The Honor Of Serving My Country - High Heel Camp free porn video

THE HONOR OF SERVING MY COUNTRY - HIGH HEEL CAMP By Katharine Sexkitten I thought I'd died and gone to heaven. Can you imagine? For a feminine-leaning man like me, one more or less just discovering his passion for cross-dressing, what could be better than waking up every morning and opening the door to a closet full of pretty clothes? Skirts, dresses, blouses, leggings, shoes. The works. Plus, every kind of lingerie item imaginable, all in my sizes. Like a free pharmacy to a junkie. Not to mention free laser hair removal, tanning salon, beauty salon, manicures and pedicures, and spa treatments. All on base. Oh, and on our rare off nights, when we were allowed to socialize at the pub or the nightclub, with the myriad of military folks around, we Sissies never had to buy a drink. Ever. We got lots of dance requests too. From soldiers big and small, thick and thin, black and white and Latino and Asian and every other ethnic trait you could think of. Highly-trained killers, most of whom just wanted someone soft and feminine to hold, and cuddle, and caress, and romance, and then get their cocks sucked before they slide into a warm, wet ass-pussy. But, military life can be hard to get used to. Reveille was at five o'clock in the morning. We were awoken by loudspeakers mounted on the wall of our barracks rooms. We had thirty minutes to get ready, including making sure that everything in the room was spic and span, all the beds were made (with hospital corners on the sheets), and all of us were dressed and ready to run. Yoga pants and sports bras were our uniform, although we each got to choose our own colors, and all the Sissy Cadets wore the finest running shoes available, the ones with the swoosh, except ours were pink. Five miles later, we were allowed one full hour to shower, dress, get made up, and be ready for breakfast, before our first classes. Living in rooms that housed four, it was incumbent upon each Cadet to make sure his fellow Sissies were up to standards. A demerit against one Sissy was a demerit against the entire room. Each room had a commander, who was chosen by the Army NCO's who ruled us. In my room, which was labelled "PANSY", our commander was initially Charlene, a young man who walked and talked with a military air, but who quickly showed himself to struggle with much of the curriculum. After just three days, Sergeant Rypier notified me and the other two Cadets in PANSY that Charlene had washed out of the programme, and he was leaving it up to us gurls to decide who the room commander should be. The other two, both country lads, and both wide-eyed and polite, immediately suggested that I should take charge, since I was more "worldly" than them, and farther ahead on the Sissy Spectrum. They were both just learning their ABC's. Asses. Balls. Cocks. I had a modicum more experience than they did. After a few days of initial shock, I took to the rigors of such a structured life like a fish to water. I loved it. Knowing that there were rules, that there was structure, in every second of the day, was something that I revelled in. The classroom work was tough, and demanding, equal to the physical demands of being in the Army, but I aced everything put in front of me. In some ways, it was like being back in high school. We had to study and practice a multitude of subjects, from the mundane (math, science, English, history, etc.) to the sublime (fashion, deportment, the culinary arts, etc.). Initially, every Cadet was told that the program was the same for everybody, but it became apparent very quickly that there were some of us with advanced experience, or at least advanced talent. I was one of the lucky ones, who didn't have to spend too much boring classroom time learning about the basics of human physiology, or the simplistic approach they had to take with the newbies regarding sexuality. I didn't need to learn about penises, and the myriad of differences out there, or practice giving a blowjob on a cold, plastic dildo. I, and a few others, got to demonstrate our prowess on real live penises, right from the get go. There was always a healthy line of soldiers willing to volunteer for our blowjob training. The Sissy Corps was housed on the fourth floor of a barracks building, and guarded every second of the day and night by MP's. No soldier could just walk in any old time they liked for a quick BJ or to fuck any Sissy of their choosing. There had to be permission, granted from above. But they were all so considerate of us, wanting to help us get as much real-world experience as possible, and the curriculum we were under was full of opportunities to practice. Some grunt did a good job on the shooting range? Let him have a reward! One Sissy suck coming up. A visiting