"Forced Femme: A Soldier's Struggle"

Prompt: write a part 3 were only Samantha remembers she used to be a man and she continues to serve in the military with people around her calling her ma'am instead of sir. she tries to correct them but is unable to she will even correct someone if they call her sir as she is forced to use female pronouns and wear a bra and panties and the female service fatigues finding herself unable to cut her hair she tries again but a compulsion in her mind forces her not to and now must present as a millitary woman to the world and to herself and how holding and firing a gun felt different and painful because the stock was now pressed between her shoulder and her breast and when she fired it would shake her breasts. and whenever she did PT she could feel her breast bouncing the whole time even with the bra. and how all her positions from her phone, to her clothes and social media, and I.D all reflect her new gender Samantha, better known as Sam to her close comrades in the military, was a young, 22-year-old 2nd lieutenant fresh from college. She stood tall and proud in her new female service fatigues, her military documents reflecting her new identity. However, beneath the concrete facade was an iron grid of confusion and panic. They all seemed to remember Samantha, not the man she used to be. No one else, other than her, remembered that Samantha was not her original identity. It felt like reality itself had shifted, with everyone else lost in this new world, oblivious to the past. Her transformation had been both swift and unexpected, catalyzed by a meddling officer who was keen to increase the number of women in officer positions. Morphing from her once masculine physique, Samantha was now a model of feminine structure. Her hair, once short and styled for convenience, now tickled the base of her neck, gathered neatly into a standard military bun. The once loose military fatigues were now snug around her waist and chest, adjusting seamlessly to her new body. Her chest, now adorned with newly formed breasts. Glancing at the dog tags around her neck, she felt a chilling wave of disbelief as her new name, Samantha, stared back. Her newly issued driver's license, her military service card, even her social media all bore the mark of her new identity and all specified her gender as female. She wished to resist, to scream out the truth, to revert back to who she knew herself to be, but the anomaly had gripped her too tightly. Even further complicating her unique condition was the shift in her sexual preference. A preference she had known and been sure of, erased without asking. She recognized the newfound attraction for men that had emerged, and regardless of her attempts to return to her normality, the feminine feelings remained. In the midst of all these changes, Samantha was compelled to adapt to a completely different set of behavioral norms. Accustomed to her former, more rugged behavior, she found herself now having to relearn how to walk, talk, and act all over again. She struggled as the former rough gait turned into a poised and elegant stride, her voice adapting a softer tone, her actions becoming gentler, subtler. All previous assertive habits now replaced with a more feminine demeanor, a persona she was still trying to fit into. Samantha tried again and again to resist - but resistance was futile. She attempted to reclaim her old self, but the more she tried, the more she seemed to slip further into this new identity. Samantha was the reality now, a reality that everyone else seemed to accept without question. A simple 2nd lieutenant had found herself thrown into an unexpected battle. A battle of identity and acceptance. A battle she wasn't ready for, yet one she had no choice but to face. It wasn't enemy lines she faced now but the mirroring reflection of Samantha, the woman she was forced to become. The woman she could only hope to understand, accept, and perhaps one day even embrace. Samantha, formerly Sam, blinked open her eyes to the grey morning light filtering through the flimsy curtains of her base barracks room. It took her a moment to orient herself in the top bunk that was her new perch. Her body felt different; lighter, softer—dismally different. Memory, an elusive enemy, had snubbed her. It was as if her past life had been extracted thread by thread and replaced with a woven tapestry of femininity. She remembered breasts budding painfully in adolescence, maturing over the years until they lay heavy against her chest, two reminders of an existence she was now unwillingly a part of. Everything between her legs suddenly felt too different. With a futile grimace, Sam tried to remember having a penis, that odd bulge she had carried between her legs for decades. But any semblance of those memories was ripped away, replaced by a hollow reminder of what was now absent. A new, alien sensation nestled between her thighs, one she now knew intimately—her vagina. Her mind agonized fruitlessly to recall a long forgotten feeling, only to be met with the recollection of menstrual cramps and tampon applications. It was a cruel game of memory she couldn't win. Fear pumped disaster into her veins as she swung her legs over the edge of the narrow bed, her bare feet brushing against the cool cement floor. She looked around the barracks frantically, viewing everything with a different set of eyes—the eyes of a woman. Her army-issued wardrobe had not been spared from the rewriting of her story. The olive green uniforms now tailored to her womanly figure hanged neatly, the pressed skirts and bras were uncanny replacements for trousers and vests. Her box of pads had casually taken the place of her combat boots in the corner, as if they had always been there. And those fancy mirrors that Samantha seemed to enjoy, hung at every corner of the room, reflecting back a face she was unable to recognize as her own. What was left over from an old world were shards of an existence, broken and lost. And in this new world, Samantha was no longer a stranger but the person everyone knew—except herself. For Samantha, this was no physical deployment but an internal war she wasn't prepared for. It was an insidious confrontation that had no room for truces, no foreseeable retreat. Haunted by the loss of her old self and faced with the acceptance of her new existence, Samantha found herself in her most challenging battle yet—a battle within. A clash against time and memories, a struggle with the hardest, most confusing enemy—identity. The war, it seemed, had just begun.