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A Girl's War By Cindi Johnson © 2006 Part 1 ------ I recalled something my father told me during one of his more lucid alcoholic states. "Danny," he said, "always keep your secrets. Bury them deep. Hold them down with a strong grip. Strangle them, violently, when necessary. You let them out, and they'll come back around and take you down. Trust me on this, Danny." That odd memory came back to me as I gazed at Tania's reflection in the pane glass window. She looked so helpless there, seated across from me in the booth at Denny's, my old sweater wrapped around her small frame. I took another drink of coffee, and continued. "So, after a year in Iraq, the last thing I wanted to do was to go back. Hell, it didn't take me only a few weeks over there to see the big picture. I tell you, you won't meet any kids over there named Bush or Cheney. Those damn bastards just send other peoples' kids off to war, to die, while they go around and give themselves huge "patriotic" tax cuts. Those rich Republicans, they're really great cheerleaders for starting wars, but you won't ever see them or their kin go anywhere near a battlefield." "Yes," Tania interjected, "that's true. I'm a Texan, so I really know how sorry a lot those Republicans are. Down here, they literally get away with murder. Murder of the poor, the brown, the black, the gay. But what can a person do? I try not to think about politics. It's hard enough just living." "Things ain't a lot better up in North Dakota, where I'm from," I said. "Anyway, I wasn't inclined to go back to fight for Bush's folly, so I just walked. Didn't go back to my reserve unit when they shipped out. Instead, I sat in a drunken stupor in a bar in Plentywood, Montana." "So how did you end up here in Dallas?" Tania asked. "Oh, I just drifted around and about, ending up here. I had money, you see. I Couldn't spend anything during that year in hell, so I came back flush with cash. I first went to Saint Paul and worked for Target, but after a month I got called to the corporate office. Apparently my SSN was incorrect, they said. They asked me to bring in my social security card. Well, you can imagine, it was high time to leave Minnesota." Tania sipped her tea. We were alone in the restaurant, the waitress having retired to the kitchen. Occasionally a truck would pass by, going north, kicking up litter which lined the highway. At three-o-clock on a Tuesday morning, even a city as large as Dallas slept. "So, what now? It seems you can't run forever, can you?" "No, I suppose not. It's just a matter of time till I'm caught. Then it's either five years in the brig or, more likely, back to Iraq. And, when they send a guy like me back ? an AWOL ? well, without doubt I'll be assigned the most dangerous duty there. That's the punishment. Everyone over there knows the game. I did, too, so I suppose I can't complain too much. I'll spend two years driving around Baghdad or Ramadi unless, of course, I'm blown to pieces first. Which is damn likely! "So, Tania, now that I've spilled my guts to you, tell me about yourself. Got any secrets?" A smile came across her young face. "Oh, a few, I suppose. For example, my name is Inez, not Tania. And I'm from the valley, not the French Riviera. The strip clubs, they want to make us dancers seem exotic, so they assign us sexy names and backgrounds. "Oh. Well, I'm not really surprised at that, Inez. So what valley are you from?" Inez giggled like a young schoolgirl. "The Valley, silly! Here in Texas, "The Valley" means the Rio Grande valley. I'm from the Texas-Mexico borderlands. And I'm Mexican-American." "No French at all? Not even a bit?" I asked with a grin. "No," she said with her enchanting smile, "not even a drop of French blood in this body. Pure mestizo, I am," she said with a smile. After a pause, Inez continued, "Well, Danny, you're a wanted man, you're not rich, and judging from your actions so far, you're not looking to buy sex. So tell me, why did you slip that $50 bill into my G-String back at the club? It just seems a bit out of character for you." My face reddened. "Well, Inez..., you see..., it's been a while..., a long while, since I've been able to, well, to just touch a nice girl. To touch any girl.! I just wanted to touch your skin. It's so beautiful, you know. So soft. So smooth." "Why thank you, Danny. You know, for a guy, your complexion is unusually clear. Baby smooth. You don't look like a soldier, not at all." "Yea, I know. I've always been kidded about that. I'm too thin, too boyish looking. I think that's probably why my father never accepted me, why he always seemed to hate me." I had finished my coffee and hamburger, and Inez had finished her sandwich. "Well, Danny, thanks for the meal and for the big tip. I've gotta go home and get some rest. But..., ahh..., Danny, I do know someone who provides phony ID's for some of the dancers who come up from Mexico or Nicaragua. She might be able to help you get one. That way you'd be able to get a job without worrying." "You think? I hadn't considered that possibility. Maybe I should look into it." "Sure you should. Her name's Sandy. You can call her tomorrow. But..., well..., just be careful. Sandy can be a bitch. Don't let her take advantage of you." Please, Inez," I said with an air of exasperation, "I can take care of myself! After all, I am a man." Part 2 ------ I sat down upon the plush sofa. The room was richly decorated, the walls painted in faint pastel colors, the furniture made of fine hardwoods. Sandy sat beside me, oddly close. Her long legs and bare feet held my gaze. I had called her earlier that day, and she'd provided me directions to a large, old house located in Oak Cliff, just east of downtown Dallas. An enormous live oak tree dominated the large front yard of Sandy's home. I had expected to meet an older, weathered woman with a face lined by smoking, drinking and whoring, but instead I was confronted by a tall, slender blond woman who appeared to be about my age. Sandy was beautiful. "After your call I talked with Tania, who told me a bit of your background. She insists you're not a policeman. Are you?" "No. No, of course not" "Give me your wallet." "Why?" I said hesitantly. "Just give it to me." I did so. Sandy went through it for a few minutes, checking all ID's I had, as well as counting the money in it, then handed it back to me. "So, Daniel, you need a new identity?" "That's correct, ma'am. Inez said that you might be able to help me." "Yes, so I've been told. Tania must learn to be less trusting. But OK, Daniel, you seem a reasonable person. Here's what I have." Sandy set three manila folders on the coffee table in front of us. She opened the first and pulled out a number of documents, including a Texas driver's license, for a man named Reginald Jackson. Reginald's photo showed him to be an overweight, middle-aged black man. "This surely won't do, will it," Sandy said. "You're too skinny and far too white." The next envelope held documents for a hispanic woman, Josie Garcia, who was just 5 foot 3 inches tall. "No good, either," Sandy said, then took up the third envelope and spread its contents out before me. "Hmmm," Sandy said, as if an idea had just occurred to her. The ID was for a 23 year old female, brown hair and blue eyes, five foot eight and 135 pounds. Angela Smith was the name on the drivers license. Sandy carefully looked over each document in the folder, including a social security card, a birth certificate (this imaginary Angela was born in Des Moines, Iowa), a high school diploma- class of 2004, immunization records, a credit card, a library card, everything except a passport. "This is it, Daniel. I only have three options, and the only one which could possibly fit you is this identity. So, do you feel like becoming..., Angela Smith?" "Huh? That'll never