soldier outshone his peers on an endurance test? Reward time! Pick a Sissy and drop a load! An officer got a promotion? That was big-time reward-time. That was a free date with a Sissy, at one of the specially guarded Post Members Quarters, which were like little cabins. That was good for a whole lot of romance and sex. You like them femme as can be? We've got some of those. You prefer a little more masculine, but still Sissy-ish? We've got lots of those as well. I had only been there for three days when the Colonel informed me that a particular Lieutenant had achieved some sort of remarkable thing, and my evening was booked. I was, and I quote, to show him "the very best time possible". What I wasn't informed about ahead of time was that this particular officer's nickname was "The Log". I was being tested. Yes, he was okay looking, and yes he enjoyed making out, and yes he managed to get my juices flowing pretty easily. But when I finally got his uniform pants off, I was in a state of awe and apoplexy. How the hell am I supposed to fit something that thick into either my mouth or my ass-pussy? There can't possibly be enough lube in the western hemisphere for that. It took some doing, but I passed the test. And ladies, let me tell you, until you've had something that literally felt like it was splitting you in two, forcing your body to break apart, like a poor hot-dog bun trying to house a telephone pole, you've never lived. I actually passed out from my second orgasm, so perhaps I got lucky. I've no idea how long he fucked me while I was out of it. I only know that when I finally came to he was passed out beside me, exhausted, completely wiped out. I'd almost fucked him to death. I got a field promotion the next morning. I was now a SSC, a Sissy Second Class, better than all the other boys in my troop. What I didn't know at the time was that our dates were also being graded, and analyzed, for their actions and behavior. They got bonus points, and better general duties, if they demonstrated more than just brute masculine bravado. The men who romanced us, who kissed us and turned us on with their loving, ate better and got more time off than the ones who just walked into the room and dropped their drawers, demanding to be sucked off. But they did get sucked off, even if they had no romance in them. At the same time, each Sissy Cadet had his own unique issues to deal with, including wardrobe, and style, and so much of each day was tailored to the individual. My two barracks-mates were both nervous and tentative and being brought along very slowly, in their training and their life- style choice, whereas I was on the accelerated plan. My closet was four- times as full as theirs, because while they were just getting into panties and lingerie, I was already in dresses and skirts and blouses and heels. While they were just getting used to the idea of letting men touch them, I was miles ahead, the Colonel and Sergeant Rypier both filling my ass with their rock-hard cocks from day one. Not every day, mind you, but a couple of times a week, for both of them. Always in front of other Cadets. My time at the Fantasy Factory paid off in that respect, since it didn't bother me one iota to be completely ravaged in front of an audience. And more importantly, it helped weed out the ones who wouldn't make it through the programme. Seeing big strong men fuck the living hell out of me, putting me through the most difficult physical stresses known to humankind, watching the pounding it took to be a good Sissy, was enough to make some Cadets run. Most of them had no idea what they were ultimately up against, and when they saw it, writ large right in front of their eyes, it separated the wheat from the chaff. Witnessing the brutality of it, the sheer unadulterated majesty that is Sissy sex, gave those that stayed a true idea of what lay ahead for them. Many of them would find time, later on, to ask me questions, to gauge how it affected me, how it felt to be dominated and plowed, how much damage it did to me, if any, all in aid of them understanding their near and immediate future. The ones that stayed were the hearty ones. As the days and then weeks went by, each Sissy candidate began to show themselves, and their own uniquely personal individual career paths. Some were trending towards basic Sissy-ness, feminine men who would wear panties and such but never really branch out beyond that, and while, as the Colonel would say, there was room for that level of Sissy-hood in "this man's army" and always would be, the candidates who leaned more heavily into the total body experience, the ones like me who were aiming for surgery and enhancement and living the role twenty-four/seven, we were fewer and far between, and we seemed to get a little bit more of the army's