Sissy's leave is canceled and she has to go into combat. Will her secret be discovered?

Sissy and the Army -- Pt 8

Maid Joy

It was every nightmare I had come true. In the middle of everything I loved and enjoyed, it all came crashing down to call me back out into combat.

We got back to Mistress' house and I raced inside. I crossed the threshold to the back and my wig was off. I had enough respect for it to put it on the dummy head where it should be. I started stripping out of my clothes quickly. Off came the blouse, then the skirt, the shoes, the girdle, the bra and then the breast forms.

I stepped up to the mirror and grabbed a huge handful of the cold cream and started smearing it all over my face, making sure to get from my hairline to my upper chest. I rubbed and scrubbed to get all the beautiful makeup off.

I was trying very hard not to cry as I left Sissy in a pile on the bed. Jewelry came off and while I didn't scatter it, I wasn't careful to put it back exactly where I got it from.

I knew that deployment meant a mission of some sort. I'd have my rifle in my hands, a pack on my back, I'd be cold and scared in the bush beyond no where, and I would have my life on the line.

I sat down on the vanity and started stripping the polish off my nails. Taking off the polish on my toes was easy. I just poured some remover in a bowl and shoved my toes into it. As the polish dissolved I choked back a sob.

When I started taking the polish off my hands, I ran into a huge problem. The nails were super glued on and I couldn't get them off. The polish was easy, but I nearly ripped my own nail off trying to remove the acrylic extensions on the tips. I started panicking, and then calmed down and decided to just cut them off.

I grabbed the nail clippers and started slicing. The first cut didn't do anything except nearly break my fingers. These little tips were STRONG. I couldn't get the clippers to cut them at all.

Mistress dropped toenail clippers on the vanity in front of me. I smiled with tears in my eyes and grabbed them instead. It hurt, but I was able to cut the nails off. The clippers had a tendency to bend the nail tips instead of just cutting them, and it really did hurt when my soft nails were bent too.

I made sure that the polish was gone, that the makeup was gone and I started getting into my uniform. Mistress quietly cleaned up the clothes and accessories that I had on only minutes ago and putting them away.

With speed that would have surprised people that had never been subject to middle of the night emergency drills, I was fully clothed and ready to go. I reached down, grabbed my duffel bag, which had never been unpacked, and started for the door. Mistress was in front of me suddenly.

I looked at her, and she at me. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't know that this would happen." Before I could finish she stopped me and kissed me on the cheek. "Be safe," was all she said. "I'd hate to lose my girlfriend."

She gently and firmly pushed me out the door.

***

I had to shed Sissy's self and get back into the mind of SSgt Taylor. I had to leave behind my feminine side and get back to being a highly trained killer. G_d witness how much I hated being that killer now that I found Sissy.

I reported to the briefing with the rest of the NCOs and Officers. We had to know the tactical goals to do our job correctly. If we didn't know what was going on, people would die.

I had my equipment and my weapons. The situation was one that we had faced over and over again, a very short goal, but of enormous value. Burst into a place, get people out, and extract ourselves.

(I can't tell you more since this journal is public, and this was a classified operation. I wouldn't use the old "I'd have to kill you" joke, it's overdone. I will share what I can with you.)

The First Sergeant was kind enough to pull me aside before we deployed. "Sorry I had to cancel your leave Taylor, but I'm sure you understand." He was looking at me oddly and his nostrils were flared.

"It's fine First Sergeant, I wasn't doing much of anything anyhow. Just laying around and enjoying myself." I didn't think.

He nodded. "Well, I see you got some severe pampering, if that manicure is any indication." Shit, shit, shit, shit…. He had noticed something.

I nodded. "Just a little self love, a real break from this." I had to get away. "I need to get back to my men Top, do you need me for anything else?"

"No, go ahead." He was still looking at me oddly.

Soon enough we were in the air, going to the euphemistic "undisclosed location". I had taken some ribbing from my men about the soft hands and face and I hoped to G_d that they didn't notice the eyebrows.

***

The only thing of real interest in the next few days was the actual insertion. A HALO drop from 30,000 feet to pop my chute about 100 feet off the ground at night is harrowing, but it was the only way into the area since it had three different groups fighting for it.

My squad and I landed within feet of our target and shed our chutes. First objective to meet was actually penetrating the perimeter. Then would come the really fun part, getting to our actually objective, the prisoners.

Boring military stuff follows so I'll skip most of it. We finally got into the prison and got the people we were after and were getting out. Each squad member was responsible for one prisoner. I had given mine my handgun so that he could cover my back and defend himself if he had to.

He knew the drill, he was a soldier. He was a good man.

On the way out we got pinned down. We were taking fire and he had run out of bullets. I still had ammo, but not a lot. The rest of the squad had gotten out and were trying to come back for me not easy since I had to keep moving to avoid getting either of us killed. A grenade landed nearby and the way opened up. I grabbed the guy I was with and we bolted for shelter.

In the cover of another doorway, I ran out of bullets. Since he had already emptied my pistol we were both out. I put those weapons away and started plotting our way out when the door opened and my guy was grabbed. A pistol was pressed to his head and the Arab started screaming something at me.

My hands went up, just high enough to smash his nose into his brain, killing him. I grabbed the enemy's pistol and we were running again.

Finally we managed to rejoin the squad and I half carried, half dragged my guy out of there. It was noisy, it was deadly, but we made it. We didn't leave anyone behind, we didn't leave any of our equipment and we accomplished the objective. None of my men were killed, only one was injured. It was a good night.

***

Two days, the debriefing over, the shakes started, a delayed reaction to how close I had come to dying. It was impossibly hard having to relive those moments of gut wrenching fear over and over, and be unable to react emotionally. So I slapped a lid on it and ignored it, like every soldier does at one point or another.

It took me several days to get past the emotions and the shakes. I didn't even think about becoming Sissy again. I knew I couldn't handle it.

That military of me was so at odds with Sissy, I didn't think I could ever reconcile them. How could I go from a fragile little creature to one that could literally kill with my bare hands? How could I come to being at peace with those extremes? Was it even possible?

I knew that I was starting to use Sissy as a haven for my psyche, a place where I didn't have to think about what I did for a living. I also felt that I was betraying my country by running away from those duties to be someone I wasn't.

Still, I was Sissy and she was me, so was it really running away?

I thought I was confused when I started really exploring the Sissy in me, now I was starting to feel lost, with out a compass or a map to guide me to the path I needed.

***

The First Sergeant made sure that all his men were taken care of after the mission. Taylor was a concern and he made a call.

"Yes, CID? Can I speak to First Sergeant Williams? Thank you. Frank! How's it going? Really? That's great. No, not a social call. I have to ask you a favor. I'm concerned about one of my own. I'm worried that he might be being blackmailed. Yeah. Staff Sergeant Gregory Taylor, ID number 094-33-1288. Yea, assigned to First Platoon. I'm not sure, but when he was recalled from his leave, he came back different. His eyebrows were plucked, his hand were all soft and shaped, he had fake nails on and he smelled like a girl. I'm worried that he's gay or something. Do you think you could get someone to quietly check up on him and where he goes on his leaves and days off? Yeah. Yeah, as soon as possible. No, I don't think there's anything criminal involved, but remember we are talking about a combat operative with a high security clearance. He may not be up to the level of the CIA, but he's good enough. Yeah, just to me. Thanks, buddy. I owe you one. Okay, I'll spot you three holes next time we are in Augusta. Talk to you later."

The phone was placed back on the cradle and the First Sergeant started drumming his fingers on his blotter.