Author's note: As I write this, it is breast cancer awareness month. Please support your sisters financially or by donating your time for this most worthy of causes. We will appreciate any help you can give us. And if you ever do become a woman, the life you save may be your own.

-JW

 

Draft Girl

by Jennifer White

  

With the worsening war situation, the draft was reinstated to increase the numbers of available soldiers. Every able bodied young man was compelled to enroll for the draft, along with any brave women who wanted to volunteer.

For those unfit or unable to serve overseas, there were a myriad of jobs on the home front where military personnel were needed. Most of these jobs were filled by women who did not want to fight. However, they had to undergo the same basic training as the men, in the case that the war would ever reach the homeland.

 

Vic dreaded the thought of being drafted. He was forced to sign up for the draft, along with all of the other students in his class. He hoped against hope that his number would not be called, but sure enough, one week after graduating, he received the notification in the mail that he was to report for a physical and assignment.

Vic did not want to be sent overseas to fight. He dreaded the thought of it, being a very nonviolent person himself. But they wouldn't take no for an answer, and people who refused to go were being put in prison. Another place he hoped to avoid.

Vic went to the computer at the local library, and read as many stories in back issues of the newspaper as he could, trying to find a way out.

It was just before closing time that he finally found a story from a paper in a small town from the northwest, where a young man had found a way to get out of being sent overseas. It was not something which Vic liked the idea of doing, but it was better than the alternative. He only two days before he was to report, so there was much work to be done.

* * *

 

Thursday, 14:00 hours, the young man named Vic stood in line outside a tent at the local military field 'recruiting' station. Along with the hundreds of others who were told to report, he filled out paperwork with his personal information, including the ominous entry for "Next of Kin".

He baked in the hot sun, and the line didn't seem to move very fast. All of the young men felt that they were doomed, so nobody spoke a single word to each other. A few nervously puffed on cigarettes, shuffling their feet and looking down.

After what seemed an eternity, Vic made it to the front of the line. He was weighed, measured, poked and prodded. The gruff man pointed him to enter the examining room.

"A nurse will give you a complete physical, then you are to report to the next tent."

"Yes sir" said Vic glumly.

"Strip down to your underwear, and wait for her" he said.

Vic pulled the curtain closed, and stripped down as ordered. Five minutes passed before the nurse showed up, looking down at her clipboard. She asked him a series of questions.

"Any past major surgeries?"

"No" said Vic.

"Are you taking any prescription medicines?"

"No"

"Any history of diseases?"

"Just chicken pox."

The nurse finally looked up at him. She was so shocked that she dropped her clipboard and ran out of the room. A minute later, a man with short cropped military hair and a nasty scowl on his face came back in the room with her.

"See?" she said.

"Son, what is wrong with you?" asked the man.

"Nothing sir" replied Vic.

"Then why in the hell are you dressed like that?"

"Because this is what I normally wear."

"How can you call that normal?"

"Because sir, even though I was born as a boy, in my heart I know I'm a girl."

The man shook his head. Here was a young man who looked normal, but he was wearing women's panties, a bra, and had his toenails painted a bright color of hot pink! His legs were shaved, as was his chest and armpits.

"You're a girl inside?" said the man, clearly not believing it.

"Yes sir. And as one, I hate the thought of taking a life. We women bring life into the world, not destroy it. I could never go to war."

"I think you're trying to get out of your duty to your country. I think you are faking this."

"No sir, I really am a girl" said Vic.

He had read that with the 'special status' he was applying for, they could not legally send him overseas to fight. He would be able to get out of it.

"All right. Those liberal politicians tied my hands. If I had my way, you'd be sent off with the rest of the grunts anyway. We'd cure you of your *illness*."

Vic didn't like the way he said that.

"So I tell you what son. You're not just getting out of this and going home. No sir. I am enrolling you in the program for D3."

"D3 sir?" said Vic.

"Domestic defense duty."

"But sergeant, that's the women's program" said the nurse. "This is most unusual."

"If 'Pinky' here thinks he's home free, he's wrong. He will go live with the women, train with the women, and do what the women do. But we will watch him closely. Any little slip-up, and he's going to be sent back to me."

He then turned to Vic.

"If I hear that you do anything, and I mean *anything* out of line, and you are toast. If you kiss one of your fellow women, or even look at one wrong, boom! You're out of there. If you do anything that proves you're not a woman, then bang! Your ass is mine. Do you understand soldier?!!!"

"Yes sir!" said Vic.

