The next several days were very hard for me. The duty in the Army wasn’t hard, but it was difficult changing back into my “he self” after the scene the other night. I felt different, as thought I had completed some rite of passage. Coming down from that took discipline that I knew I had, but that I felt very reluctant to use.

I threw myself into my work. There was always training to do, skills to be honed, competitions to hold and the other ordinary activities of a platoon of warriors. I continued to supervise people, take care of arguments as they happened, all the while continuing to keep my body in top male physical form every day.

Just because I was “bewitched bothered and bewildered” didn’t mean anything stopped.

So I did what I could and the very routine of the week finally grounded me out. It took some time, but it worked.

While going through this no longer normal routine, I had time to think. I was still confused as to who I was. Was I SSgt Taylor, Ranger, Marksman, expert in many forms of combat, or was I a girl trapped in a man’s body? Did I want to give up the recognition I had to try to gain something I might have had?

Did all this that I was going through confirm or deny my childhood?

The rage and anger my “he self” learned as a child had been channeled in a productive way by my service to my country. The enemies my government directed me to suffered, not innocent people. Yet, my core, my “she self” was denied, crushed, ignored by that very outlet.

As mad as it sounds, the only time I didn’t feel like I was acting was when I was simply being myself with Mistress whether we were with clients or not. Helping mistress talking with her, shopping, doing all the day-to-day things that “real” ladies did. That was the real me the true me.

I’ll admit that I wasn’t the best at being a girl. Heck, I didn’t have much but I was learning and improving making me feel like one person not two for the first time in a long time. I had come to realize how much I needed that part of me and how much it completed me. It made me whole.

I didn’t want to give up SSgt Taylor either. He was just as important to my psyche as Sissy was. I enjoyed being as physical as I was, I enjoyed the competition on the field of battle, with the victor living to fight another day. I understood how addictive the adrenaline rush was to the gamers, and this took it from the virtual world into the real world. Instead of pixels running, it was my own flesh blood and bone. If I failed there was no reset button, no other life for me and that added to the endorphin high I felt. It made the down time, the stateside time bearable to my “he self”.

As always, my thoughts circled around to “nothing can be done”. I couldn’t finish any a transformation to female while I was in the Army, I couldn’t stay SSgt. Taylor out if it.

***

Halloween came and I was back at Mistress’ house again. True to her word she had a costume for me, female officer, all the proper ribbons and hash marks on the uniform.

I held it up and looked it up and down. “How did you get this?”

She snorted. “I called the uniform store, asked for a Captain’s uniform, gave them sizes and awards, all the citations and so on and then I picked it up a little while ago. It really wasn’t hard.”

I held it up to me. It did look like it would fit properly. I examined the awards and citations. Good Conduct for 10 years running, standard medals for various duty oriented things, matching my own set of citations. Expert in pistol, rifle and grenade, sharpshooter, it was almost perfect. If I could have added my combat cords and citations it would have been perfect.

I carefully laid it all out. Just about everything a female officer could need.

“Here, let’s get you dressed properly.” In no time she had me in my skin and I was pulling on my “she self” undergarments. First the padded girdle, giving my butt and hips a softer female shape, then the corset and bra. I noticed I was breathing in short gasps from the corset. They weren’t regulation, but I doubted anyone would be inspecting me closely enough to discover that fact.

A camisole came next, covering the corset creating a smooth line. Next I pulled on the hose and attached them to the girdle garters. Now it was time for the outerwear. The blouse slid up one arm and then the other, settling around my torso. I started closing up the buttons, the backwards motion almost second nature. It was meant to close all the way up to the throat, no low cut blouses in the military thank you. The tie was next, a simple snap under the collar.

The skirt slid down over my arms my torso almost floating to my waist. I noticed the material of the skirt matched the jacket, thick and heavy. I was glad the skirt was lined; I couldn’t imagine how rough it would feel against my hose covered legs without it.

I turned and saw myself in the full mirror. All I could say was “oh wow”. Girls were right that a military uniform really looks good. I pulled the shoes on, only a two-inch heel, but highly shined shoes as per regulations. Finally I picked up the jacket and pulled it on.

Man, my “he self’s” Class-A’s didn’t look this good. It was true I had more decorations, but this looked wonderful. It was fitted at the waist, giving me a nice hourglass figure, the green was just the right shade to go with my skin tone, and I looked sharp.

The gold oak-leaves were just the icing on the cake. The whole ensemble looked perfect.

I only had two more things to put on, the cap and my purse. Regulations stated that it was a black utilitarian purse, and that is exactly what I had, functional and sturdy. It too was polished to an eye-blinding shine. I looked inside and found all my accessories, makeup wallet and so on.

I pulled on a short, red wig and then I grabbed some glasses and pulled them on as well. That was the perfect touch. Habit kept me from putting on the garrison cap until we were outside, but I think I cut a pretty fine figure.

Mistress came to inspect me after putting on her Playboy Bunny costume. “Oh, my, don’t you look dashing.”

I curtseyed a bit while saying “Thank you. May I say you look hot? I mean, if I were a red-blooded man, I’d be all over you.”

“Sissy, you are a red-blooded man, at least until we get you on hormones and some surgeries.”

Something must have shown on my face, because she became very solicitous. “I didn’t mean it that way. I mean… what I meant to say….”

I shook my head. “It’s okay. I understand what you meant.” I sighed deeply and smoothed my skirt as I sat down on the chair which was nearby. I turned and checked my makeup and made sure it conformed to military standards and fiddled with a blush brush. Mistress was quiet behind me.

“I don’t know what I want to do. I’m at the point of looking at the rest of my life, I’m not sure I want to stay in the Army or if I want to leave it and become a girl all the time. I don’t even know if the Army will let me stay IF I decide to try to transition. Hell, I don’t even know if I want to complete the physical transition.”

I looked down at the make up table in front of me. “Don’t get me wrong, I love being Sissy. But I’m still Gregory Taylor, a Staff Sergeant for the last year, and even more than that, male for the whole 27 years of my life. When it all comes down to it, is this just ‘dress up’ or is this who I am and who I should be for the rest of my life?”

Her hands touched my shoulder and she looked in the mirror at me. “Honey, Sissy, Greg, whoever you are, you are my friend, my sister, and I enjoy your company. Right now, let’s go to the costume parties like we planned and think about these life-changing decisions later.

“But whatever you decide, you are a good person, and you are ultimately who you are.” She leaned over and kissed my cheek.

I felt moved to tears, but didn’t cry. I wanted to, but the thought of spoiling my look and turning into a raccoon stopped me.

We gathered our purses and headed out to go to the party.

***

SSgt Taylor was definitely in there, and now that I knew that he was a cross dresser, it would be my job to gather the evidence that would lead to his deserved much-less-than-honorable discharge.

I saw the subject and its friend come out of the building and move to the car that Ms. Lander owned. I saw SSgt Taylor in the Class A Greens of a female officer. I grabbed the camera and started shooting pictures. I made sure to get pictures of Ms. Lander, the subject and the two of them together.

It was serious now. The evidence would have to be gathered carefully and completely. The Staff Sergeant’s military life must be terminated for the good of the Army.