Do you understand?” “Yes Sir!” I regurgitated. “That’s all, go see the Recruit CPO for a copy of your instructions. Now, GET OUT OF MY FUCKI...’ FACE ASSWIPE!” I saluted, about faced and double-timed it out of that office as fast as I could. The Recruit CPO gave me a copy of my instructions as the company Master-At-Arms. I read the booklet, and thought I understood what was expected of me, even though I was 19 years old, and had no idea what it meant to be responsible. Over the next few weeks, I. It feltwonderful--so soft and ladylike. I was grateful for the cincher--theskirt was tight around my waist, but now I could feel how it rode whatfew curves I had. As I relished the satin shroud around my thighs, andlooked down at my shaven, pantyhose-clad ankles, I knew I was lookingless and less masculine by the second, and I was loving it.I wondered what sort of shoes Lisa had purchased for me. Certainly shehad not done all of this shopping for me only to let me wear sneakers! Ifound. More

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