work. I need a male ID." "Suit yourself. It's your choice. $1,000 and you can have a new identity today. Think about it!" "I don't have that much. Not even close. Plus, I need a male ID. But thanks anyhow, ma'am." As I began to rise from the sofa Sandy put her hand upon my thigh, signaling me to remain seated. "Hear me out. You can become Angela for a little while. I need some help at the club and here at the house, a handyman ?or handygirl ? if you will. You can easily earn enough to pay off the cost of the ID." "But I'm not female, ma'am," I said incredulously. "What good will that ID do me?" "Look Daniel," Sandy said. "You are about the same height as Angela and I'd guess you weigh even less than her. My dancers are good with makeup; they can have you looking like a girl in no time. We'll snap your photo and insert it into the drivers license, and presto!, you no longer need to worry about past legal troubles. Think it over, Angela. If you decide to accept the job, you'll live here with my dancers and me; there's an extra bed in the downstairs storeroom. You'll have to work hard, no doubt about it. But you might enjoy it. Think it over. Let Tania know if you change your mind." Sandy got up and led me to the door. "Goodbye, Angela," she said as I left. Part 3 ------ A week went by, then another. Danny didn't give the offer much thought; when leaving Sandy's home he thought how odd the encounter was; thinking that maybe he or Sandy just misunderstood each other. Did Sandy mean he should try to change the documents to reflect a male? But Angela? One could argue that a man might be named Angel, but not Angela. Regardless, he soon put the strange encounter out of his mind. Just tolerating the extreme July heat was trying enough; it reminded him of Iraq and all that he hoped to forget. But Danny was going broke; even a cheap hotel taxed his resources. One night he returned to the strip club for a beer. Inez asked him for a ride home. Inez, wearing a very short skirt and three inch high heels, carefully buckled her seat belt as Danny exited the parking lot. "How have you been, Danny?" she asked. "Oh, not too good, actually. I'm thinking of turning myself in. It's better than sleeping under a bridge, which is where I'll soon be." "Sorry to hear that, Danny. But Sandy said she offered you work. Why don't you want to work for her?" "The only ID she had was a female's. I'm not sure, but I think she wanted me to pretend to be a girl or something. It was really weird, Inez!" "So, what's wrong with that? You're not big and fat, Danny. You could fit into Cherise's clothes, I'm sure. And your face is as smooth as mine. Besides, then you and I could spend a lot of time together." Inez giggled as she leaned over and kissed Danny's cheek, causing him to swerve onto the curb. Part 4 ------ My face felt very warm; I could tell I was blushing. Cherise rifled through a chest of drawers filled with her underclothes, stopping every now and then to gently grasp an item by her thumb and index finger and, after making a comment of some sort, tossing the item onto her bed. "Oh, look," she said contemplatively before tossing them onto the growing pile, "well worn pink panties. I hope you don't mind a small tear in the crotch, my dear. Maybe caused by an overly amorous man." Cherise looked at me and, seeing me blush, smiled broadly. Tall and thin, it was obvious why Sandy had asked Cherise to lend me some clothes. We were about the same height (5'9'' for me, 5' 8 and 1/2'' for Cherise) and about the same weight. Like me, Cherise had also been raised in the north ? Wisconsin in her case ? and was a recent arrival to Dallas. She was 23 years old and had long hazel hair, green eyes, and a bewitchingly beautiful smile. "OK, let's go for it," she said as she handed me a white bra and white panties. "Put these on." "But..., you don't mean right here, do you? I'll use the bathroom." "No, Angela, you'll change right here. If you're gonna live here, you'll be treated just like the rest of us. Don't be so modest. Besides, you don't have anything I've not seen before." I turned my back to Cherise and slipped out of my jeans and underwear, then removed my t-shirt. My body was already hairless; Sandy had made it clear that I was to always be smooth and shaven. She said she despised body hair, whether it be on a girl or a guy. She mentioned a friend of hers who could treat me with a laser. I really had no idea what she was talking about, so I hadn't protested when her friend arrived with a machine and proceeded to painfully jolt me for two hours. "Come on, Angela, let me help you," Cherise said in exasperation after having watched me fumble with her brassiere for some minutes. "Really! You pretend it's so difficult to put a bra on, but I know you've done this before." "I have not!" I exclaimed in protest. "Never?" "No, Cherise, never! Why would I wear a bra? Jesus!" "So..., you maybe have a thing against women? You think guys are better than girls, perhaps? I just bet you're full of macho bullshit," Cherise said in apparent jest as she adjusted the straps on her ?now my ? bra. "No, Cherise, not at all. If I did, surely I wouldn't be letting you put a bra on me, would I?" "I suppose not. Besides, you're cute ? kind of cute. In a girlish way, that is." "Gee thanks," I replied peevishly. After hooking the white bra onto me, Cherise placed an artificial breast form into each cup. "Silicone. A girl's best friend. Better than diamonds any day," she said with a smile. "But Sandy says it'll only take a couple of months, maybe less, for you to grow your own." "Yea, so she says," I said, blushing. "You know, Sandy seems rather..., well..., odd. Maybe perverted." "This coming from a man wearing my bra," Cherise said with a giggle. "Sandy did say that as soon as I stop taking her medicine, I'll go back to being a normal male. She's right, isn't she?" Cherise had me slip into a pair of padded panties. "How would I know, Angela? Do I look like a doctor? But it seems to make sense. If you don't take female hormones, then why would you have female breasts?" "I tell you, Cherise, I just can't believe I accepted Sandy's offer. I wouldn't have, except...." "Yes? Except what?" "Well, Cherise, I kinda have a thing for Inez." "So, you want to grow titties, girl titties, because you like Inez? Now that really makes a lot of sense, Angela." "No, Cherise, that's not what I mean. I want to work for Sandy because I'll be working alongside Inez. Besides, the hormones won't affect my virility. Sandy promised me that. She says I'll be able to satisfy any woman." "Well, Miss John Wayne, don't get any ideas! You definitely won't be satisfying me." We both laughed. Cherise, so pretty, was also easy to deal with. Friendly, funny, and outgoing, she made what I had expected to a difficult and humiliating ordeal into an enjoyable two hour escapade. Before long, Cherise had selected several outfits and had dressed me nicely in a pair of beige pants ? although these were not like men's pants, as they extended to only a few inches beneath my knees ? and a yellow mock neck short sleeve pullover top. While I felt odd, very odd, wearing these clothes, what most embarrassed ? and excited ? me was the realization that these were Cherise's clothes. The bra I now wore had only recently caressed her sexy breasts, and my panties had covered her female treasure! Having dressed me, Cherise then sat me in front of a mirror and attempted to teach me the basics of makeup. Another alien, albeit fascinating subject, which proved to be far more than I could absorb in an hour. Cherise soon gave up and proceeded to simply apply the makeup onto my face, saying that I would pick up the "art" of beauty over time, with much practice. My hair, already long, as I hadn't cut it since leaving Baghdad, was beyond Cherise's capabilities. She left the room and soon