Now this was intriguing. He was going to train with the women's unit. That meant he would be surrounded by women all day, doing what they did, eating with them, sleeping with them, showering with them. It was a dream for a young man with raging hormones. They couldn't watch him 24 hours a day. He'd find a way to get together with one of his roomies, and make love all night long. This was going to be great!

* * *

 

Two days later, Vic arrived at Camp Ballard, where the women trained for domestic defense duty. He stood in line with a hundred young women who were all around his age.

"I think you're in the wrong line" said one of them to him.

"No, this is the right one."

"But D3 is only for women" she protested.

"That's how I've been classified" said Vic, holding up his card to show her.

"How'd you pull that off?" she asked him.

But she didn't have time to answer, because they had reached the front of the line. They were each given a pile of clothes, a backpack, and a card with their tent assignments.

"Go find your bunks, put on your uniform, and report to the mess hall" said a large lady. Vic was scared of her. She looked like she could snap him like a twig if she wanted to.

Vic found his tent, and walked in. Inside were a dozen women, in various states of dress and undress as they put their uniforms on.

"Get out you pervert!" screamed one.

"I'm sorry, but this is my tent too" he replied.

"No it's not! You get out!" yelled another.

"Attention!" yelled a woman in uniform. They all froze and stared at her.

"You will stop this bickering at once. You are all soldiers in the DDD, and you will treat each other with respect."

"But he's a man!" said someone.

"While he is here he's not. You will all treat him like a girl, like any of the rest of you. Is that understood?"

"But..." started one. She was cut off by a harsh stare from the woman. Next, she went over to Vic.

"I know what you're trying to do" she said. "I'm going to make your life miserable here. If I even catch a hint of you not being a girl, you are gone! If you don't walk, talk, act and think like a girl, then I'll know you're a fake, and you'll be shipped off right away. Do you understand?"

"Yes ma'am!" he said.

"Then lets see what you're made of. Put on your uniform. And remember, bras are mandatory at all times here. If any of you are ever caught without one...."

"Yes ma'am!" he said.

Vic unbundled his uniform, and was disheartened to see what it was. The top didn't look too bad, but instead of pants as he had envisioned, there was a skirt. He was going to have to wear a skirt, or face being sent over to train with the men, and be sent off to the war. He had no choice.

There were military issue panties, but that wasn't too bad. He had worn them for a couple of days, and he actually found them to be more comfortable than his boxers.

But the bra was another story. The one he wore for the physical was a nice soft cotton one, which was strange feeling at first, but not too bad. But this one was some kind of synthetic material which was much heavier. He guessed that since the women were going to have to do all sorts of athletic things in training, they needed more support for their breasts.

Thus, the bra was very heavy. But that wasn't really the bad part; it was the cups. The bra that Vic had worn before had cups made of Lycra, which had laid flat against his chest. But this one had cups which were made of some sort of very rigid material. Rigid enough that the cups of the bra retained their shape under his top, even though he had no breasts of his own.

He looked around. All of the girls now appeared to have the same sized breasts, with the heavy bras. And he appeared to have them too, just like all of the other girls.

He was also wearing a skirt now too, just like them. He didn't like how this was going.

 

"Med call!" yelled the sergeant. She came around, and handed each of them a packet of pills, and to told them to get a glass of water.

"You will receive medicine every day" she yelled in her clipped military manner. "And you will take all of your pills without exception. Now do it!"

They all swallowed the pills. Vic wondered what they were. He was relieved when one of the girls asked, so he wouldn't stand out by being the one to do it.

"Every day, you will take vitamins to ensure your health. You will take vaccines for various hazards you may encounter during combat operations. And regulation 45J-187 states that all female enlistees must take birth control pills every day."

"But we're not out here to get knocked up!" protested one woman.

"No, but we can't have you laid up by a bad period. And a woman with PMS with an AK-47 is not a pretty sight."

They all laughed except for Vic, who was pondering the fact that he was taking birth control pills, which would release female hormones into his bloodstream.

"Do I have to take the birth control pill too?" he asked.

"If you are to stay in this unit, then yes. If you don't want to be treated just like the other women, then you're welcome to go join the men at any time."

"I'll take the pill" he said, wondering what he was getting himself into here.

* * *

 

For the next month, life was hell for all of the enlistees in Vic's group. For example, one day they were woken up at 3:00am, told to get dressed in less than 2 minutes (which was hard for some of the girls to do, as well as Vic who was still a little slow in getting his bra fastened up). Then they had to do a 20 mile march in the rain carrying heavy backpacks.

Once they reached the destination, they had to dig holes in the mud, and more than one woman broke a nail causing fits of swearing. After eating the almost inedible prepackaged military food, then had to put their packs back on, march back 20 miles, and go to the gun range for a round of training.

