkling Stars"
1917 C E.
McHale combed his fingers through Virgil's dark hair. He listened to his men talking about the latest scuttlebutt from the main base while eating the fine breakfast Fuji had prepared for them.
He glanced down at Virgil, who was kneeling at his feet. He was naked, wearing his lightweight gold chain link slave collar and bracelets. Since McHale had ordered him in slave mode instead of crew, it was his responsibility to feed him. McHale picked up a piece of fresh fish and fed Virgil, who ate gratefully. His wrists were crossed behind him, chained together, so being fed was a necessity.
McHale kept feeding his slave, laughing as Gruber related a story told to him by a Marine on the base.
"He says that Binghamton pitched a fit."
"Ha, ol' Leadbottom does it so well," chuckled Tinker.
McHale's fingers slid down Virgil's throat to his chest. He pinched a nipple, pleased at his slave's low moan.
"The cap'n needs some joy juice to relax," said Willy, always willing to offer moonshine as a solution.
Christy laughed. "Can you see Leadbottom swillin' your mountain gin, Willy?"
"Hey, I cook up the good stuff."
The men laughed. McHale stroked Virgil's throat and drank his mango juice. He liked his beer but drew the line at drinking it at breakfast. He offered Virgil the drink and the slave drank deeply.
"All right now, you schlockmeisters. You got a lot if work to do. Virgil, get dressed and start scrubbin' the deck, boy. Remember, we go mainside for your check-up at 09:45."
"Yes, Master." Virgil got to his feet and McHale unchained his wrists. He gave him a casual spank on the bottom and Virgil hurried off to the barracks.
& & & & & &
The barracks were empty. Virgil quickly brushed his teeth over the sink and went to his bunk and started pulling on clothes. As the cotton underwear slid up his legs, he reflected on how strange it had felt once the Government had removed him from the brothel and sold him to the Navy. In the brothel where the Government had first placed him, it was forbidden to wear any clothing at all. Putting on a seaman's uniform once he was assigned to the '73 had been unusual. He had forgotten what clothes felt like.
He kept his slave jewelry on but now added his silver dog tags. Jeans, a T-shirt and blue cotton shirt was next. Finally, socks, shoes and his sailor's cap.
Happy came into the barracks, gave him a thumbs up at his clothed state, and started digging into his duffel bag for something. Virgil headed out and grabbed some cleaning supplies from the supply hut, and went aboard PT-73.
He checked his machine gun first. The Skipper would approve, because Virgil didn't have as much time as the rest of the crew to perform Navy duties. Sometimes he was busy with slave duties instead, so he had to take every opportunity to keep his gun clean and ready. He cleaned it, then got busy swabbing the deck.
The simple task relaxed him. Oh, he might get an order from a horny crewman to get on his knees and suck him off, or bend over instead while said crewman plowed into him, but that didn't happen as often as people thought, and McHale had strictly forbidden servicing on the boat. Virgil was strictly crew while aboard. He was theirs to use whenever they wanted, but the '73 was sacrosanct.
He worked hard and McHale showed up at 09:30. "Shower, boy, and meet me back here in fifteen minutes."
"Aye, aye, sir."
McHale snorted and spanked Virgil as he went by.
& & & & & &
McHale and Virgil took the gig over to the main base. At the hospital they were greeted by Head Nurse Molly Turner, aka Commander, and she directed Virgil to an examination room with the order to strip to the waist.
"Where's the doc?" McHale asked out in the hall.
"He had to take a call." Molly jerked her head toward the exam room. "How's Virgil?"
"Good. His blood pressure and temp's good."
"Well, I'll take 'em again, but he's in good health?"
"You saw him glowing."
"Okay, good."
Molly picked up a chart and entered the exam room, appreciating the view Virgil offered while shirtless.
"Have a seat on the table. Now, any headaches lately?"
"No...wait, one last week."
"Everyone had one last week when the temps hit 110 in the shade." Molly scribbled on the chart. "Heart palpitations?*
"No, ma'am."