returned with a wig. In only a minute, I had stylish, soft hair, hazel-brown in color, cut in a page boy style. "So much prettier, don't you think? Until you get to the beauty parlor, this wig must do," Cherise said as she gently brushed my hair. I was astonished at the difference the wig made. Without the wig, I looked like a man wearing makeup, but now, my reflection in the mirror was of a woman, a young woman! "Ahh..., yes..., It does look..., cute...," I stammered. Oddly, unexpectedly, I felt my prick grow hard, increasing my discomfort. Cherise then took my hand and led me on a tour of Sandy's house. It was a large two story home, originally a mansion for an old-money family, with a half-dozen bedrooms, three baths, and a finished basement. The attic was also finished into two storage areas. We stopped by Inez's room first, but she wasn't in. Nor were any of the others. Cherise helped me move into my room, which was actually just a storage area in the basement with a small bunk bed in it. Part 5 ------ The next month or so passed uneventfully. Daniel/Angela continued dressing as a female, but only to a limited extent, never donning a skirt or dress, and when not working he often reverted to male form. His work included cleaning the house and the nightclub, grounds keeping, general maintenance and, on occasion, female tasks such as cooking and ironing. But Angela didn't mind, really, as Daniel remained dominant (he considered himself a man, as did Inez) while Angela was little more than an act. Yet changes occurred, subtly, almost unnoticed by Daniel. The effects of hormones, which he took twice each day, became more noticeable: a softening of his skin, fat accumulating on hips and face, tenderness of nipples and swelling of breasts. Plus, his sessions with the electrologist/laser technician had noticeably thinned his facial and body hair, which had been thin to begin with. Inez and Daniel grew ever closer, yet their relationship remained unconsummated owing principally to Inez' reserved Catholic upbringing. Indeed, freed from the worry of returning to Iraq, Daniel/Angela had become almost cocky in his new existence. Sandy had noticed his attitude and was not pleased. Sandy realized she must reassert her dominant position in the house. Part 6 ------ After donning pale blue culottes and a white top and slipping on a pair of sandals, I went up the stairs to the kitchen to eat breakfast. Sunlight shone through the window in the breakfast nook. I was alone, seated at the small table, eating cereal and drinking coffee, when Sandy and Cherise sat down opposite me. "Good morning, Angela," Sandy said in a somewhat stern voice. She wore a loose silk blouse and jeans, while Cherise was still wearing her pale green flannel nightgown. "Hi," I replied. "Let me get to the point, Angela," Sandy continued. "As you know, this is a home for women. Not men. I made an exception for Daniel but only if you became Angela." "And I have, ma'am. Look, I'm wearing a bra," I said, touching my hand to my breast. "There's more to being a woman then breasts, Angela. It's time you learn that, don't you think?" I didn't answer. "So, Angela, here are your new rules, which you may choose to accept or not. If not, I expect you to be out of here by noon, and be sure to leave all your female clothes and your identification papers here. "But Sandy, I work hard for you, don't I?" Ignoring my plea, Sandy continued. "If you decide to stay, you will be 100% Angela from this moment forward. Throw out all your male clothes; they do not belong in this house. And no more pants. I wear the pants around here, Angela, not you! You will wear skirts only, no more slacks." I looked at Cherise, who was staring at me wide-eyed, apparently surprised by Sandy's ultimatums. "You will also completely shave all body hair, at all times. Hopefully the laser and electrolysis have already cured you of your hair problems, Angela. And use makeup, for God's sake. Paint your nails! You're a girl, Angela, not a tomboy. Act like it. Sandy turned towards Cherise. "Cherise, you and the other girls must make certain that Angela is a girl. All girl." "OK..." Angela replied uncertainly. "As you probably know, Angela, we females have periods." She stared at me. "Yes, ma'am," I replied weakly. "So, Angela, being a girl and all, wouldn't you also love to menstruate?" I swallowed hard, then answered hesitantly, "Yes, ma'am..., yes...., I suppose so..." "Well, Angela, you're in luck. Cherise just started her period this morning. From this point on, your period will coincide with hers." I stared at Sandy, uncomprehendingly. What in the world was she talking about? "I don't understand, ma'am," I said. "What..., how..., you know, how can I.., ahh, bleed..., like a female?" Sandy looked towards Cherise, then continued. "Honey, will you help Angela with this? From now on, instead of tossing your dirtied kotex into the trash, I want you to give it to Angela. Let Angela wear it. It'll make her feel more like a woman; it'll make her smell like a female. You know, Cherise, men have considered us women to be "unclean" when we menstruate. We surely would not want Angela to view womankind in that manner, would we? So let her wear your bloodied kotex. You'll have to teach her how to use a belt and all." "Sandy," Cherise said, making a face, "that's gross." "I know it's an inconvenience, dear, but it's for Angela's own good. Of course, you'll need to let Angela know each time you change your napkin so she can change hers, too." "Does that mean I can't use tampons?" Cherise asked. "Not for a while, my dear. But that raises a good point..., Yes..., that's it! Angela, in addition to wearing Cherise's dirtied napkins, you will also wear tampons during your period. Of course, since you don't have the proper plumbing ? at this time, anyhow ? you'll need to wear them up your behind." "But Sandy," I retorted, half in shock, "You can't really expect me to..." "Angela!" Sandy shot back. "Shut up! Like I told you, you can leave if you dislike the new rules. But if you stay, you will henceforth address me as Mistress. That'll maybe keep you aware of your status around here, don't you think?" "But..." "OK then, you'll address all of us here as Mistress. Now, is that clear enough for you to understand? You either get to work on throwing out your man clothes, or move out. I've gotta get to the club." Sandy rose and, after giving Cherise a peck on the cheek, left through the front door. I could hear her car driving off as Cherise poured herself a cup of coffee. "My gosh, Angela, what did you do to piss off Sandy so?" She asked as she sat opposite me, setting her cup in front of her. "I have no idea, Cherise! But she can't be serious, can she?" "Sandy is always serious." "But I can't..., you know..., do that..." My face turned beet red, I was too embarrassed to mention the subject at hand. Cherise gently put her hand on mine. "I know, Angel boy, but you have no choice, do you?" Part 7 ------ "This must be really embarrassing for you, Angela. Are you sure you want to go through with it?" Cherise asked, her voice sounding concerned as she unzipped her tight jeans, which then fell to the floor. "I can't leave here. Cherise. Where would I go? Not only am I wanted by the military police, but now I'm also a..., a freak! Look at me: I've got tits, for god's sake!" I cupped my left breast within my right hand. "Spoken like a true sissy," Cherise said wit a laugh. "But yes, Angela, you do have a nice set of knockers coming along, don't you? They must be "A" cups already! Who would have thought that a boy could grow breasts so easily? OK then, if you've decided to stay here with us, then just calm down and let's get this over." We were together in the bathroom for what Cherise gleefully called "Angela's very first period!" I had stripped naked, while Angela was now down to wearing