They were all exhausted, wet, cold, hungry and miserable. And all this before noon!

 

But as it had for many generations, basic training in the army eventually did what it set out to do: It built them into a cohesive team, where they learned to rely on each other, and trusted each other with their lives. It also taught them discipline, and the skills they would need if they were ever put into a combat role.

But for Vic, it taught him many other things. He had never really been around women full time. Yes, he had been out on dates, or hung out with his cousin. But this was different. For 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, he was surrounded by only women. All his conversations were with women. He dressed as a woman, walked, talked, ate, and even had to think like a woman in order to not get sent overseas with the men.

At first, the women in his unit did not accept him at all. They thought he was some pervert, trying to get in there so he could have sex with them all (which wasn't a bad idea in his mind!). Yes, there were tall ones, short ones, medium ones; there were thin ones, fat ones, and ones in the middle; there were pretty ones, ugly ones, plain ordinary ones, and even two gorgeous ones. But there were no other men. So the ladies were slow to accept him.

On the very second day, they all had to take a shower together. That afternoon, Vic was called into the office by the sergeant.

"Son, you're got a big problem, and I think we might need to send you off to be with the boys."

"No!" said Vic. He hadn't done anything! This wasn't fair.

"I've had several women in your unit complain to me today. They said that when you all showered together, that the pole between your legs was flying at full staff. It made them feel uncomfortable, like you want to have sex with them."

"I'm sorry ma'am, but its not something that I have full control over. Sometimes it just does it on its own."

"A likely story."

"No really, its true."

"My first thought was to just throw you out, but today is your lucky day. I am giving you a break. I am going to let you stay here, but you're going to need to do something about your self-control."

"But I have no control over it! It has a mind of its own!"

"In that case, we just might have a chemical solution."

"Chemical?"

The sergeant picked up the phone and called someone. She spoke for a few minutes, then put the phone down. Less than one minute later, a woman doctor in a white coat arrived. She reached in her little black bag, and pulled out a syringe.

"We will administer a testosterone blocker first" she said. "This will cancel the effects of testosterone on your system. Then we will add estrogen, the female sex hormone."

"What are you going to do to me?" said Vic.

"They will stop you from having erections. It takes a delicate balance of chemistry inside the male body to produce one. By overloading your system with female hormones, it will no longer be able to function in that manner."

"And as a man who wishes he was a woman," added the sergeant, "you should be thrilled to be starting on female hormones."

 

Vic was really in a fix now. He faced the choice of getting shot up with hormones that would start to turn his body from male to female, or he could go join the men's army, and get shot up with lead from the enemy. What choice did he have if he was to say alive?

Vic rolled up his sleeve.

"Shoot me" he said.

Inside he was shaking. As the fluid from the syringe flowed into his system, he knew that his days as a real man were numbered. His male parts would stop working, and then....it was too much to think about. What had he gotten himself into?"

"You will take these every day" said the doctor, writing a prescription for estrogen and testosterone blocker. Together with the birth control pills he was already taking, he knew that his body would soon be in for a few unwanted alterations.

 

After he walked out of the tent, the doctor turned to Vic's sergeant.

"Why didn't you want me to tell him about the accelerator?"

"He didn't need to know about it" she replied.

"But it will make the changes occur so fast! He won't be expecting it. He might be upset."

"We'll see. I think he will be all right with it. Remember, he said that he's really a woman inside."

"Well I think you had better get him to make a written request, so that you are covered if there is ever a complaint."

"Good idea doc. Good idea."

* * *

 

The next blow to Vic's manhood came up soon after. The sergeant said she was uncomfortable calling him by a *man's* name, so from now on all of the women in the group would refer to him as "Vicki" instead. She even made him sign paperwork, changing his legal name to Vicki.

"Listen up ladies!" she shouted. "Your teammate here is to be called 'Vicki' from now on. There is no 'Vic'. Anyone using that name will be put on extra KP duty *and* will have to do extra marches. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes ma'am!!!" they all shouted in unison. By this point, Vicki knew enough to shout along too. Anyone who had been less than enthusiastic in their response to the sergeant had been made to do 100 pushups, or 200 sit-ups, or worse. Nobody wanted to risk having extra tasks heaped upon them, when they were already exhausted every day.

"And furthermore!" she shouted, "There will be no more references to Vicki as 'he' or 'him'. You are to refer to Vicki as 'she' or 'her'. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes ma'am!!!"

"Now tell me soldier" she said, shouting right in Vicki's face, "Are you a man or a woman?"

"I am a woman, ma'am!" said Vicki in reply.

"What? I can't hear you. Louder!"

