COMFORT WOMEN CH. 03
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(Chapters 1 & 2, and first page of Ch 3, eh--- set up

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Wendy was quite the accomplished hairdresser; she had learned the skill
styling wigs and cutting hair on ships she had served on. Sam was quite
taken with the pixie cut; if anything it made her look younger and
emphasised her cheekbones and luscious red lips. Wendy dropped Sam off
at her house and left her to her own devices.

Sam wasn't sure how she felt about Wendy; she was a little too accepting
of the circumstances and had certainly been a willing participant in the
incident in the alley. Was she complicit? Had she helped Bill Brody put
this scheme together or had she suggested it to him?

Sam unwrapped her packages and put her new clothes away. Sorting out all
the cosmetics and laying them out on her vanity took a little while and
when she had finished she admitted to herself that she quite liked doing
so. Seeing all the little jars, tubes and palettes lined up under the
mirror was comforting but it was also a little final. Bringing the
cosmetics and clothes to her house and styling her hair meant that she
was committed to living as a woman. There was sense of certainty and
excitement but also dread.

She took a nap and arose with plenty of time to get ready for the
evening. After showering she appraised herself in the mirror. She was
petite and lithe but curvy, with a flat stomach and long legs. Her
alabaster skin was unblemished and smooth. She didn't mind that she was
small-chested; her body was still feminine. Sam had been teased during
basic for being so small and having a girly body and the medical corps
had been a safe haven.

That was until two Airmen threatened to beat Samuel and bugger him
unless he stole drugs for them. Once he had committed the first offence
he had no choice but to keep stealing and when he was caught he refused
to tell the investigators who he was supplying the drugs to. The Airmen
had told Sam that no matter where they sent Sam they had friends who
would find him and carry out the threats on their behalf.

During incarceration Sam had seen plenty of men taken against their
will; some forced to be 'prison wives'. Tiny effeminate men like herself
were grist for the mill in the prison system. Only because his skills
were invaluable had Sam escaped by working and living in the infirmary.

Now the wheel had turned. Sam was a prison wife for all intents and
purposes. Forced to feminise herself and gratify the lust of desperate
men. And what of Bill Brody? He had taken her for himself, made her off
limits to the others. He had made his intent clear by what he had done
to her in his office but she'd sensed a little reluctance at first.
Maybe she could tame the savage beast?

Sam tucked her penis and scrotum between her legs and closed them and
posed in the mirror. Except for being flat-chested she could easily pass
for a woman... a very pretty woman.

Sam put on her makeup carefully, taking her time and making a few
mistakes with her eyeliner but when she'd finished she was happy with
the result. It was amazing what cosmetics did to her face. Her face was
delicate anyway but with the application of lipstick, foundation,
powder, mascara, eyeliner and rouge it became exotic and sensual, her
emerald-green eyes twinkled.

She opened the wardrobe and surveyed the clothing she had taken from
department store. Where had her sense of style and appreciation of
fashion come from? Sam had always admired women who dressed well but had
never been tempted to don the garments himself or had she? Sam recalled
playing dressup with her big sister when they were young and Sam's
father finding them and giving them a spanking.

The recollection was vivid and Sam's sore buttocks reminded her that
someone else very close to her was not averse to using the belt. She had
put some lotion on her bottom and it had eased the pain but it was still
a little sore. Not a burning pain, just a continual reminder that she
had been naughty.

"You naughty girl," Sam said into the mirror on the wardrobe door and
then blushed with embarrassment.

Once again the sensation was indescribably delicious as she rolled her
stockings up her legs and clipped them to the garters. She smoothed them
and straightened the seams and marvelled that wearing such a garment
could bring her so much joy. This included the delight she felt as she
slipped her panties up her legs and pulled them tight around her
buttocks, carefully tucking away her privates just as Wendy had trained
her to do. They were red satin with black lace trim.

Sam put on the bra; it was the smallest cup in the store. Wendy had
advised her to get C-cups and pad them out but Sam had decided that she
would present herself as authentically as possible and decided not to
pad her bra. She put on a white silk blouse and stepped into a red
circle-skirt and admired the result in the mirror. She had tried on the
skirt in the store but it looked even better now. She accessorised with
a matching necklace and clip-on earrings made of white gold and faux
rubies. She stepped into her red high heels and admired the result.

She looked less formal than she did in the severe skirt-suit she had
been wearing, more bright and cheerful but still beautiful. She sprayed
herself liberally with perfume just as she heard her front door open and
the sound of boots on her kitchen floor.

"It's polite to knock and wait," Sam said to Bill Brody who was in the
kitchen pouring a drink from a bottle he had brought with him.

"Want one?" Bill waved the bottle at her.

"There is to be alcohol allowed outside of the prescribed opening hours
of the Copperlode bar," Sam quoted one of Bill's many rules back at him.

"I'm the boss so I'll give you a dispensation," he said handing her a
glass of whisky, a cheeky grin on his face.

His fingers lingered on hers when she took it.

"You look very nice; very pretty Sam," Bill raised his glass and took a sip.

Sam accepted the compliment but she was still a little trepidatious
being alone with Bill in her home; it was very intimate and to be
honest, a little weird.

Bill stepped in close and took Sam's drink from her and put it down. He
gazed into her eyes and studied her face. He was conflicted because he
knew that under that womanly countenance lived Samuel Steele but Bill
saw no sign of him. He saw only Samantha and that was good. He was
infatuated with Samantha and Samuel had disappeared off the face of the
earth.

That was the real reason he had directed that: henceforth Airman
Samantha Steele and Petty Officer Wendy Meakins will present themselves
as women. He could give two shits about the other men's morale; he
wanted Sam all to himself but couldn't live with the guilt and conflict
if he kept seeing Samuel around Villawood. Samuel needed to be banished.

"It's customary for a man's woman to greet him with a kiss," Bill whispered.

"So I'm your woman now?" Sam searched his ice-blue eyes.

There was no doubt that Sam William Brody was a good looking man. He
kept himself in good shape and he was tanned, lean and rangy, his teeth
white, his breath was fresh and his sandy hair cut short in a military
crew cut. Her alter ego would never consider a man as handsome, but
Samantha's brain didn't seem to work the same as Samuel's. She actually
thought like a woman.

"You're my comfort woman and I want comfort," Bill pulled Sam into his
arms and kissed her.

It wasn't the same as with Victor. Bill kissed her softly; he held her
close but he wasn't stifling. Sam's arms remained by her sides and her
lips remained firmly shut. She wasn't going to give him the satisfaction
of letting him know that she felt perfectly content in his embrace. She
recalled Bill's conversation with her in the Copperlode: telling her
that she thought she was hot shit, telling she was dressed like a
floozy, taunting her about putting the episode in her diary (which she
had by the way) and of course there was this morning's spanking.

Bill was persistent but still tender with her, his kisses remained soft
and gentle and it was hard to deny him. Sam was really enjoying being
held by him, feeling the rasp of his 5 o'clock shadow on her cheeks,
smelling his cologne, feeling his taunt body against her slender self,
and those soft lips were delicious.

Bill broke the kiss and Sam was sad that he had done so.

"You really are a beautiful woman," Bill sighed.

He pulled her tight and kissed her harder, more instant, pressing his
tongue against her mouth.

There was the Bill she expected! The one who demanded what he wanted and
expected to get it. But wasn't she also a little delighted by that? That
he wanted her so bad he was prepared to take what he wanted. Wasn't that
a little exciting? Should she be flattered? Should she berate herself
for liking it? Should she berate herself for the feelings of femininity
and also the feelings of power his lust for her illicited?