only a pink bra and matching panties. The bathroom wasn't designed for two, so our bodies frequently touched as we undressed in preparation for my period. "Since you'll be re-using my napkins, I'll let you purchase them from now on. But remember, get the regular sized kotex. The large size is for overweight women, and for girls who've been poked so often that their holes stretch. I'm not like that, nor are you ? I hope. "Do you see this belt that holds my kotex in place?" Cherise continued. "Now you put on your own belt. There, one is on the counter." I fumbled with the odd "belt" and, with a little assistance from Cherise, eventually got it positioned around my waist and groin. Then Cherise removed her kotex from where it was attached in front of her bush. It was red with her blood. She gently used it to wipe several smudges of blood from her groin, then wiped the crack of her pussy with it. Finished, she held the dirtied tampon by a corner, using her thumb and index finger, as if it was too nasty to touch. "Here girl, the joys of womanhood are yours!" Cherise giggled nervously as I took the napkin from her and attached it onto my belt, bloody side pressed against my groin, against my so-called manhood. I blushed and my hands trembled. I kept glancing at our reflection in the large bathroom mirror, at me, my body hairless, toenails and fingernails painted bright red, little titties where only two months earlier was a hairy male chest. And now I wore the ultimate humiliation. "Good, it seems securely in place, don't you think, Angela?" Cherise asked. I was too stunned to answer. "Now remember, you must leave that on until I change mine. Only then will you remove that one and replace it with another of my used napkins. Sandy's orders, you know. If I change mine and you're not around, I'll put the dirty one in one of these kotex bags and set it in your room, on your bed. OK? And I'll give you a call to make sure you know that you have to change it." "What if I forget to change it, Mistress?" I asked in a whisper, barely able to get any words out. "Oh, baby, I doubt you'll forget. It's not comfortable, having a period and all. Plus, I suppose your kotex will begin to smell. There's nothing much worse than the smell of a dirty pussy, especially if the smell is coming from a boy-girl like you." Cherise pulled on her jeans and zipped them up, then put on her white blouse. "Oh, I almost forgot. You're also required to wear a tampon, aren't you? Gosh, the next few days are not going to be fun for Angela, are they? Get a tampon from the medicine cabinet, and I'll give you one more lesson in being female." Soon I had removed a tampon from its wrapping and held it in my hand, perplexed. "It's rather like a syringe. You'll stick it into your vagina, and then slowly push against the back of the tampon. That pushes a wad of cotton into your vagina to absorb your menstrual discharge. Remove the applicator and there'll be a little string extending from your hole. When it's time to change, pull on the string to remove the tampon, and then replace it with a fresh one. Understand?" "But..., I don't have a vagina, Mistress." Cherise rolled her eyes. "Yes, girl, I know that! Sandy said you have to wear it in your asshole. Now..., any other questions before I leave and let you dress?" "Cherise, I'm sorry that you have to..., do... all of this...; it's my fault." "No problem, sis. It's a hassle for me, but not as much as it is for you." "How often do you do this," I asked as she opened the bathroom door. "You mean, how often do WE do this? It's your period, too, Angel Girl. OUR cycle is 28 days, silly. Just like the moon. You see, as a male, you were nurtured by the sun to be dominant, powerful, and bold. But now, as a female, you are lunar: soft, quiet, mysterious, subject to the menstrual cycle. You'll adapt. Well, gotta go, sis!" Cherise left the bathroom and closed the door, leaving me alone. I attempted, unsuccessfully, to push the tampon into my asshole. It hurt too much. Luckily there was a jar of Vaseline in the medicine cabinet; after smearing lubricant onto the tampon I was able to carefully insert it into me. Finished, I looked at my reflection in the mirror; a small string hung from my asshole and a kotex napkin covered my groin. Tears formed in my eyes as I pulled on my lacy, pale blue panties and then donned my bra, carefully putting the silicone inserts into the cups so as to give me a pair of nice, size C breasts. After peeking out the door to make sure no one was around, I scurried to my little room downstairs and, exhausted, climbed into bed for a nap. Part 8 ------ Twice each week, on Sunday and Thursday evenings, all girls living with Sandy were required to eat dinner at the house. Frequently other invited guests also attended. Apparently Sandy considered her employees to be her family, and enjoying dinner together on a regular basis was one means of holding this "family" together. Other than myself, no male was ever invited to these get togethers, and Sandy apparently didn't considered me to be "male". While I never felt comfortable at the dinners, I had tolerated them so far, mostly by keeping quiet as the girls discussed all kinds of matters of interest to females, such as soap operas, clothes, makeup, and, of course, cute guys and creepy guys. Today, however, a feeling of dread filled me as I prepared for Sandy's Thursday evening dinner. Cherise had suggested I wear a dress as this would please Sandy. To date, I'd only worn slacks, so the idea of donning a dress was daunting. Cherise had selected a white dress with embroidered blue and red flowers; it had quarter-length sleeves and the hem fell to midway between my knees and thighs. I wore a white slip beneath the dress. I wore open-toed heels, as Cherise had said sandals would not go with a nice dress. I took extra care with my makeup, choosing dark mascara and a deep-red shade of lipstick. Following Cherise's directions, I'd also painted my toenails and fingernails a shade of red matching my lipstick. Prior to this I'd always painted my nails with a clear coat polish; this was the first time I'd painted them red. It was a few minutes after seven when I ascended the stairs; the butterflies in my stomach were caused by the erotic feel of the dress caressing my thighs and the repulsive knowledge that Cherise's blood- soaked kotex cradled my cock. The others had all taken their seats; the only vacant chair was at Sandy's left. I tried to avoid the girls' eyes as I walked through the dining room, although I could feel them staring at me. "Very nice, Angela, very nice indeed," Sandy said as I reached the table. "Don't sit yet. Model your pretty dress for us, please." "Well, ahh..., yes, Mistress Sandy. If you like..." "Walk slowly to the fireplace and back. Pretend you're a beautiful model in Paris," Sandy instructed. I blushed as I did this. "Pretty legs, Angela," said Nicole. "I'll say," echoed Jenna. "Maybe Angela ought to dance at the club. She's got the body. Don't you agree, girls?" "Does she! You really are pretty, Angel," Terra said with a tone of sincerity. "Thank you, Mistress Terra," I said shyly, feeling very exposed as I stood there. "Since when am I your Mistress, Angel?" Terra asked, looking perplexed. "Well, you see..., Mistress Sandy thought that..., ahh..., I should use that title when, ahh, whenever I address any of you." "That's correct, Angela," Sandy interjected. "Girls," she continued after a pause, "Angela has a deep dark secret she should share with us. Come on, Angela, tell us what happened today." "Please, Mistress..., I'd rather not. Please?" "Oh, girl, it's nothing to be ashamed of now, is it? Tell us, and then we'll serve dinner." My eyes stared down at the floor and I blushed lividly. "You see," I said hesitantly, "well..., today I..., ahh..., I started my, ahh..., my period. My