"Eating okay?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Any digestive upsets? Dysentery? Anything abnormal?"
"No, ma'am."
"Good "
Molly affixed a blood pressure cuff to Virgil's arm and took a reading. Satisfied, she took his temperature next.
"Well, all good."
The door opened and Dr. Andrew Martin came in. A tall man with slicked-back gray hair and gray mustache, he said, "Good morning."
"Good morning, Doctor," said Virgil.
"Readings all good, sir," said Molly, handing him the chart
"Good, good."
Martin performed a routine physical, as he would for any sailor. Then he ordered Virgil to remove his boxer shorts and lay on his side on the table, knees up. Virgil obeyed, shivering slightly as the doctor used a cold steel medical instrument to scrape some tissue. Next he used his hand to probe.
Virgil clasped his hands on his stomach as he stared over at the wall. The probing was uncomfortable, but considering what had been put in his body before, this was negligible. He relaxed after the doctor finished his exam.
"I didn't detect any scar tissue but we'll run the sample I took just to be sure." Martin washed and dried his hands at the sink. He took a look at the chart and frowned. "When was your last head-to-toe?"
Virgil tensed. "Three years ago."
"You're about due." Martin made a note "Get dressed. I'll be having lunch with your Master."
"Yes, Doctor."
Once outside the room, Martin said to Molly, "What's the mess hall got today?"
"Chipped beef on toast."
Martin rolled his eyes. "I'll bring McHale to the Officers' Club "
"Good choice."
Martin escorted McHale to the Officers' Club and they ordered roast beef sandwiches and mango salad.
"Beats chipped beef, huh?" Martin asked.
"Absolutely, Doc " McHale took a bite of his sandwich. "Everything okay with Virgil?"
Martin knew there was no confidentiality with a slave. His Master was entitled to know everything.
"He is, though he's due for a head-to-toe." McHale winced. "I know. Have you recently tenderized him?"
"Last time was a month ago."
"Okay, leave off for awhile. I think we'll do a head-to-toe after he's Base Slut next month."
"I won't mention it to him."
"Considering what it entails, it's probably for the best." Martin drank his lemonade. "Are you a certified tenderizer?"
"I am."
"Certified skin peeler?"
"No, but Gruber is. Before the war he worked at a fancy spa in New York and did face and body peels. Says it's a lucrative gig."
"That Gruber. Always an operator."
McHale grinned. "Skin peeling is painless."
"That's why it's reserved for non-slaves. Slaves get tenderization, and that's frequently painful unless an expert does it."
"Well, I'm an expert."
Martin sliced his mango. "You can't tenderize the face, so you'll need Gruber's skin peeling skills."
"You want us to do the job?"
"Why not? I've got sniffles and athlete's foot cases to take care of "
McHale laughed. "Virgil's a good kid. He learned his training well."
Martin took a cigarette out of his pack and offered one to McHale, who declined. The doctor lit his cigarette. "Funny how societal norms and medicine evolve."
"What do you mean?"
"This slave business. When we developed a test to identify certain markers in the blood, we discovered the FH factor. Turns out FH causes the carrier to eventually lose his sanity or die if he's not screwed at least once a day. And it's males only."
"Lucky us."
"No kidding." Martin blew out a ring of smoke. "Kid hits puberty, and a few years later when his blood's tested, if he's positive..."
"His life changes."
"Forever." Martin smiled at the steward who approached the table. "What's today's dessert?*
"Lemon pie, sir."
"Sounds good to me, sir," said McHale.
"Two slices of lemon pie, please."
The steward nodded and left. Martin waved his cigarette. "Some doctors back at the turn of the century figured out that when people with the FH factor were hospitalized in the insane asylum, they were subjected to sexual assault by orderlies on a daily basis, and they gradually recovered. The chemical imbalance in their brains shifted back to normal." His eyes narrowed through the smoke. "Never underestimate the power of jizz "
McHale snorted. "I know that FHers need at least one fuck a day to keep their brains right, and to keep their blood pressure down ."
