My initial night in basic training utterly jolted my system, and claiming I caught any sleep would be akin to saying I'm an expert in impersonating a lady. Anxiety about retaliation from the second princess kept me so on edge that closing my eyes seemed impossible, not to mention my tail impeding my usual back-sleeping position. As a result, I spent most of the night restlessly tossing and turning. At some point, exhaustion must have won over, as I was abruptly awakened by the drill sergeant's cacophonous banging on a metal can, ordering us to rise.

One perk of being half cat is that when suddenly startled from sleep and tumbling off the top bunk, I instinctively landed on my feet. Despite this small victory, it was undoubtedly the most jarring wake-up call I'd ever experienced. Yet again, I silently thanked Kitty for repressing my arousal; otherwise, I might have been shamelessly drooling over the throng of half-dressed women simultaneously leaping out of their bunks.

"Rise and shine, change of plans! Apparently, some of you believe you're special, so we're going for a brisk run before breakfast. Get into your PT gear and move it!" Sergeant Davis barked at us, prompting us to hastily get on our feet. It was clear she wanted us out of the barracks as quickly as possible. A few of us had managed to get dressed while the majority formed lines to use the restroom in the early hours of the morning. We hustled as best as we could, but I doubted our efforts satisfied her.

Assembled outside the barracks, Sergeant Davis continued her tirade. "Since there are those among you who think they're above the rules, you'll be guiding us on a run around the station—a mere ten miles! Recruit Carver, Recruit Silvarin, front and center!" She commanded with an authoritative tone.

I exhaled, realizing our scuffle from last night had landed us in hot water. Following orders, I speedily assumed my position at the front, but the princess just had to offer her two cents on the matter. "I don't see why I'm being punished – it's not like I'm the one who can't behave around my superiors," she retorted haughtily. Aware that any reaction would only worsen matters, I stood stoically at attention—clearly, no one had taught her when to hold her tongue.

I was uncertain if I'd ever seen anyone as furious as Sergeant Davis in that instant. Her neck veins were ready to burst and her piercing eyes seemed capable of drilling through the princess herself. "Move your pompous backside up here now!" The sergeant's words elicited a horrified squeak from the princess, which almost made me smirk – but ensuring I didn't draw further ire forced me to suppress it.

The distraught princess reluctantly stood by my side, as I fought the urge to glare at her. Sergeant Davis's authoritative tone left no room for disobedience when she bellowed, "Form two columns behind our pace-setters here!" Instantly, the entire platoon fell in line without hesitation, well aware that defying this sergeant would have severe consequences.

Upon receiving the command to begin running, I started at what I assumed to be an average pace. However, as I glanced over my shoulder, I noticed the entire platoon gawking at me with astonishment. In just twenty seconds, I had covered a quarter of a mile. Even Sergeant Davis stared at me disbelievingly, dumbfounded by my speed. Unsure of how else to react, I returned and stood firmly in front of her, apologizing respectfully for my unexpected capabilities. "I apologize for my performance, Drill Sergeant Davis; I am still unfamiliar with the abilities of my new body," I said with as much reverence as possible in my voice.

Perhaps still in shock, she instructed everyone to return to their barracks and prepare for breakfast formation at zero six hundred hours. As she turned away from us and left, we all exchanged puzzled glances regarding the sudden change in the Drill Sergeant's demeanor.

Enchina approached me and draped her arm around my shoulders. "I know you didn't intend it," she said warmly, "but thank you for sparing us a grueling ten-mile run." Smiling appreciatively, I nodded in return. Several other women in the platoon flashed me grateful smiles as they made their way back into the barracks.

***

"Commander, there's a recruit you must see," Sergeant Davis declared as she stood at attention before Commander Taylor. A puzzled expression crossed his face; as the head of the basic training facility, overseeing countless recruits was not unusual. "Sergeant, among the throngs of trainees here, why does this one stand apart?" Commander Taylor inquired.

"Permit me to present last night's security footage from the barracks, followed by an explanation of this morning's happenings," Sergeant Davis proposed. She proceeded to display the recorded footage.