attention. Certainly we had far more classroom training, including topics such as 'married Sissy life', which was to prepare us for living the role every second of every day. The intricacies and nuances of maintaining a 'womanly' cover, all the time, and behaving like standard wives and/or girlfriends, and/or just plain lovers, indoors or out, shopping for groceries, running errands, getting our hair done or our nails done, these were all tasks that would have to be achieved, all without giving up any indication of the true nature of the soldier. We had to pass as women, in the field, because our lives depended on it, and because the lives of our husbands and/or boyfriends depended on it. It was serious business. The Colonel made sure to visit us every other day. He didn't want to disturb our training schedules too much. Whenever he came into the area someone would shout, "OFFICER IN THE ROOM!" and we cadets would snap to attention, stomping our high-heels down onto the floor in a crisp military action, our backs straight and our bodies erect, our bosoms thrust outward towards the front to counter-balance our asses thrust outward towards the rear. He would always do a visual inspection of his cadets, looking for faults, but the NCO's, including Sergeant Rypier, trained us well, and there were very few instances of the Colonel finding anything wrong with any cadet. He'd always find me, no matter where I was in the area, and no matter what the reason for his visit, and take me into his arms, wrapping me in his vibrant masculinity, and just before he'd start kissing me he'd say something complimentary out loud, for the other Sissies to hear, about the way I was dressed and how horny it made him, or how much he'd missed my kisses and my blowjobs, or how much he was dying to fuck me again, to lose himself in my sweet ass-pussy, and I would always hear at least one of my fellow candidates sigh with jealousy, or even occasionally moan and spurt into their own panties, without even being touched, knowing that they too would one day get to the same level of devotion from a lover. Weekends were ours to enjoy, without too much structure. We still had to maintain barracks cleanliness, and we still had to maintain military rules and regulations, but there were no classes, and our time was open to pursue whatever tickled our fancy. There were plenty of soldiers and sailors and airmen who rotated through the base, doing the kinds of training and work that the military machine needed done, and they too got time off, and naturally some of them were more than happy to spend some of their off-duty time interacting with members of the Sissy Corps. None of us gurls ever had to suffer from loneliness. There were trails through the forest to walk, hand-in-hand with a prospective beau, with numerous points to stop and sit, where nervous GI's would woo us, some far more successfully than others, and other areas along the paths with purposefully-designed discretion zones, which were private areas mostly covered from view where Sissies and any putative boyfriends could go as far as they wanted to, and where us "gurls" would get even more kissing practice, or make-out practice, or blowjob practice. Or fucking practice. Some guys were happy to fill our mouths with their cum, and we were more than happy to swallow it all. But some of the more frisky men wanted more, and with rare exception we ladies were more than happy to bend over a tree-trunk, or lie back on a bed of soft grass, and spread our legs, drop our panties, or pull them to the side, and let nature take its course. As one of our instructors told us, men who face potential injury or death in their future seem to appreciate the simpler acts of human physical contact more than the average civilian. For many of them, they didn't know if they'd ever get the chance again, to make love with someone soft and sexy and feminine, and each event seemed tinged with a very palpable seriousness to it. We Sissies made sure the men loved it, and got the most out of every 'date', because they might ship off the next day and never get another chance. Men who face danger like that show their true colors, when it comes to cumming. Sometimes, they just want to hold someone, and be held, to calm their worries and fears about possibly never returning. Some men cry, whether they're filling a Sissy full of cum or not. Big strong masculine men, trained to kill and fight and defend our way of life, would blubber and sob and bawl their eyes out as they made love to us, as they fucked us, wanting it to never end, but knowing that when their sexual and romantic passions were sated, reality meant they might never feel such happiness again. That kind of startling truth gave a gravitas to what we Sissies were doing that transcended my experiences at