A different kind of mission - Chapter 4

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Once all of the recruits had arrived (now numbering eight without Carp), Marilyn announced that the bar was open. One shouldn't make such an announcement if one were between a group of young soldiers and the bar. There was a most unladylike surge toward the "refreshments," sufficiently aggressive to tumble one neophyte female impersonator from "her" towering heels. Sandy was just as interested in the refreshments as anyone, but some instinct made her glance at the general before joining the stampede. She saw that frown of irritation once again disturbing Marilyn's amazingly pretty face, and recognized that they were all, always, being evaluated.

A small, wistful smile tugged at the corners of Sandy's lush lips. A sadly resigned expression peeked out from behind her long lashes. A tiny sigh (all that the corset would allow) lifted her shoulders within the thin robe as she decided to wait for the rush to dissipate before moving forward. Those delicately feminine mannerisms, caused as much by her introspective thoughts as by any deliberate intent, were devastatingly attractive to those around. Her better-than-expert makeup combined with her glorious cape of richly dark hair and added to those gentle signals of regret to make her seem somehow fragile and innocent, a dewy-eyed damsel in distress. Almost by reflex, the two white-coated waiters that were in the room moved toward her.

"Can I help you, miss?" the first one asked, barely nudging out the other hovering server. These men knew that the trainees were cross-dressers, not natural women. Some of the recruits were pathetically far from passing as women, and all were known to be part of the program. Nonetheless, the image of vulnerable, almost childlike femininity sparked a response within them too deep for conscious thought. This delicate flower needed their help, and they almost fought each other for the privilege of providing it.

Sandy was drawn from her reverie by their solicitous offers and smiled at them, another devastatingly effective attraction. She was about to order the beer she would have gotten at the bar, but once again, she looked over to see Marilyn and Connie watching her. Instead, she asked gently for a glass of white wine. The first waiter forced his way with casual indifference past the other similarly dressed but not similarly-attractive trainees and returned with her glass of wine. Being feminine had its advantages, Sandy realized, and she decided to play with it for a moment. When she took her wine glass, she looked into the waiter's eyes, then dropped hers just enough to let her long lashes dance seductively.

"Thank you," she said softly, letting her fingers brush lightly against his rough hand. His response was a blush even more fiery than the ones that periodically affected Sandy. He stammered and seemed to find his feet of irresistible fascination as he fidgeted back and forth. When he finally raised his eyes, he met Sandy's eyes, their emerald fire twinkling now with amusement. He ducked his head again, then backed away without actually turning, nearly knocking over a small table and then bumping into a none-too-stable trainee. Sandy's amused smile followed him as he stumbled away, then she casually turned to find a place to sit and give her feet some relief from their unaccustomed pressures.

Once again, she found herself in the essentially-private company of Marilyn and Connie, who had moved over while the mini-drama was being played out.

"You handled that very well," Marilyn complimented her.

"Thank you, Marilyn."

"Even better. Being called mam all the time makes me feel old," the general said with a smile as she took the green-eyed recruit's arm and steered her toward a small grouping of easy chairs. Marilyn recognized that Sandy had special talents in the vital skills they were learning, so much so that it would be worthwhile to make her feel as comfortable as possible in the role. With some trainees, stern measures or even dismissal would be required, but it was clear that Sandy was going to do her very best without threats. In her case, gentle encouragement would have the greatest chance of helping her complete the training.

"So," continued Marilyn, "what do you think of the first day?"

"I don't know what to think," admitted Sandy. "Even when you told us that feminization training would be part of the job, I never envisioned anything like this."

The young brunette continued with surprising frankness, as though talking to herself rather than the Commanding Officer, "I'm surprised to find I like it. I've never done anything like this before, ever. At first, I was too busy to think about it hardly at all. Now that my mind is catching up a bit, I find that I'm enjoying this. I liked the power I had with just a smile to make that poor boy feel awkward. I've never had that kind of power before. I suppose I shouldn't have teased him like that, but it felt . . wonderful."

"Were you sexually attracted to him?" Connie asked with brutal directness.

"No!" came the instant denial, then it was softened by an honest self-examination, "at least, I don't think so."

"Don't you know?" persisted Connie. "Are you physically aroused?"

"Yes, mam" Sandy answered the direct question, "but I've been that way ever since I looked in the mirror with my makeup and long hair. I don't know why; I just am."

"That's fine," Marilyn gentled the young girl. "It's to be expected. These are confusing times for all of us. You're doing fine. I'm sure you realize that you're the most promising of the present recruits, at least so far. Keep up the good work, and you'll be able to help us out tremendously. Finish your wine and go on into the dining room whenever you're ready. It's informal tonight."