Commander Taylor and Sergeant Davis both attentively observed the commotion that had taken place in the sleeping quarters. The video captured the fluidity with which Bean managed to overpower Princess Silvarin. His eyes remained fixed on Bean as he elegantly ricocheted off bunks with unparalleled agility and swiftness. He replayed it several times to ensure he hadn’t overlooked any crucial details. Glancing up at Sergeant Davis, he questioned, "Was there another event this morning?"

"Indeed sir, but it did not involve Recruit Carver. It was concerning the princess; however, that's not my primary focus today. Whilst implementing corrective measures across our platoon—a mere ten-mile run—I placed our two troublemakers at the forefront of our formation. As I commanded them to sprint, Recruit Carver effortlessly surged ahead, leaving the group a quarter-mile behind within seconds. She then returned without even a hint of fatigue, as though her speed was anything but extraordinary," reported Sergeant Davis.

"We ought to examine her separately. Traditional training alongside the platoon will likely prove too elementary for her to gain any insights."

Commander Taylor raised an eyebrow, asking, "Wasn't there an issue with her behavior?"

"No sir—she simply responded to Princess Silvarin's aggression without causing further harm," replied Sergeant Davis.

Perusing Bean's service profile, Commander Taylor noted, "Most peculiar. It appears Bean Carver, a human male from Demeter, experienced a drastic transformation due to a stasis pod malfunction. Was there any mention of such an alteration before?" Researching further, he confirmed that it was the same individual and that a new racial category had yet to be assigned.

Commander Taylor reclined in his chair, pondering the potential of Recruit Carver. She had already been chosen for infiltrator training. "Let's keep her in the platoon for the time being. I'll devise methods to assess her physical prowess. Above all, we must evaluate her integration with the unit. We cannot afford a lone wolf among us, yet we cannot risk losing her invaluable skills."

"Yes sir," Sergeant Davis replied.

***

Once the platoon had tidied themselves up and ensured their equipment was in order, they assembled in their customary location, eagerly anticipating Sergeant Davis's arrival. In merely a matter of minutes, she appeared before them.

Surveying the platoon standing attentively and ahead of schedule, she couldn't help but wonder what had inspired this group to accomplish what no other platoon had managed during their first week of training. Concealing her astonishment, Sergeant Davis proceeded to lead them with determination toward the mess hall.

Upon finishing their morning meal, the platoon eagerly headed towards the parade field to further hone their skills in marching and mastering basic commands. However, this task soon morphed into a monotonous and wearisome routine, as there was invariably someone who would falter – either losing their rhythm, turning too soon or too late. The ordeal proved to be incredibly taxing for the fresh recruits.

As the day gradually came to an end, their feet throbbed with pain, adorned with blisters, while exhaustion weighed heavily on their weary bodies. The overwhelming yearning to rest their aching feet surpassed any possibility of conflicts or disagreements that night – it appeared as though not a single soul had the slightest energy left to engage in any disputes.

The remainder of the week followed a similar pattern. We relentlessly marched on and on. I secretly hoped that we would soon diversify our training routines.

Before I knew it, my wish was granted, and we found ourselves at the obstacle course, where I excelled with ease. I swiftly scaled the ropes and swung across the pit effortlessly. The mud-soaked low crawl wasn't exactly my favorite part, but I managed to scuttle ahead at a rapid pace. The sole challenge was ensuring my tail remained safely out of the barbed wire's reach – one painful encounter had definitely taught me enough. My tail proved invaluable for maintaining balance on the beam. Then came the team wall; with barely any effort, I leaped to the top and executed an elegant landing on the ground below. My claws made maneuvering through the log crawl a breeze – although not wearing boots might've made me even faster, but I chose not to complain.

Although my performance might not have been precisely what they anticipated, I was encouraged to continue so that several officers could witness and marvel at my exceptional ability to navigate the course with such ease. I must admit that I thoroughly enjoyed showcasing my talents. Both Kitty and I were putting our teamwork skills to the test, and our effective collaboration was beginning to blossom.