first period..." Everyone was quiet for a minute or so, surprised by my unexpected revelation. Then Jenna said, "Well, Angela, congratulations to you! I don't know how you managed to have a period, or why you'd even want to have a period," she said with a giggle. "C'mon everyone, a toast to Angela on the occasion of her first period!" I sat down between Sandy and Inez and the seven of us raised our wine glasses in a toast to me. As I sat, the tampon pushed uncomfortably a bit further into my ass. "Welcome to the dark side of femininity, Angela," Terra said as she set her glass down. I glanced towards Inez; she was quiet, uncomfortable, apparently embarrassed. All the girls knew that Inez and I liked each other. Part 9 ------ "What do you mean, you're on your period? Come on, Danny! Was this your idea?" Inez's voice trembled and her lower lip quivered. She was helping me wash dishes. She wore jeans and an orange t-shirt, while I wore a frilly pink apron covering my white dress. In my high heels I stood several inches higher than Inez, who wore cheap tennis shoes. Carrie and Terra had left for the club, accompanied by Sandy. Nicole and Jenna were watching television in the living room. "Of course not, Mistress. Sandy made me do it." "Stop calling me "Mistress"," Inez said forcefully, her face red with anger. "I'm sorry, Inez. It's Sandy's orders." "I don't want to be your mistress! I want to be your girlfriend. Danny's girlfriend!" "You are, Inez. Look, this will pass. Sandy is ticked off about something. I don't know what. She'll cool down, and we'll get back to normal." Inez smiled a bit. "Normal being my boyfriend having little titties and wearing a dress?" "Yea, I suppose so. But I can be anything you want, Inez. Give me a month away from here and I'll be a hairy ape-man, if that's what you want." "No, Angela, that's not what I want." Inez leaned over, stood on her tiptoes, and kissed my lips. She smelled of dish soap and perfume. "I like my pretty boy with his smooth skin and titties. You know that." "And I like you, Inez. I'm in love with you, you know." "I guessed as much, Angela." Inez smiled warmly. "So tell me, how can my boy have a period? Surely even Sandy couldn't pull off a miracle like that." My face reddened and I gazed at the floor. "It's Cherise. I have to wear her, ahh, kotexes, after she gets them bloody. Plus, Sandy says I have to wear a tampon in, ahh, my rear end, you know..." Inez let loose of my forearms, and was quiet for a long minute. She stared into my eyes; I saw her frown. "That's nasty, Danny." I remained quiet. What could I say? Inez was right. No man, no man should ever do such a thing! "So..., you'll have to do this every month? Whenever Cherise has a period, you do too?" "Yes, Inez, I suppose so. It's either that or leave the house. Cherise says it happens every 28 days." "I know that, Angela. I am the real girl here, aren't I?" "Of course you are. I'm not female. I don't want to be female. You know that." "I think I know that. Sometimes I have doubts, Angela." I removed the pink apron and took Inez' hand. "Let's go watch television and have a bit more wine. OK? Sit together on the couch. Cuddle. Maybe we can play around a bit." "OK, Angela, let's go watch TV. But since you're on your period, we surely won't be playing around. I'm not gonna let your cock, red with Cherise's discharge, slip into my body. No way, girl," Inez said, her cute mouth frozen into a frown, obviously unhappy with my latest venture into womanhood. Part 10 ------- "He's my boyfriend," Inez said, her voice trembling. "Mine! I won't let you do it! Danny's a man! Not a girl. A man!" The discussion had, over the past fifteen minutes, led to flared tempers and now to tears. Sandy and Cherise were seated on the couch while Inez/Tania stood, tears streaming from her angry dark eyes. "Yes" Sandy said, "Angela is your man. So be it, Tania. But he cannot both be a "real man" and live here with us. You know that." "But Sandy! You make him call us all "Mistress". Why? And having to wear Cherise's rags. Why? Why? It's just not fair. Danny's a nice boy. He likes me!" "Look, Tania. He's still yours. But now he's better. He's improved. Angela will be able to understand you, to empathize with your issues. How many guys have you known who ever cared about the fact that you were on your period? How many?" "None, I suppose," Inez replied, sheepishly, as she wiped the tears from her eyes. "No, none!" Sandy's voice rose. "Guys never care. Each month we females suffer through our periods, get depressed, hurt, and all our men want to know is when they can poke their damn pricks back into us! Well, Danny will be different. Just give it a try, OK? If, six months from now, you're still unhappy with the new Angela, I'll toss out the hormones and get a male ID for your boyfriend. OK?" After a long pause, Inez mumbled softly, "Yes, Sandy. Six months." Cherise stood up and warmly hugged the pretty Hispanic dancer from The Valley, while Sandy watched, a look of triumph upon her face. Part 11 ------- It was three a.m. on a Tuesday morning when I pulled into the park surrounding White Rock Lake. Inez had finished her night of dancing and I'd cleaned up the club, took out the trash, and made sure the money was locked securely in the safe. Inez had suggested the detour to the park. The night was clear and warm; across the shimmering waters, in the far distance, lights from downtown skyscrapers shown brighter than the stars. "Are you sure you're not on your period, Angela? Don't lie." Her wide eyes looked into mine, seemingly searching for something. "No, Mistress, I'm not on my period. Cherise's ended three days ago, and I tossed out my last kotex yesterday morning. "What was this," Inez asked as she got out of my car, "your second?" "No. This was my third time. I tell you, they're not pleasant. Not easy to forget." "I suppose not, particularly for a boy." "So, you want to walk around the lake, Mistress?" "Not tonight." Inez looked at me, smiling but clearly nervous. She took a large beach towel from the car and spread it out on top of tall grass a few feet from the shore of the lake. "Let's do something different. I want to make love to you, Angela. C'mon, take your dress off. It's time. You've been living with me now for what? Six Months? You are my boyfriend, or girlfriend ? whatever -, aren't you? Let's see if that boy-clit of yours can perform." "You mean it, Mistress? Right here? Are you sure?" I looked towards her; she nodded. She unzipped her shorts and they dropped to the ground, and in less than a minute she'd also removed her blouse, bra and panties. Her body was beautiful. I'd seen her naked before, usually as she went into the shower (seems I was always having to clean the bathrooms at Sandy's house!), but never in such an inviting pose. Inez approached me, naked, went behind me and unzipped my yellow shift, letting it drop to the grass. I shivered, standing in my white lacy slip. Inez proceed to remove my slip, then unhooked my bra. I wiggled out of it. "My, Angela," Inez whispered as she stood before me, "your breasts are beautiful. Nearly as large as mine!" "I know, Mistress. It's embarrassing. Each morning now, when I look in the mirror, I see a girl. Yet I continue taking the hormones. Why? It's not like Sandy shoves them down my throat. I could just toss the pills into the toilet ? who would know the difference? But no, I take them, each morning and evening. Maybe..., maybe I really don't want to be, you know..., Danny. Maybe I want to be Angela? It's confusing." "Shush, Angela," Inez said. Like a shadow, she moved close to me and caressed my breasts with her mouth and tongue. Soon my cock came to life. Inez lowered my pink panties, freeing my erect penis. "Lay down, my dearest. Boy or girl, I don't care. You're mine, Angela. You're mine. Only mine! Always mine! Lay