With that, Marilyn stood up, her constant Constance beside her, and they began to circulate among the less-successful trainees. Sandy stood as they left, then once standing, went to the dining room. As she stood, the crumpled hem of her thin robe stayed high on her swiveling bottom, and she plucked ineffectually at its inadequate length. She realized she would have to take care to keep it smooth whenever she sat, or it would never hang straight. Sipping at her wine, she strolled around before sitting. This was her first chance to relax for a moment since she had awakened that morning, especially with a slight amount of privacy. The dining room was well lit through large picture windows, and she could see that they were indeed in the mountains, though none she recognized. The barracks looked more like a fancy resort lodge than a typical army installation, though with one glaring discordant note. In the distance, Sandy could see a high double-fence, each barrier topped with vicious razor wire. No one would be leaving the compound without permission. It might as well have been a prison, perhaps a comfortable one, but just as confining.

By now, a couple of other trainees had been passed by the command pair and allowed to enter the dining room. Sandy's group time had been so monopolized by Marilyn and Constance that she hadn't really met any of the other recruits. They had already started to form their own friendships, and she knew she would soon be ostracized unless she made a special effort, so she smiled brightly at the first ones to enter and moved toward them. She had already started her motion when she realized that one was Jaymi Fox.

Among a group of real women, especially pretty ones, there would have been a jealous pecking order established, from prettiest (at least in her own mind) to plainest. Perhaps a couple of pecking orders as cliques formed. These "girls," though, had been selected from men (boys, really) who had been at the very bottom of the social order among their peers. Short, slight, not terribly athletic, not terribly handsome by the standards of men, these recruits had always wished for attention from others, especially from pretty girls. Even Fox had longed for the attention of pretty girls for casual friendships. When the prettiest among them, one who also had the general's favor, approached with a smile, their return smiles were instantaneous.

"So, Jaymi, who's your friend?" Sandy started the conversation.

"Carol Stevenson, this is Sandy Brad," Jaymi performed the necessary social duties, triggering the obligatory snort that Sandy always heard when the pun in her name was sounded out. "Sandy, this is Carol. Sandy and I are from the same regiment."

Carol was a bit taller than Sandy, probably 5'10", one of the tallest of the "girls" to be accepted into training. Her hair, or wig, was a bright copper flame surrounding a sea of freckles that her makeup instructor had wisely left showing. Despite her best intentions not to be catty, Sandy thought how much prettier her own green eyes would have been when framed by all that red, but Carol has stuck with "only" crystal blue jewels. Each of these three recruits had mastered enough of the cosmetic arts to create a really beautiful appearance, one that would have passed anywhere as female. As they fell into a discussion of the techniques they had learned, they moved easily (despite their heels) to one of the tables and sat. Only Sandy remembered to smooth the brief hem of her robe before she sat, though the others noted her motion and immediately stood, then sat again more correctly. Within moments the first course of dinner was before them, and they began to eat. All had learned the lesson of small portions for compressed stomachs, so they carefully put aside their salads when only half-finished. Their judgment was rewarded by the main entree with a sizzling Filet Mignon, sized much smaller than their experience would have indicated would be needed to fill them up, but just right under the circumstances.

By the time they finished, the last pair of recruits were staggering in, shepherded by Marilyn and Constance. Staggering for more than one reason. These stragglers had demonstrated the least success with their makeup but were among those with the least success at walking in heels, also. In addition, they had made full use of the open bar. These two soldiers would have had a difficult time walking a straight line in combat boots, let alone the spindly heels they actually wore. The frown on Marilyn's face was bordering back into the masculine zone when she finally got them seated safely. Sandy knew that at least two more recruits were about to wash out of the program, and it was still only the first day.

Before the general and her companion took their own seats, they came over to the table with the three most-successful trainees and congratulated them once again.

"Sandy, Carol, Jaymi, you've done well today. How was your meal?"

"Fine, Marilyn," Sandy answered as the unofficial leader of the beautiful trio.

"Is there anything special you need tonight?" Constance asked, clearly fulfilling an executive officer role for the general, whatever her real position might be.

"No, mam," Sandy declined, "except, it will be nice to get these shoes off and this corset."

"Yes, it will," giggled the general. Yes, actually giggled, an amazingly feminine mannerism that the trio knew must have been acquired through training. That instant of insight did more to warn them of the additional things they needed to learn than any lecture from their officers could have achieved. Despite Marilyn's mirth, the three recruits were suddenly somber as the implications of the extent of their transformation began to sink in.

"If you're done, feel free to wander about the lodge. Don't go outside yet. Of course, you can go to your rooms and get some sleep whenever you want," offered Marilyn.