Despite my success on the obstacle course, the princess was anything but impressed. I suppose, as royalty, she was accustomed to being the star of the show. Nonetheless, I didn't allow her disapproval to dampen my enthusiasm. After all, Enchina was my devoted supporter and best friend. Our unique friendship likely blossomed due to our striking dissimilarities compared to the other women in our platoon. We continuously aided each other, and I felt incredibly at ease with her.

The only aspect that disheartened me was the obligatory calls to our families. It was discovered that maintaining morale for both soldiers and their families required regular communication to ensure everyone's safety and well-being. Kitty also encouraged me to stay in touch with my family, reassuring them that despite my transformation, I was still doing well.

As I entered the video call booth, anxiety overwhelmed me. I couldn't predict how my family would respond to the changes I had undergone. My mother was the first to answer the call, initially convinced that it was a prank. After persuading her of my identity – no longer her son, but now her daughter – she scolded me for leaving in such a manner. My father, on the other hand, stared in utter bewilderment at my new appearance.

My younger sister joined the call and squealed in delight, finding my new look adorable. Enthusiastically, she requested several glimpses of my tail. Her joy in my transformation brought laughter and eased some tension. I then apologized to them for leaving abruptly and assured them of my safety in the days ahead.

I didn't really feel any better after the call, but at least I didn't have to worry about them finding out about my transformation anymore.

***

In the midst of a high-stakes video conference, Commander Tyler found himself surrounded by an assembly of esteemed fleet admirals and alliance generals. The focal point of their discussion was the recently obtained footage showcasing Recruit Bean's extraordinary abilities. Together, they strategized on integrating her unparalleled skills into their ongoing struggle against the relentless Orcus - a brutal empire of orcs notorious for their sheer power and ferocity. These malicious creatures refused any cooperation with defeated realms, opting instead to subject them to enslavement.

The bitter conflict stretched into its second decade, with neither side achieving significant progress. The Alliance desperately needed an innovative weapon to tip the scales in their favor. Their formidable aim was to penetrate and infiltrate Ragnor, the home world of the Orcs, to dismantle the very foundation of the Orcus Empire. Success would plunge the enemy into chaos and compel them to withdraw deep into their own territory, granting the Alliance a window of opportunity to secure crucial footholds.

Vice Admiral Cook, who spearheaded the alliance fleet, posed an intriguing question: "Is there any way we can create more catgirls like Recruit Bean? Just imagine the havoc they could wreak if we had an entire company!"

General Bishop, in charge of military research, responded thoughtfully: "We are currently examining the stasis pod responsible for creating this unique catgirl. If replication proves feasible, it could be a game changer indeed. Consider what our best soldiers might achieve if transformed into such beings! Although Bean is untrained, her abilities are astonishing. Should we limit this initiative solely to female soldiers or consider male candidates as well?"

Cook retorted cautiously: "Introducing male cat hybrids could pose unforeseen risks. If they were to reproduce, their offspring might eventually challenge us."

To his fellow members, Commander Tyler proposed: "I'm devising a training schedule that will fully exploit Bean's potential and unravel her capabilities. We're already aware of her exceptional speed and agility, not to mention her keen survival instincts. Just observe how she navigated that electrical attack - it's as if she knew it was coming! I propose involving some of our finest soldiers in sparring matches to assess her combat prowess. Additionally, when her platoon undergoes weapons training, we can assign a qualified sniper to observe her abilities."

General Bishop offered his endorsement: "You have my full support in deploying our best personnel—even if it means temporarily reassigning them from the front lines—for this purpose. Once we witness her performance during weapons training, we can brainstorm further training ideas tailored to her abilities."

***

Unbeknownst to me, my remarkable transformation had sparked intriguing discussions among the military's top brass. That evening, Enchina and I spent some quality downtime together, unwinding after a long day. As we chatted, I found myself becoming increasingly fascinated by her and her culture. With genuine enthusiasm, I expressed my desire to visit her underwater homeland someday.