down, mi novia." Soon I was lying on my back as Inez straddled me. Her hand guided my prick into her pussy. She continued whispering to me as even as she began to writhe, moving up and down, up and down. Sweat covered our bodies. Before long, our love was mutually consummated, our bond cemented. Part 12 ------- "Damn it, babe, get up there and dance!" The grossly overweight, middle- aged man slurred his words as he reached over and grabbed my skirt, knocking his nearly empty glass of beer to the floor. "Please sir! I'm a waitress. I'm not allowed to dance here," I said as I gently grasped his hand until he released his grip on my short skirt. "Let me get you another beer. OK?" "Great! You slut! Give me a drink!" I went to the bar and poured him a bottle of near-beer, hoping that he wouldn't notice the difference. I'd been waiting on tables for several months, as Sandy had continued to increase my responsibilities over time. I had noticed that Sandy had come to like me; maybe this was because I'd become more and more female over the year since I'd begun taking the hormones. And while I'd become accustomed to patrons trying to get into my panties, this guy was worse than most. Inez was on stage dancing seductively as about a dozen men watched and silently sipped their beers, their thoughts god knows where. It had been at least four months since that warm evening when Inez and I had our first sex, and ever since we'd been inseparable. I thought to myself, as I looked at her, so pretty with her dark hair and luscious full red lips, that for the first time in my entire life I was happy. I, Daniel Katowski, was actually content and happy. The very thought amazed me. Maybe I am unsure of what sex I am or want to be, but with Inez, I'm happy. And she loves me. The situation at Sandy's was also much improved. Sandy had allowed me to move in with Inez, as another girl, Kim, moved into my basement quarters. It was odd, but so very pleasurable, being loved by Inez. Sometimes her temper would flare over small things, like when I borrowed a pair of her panties because all of mine were dirty. Heck, our room was so full of lingerie, skirts, blouses, dresses, shoes ?lots of shoes!- that at times it seemed I lived in the Misses department of Macy's. Eventually we ended up sharing most everything, including makeup. But panties were different; because Inez and I now both had periods, she was not willing to wear my panties or to allow me to borrow hers. The drunk sat at the back of the bar, watching me rather than Inez. The underarms of his shirt were wet with sweat and his tie hung loosely around his neck. I walked to his table and set down the full glass of beer. "That will be $4.00, sir," I said. "Well, dance and I'll give you $40," he growled. "Sorry, sir, but I can't." "Pussy, don't tell me what you can't do. I'm a minister here in Dallas. A big shot Baptist minister! I got lots of girls who want me. Nice girls. They're not like you. You're a damn slut!" Before I knew what happened he reached under my skirt, which was so short it barely covered my crotch, and firmly grasped my groin. "Ouch! Let go of me," I said, trying not to yell as I didn't want to interrupt Inez' dancing. "Fuck you, bitch! Hey...," he said, feeling the unexpected, "what the hell! What the hell! Fuck! You're a faggot, aren't you? A Fucking Queer, aren't you??!!" I noticed drool leaking from the edge of his mouth onto his chin. I grabbed his forearm and my fingernails dug into his flesh until he released his grip on my balls. I saw blood puddle on his hairy arm. "Get out of here, sir," I said matter-of-factly. "I'm calling the police right now, so please leave." I tried to remain calm, but my voice trembled with fear and anger. I turned and headed to the bar's office. "Faggot! I wouldn't let you kiss my dick, bitch!" He cursed again, then stumbled towards the exit. Part 13 ------- Two nights after the incident with the minister, I was again waiting tables as Inez danced. A dozen customers watched her move; Sandy was in the office working on the books. Suddenly three police officers entered; one took up position at the back door, the other at the front door. The third, a heavy set, aging cop with a balding head, approached me. "Let me see your drivers license, ma'am." I set the tray of empty bottles down on a table. The bottles, shaken by my trembling hands, clinked musically. "But officer, I didn't do anything." "Please. Just get your identification, ma'am." I went to the office to fetch my purse, hoping that maybe Sandy could help. She stood up and asked the officer what he was doing in her bar. "I'm here to check your employee's identification. We've had an allegation made that your employee is an illegal alien." "What? That's crazy!" Sandy exclaimed. "This city is filled with illegal aliens. At least a million! You wouldn't come here just for that." "Ma'am," the officer said, looking down at Sandy, who was a several inches shorter than he, "a very respectable citizen reported this. I have no choice but to follow up on his allegation." I removed my driver's license from my purse and handed it the officer. I was scared, more scared than I'd ever been. "So, are you really Angela?" he asked me, speaking quietly, almost regretfully. "I don't think you are, are you? I'm sorry, young lady..., or man..., whatever... You'll have to come with us now. Take your purse and your jacket." I slipped an orange sweater over my nearly sheer lavender blouse. I would have liked to change into something different, maybe into pants or at least into a skirt which covered my knees, but the policeman refused to allow it. After handcuffing me with a plastic tie, he led me to the squad car. Inez, weeping uncontrollably, and Sandy followed. Even Sandy, who had been unflinchingly strong throughout the year I'd known her, had tears in her eyes. The officer did allow Inez and I a brief, sad kiss before forcing me into the back seat. Part 14 ------- I was ushered into a windowless, sparely furnished room with dull gray walls, and took a seat at a metal table. I was alone there with my thoughts for at least a half hour, until two officers walked in, one a full colonel and the other a lieutenant. It had been a week since my arrest; I'd been sent to Fort Hood the day after the arrest. I quickly rose and saluted; they returned my gesture and the lieutenant instructed me to sit. "Private Katowski," said the lieutenant, "we've reviewed your file and reached our decision. Rather than a court martial and lengthy incarceration, we instead will allow you to complete your tour of duty, after which you'll receive a general discharge." "But sir," I said, pleading. "That will mean returning to Iraq, won't it?" "Most likely." "Sir, please, wouldn't it be possible to be discharged instead? Even a dishonorable discharge would be acceptable to me. I ask you. Please." The colonel, who had not spoken until now, answered simply, "No. We've made our decision. You will report to your unit immediately." "But sir, please. You've read my file. Look at me! I'm not the same man as I was a year ago. My God, I've got breasts! My unit will not accept me as one of them. Surely you see that?" The lieutenant spoke. "In time, Private Katowski, you body will return to that of a typical male. Our physicians have stated such. As Colonel Carson has indicated, our decision is final." With that the officers rose from their chairs. I rose too, and saluted. They left the room and closed the door behind them. I sat down and hid my face in my hands, which soon were wet with tears. Part 15 ------- It was, in a way, both expected and unexpected. Angela had been in Iraq for three weeks. While the members of his unit did not talk to him, neither had they harassed him. Angela, off duty, wearing male military fatigues, left his barracks to get a soda at the vending machine near the mess