It wasn't sleeping that interested them as much as getting out of their corsets and heels, so all three of the stunning recruits stood and made their way to their rooms. Once inside, Sandy glanced around for an instructor, but the room was empty. She made her way to the powder room and completed a bit of immediate business, then tried to decide how to get out of her outfit by herself. Her feet hurt too much to just wander around the lodge in hopes of finding an instructor. After a moment, an idea came to her, one that she wasn't sure she wanted to try. Instead, she took off her emerald robe and bent down to the ankle straps on her shoes, or at least tried to bend down. The corset pulled her up far short of reaching the little buckle. The logical choice was then to take the corset off first, but she couldn't figure out the knot while reaching around her back and looking in the mirror. Finally, she decided she would have to try her first idea, however distasteful. Putting her robe back on, Sandy went out into the hallway and made her way to Jaymi's room. She knocked tentatively on the door, then stood fidgeting. With no warning, the door was opened, and Sandy was suddenly faced to face, in private, with one of "them."

"I'm sorry to bother you," Sandy said quietly, "but I'm having trouble getting out of these shoes and the corset. Could I ask you to help me?"

"Certainly," Jaymi replied, stepping back into her room. Sandy hesitated yet again but stepped forward. Her nervousness was obvious, and Jaymi picked up on it immediately. She was used to that, though, and she decided to try and help Sandy through her dilemma.

"You're not really comfortable around me, are you?" asked Jaymi.

A denial started to form on Sandy's ruby lips, but it was stilled before any honest answer was made. She slowly nodded her head and, for the first time, let her eyes meet the deep brown ones that waited patiently for her response.

"Would it help you to know I'm really bisexual? I just like making love with people, holding and hugging, and sex in all its flavors. Well, not all flavors, they're some things that are too far out even for me, but mostly anything consenting adults want to do that's clean and doesn't hurt anyone is interesting to me. What about you?"

Now Sandy's embarrassment flared to nova temperatures. She was sure her long hair would ignite from the heat on her cheeks. Her eyes fell, and she fidgeted but didn't say anything.

"You're a virgin!" Jaymi exclaimed with sudden insight.

"Yeah, what of it?" Sandy answered pugnaciously; for a moment, all feminine mannerisms submerged below a defensive shell.

"Nothing," Jaymi gently assured her, "or at least, nothing bad. I think that's just fine. Of course, someday, I hope you find out what you're missing, but there's plenty of time for that."

The green-eyed beauty studied Jaymi's face for any sign of ridicule but only found friendship and acceptance. Sandy began to realize that the conditioning implanted by society wasn't necessarily accurate, at least not in every case. This person wasn't some alien creature with psychotically destructive propensities that might blow up in her face. She was just another recruit in an extraordinary situation. They had more in common than in conflict. Sandy tried out a tentative smile, grateful for the lack of derision in Jaymi's attitude.

"Besides," Jaymi continued with an answering grin, "in this crazy situation, you're more likely to get turned on by me dressed like a woman than I would be by you if I were exclusively homosexual."

"I know," giggled Sandy," some of those 'girls' are so gorgeous I keep forgetting what's under their robes."

"Some of US girls, you mean," Jaymi countered. "None are prettier than you."

Sandy blushed again, this time from a host of emotions too complex for a simple label. She knew it was true and part of her was ashamed that she, a man, could look so feminine. But part of her was proud that she could look so pretty. That thought spiral threatened to capture her thoughts and an introspective look settled on her delicate features. Jaymi interrupted her, though, before she could withdraw into her own mind.

"Now, let me help you with your corset. Then you help me with mine."

With no further thought of the implications of undressing in front of one of "them," Sandy quickly removed her robe and twirled around so Jaymi could reach her laces. It took a minute or so for Jaymi to figure out the knot. That triggered a little sub-processor thought trickling through the back of her mind, one that she didn't even consciously recognize for a moment as she struggled with the laces. After a moment, she had it undone, though, and was starting to ease off on the taut strings. Sandy gave a sigh of relief that was so heartfelt Jaymi couldn't help giggling, which triggered Sandy into her own light-hearted laughter. She smiled with genuine friendship now at Jaymi and twirled her finger to indicate Jaymi should turn around now. Sandy had her own troubles with the knot, trying to puzzle out the complicated tangle.

After a few seconds, the idea that had been stirring in the back of Jaymi's mind leaped to the forefront, and she exclaimed, "They did that on purpose!"

"Huh?" Sandy grunted, a most unladylike response excused by her concentration on the knot.

"That knot is really complicated, right?" asked Jaymi.

"Yeah," Sandy confirmed.

"I bet they did it that way on purpose, to make sure we needed to help each other. I hope the other girls realize it and help each other out."

"You're probably right now; hold still. I think I have it figured out," directed Sandy as she worked an end through the twisted laces. In a few moments, Jaymi was heaving her own sigh of relief, prompting another giggle duet that fed on itself until both were shaking with mirth.

"Can you get your shoes by yourself?" asked Jaymi.

"Yes. Thanks for your help. I'll see you in the morning," Sandy answered, realizing as she did so that she was genuinely looking forward to seeing Jaymi in the morning. In her own mind, that might just have been the biggest lesson of the day.