the Fantasy Factory. Yes, I loved the whole 'anonymous sex with men experience', of course. But it meant so much more, here in the real world, knowing that for some of these men, it would be the last pleasure they might ever get, before they gave up their lives for freedom. A Sissy can't feel any more loved, or any more important, than when a man is pouring all his emotions into his love-making. One of our un-official sayings in the Sissy Corps was this: make it special. I fulfilled that goal every time. There was a movie theater on base, and a canteen, and a nightclub, of sorts, and most every Sissy Cadet there was, no matter his level of training, spent every free second they could socializing. With each other, yes, but also with the men (and occasionally women) who had sworn to protect us all from the imminent dangers of the world. Dances were encouraged, and only slow music played on the jukebox, so when a fella asked you to dance, you knew it was going to be a sway-and-grope. Which was fine. That was not just our role in the Army. It was our mission as well. Week four brought our first team challenge. A platoon of Army Rangers had done something notable we weren't privy to, in some area of the world we weren't privy to, arriving late at night in a big transport plane, and they were given three days of intensive after-action decompression, and then forty-eight hours furlough, which they were told would be on-base only, and while most of them wanted alcohol and genetic women, they were only given the former. The latter was us. The Sissy Corps. Many of the more he-man types scoffed and refused to have anything to do with "fags". But, after seeing how happy those brave enough to play with Sissies were, even the fiercest and loudest homophobes among them eventually cratered. As an SSC, it was incumbent upon me to lead the way for my team, and I was the very first Sissy to get fucked. I instantly paired off with the Squad Commander, a reed-thin tall Black man, whose lips were so huge that when he kissed me my entire mouth disappeared inside his, and whose tongue could literally enter my throat, which just made me want to suck on it, and who carried me like a blushing bride from where I was standing to the closest sofa in the common room, and who without any pretense or warm-up put me on my hands and knees, flipped up my A-line skirt, pulled my G-string panties to one side, and slid his eight inch cock into my already-lubed ass-pussy, in front of his entire platoon. The moan that came out of me was part-pain and part-pleasure, and louder than the background noise of all the chit-chat, and then the whole room went quiet, as everyone gathered around and watched me get pummelled. I had to close my eyes at first. Not because of the audience, no. That part didn't bother me at all. But this soldier had an upward curve to his cock, more than any other I'd ever seen, like a banana, and when he was rapid-fire slamming himself into me, it was like he was as thick or even thicker than "The Log", which meant he was rubbing parts of me inside with every out and in stroke that weren't used to that kind of treatment, and while most of the feelings he was creating in me were good, some of them hurt like stink, and I had to shut my eyes tight and concentrate on not crying my eyes out, or worse, tapping out. So I didn't see his friend with an equally banana-shaped cock approaching from the front, his snake of a dark rod pulled out of his uniform trousers, hard and glistening wet already with his pre-cum, and it was a complete shocking surprise to me when I felt the slick head of him touching my lips, forcing itself in, and just like that I was being spit- roasted by Rangers. That seemed to open a whole lot of floodgates. The next thing I knew, the entire area descended into Sissy madness. There were soldiers getting sucked, and soldiers fucking, EVERYWHERE! It was the greatest sight I'd ever seen. When the Corporal fucking me leaned over and whispered that he was about to fill my "CUNT" with his cream, I welcomed it. He was loud, and noisier than any fuck I'd had before, shouting at the top of his lungs, which inspired his friend to make a lot of noise as well, before he filled my tummy with his juice. That was the glorious start of an amazing weekend of debauchery. I doubt any of the Sissy Corps got more than a few minutes sleep, here and there. It was almost impossible. Settling down, even for a well-deserved nap, was usually short-lived. At some point, some horny solider with a stiff cock would find you, and you'd wake up with a cock in your mouth, or your ass. Or both. Serving our country! We all got two days off afterwards, and most of us slept it away. I managed to get caught up a little bit faster than most of the other Sissies, and on the afternoon of