hall. It was nearly midnight. A full moon eerily illuminated the yellow-orange sand that covered everything here. Suddenly a body blow from behind knocked Angela forward; she fell to the ground. Surprised, she felt and tasted sand in her mouth. Her first thought was that she'd tripped over something. But within seconds someone grabbed her arms while someone else shoved a sock into her mouth. Two soldiers dragged her to an empty truck trailer parked at the edge of the small army base, forced her into the trailer, then tore off her uniform. A large white staff sergeant pulled off Angela's underwear as two soldiers held him tightly. Angela didn't fight back ? she couldn't. There were a dozen soldiers in the trailer now. Two bright flashlights were turned on, focused upon Angela, adding to the moonlight that entered the trailer through a jagged hole which an RPG had blown in its roof. The soldiers shoved Angela to the dirty floor, where she lay, face up. "Well, look here, guys. We done got a girl in our unit. How about that! A girl with a little bitty cock," said the overweight staff sergeant before he spit onto Angela's groin. "Or a guy with tits," added a black private who stood alongside the sergeant. "What a cunt!" someone yelled. "Bitch!" another yelled. "Faggot!" several yelled at the same time. "So, men," said the fat staff sergeant, who apparently was the leader of these thugs, "what say we show the new girl a good time?" "Me first," someone yelled. "No, I get firsts! You get seconds," challenged another soldier. Soon they were all laughing and yelling and cursing. Angela tried to cry out but the sock prevented it. A soldier took out a deck of cards and each man drew a card. "Well, my oh my," exclaimed a stocky Hispanic private. "The king of spades! Guess I go first." A chorus of boos and catcalls and laughing followed. The staff sergeant knelt down and put his mouth near Angela's ear. "Look, faggot," he growled, "you try anything funny and we'll cut your dick off, then kill you. We'll blame the insurgents, and no one will care. Now you suck like the good little whore that you are." He pulled the sock from Angela's mouth; she gasped, taking in the warm air. The Hispanic, who the others called Paco, soon stripped off his trousers and underwear. Two others grabbed her arms and forced her into a kneeling position. Paco grasped his cock and, using it like a blackjack, pummeled Angela's face with it, to the cheers of the watching crowd. Then Angela felt it push against her mouth. Opening her eyes, she could only see the brown cock and Paco's balls, which were partly covered by black pubic hair. Tears streamed from her eyes. Angela opened her mouth and the cock plunged into the opening, gagging her. She gasped for air. The cock began to rock, back and forth, in and out, in a rising frenzy until, after four or five minutes Paco unexpectedly pulled it out. Angela opened her eyes to see why; simultaneously Paco came, shooting cum over her face and into her open mouth. A roar of laughter filled the trailer. Next was a black man, a black cock. Then another brown cock. Fourth was the staff sergeant; Angela considered biting off his cock, but didn't. The shadow of his beer belly hid the glare of flashlights as Angela sucked the sergeant. He came into Angela's mouth; she nearly vomited. Angela wanted to get through this. She wasn't ready to give up on life. Even during the terror of this night she remembered her happiness, her joy, her beloved Inez. The memory gave Angela strength. An hour or more passed. Angela lost track of the cocks, the men. Some had come back for seconds. Some even for thirds. Angela's jaw muscles were painfully sore. Blood had pored from her nose and dried thickly on her cheek. Then it ended. Angela lay face down upon the floor of the truck trailer. She saw the staff sergeant approach, holding a shovel. He swung it at her head. Part 16 ------- I felt a cool wet towel wiping my face. I thought it was Inez; I assumed that we were together, sharing our bed in Dallas. When I opened my eyes I saw a blond girl wearing a military uniform, wiping my face gently. She looked so young. Then, slowly, painfully, I recalled everything. "That's it, drink some water. Try to sit up." I looked at her and I began to cry. She looked troubled, very troubled. "I heard about what happened. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Things here are just..., just insane. But come on, the sun will be rising soon. Come with me to the women's barracks. You'll be safe there." I stood up. She had me slip into a pair of beige culottes and a rose- colored t-shirt, and sandals. I was still too stunned to fully comprehend my situation. She had a wig ? short hair with a page boy ? which she put onto me. After wiping some of the dirt and mud off my arms and legs, she had me follow her. The base was quiet, although in another half hour things would come to life. Luckily, we encountered no military police during the ten minute walk to the women's barracks. "I'm Maria," the blond girl said as we entered the barracks. "What's your name?" "Angela," I said without thinking, then added, "Thank you, Maria. Thank you." "Hey, it's OK. You're one of us, kind of. Over here, we sisters take care of each other." I could tell by her voice that she was proud of the camaraderie the girls shared. We entered a small dorm room with two cots in it. "This is my room, Angela. My dorm sister shipped out two weeks ago ? the lucky thing! So this cot is empty. I think you should stay here, at least for a while. It'll be OK with the sisters here, I'm sure." Maria gave me a bowl of oatmeal and milk. She suggested that, after eating, I should shower and take a nap. "Thank you, Maria," I said with heartfelt gratitude as she left to go on duty. After showering I laid down on the cot and immediately fell into a deep sleep. Part 17 ------- Angela's situation improved. Her physical wounds healed easily while she buried her psychological wounds. An accommodation, informal and unspoken, was allowed her by the base commander: Angela could remain in the girl's barracks and wear female attire when not on duty. On duty, however, Angela wore her male uniform and became Danny. Even then, however, Danny cheated a bit, as she often wore panties and a sports bra under his uniform. Angela knew the men in his unit would not dare molest her when she was on duty. When not on duty, she was always careful. No longer did Angela go out alone after dark, and always she was alert to goings on around her. Usually, when off duty, she carried a small MicroTech switch blade knife, affixing it to her thigh with a white lacy garter belt. She got to know the women assigned to the base. They numbered about a dozen, and without exception were young. Very young, many just out of high school. The girls were scared ? who wouldn't be? ? but brave. Angela admired them, yet felt sorry that they had to abandon one or more of their best years to this hell-hole which Iraq had become. Angela became like an older sister to them, helping them with some of the more physical tasks, listening to them when they felt down, giving them money when they needed to send some back to the states for care of a kid or a parent. The girls, in turn, helped Angela, getting her clothes, makeup, and even a supply of hormones. When on duty, Angela spoke only when necessary. He didn't trust his comrades, not at all. In fact, he no longer trusted any males. Men, Angela concluded, were evil. Each and every one. This feeling was reinforced during his hours on duty. He was assigned to the job of "interrogation", meaning he went out into the Iraqi town to question and often arrest Iraqi's. During these trips he often chafed at the way Iraqi society treated women. It seemed the females worked and cared for their families while the males stood on street corners, smoking. Once, on