"I am a woman!!" shouted Vicki.

"That's more like it. Now before I release you for the day, you are to write a letter address to General Peters, telling him that you have decided on your own, that you want to be a woman, and want to be treated like one. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes ma'am!!" shouted Vicki.

 

Vicki got out a pen and paper, and started to write:

 

Dear General Peters,

I am writing to inform you of my status in the DDD. When I enlisted, I was classified as male. However, I have always believed myself to be female inside. That is why I have decided to be a woman, and I want to be treated as one.

Thank you,

 

Vicki Franklin

 

'She' put the paper on the sergeant's desk, then was free for the night to hang out with the girls. This was the best part of any day, getting to be with so many women, and learning how they acted when they were alone. Vicki learned more and more about them every day.

* * *

 

After two weeks, the sergeant came to them with some good news.

"I am here to inform you that this Friday you have been granted one night of R&R. You can go anywhere in the town, but you must be back to the base by 3:00am. Is that understood?"

"Yes ma'am, than you ma'am!!!"

"Vicki, front and center!"

"Yes ma'am!" 'she' said.

"When you came here, you didn't have any women's clothes, which I find odd. But out of the kindness of my heart, I have procured a dress for you."

She held up a hot red number. Short skirt, revealing top.

"Ladies! Come give Vicki a makeover, and take her out with you tonight. Don't let her out of your site! Let me know if she even *thinks* of acting like a man. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes ma'am!!"

"Very good. Off with you all now!"

 

She walked out, leaving just the girls in the tent. They had precious little free time before the hell of training kicked in again. There was much digging through clothes trunks to pull out pantyhose, makeup, heels, and sexy clothes.

Vicki found that her trunk had been empties, and all of her male clothes replaced with an array of women's garments. She even had her own stash of makeup.

One by one, the other girls took turns helping her get ready. One showed her how to put on the pantyhose over her smoothly shaved legs. Another did her hair with mousse to make it as pretty as possible.

Another one painted her nails, while yet another put makeup on her face. She was being pampered, buffed and cleaned up. When they were done with her, and she put on the red high heel shoes, she looked in the mirror.

"Oh my god, I look like a woman" she said.

They all laughed.

"Way to go Vicki. You're one of the girls now!"

"We're going out dancing tonight with the GIs. Come on girls, lets go get us some boys!"

 

They took Vicki to a local club where the GIs hung out. They were all young, physically fit, and had much pent up energy from being in training for so long.

Even the ugly girls were flooded with requests to dance, with everyone offering to buy drinks for them. Vicki never had someone buy her a drink before, let alone ask her to dance.

At first she resisted, but after three shots and two killer margaritas, she gave in and danced with a lonely looking boy from Missouri. It was actually fun to get out there with the other girls, and soon she was enjoying it, and danced with dozens of guys.

The only thing she wouldn't do was to slow-dance with them. When a slow song came on, she would excuse herself to the bathroom. She had to catch herself as she almost walked into the men's room. If the sarge heard about that, she'd be dead meat.

At the end of the night, her make up was smeared, her hair a mess, and she had to fight off the guys who all wanted to grope her and kiss her.

"No, I have a sweetheart at home" she would say, "and I promised him that I wouldn't kiss any other boys."

In the car on the way home, the other girls teased her about this. "Vicki's got a boyfriend, Vicki's got a boyfriend!" the sang.

* * *

 

As Vicki went through all of the same exercises with the other girls, living, eating, sleeping, doing *everything* with them, bonds of friendship started to form. As with everyone in the army, they were soon a tight knit group of friends who would do anything for each other.

The training also changed them all physically. The fat ones were rapidly losing weight, with the constant exercise and the low fat diet. The thin ones were putting on weight, adding muscle to their lean frames. And the ones in the middle became very buff. Soon, they were all about the same proportions, just different heights.

But Vicki was the one showing the most changes. Her system was flooded with female hormones now, and the accelerator which the army had developed. This made changes occur which would have taken years in a young woman. For example, Vicki's hips had widened considerably, even though her waist had become much thinner thanks to the training. Or to say it another way: she had curves now.

But the change had happened bit by bit, and she hadn't really noticed it. She was shaped like all the other girls now, which made her fit in. Being surrounded by women all day every day had changed her perception of what a 'normal' shape is, so the fact that she looked that way now was no big deal. It was *normal*.

Her skin had become much softer, and her facial and chest hair had stopped growing. This was actually a relief, because she only had to shave her legs and armpits now. Just like the other girls. The more she fit in, the better, because they accepted her more.

But the change she did notice was 'up top' on her chest. At first, she hadn't seen any difference. But now, almost every day she could swear that her breasts were getting bigger.