Matin nodded. "So this propensity to violence was eased by that 'treatment'. Violence caused by impending insanity. And to keep that violence off the streets, the authorities locked them up, and word got around that if a guy wanted sex with another guy, they could go to these sleazy little hellholes and enjoy themselves for a modest fee."
"And it was all run by criminals."
"Mostly. Since men having sex with men is still verboten in our society, it was all underground. Then some numbers cruncher realized that stats for men committing sexual assault, wife-beating and other violence had lowered since the underground invert brothels opened."
The steward brought their desserts. Martin approved of the fluffy meringue on top and dug in.
"And that's when the Federal Government got involved," said McHale, cutting a slice of pie.
Martin nodded. "In 1904, some shrink declared sexual release for normal men made them less inclined toward committing violence."
"So then the Govs took charge of all FHers and went into the brothel business."
"Yep, and another shrink decided that men in combat desperately needed that sexual release to keep their mental and physical health, so when American soldiers went to France in 1917, sex slaves went with 'em." Martin took a bite of pie. "The Army maintained brothels in Paris, but some slaves were assigned to combat units. They had been combat-trained and fought alongside the normal men. The Europeans thought it was another 'soft' indulgence on our part, but the Army maintained male brothels between the wars. And then Pearl Harbor happened."
"The Army and Navy needed slaves."
Martin nodded. "Your boy Virgil tested positive soon after his 18th birthday, was immediately removed from his family and placed in a brothel for training as a slave. His positive test was nearly two years before Pearl, so he was a seasoned slave by December 7th."
"I know the Govs sold a bunch of slaves to the Pentagon." McHale sipped his coffee, brought by the steward with dessert.
"It was between Government departments, so General Accounting wanted something on the books."
McHale laughed. "Gotta love the Government."
Martin signaled for more coffee. "Slaves are around 3 percent of the population, so like everything else, there's a shortage. That's why Taratupa has to borrow the PT boat slaves, because you got a sweet deal, each boat getting a slave."
"Hey, they do double duty."
"I know; I know; Virgil's a slave but also crew." Martin shook his head. " How you maintain that balance is beyond me."
McHale looked smug. "Clean livin'!"
"Ha!" Martin thanked the steward for their fresh coffee. "I'd like to hear Captain Binghamton's position on that."
"We're pirates," McHale said with a big grin.
"With a great booty aboard."
McHale nearly choked on his coffee. "Good one, Doc."
Martin grinned. "You boys gotta stay in the prime of health."
"Yes, sir!"
"Well, one's your limit. If you were on a battleship or aircraft carrier, you would have access to a whole unit of slaves on board ship, and that's all they'd be used for."
"Well, we're just a cozy little group, Doc."
& & & & & &
Commander Molly Turner reviewed the chart of the young man in Room 16. His stomach was better today. "Bad fish," she muttered.
"What, Commander?" asked Lieutenant Helen Stafford, a blond with a good figure and a pretty face that had every normal man on the base panting after her. Another nurse walked up to the nurses' station and filed the metal chart she carried. Brown-eyed and brown-haired, curvaceous Lieutenant Rosa Maricotti was right behind Helen in the base's mental pin-up poster parade.
I'm surrounded by beauty queens.
"Commander?" asked Helen.
Molly sighed. "Nothing. Did Virgil get his lunch?"
"Yes."
"You didn't serve the poor guy chipped beef on toast?"
"No, I didn't. Though it would be ironic to serve chipped beef to a premium side of beef?"
The nurses laughed. Molly shook her head fondly. "Okay, girls."
"Aw, c'mon, Commander," Rosa said. "He's delicious."
"Can't argue with that," Molly said.
"He's definitely some prime rump roast." Helen and Rosa chuckled.
"I wouldn't mind him on the menu," said Rosa. "Add a little Italian seasoning..."