Within earshot of our conversation, one of the human women in our platoon overheard us and playfully teased me: "I thought cats hate water! How are you going to visit her home when it's completely submerged?" Smirking at her witty remark, I stuck my tongue out in response, and we all burst into lighthearted laughter. She introduced herself as Emily – until then, I had only known her by the name Recruit Thomas.

To my delight, Emily and I discovered that we shared similar upbringings on rural farms. Although we came from entirely different worlds, we surprisingly found common ground in our cultural traditions. This sense of familiarity likely stemmed from our respective planets being terraformed and colonized by humans from Earth Prime.

Growing up, I struggled to connect with people back on my home world – always feeling like the odd one out with no friends to call my own. But here, in this unlikely setting, I was finally forging friendships that I deeply hoped would stand the test of time. Even though our military paths might diverge in the future, I remained optimistic that these newfound connections would endure.

While we continued to chat, I was still glossing over the fact that I was a boy before my fateful trip in the stasis pod. I didn't want to make our time together by bringing up that fact. It did weigh heavily on my mind though. These women were so open with me but I still felt I could not fully open up with them.

On the following morning, our schedule included engaging in hand-to-hand combat training. Despite being blessed with exceptional agility and speed, I couldn't help but feel anxious. My primary concern was my inability to maintain an even playing field with my fellow platoon members, as I struggled to control my power. The last thing I wanted was to unintentionally injure someone, or reveal that I lacked proper fighting skills—particularly after my encounter with Princess Silvarin during our first night together. Hoping she wouldn't seek revenge due to embarrassment, I banked on her maintaining her distance. Yet, her fiery gaze told a different story.

As we marched into the expansive training hall, the floor was covered with mats and various hand weapons and protective gear adorned the walls. In a far corner, a group of soldiers stretched in preparation for their session. We quickly fell into formation and warmed up before gathering around Sergeant Davis.

"Recruits," Sergeant Davis initiated, "Today you will learn the essentials of hand-to-hand combat—a crucial skill for any soldier who may find themselves disarmed on the battlefield. Here, we will demonstrate how to incapacitate an enemy without relying on weaponry and emerge from conflicts unscathed." With that, our lesson began.

To my dismay, Sergeant Davis cunningly paired me with Princess Silvarin—the very person I was sure sought retaliation against me. But as we started practicing close-quarters combat techniques, she appeared to be focused solely on mastering the basics we were being taught. We alternated between attacking and defending each other with precision.

Afterwards, Sergeant Davis circled us around her once more and instructed us to sit down. "Now is your chance to apply your knowledge in a real bout," she said challengingly. "Go equip yourselves with protective gear and return to your positions." With urgency, we scattered to dress accordingly.

"Recruit Carver! You're up first," Sergeant Davis commanded. I sprung to my feet and positioned myself at the center of the mat, inwardly steeling myself for combat. As she gestured towards an unseen figure behind me, a deep male voice challenged, "Let's see what you got." My gaze landed upon a towering man approaching me, prompting an involuntary gasp.

'Kitty,' I mentally implored, 'what's your advice on facing this giant?'

She calmly replied, 'Bean, watch his hand movements carefully before attempting to get behind him and get his legs.'

My vision sharpened, honing in on the man's most vulnerable areas as we prepared to square off. We danced around each other in a tight circle, I could hear the cheers and jeers of the platoon in the back of my mind as I worked to stay focused on the task at hand. I was able to dodge his initial jabs, though I think those were just trying to feel me out.

To my surprise, he rapidly closed in the distance between us, already having all the information he needed. Without any hesitation, he delivered a swift punch to my stomach, causing me to double over and stagger back a few steps. Fortunately, I managed to recover just in time to notice that my opponent had silently moved to my side, preparing to unleash a powerful haymaker.

Using my agility, I narrowly dodged his punch and quickly escaped his grasp. If that punch had connected, it would've been lights out for me. Instead of trying to counter his blows head-on, I opted for a more cunning approach—stalking him like a cat while keeping my muscles coiled and ready to strike at a moment's notice.