the second day I gladly welcomed my Colonel into my bed, while my two room-mates snored nearby, and he made love to me the way I really like. Long kisses, soft touches, and a big thick black cock that stuffed me full and lasted for a long long time. That experience, of being the feminine half of a couple, fulfilling their primal needs, the yin and yang, was everything to me. Being wrapped in a man's arms while he fucks the living shit out of me rocks my world. Week five was important in the Sissy program. By the end of it, every Sissy had to decide on their future. Stay with the programme, or bow out? The life of a soldier, with a little Sissy duty on the side, or full-time feminine sluttery? Surgery? The morning of my decision meeting, Sergeant Rypier came into the shower room, early in the day, when I was all soapy and getting myself clean, and the next thing I knew he was naked and enveloping me in his arms from behind, and he took me, right there and then, on the wet tiled floor, with my only obvious femininity being my smooth skin and my hair, which was growing as fast as it could, and in a fuck that to this day I remember as being singularly powerful, he begged me to fulfill the destiny he saw in me from day one, back when he fucked me in the Fantasy Factory. He begged me to become Jennifer. Full-time. He also fucked me so hard and so passionately that I didn't have the strength to tell him I'd already decided to do just that. I'd never cum so hard, in my whole life, as I did when he was slamming me, just before he filled me up with so much cum that it drained out of me for minutes on end after, and I felt the need to wear a tampon for the rest of the day, just so I didn't stain my precious clothes. At the meeting, my Colonel sat with the two civilians I'd met weeks ago behind a long table. Smoker and non-smoker. Smoker's name was Anderson. I couldn't remember hearing non-smoker's name. I was in my favorite body con dress, magenta in color, barely covering my crotch, and sculpted to hug every curve of my form. My hair was styled and wavy, floating as I walked, my make-up expertly applied and making me shine. The delicious plunging neckline of the dress showed my tiny little natural cleavage, and promised the most fabulous possibilities for true femininity depending on whether I chose to have surgery or not. My heels were stilettos, and made a sharp crack on the floor every step of the way. I knew while I was walking that everyone could hear the wispy swishy sound of silk on silk of my stockings. That's one of the sexiest noises in the world. Non-smoker's eyes stayed locked on my thighs, which were in the best shape of my life, thanks to our daily runs, and looked sexier than hell. My Colonel was beaming a smile wider than the Grand Canyon. "Sissy Second Class Michael Higgins reporting, sir." He shook his head, and then stood up slowly, taking three steps around the end of the table, and approached me, stopping so close to me that while we weren't touching, I could smell his after-shave, and his natural musk. I could feel his heat, and his enormous energy. I could see his hard cock, straining to get out of his uniform pants. "Not anymore," he said, and with a huge smile he pulled an envelope out of his breast pocket, out of which he slid a V-shaped piece of fabric, with two stripes. He then placed it on my left arm, on the fabric of my dress sleeve, and it stuck. "As of this moment you are Corporal Jennifer Higgins, a fully-trained Non Commissioned Sissy Officer." His pride was shining through. "Congratulations," he said, his deep voice like a gentle fog covering me. Then he leaned over and gently kissed me, big black lips on my shiny sleek red ones, with no tongue, and held it, for more than a few seconds, and I could feel his love and desire radiating through his kiss. When he broke the kiss, he stepped back, and came to attention, and slowly raised his right arm to salute me, and I immediately returned the salute, as I'd been trained to do, for a few seconds, and then he brought his arm down and did a crisp about-face and walked back behind the table. Non-smoker spoke first, after I was instructed to sit. "Corporal Higgins," he said, and then smiled, softly, "Jennifer, you've graduated from High Heel Camp with the highest scores ever posted, proving that the Colonel's original assessment was prescient." My Colonel laughed out loud. "You should never doubt my abilities to spot Sissies, Mr. Butler!" Non-smoker nodded. "Or your abilities to fuck them absolutely silly," he added, and my favorite lover sat back in his chair and grinned, satisfied with being proven right, and satisfied with his life in general, one where he got to fuck Sissies as part of his daily responsibilities. "So," the newly-named Mr. Butler continued, "welcome to