Initially, there was only a very slight swelling which she thought must be her imagination. But when her areolas started to get wider, and her nipples grew bigger, she knew that something was going on. And they definitely were growing, bit by bit.

One day her nipples felt very sore as she went to bed. She wondered why this was, but discovered the reason only when she took off her bra: her breasts had grown large enough that her nipples were just barely making contact with the cups of the bra. The constant rubbing back and forth all day had made them sore.

But the next morning when she put her bra on after showering, it wasn't a problem anymore: her breasts had grown enough over night that her nipples were now firmly pressed up against the cup of the bra. For the first time, the bra was supporting her breasts, cupping them, keeping them from jiggling as she ran.

Their weight in the cups made the straps pull down into her shoulders. She was stacked now, as much as any girl in her unit. When she went out dancing in her red dress, she skipped wearing a bra, and her breasts seemed to be in danger of bursting out as the stretched the material tight up top.

* * *

 

Vicki's unit was running laps around the camp while General Peters, who was visiting the camp, talked to the commanding officer.

"Which one is Vicki?" he asked.

"You can't tell?" replied the CO.

"No."

"Good."

The general looked up, and smiled.

* * *

 

"I have some bad news Vicki" said the sergeant.

"What?" she replied.

"I'm going to have to remove you from your unit."

"No! They're my sisters! You can't do this!"

"Its not my choice. There is some do-gooders at HQ who found some obscure rule that says as long as you have one of those things between your legs, then you can't be housed with a female soldier."

"But I *am* female!" said Vicki.

"I agree, but this is the army. Our rules don't always make sense. And the rule is: whatever you have between your legs determines your gender. So I'm going to have to..."

"No!" said Vicki in a shrill voice. "Cut it off! Get this thing off of me! I'm not abandoning my sisters!"

Such fierce loyalty to the group was exactly what training was all about. But even the sergeant was surprised that Vicki's allegiance to her sisters was more important to her than the thing between her legs, which most men seemed to care about more than anything else.

"Okay Vicki. Just fill out a request form, and we'll get you in the OR tonight."

"Oh thank you!" she said, as she filled in the paperwork requesting the surgery.

 

"What regulation?" asked the doctor, as Vicki's sergeant explained what was going on.

"Oh, there isn't one. But she doesn't need to know that."

"But is this ethical? You tricked her."

"Doc: she requested this. It was *her* idea. And you've seen her. Tell me that she'll ever use that thing as a man again?"

"I guess not."

"No. Now get to work. I want her to look just like the other girls when she returns to active duty."

* * *

 

A month later, Vicki returned to her unit. They all laughed and hugged each other at the reunion.

"I'm so glad you're better" said Cathy. Vicki had told them all that she had a form of cancer, and they were going to remove a growth.

"I'm so glad to be back. You are all my sisters, and I missed you all so much!"

 

Everything seemed normal, until the next morning when they had to take a shower. It was then that someone noticed the change to Vicki's body.

One by one, they all had to have a look.

"Vicki, you're like us now!" said Cathy.

"Yes. That was the growth I had removed."

"You're a woman now!" said Brenda.

"I've always been a woman. That was just a *thing*. Now you can all know that I'm really just like you."

"That's so wonderful!" said Kate.

"And it means that you can slow dance now!" added Margo.

"Yes!" said Vicki. "I can't wait until Friday. We're going to go out and get us some boys!"

* * *

 

General Peters had a private meeting with Vicki's sergeant.

"So, she volunteered to have it removed? Interesting."

"Yes General. It all worked out exactly as you predicted."

"Very good. You are dismissed soldier."

"Yes Sir!" she said, snapping a solute to him.

 

General Peters was very pleased. This experiment worked better than he had ever hoped. The army had developed the technique for turning a man into a woman, thinking it an idea way to get information out of a prisoner. If a prisoner thought he was going to be turned into a female, he would tell them *anything*.

But the stupid Geneva Convention tied their hands. But now he had found a new use for this technology. They could use it to build a new army of women.

The enemy might back down a bit if they saw that it was women who they were fighting. Men had some sort of instinct to ease up on women. That was the edge they needed to win.

But even better, the army might look like women, but the fact that they grew up as boys meant that they had the strength of a man, even with the body of a woman. And they didn't have periods or the dreaded PMS, they didn't get pregnant, nor any of the feminine traits that the army saw as drawbacks.

Yes, soon he would roll out this technique in camps where hundreds upon hundreds of men would be converted to women every day. He rubbed his hands together with glee. He couldn't wait to see the first class of women graduate....

  

  

  

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