a particularly hot day, the hummer he rode in came upon the body of a pretty teenaged girl lying at the side of a street. Danny questioned many of the men in the area and was eventually able to piece together a grim fact: the girl had been killed because she wore makeup rather than a veil. Part 18 ------- It was Friday morning. Angela was off duty until noon. She woke at seven, put on a cute navy blue skirt and a pale green blouse, spent a few minutes applying lipstick and mascara, slipped her wig on, then went to the administration building for mail call. She received a letter from Inez. Angela went to the mess hall, got coffee and a roll, and took a seat, alone, at a table away from everyone else. Inez had drawn four little hearts, in red ink, on the envelope. Carefully she opened the letter, took a sip of coffee, then read the handwritten letter: My Dearest Angela, Hi! I hope you are OK. It's been a week since I received a letter from you. Please write. I miss you so, my angel. We are waiting for you here. Even Sandy misses you. She put a photo of you on the desk in her office. You remember the one: you are modeling a pink one-piece bathing suit, showing off your skinny thighs! What some of us girls wouldn't give for such skinny thighs! Remember the minister who turned you in? I've enclosed an article from the newspaper. Seems he's received an award of some type for being such a true "man of faith". Laura Bush will be in town to present him a plaque or something. Where is justice, my love? Where? I cry at night, sometimes, worrying about you. In fact, almost every night I cry. My love, my dearest Angela, I've made a decision. We'll marry as soon as your tour ends. No, honey, this is not a proposal ? it's an order!!! We'll be happy. I know this whole situation is so ? odd?? ? what with you being kind of a girl, yet also a man, my man! ? but so what? I love you and you love me. Let's marry and live together. We'll have a child. Two children! We'll be happy. Isn't that what really matters, my dearest? Don't we have the right to be happy like other people? Don't we?????? We'll get married down in The Valley. A Catholic wedding. You'll have to wear a tuxedo (no, honey, I'll be wearing the wedding gown!) and be macho and all, but just for a weekend. My family will accept you; they'll love you. You'll see! Cherise and Sandy send their wishes. Be careful, my love. Always be careful. Your girl, Inez Angela set the letter on the table. Tears, bitter tears, flowed from her eyes and down her cheeks, falling upon the letter, creating wet stains on the paper which spread outward like cancer. Part 19 ------- Carefully, using a Q-tip, Angela removed mascara from around her eyes. Her hands trembled, as she was still shaken by the letter. Happiness, it seemed, was within her grasp. Today she chose to wear beige panties and a matching sports bra under her uniform. She didn't remove the clear polish she'd painted her nails with (none of the girls were allowed to use colored polish). After dressing she walked with Maria to the motor pool. Maria was coming today because they were going to interrogate some women at a school across town. The Iraqi's didn't like males to question Iraqi women. "Maria," Angela said as they hunkered down in the back of the hummer. "I'm getting married! As soon as I get back to the states. Inez proposed to me." "And you accepted?" Maria asked, smiling broadly; her metal helmet covered her soft blond hair. "Of course I'll accept. I love her! I'll call her after this mission, if I can get permission to use the phone. Jesus, Maria, this is just so, so great!" "Well, congratulations, soldier," Maria said warmly. She reached over and gently touched my hand with hers. "You'll come to the wedding, won't you? It'll be in South Texas. I'll get you a plane ticket. Please? You can be my bridesmaid..., I mean, my best man..., whatever!! You know what I mean." "I wouldn't miss it. Heck, I'm half Mexican-American. Maybe I'll meet a cute South Texas boy at your wedding, maybe have a little "amor" and all." Maria, beautiful even in combat gear, sweat drops forming on her forehead, smiled at me as the driver put the hummer into gear and we drove off the base and into hell. Part 20 ------- The sun glared upon the torn city, one of many destroyed during Bush's war of liberation. Iraqi men stood in packs, always watching silently as our vehicle passed, crashing over debris and swerving around large potholes. The men didn't work; there were no jobs. Children stared; sometimes one would throw a rock, but rarely would they hit anyone. Women were nowhere to be seen. About fifteen minutes into the drive, the hummer turned a corner. Angela was watching the street, alternating her gaze from left to right. Maria, clearly afraid, looked straight ahead at the back of the driver's head. A glint of light caught Angela's eye. It came from an alley. He saw a man running towards the road and another crouched down behind a rusted oil barrel. The flash had apparently come from the sun reflecting off the runner's gun. The other man's RPG had already focused upon the hummer. It wasn't heroism. No, it was mostly just a reflex. Maria sat between Angela and the gunmen who were preparing to fire upon the hummer. Angela immediately shoved Maria's head down to the floor, where she would be somewhat protected by the metal of the hummer's door. Then Angela raised her M-16 and rapidly fired off three shots. The first shot missed, but the second hit the crouching man. He fell to the ground, unable to fire the RPG. The running man stopped and pointed his weapon. Angela and the man fired simultaneously. The Iraqi fell to the ground, wounded. He crawled into a nearby building, trailing blood. Maria was at first surprised, not knowing why Angela had shoved her, hurting her neck. Then the noise of Angela's rifle shots deafened her. Maria noticed the back of the driver's seat suddenly change color, turning to red. Part 21 ------- Crack!! Crack!! Crack!! After each had fired three shots, the seven grizzled old men set their M-1 carbines down. The old vets hadn't known Danny. Sure, they were sorry that another young man had died in Iraq, but they were happy to send him off to a warrior's grave. Death, after all, is glorious ? if for a worthy cause. Following the service they would drive to the Legion Club in Plentywood and enjoy cold beer as they listened to Rush Limbaugh on the radio and cussed at blacks and Democrats, which, of course, were rare to extinct in eastern Montana. Inez stood alongside Maria at the small cemetery set in the rolling treeless prairie just outside the tiny town of Westby, Montana. A cold wind blew the smoke from the guns towards the two girls. The acrid smell disgusted Inez and frightened Maria. Inez wept inconsolably. Maria put her arm gently around Inez, trying to shelter her, just a bit, from the cold prairie wind. Danny's father, who'd been drinking heavily, stood nearest the grave. Danny's mother, expressionless, stood alongside him. The priest, old and wrinkled, sadly took a handful of dirt into his weathered hand and tossed it upon the pine box, within which lay Angela's body, now forever still. Part 22 ------- The girls were silent during the long drive to the Minot airport. The day grew colder. Snow began to fall just as the sun set. Inez' plane was already boarding when they reached the terminal. Maria hugged Inez, and both girls again wept. "Angela accepted your proposal, Inez," Maria said. "She was so happy. You made her happy, you know." "It wasn't a proposal," Inez said, smiling slightly. "It was an order." After a long pause, Inez looked searchingly into Maria's eyes. "Why?" Inez asked, knowing there was no answer. "So much death. Why?" Maria and Inez hugged one last time, then Maria kissed Inez' cheek. Silently, Inez turned and entered the waiting plane. The End