A serious alert in the General Head Quarters. War declared.

The General was furious. Fuming. His screams echoed through the bunker. Maximum alert, this is a declaration of war, not an exercise.

Head down, the intelligence commanding officer shaved the walls in his attempt to escape from his superior's wrath.

Which he couldn't. A squad of discipline enforcement personnel in leather uniforms barred his way.

The General had him brought in the interrogation room. He had only one question.

"How could you allow the enemy to browse my make-up kit and fetch that strategically important red lipstick developed by our secret laboratories of mass-seduction?"

"Hmmm hmmm ..."

"Replace the inflatable gag with a ring one !" ordered the general.

"Fix that bitch in a kneeling position, make sure the armbinder straps are tight, apply nipple clamps !"

Then, slowly lifting the hems of his petticoats, the General continued:

"You messed with my lipstick, time has come that I mess with yours ! Make sure you don't loose a single drop of my sentence !"

Yep. The world would be a much safer place if all Generals were Sissies. Keep dreaming, it ain't go to happen any soon...