"Meatballs and sausage?"
"Grade-A."
Molly rolled her eyes but laughed. They were good girls and excellent nurses.
"Honestly, Commander, can we stop the crude language?"
The complainant was another one of her nurses, Mildred Hanover. Her raven hair framed a face with high cheekbones, and she would have been pretty if she smiled once in awhile.
"Oh, it's just us girls here." At Mildred's sour look, Molly continued, "Listen, men think we're these delicate flowers. Hey, I don't mind the little courtesies they show us, like watching their language in 'mixed company' and opening doors and stuff, but when it's just us girls, we can let our hair down."
Mildred shrugged. "I shouldn't be surprised, considering that catamite's in residence."
"Belay that talk, Nurse. That man's a patient."
"He's a catamite."
"Oh, c'mon, Mildred, he's okay," Helen said.
"Sure, besides being a beauty, he's always polite and sweet," Rosa added.
"He's disgusting," snapped Mildred.
Molly picked up Virgil's chart and went to his exam room while Helen and Rosa argued with Mildred. Let Mildred Hanover defend herself against those two!
Virgil looked up as Molly entered. He relaxed and she said cheerfully, "Enjoy lunch?"
"Yes, ma'am. The chow was pretty good."
"No chipped beef on toast?"
"No, but that's okay."
She noticed he had placed the tray on the counter. He was sitting on the exam table.
"You can bet Quint isn't eating chipped beef."
"He went with the doc to the mess hall?"
"Officers' Club." She crossed the room and noted the lunch plate was empty. She opened the bottom cabinet to make sure there were plenty of boxes of surgical gloves. They were always running out. "He'll give Quint a full report on your exam."
"Shouldn't I be told the report?" he complained.
Out of the corner of her eye, Molly could see Virgil suddenly flinch as if half-expecting to be slapped for his impertinence. She let it slide as she was more interested in treating him as a sailor instead of a slave today. She and Virgil were bantering, as nurses and sailors were supposed to do. She closed the cabinet and straightened up.
"Quint keeping you boys busy?"
Relieved, Virgil answered, "Yes, ma'am. Swabbing the decks, cutting firewood, K.P...."
"Sounds exciting."
Virgil's dark eyes sparkled with mischief. "It includes tending Willy's still and marking Lester's dice."
She laughed, delighted to see Virgil's personality peek through. Slaves suppressed their personalities by necessity and for survival.
Would you show more confidence as a normal, Virgil? Who am I kidding? Of course you would.
Normals didn't live by the whims of other people every second of every day.
"Do you think Gruber marks the cards, too?"
"Oh, sure." Virgil chuckled, a nice sound. "Lester's the biggest con artist around."
"Can't argue with that." She checked over his chart. "So you're in the pink?"
"I feel so."
The door opened and Dr. Martin came in, followed by McHale. "Time to go, Virgil," he said.
Virgil hopped off the table. "Yes, sir."
"We'll get the results back on that tissue sample I took, but I'm sure it'll be fine."
"C'mon, Virg," said McHale.
"I've got some paperwork for you to sign, Commander."
"Okay, Doc "
The men left. Molly stopped Virgil with a hand on his arm. When he looked at her, she grasped his jaw and squeezed slightly.
"Make sure that talented mouth of yours doesn't get you into trouble."
She released him and he smiled slightly. "I will." As he went out she gave him a quick spank and his smile broadened.
Out in the hall, McHale was waiting. He chatted with Helen and Rosa and they were all laughing.
"Oh, good, Virg. C'mon, boy."
McHale put his arm around Virgil's shoulders and they walked down the hall. It could have been the possessive arm of a Master for his slave, but Molly thought it was more a skipper being affectionate with one of his crew.
"Nice view," said Rosa with a happy sigh as she watched Virgil walking away
Helen grinned. Molly shook her head.
"You girls."
Molly watched until Quint and Virgil were gone, then she returned to work.
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This story can also be read on AO3.