RESCUE." Smoker cleared his throat, and sat up, apparently taking over the talk. "We have a lot of interviews to do today, so I'll get straight to the point," he said, and I could see the slight yellowing of his teeth, "you're prepared to make your choices now? Regarding enhancement? Yes?" I nodded at him. "I'm ready." He touched some buttons on an open laptop, and aimed it at me. "We'll be recording this. A copy will be attached to your files, and provided to you as well. All for your protection. And at the end of your service, we'll do a similar video deposition to determine any remediation you desire at that time. Okay?" I nodded, and then he nodded back at me. "Are you wishing to be a full-time Sissy? Yes or no." "Yes." "Are you requesting any surgical enhancements?" Yes or no." "Yes." "I'll name the available surgeries and you can say 'yes' or 'no'." I nodded. "Cheekbone enhancement?" "Yes." "Jaw-smoothing?" "Yes." "Orchiectomy? Orchiotomy? I'm not sure about the technical name, to be honest. The shaving down of your Adam's Apple?" "Yes." "Breast construction?" "Yes." "Shape?" "Tear drop." "Cup size?" "C, please." I looked over at my Colonel, and watched the corners of his mouth bend up, just a little. He was happy, I could tell. I could almost hear him imagining exactly what I was going to look like, as I made my choices. He was in his glory. I knew, more than I knew anything, that even though there was a table in the way of my view, that he was hard and throbbing in his uniform pants. "Tummy tuck?" "No." "Hip enhancement?" "Yes." "Buttock enhancement?" "No." I saw Mr. Butler, the non-smoker, narrow his eyes, as he watched me answer that question. I got the immediate impression that he might have been hoping for me to say yes to the buttock surgery, which was interesting, since I'd had a big butt my whole life, and had no reason to add to it, which made me understand that he was, deep down, an ass man. Which made things interesting. In several classes, we recruits had been taught that our lives, and the lives of those around us, might depend on the tiniest little detail about other people, personality traits that sometimes get ignored or dismissed. It was drilled into us, about seeing everything, with an analytical eye, and remembering everything. Mr. Butler was an ass man. Knowing that might come in handy one day. "Castration?" My response was immediate. "No." My Colonel nodded, knowingly or not. "So, penile removal is a no as well?" I nodded and answered. "Yes, penile removal is off the table." Smoker made some notes on a piece of paper. "No to losing the dick, so obviously a no to vaginal construction as well." I smiled, thinking we were over. "Piercings?" he asked, unexpectedly. I had to think about it. "Yes, in my ears. I mean, more than the two I already have." He looked up at me. "Lips? Nostrils? Cheeks? Belly button? Nipples? Scrotum? Penis?" Ah yes, I recalled, the PrinceAlbert. We'd seen pictures of it in class. A piercing through the head of the penis. According to the instructors, it was modestly popular amongst a small percentage of men, including the Sissy population. "No to all of those, although," and I paused and considered things, "I'm not ruling out the possibility of nipple rings later on. I'd like to deal with the other changes first, if that's alright?" My Colonel spoke first. "Of course, Corporal. Those kinds of modifications, not just nipple rings, can be added later, if you so choose, or if the situation warrants it." "Tattoos?" asked Smoker. "Yes, please," I answered, having decided long ago, "I'd like a tramp stamp on my lower back that says the word 'SLUT', in capital letters, as well as a small 'Queen of spades' pictogram on my left ankle." Out of the corner of my eye I noticed the Colonel sit up a bit. As a Black man, he was touched by my desire to show my love of Black men. Their passion, and their romance, were oftentimes just a little bit more than even the most passionate or romantic of Caucasian men. Plus, my experience so far was that Black men were seriously hung better than most everybody else. Non-smoker looked at me and smiled. "You're aware, of course, that they can be removed later in life, even after your service in the military is over." I nodded my agreement. "I just want to make sure you understand things," he continued, "having the word 'SLUT' on your back means that anytime your wear a bikini, or a tube top, or any garment that exposes your skin, that everybody and his dog will see the word. Everybody, including the people in your personal life, your family and friends, will be able to see it. As much as it's important to set yourself up as the dedicated Sissy that you've become, I do caution you to remember that tattoos like that will affect how the non-military world sees you. Soldiers, from