As he approached me with a low stance, I saw an opportunity and effortlessly jumped over him. Landing behind his back, I executed a quick kick to his knee, managing to bring him down onto the mat. However, my moment of hesitation allowed him to roll away and aim a strike at my feet, forcing me to leap back and evade his attack. It was evident that this guy was extremely skilled, and getting caught on the ground by him would spell disaster.

Trying to devise a plan on how to defeat him left me slightly slow in responding to his constant barrage of attacks. A swift backhand sent me flying backward but, fortunately, I managed to roll with it and fluidly returned to my feet. Remembering Kitty's advice—how he preferred using his hands and brute strength—I decided it was time for me to take the offensive.

Diving under his reach, I mustered all my power into an upward kick targeting his groin. Unaware of what effects my newfound strength might have on him, I hadn't anticipated it would heave him off the ground entirely and leave him writhing on the ground in excruciating pain.

As the fight was halted, I was instructed to cease my attack and take a seat, while the man was assisted off the mat. I couldn't help but worry about whether I had inflicted permanent damage on his manhood. That would have been cruel and not my intention at all. As the rest of the platoon squared off against their respective opponents, I realized that none of them were assigned to spar with the men. It was a little strange, maybe they didn't want me to injure any of my squad mates. With this in mind, I shifted my focus to observing and scrutinizing everyone else's fighting technique.

To my surprise, Princess Silvarin was an incredible fighter. Her movements were beautiful and fluid, almost as if she was dancing with every step she took. I was in awe and silently wished I could fight like that. As the sparring session concluded, the princess did something that made me realize that she would never warm up to me. She challenged me to spar with her using one of the blunted weapons on the wall.

I turned to Sergeant Davis, attempting to gauge her reaction, but she simply left it up to me. The princess stood there with a stoic expression on her face, and I thought engaging her in a spar might break the ice between us. "I accept, Recruit Silvarin," I replied, determined to prove myself, regardless of her status. I saw her flinch at my remark, but I had no intention of offending or baiting her.

To my shock, she picked up a staff, and I instantly categorized her as a sword fighter. Choosing a dagger as my weapon, I knew I'd be at a disadvantage, but honestly, I was equally unprepared if we fought hand-to-hand. Her movements were calculated, precise, and effortlessly graceful. In contrast, I relied solely on instinct, knowing that luck hadn't been on my side recently.

With determination in my eyes, I made my way towards the center of the circle where the princess stood, a sly grin spread across her face at the sight of my chosen weapon. I could sense that she believed my chances of winning were slim, but I knew better than to let that impede my efforts. Little did I know, this fight wasn't about winning or losing. It was about learning.

Kitty reminded me that defeating the princess would require much personal training and discipline. Instead, she urged me to let go of all inhibitions and trust in my own abilities.

As the princess and I clashed in the battle, I could sense the hostility radiating from her every move. I kept a low stance, preparing to move as fast as lightning whenever needed. While observing her every move with hawk-like precision, I noticed the slight flex in her arm as she prepared to swing her weapon at me. I timed this precise moment with perfection, dove in closer to her, and made an attempt to slice her with my dagger. Alas, she was too swift, using her staff to balance herself and evade my attack. Nonetheless, I did not surrender but continued pushing, hoping to catch her off-guard.

Sadly, the princess was well-aware of my tactics and, thus, baited me into making a hasty move. Falling into her trap, she brought her staff down hard on my tail. The surge of pain was inescapable, and I struggled to hide it. But, as my fury reached new heights, I roared loudly and, driven insane by rage, launched at her without a care for myself. I pulled her towards me, swiped my claws down her face, and claimed supremacy.

However, I knew I went too far. Sergeant Dixon must have sensed that we were both about to cross the line, so she interrupted us with a firm command to stand down.

Afterwards, the princess and I went to the medical facility for an inspection. She apologized for her careless behavior and offered me a handshake, which I gladly accepted. Both of us realized that we had learned the most important lesson of all: cooperation. With a newfound appreciation for teamwork, we emerged stronger, more skilled warriors.