anywhere in the world, will deal with it on levels trained into them. Civilians are a whole different ball game." I thanked him for his concern, but my mind was made up. "And finally," Smoker continued, looking at me with the most serious of looks, "steroids? Female hormone therapy?" "No to both," was my answer. My Colonel smiled. "Again, not to repeat myself, but those kinds of therapies can be asked for later on, if so desired. Not a problem." He winked at me. I felt myself throbbing in my panties, and realized that being fully- dressed and made up, totally achieving the zenith of my Sissy-hood, pre- surgery of course, was making me hornier than I had literally ever been. I had to fight the urge to jump on the table, lay on my back, pull up my dress while ripping my panties off, and letting every man in the room take me. I knew that both Sergeant Rypier and the Colonel would find the time after this meeting to ravage me. My ass-pussy was opening and closing in anticipation. Smoker turned the laptop away from me, signalling we were finished. "So here is how it's going to go, soldier," he said, while looking at me in the same way a starving man looks at a plate of food, "you will be given a weeks' furlough as a graduation present. You can fly home to visit your family, or hop an air-transport to any city of your choice, provided you make it back here in time. A week off, and then your surgeries will begin. You'll be out of it, to be honest, for about three weeks, maybe four, because our medical professionals will do all the work at the same time, and it's just easier on the patient to keep them in an induced coma. Once all the work is done, you'll get a couple of weeks to get used to the changes, including an entire new wardrobe of clothes to go with your new shape. And then," he paused, "you'll be on active duty. Any questions?" I had one. "Has it been decided yet where I'm going to be stationed? Or what my active duty will look like?" My Colonel rose out of his chair, and slowly ambled around the end of the table, and sat down on the front of it, close to me, where I could see the fantastic lump in his uniform pants, a promise of joy to come, literally and figuratively, and I smiled at him, letting him know that I was eagerly waiting to feel him inside me again, inside my wet warm mouth, and inside my tight, delicious ass-pussy, rocking my world. "Corporal," he began, "the timing should work out perfectly for you to begin your duty on assignment." Before I could ask, he continued. "An assignment with me, as it turns out." His smile was one of the seven wonders of the world. "Doing what, sir? If I may ask?" He shook his head. "You'll find out the details when you need to know. But you and I will be travelling, and while I'm attending some meetings during the daytimes you'll be acting as my new wife, the love of my life. Evenings will be ours to be social and enjoy, so you will be required to bring an extensive amount of clothes with you, including formal evening wear." Then he rose, and stood in front of me, his groin at my head level, his magnificent cock just inches away from my mouth, which was watering. "On your feet, soldier," he gently commanded. I was at attention immediately. Every man in the room could see my excitement. My nipples were poking little holes in the dress, and my little soldier was tenting in a way that couldn't be denied. I stood, proudly, on four inch heels. "Corporal," he said, his voice low and deep and resonating out of his barrel-shaped chest, "your country needs you. The free world needs you. There is plenty of evil out there, forces doing their best to undermine freedom, and it's only through the commitment and dedication and service of men and women and sissies like you that stop them from taking over. You've come through your training with flying colors, and impressed all of us. But now, now that you're graduating, now it gets real. Now, there's only service, and honor. The honor of serving your country. Are you prepared to give everything, and I mean everything, or die trying?" My answer was instantaneous. "SIR! YES SIR!" He stuck out his hand. "Congratulations, soldier." I placed my hand, my nails long and painted snow-white, in his, and he gently shook it. "You're now a full-time member of the Sissy Corps." Then he winked at me, and lowered his head towards me, and I opened my lips slightly to accept his tongue just as soon as his lips touched mine. I knew what was coming. I knew what he liked. A well-trained Sissy knows. I couldn't wait for the next month to pass. I couldn't wait to see what the new me looked like, and how the new me would be able to serve my country. In the meantime, there was the matter of a very horny Colonel to deal with. The best graduation present a girl like me could get! THE END