Transitioning Home
by poetheather

For Sergeant Thomas Simmons, getting injured in Iraq was just the start of an adventure that would throw him down the rabbit hole into a world where nothing made sense anymore. Having to restart his life, this soldier has to take his battlefield courage and turn it to a different arena in order to face this newest set of challenges. He just wonders if he is strong enough to handle this newest change in his life.

Six

Thomas’s head throbbed with his pulse as he woke up. He wasn’t sure if drinking that much, along with his pain killers had been such a good idea. His stomach churned some and it felt as if his eyes were caked with something. Something foul was in his mouth, which was also really dry. He wiped the caked sleep sand from his eyes and looked blearily up. The ceiling was different as were the sheets. At first he couldn’t recall anything, and had no idea where he was, then his brain woke up and he remembered last night and smiled.

The sex had been really good and Thomas was glad to have had something other than his hand and pornos for pleasure. After his injury, masturbating had been difficult, especially with his broken wrist. It still ached a little but not too bad. His body currently had that sweet ache of sore muscles got when you have given them a workout. It had been so nice and now he had to get to know the girl asleep next to him. He struggled for a little bit to get her name, to figure out what it was she was named. He wasn’t sure but he thought it started with a D. That sounded right to him.

He figured that his best way to figure it out was to ignore the issue of name until either she said it, he remembered, or he saw some of her mail or something. Telling the girl you had banged for a good while that you had no clue who she was could never end well. After a small struggle to get upright, Thomas limped to the bathroom, which he vaguely remembered from last night, and emptied his bladder.
His sense of relief was great and he sighed happily as he did it, the water’s sounds familiar.

As he shook himself, he looked around the little white tiled room. She had shampoo, conditioner, skin care products, make up, all sorts of things he really didn’t understand. They did intrigue him but he had almost no clue about any of them, what they did or what they were for. He did know that conditioner supposedly made your hair softer but that was about the limit of his understanding of all these girly products. Thomas looked around some more and found her laundry basket. There, near the top, kind of tucked to the side, was a pair of light pink panties.

Thomas nervously looked at the closed door, as if someone might be able to see through it at what he was doing and then picked them up. They were slick, like satin or maybe silk, had some lace around the legs and they were pink. He ran his fingers over the material and was amazed by how soft it was. He lowered his hand and rubbed the material over his crotch and he grew lightheaded at the feel. Thomas also got a swift, throbbing erection in response. His mind turned from the panties to sex and he dropped the panties on the floor, forgetting them in the rush of his desire.

Thomas woke her by kissing and nibbling on her neck, brushing her blond hair out of the way, letting one hand play with one of her breasts. She awoke smiling softly and kissed him, opening her legs for him, making it easier for him to settle between them. She was plenty wet as he thrust into her, all the while thinking about how that material felt, how soft, how the lace skritched some, how it made him feel. Thomas even pictured himself looking a little like her as he almost screamed out his orgasm, thrusting as hard as he could into her.

Lying there after things, she turned her face to look at him as he lay there catching his breath, panting heavily. Her eyes had a happy glaze to them. “That was wonderful. Thank you for waking me up that way. You know, a girl could get used to this.”

Thomas smiled, looking a little dizzy. “That was great.”

“Yeah, it was. I definitely think we have to do this again some time.” She got up on one elbow and looked down at him, appraising his face, her blue eyes searching for something. “Want to get some breakfast?”

Thomas grunted his answer. He was still recovering from how powerful that orgasm had been. His throat was parched and now his leg hurt even worse than it had when he woke up. What the hell was up with all of that? Where did that come from?

He thought about everything running through his mind and realized what it was that had sent him over the edge. He was stunned, but thankfully the girl had gone to the bathroom and wouldn’t see that look on his face. Why had he been picturing himself as a girl as he was fucking her? He had seen himself as a girl and that had thrown him over the edge. After breakfast he was determined to head back to the barracks and try to get his head wrapped around this. Why was this whole screwed up situation so difficult to understand?

* * * * * *

Thomas popped two of his 800mgs Motrin and lay back on his bed after swallowing them down with the last of his coke. The hot shower had helped but he still ached everywhere. He had stretched some but his muscles were still too stiff to move much. Maybe when the Motrin took effect he would be able to work the muscles some, to get rid of the kinks. Who had known that sex would end up hurting so much?
He stared at the plain white ceiling of his barracks room. What was happening to him? First, he had picked up her panties and touched himself with them, which was odd and kind of creepy, but to think of himself as a girl while making love, that was just plain nuts. But what an orgasm.

He hadn’t done anything with the image in his head, it had just been him as a girl, not having sex or anything, but just standing there in a light summer dress. The image wasn’t disturbing, as he was now thinking of it, but it was different and shook him a bit. He pictured the same image, working out all of the details and he felt comforted by it somehow, not aroused. Was this actually what he wanted? He had mentioned it to the Doctor but now that he was thinking of it seriously maybe it wasn’t a question. Maybe, just maybe he actually wanted to be a girl. Thomas wasn’t sure if there was anything wrong with that but he wasn’t sure. It sounded wrong and it was certainly strange. And that really didn’t make him feel all that comfortable with the image he had. Nothing seemed to be making any sense anymore in his life and he rubbed his eyes in frustration.

Thomas thought about it, turning the idea over in his mind. Did the whole thing even have any real appeal to him? Well, he admitted to himself that the idea held some sort of appeal to him but was it the real ‘change your life utterly’ kind of appeal? The kind of appeal that could make a person follow that urge to the very end, despite whatever difficulties arose? He let his mind wander with the image, trying to think this through, of being dressed as a girl, going out, having friends, looking and sounding like a girl in all ways possible. He could see himself smiling as he pictured things, a lot. Thomas never smiled that much in real life.

He rolled onto his side and grabbed the notebook he had been writing things in for the Doctor. Thomas wrote about the event that led up to the discovery of this and the feelings and images and how they made him feel. There was something about this realization that made him know it was important, it was like he was able to feel something… different, something like when he was writing a poem, writing some sort of truth.

There was a knock at the door, three quick raps, and Thomas almost yelped in surprise. He had been so in focused that he had almost forgotten the rest of the world. He took a few deep breaths and calmed his breathing before he replied, “Yes?”

“Sergeant? I was wondering if you needed anything.” The same private had been helping him since he had gotten here was knocking. What was with this guy? Had he been assigned to him by the Rear D acting First Sergeant?

“No, I’m fine. Thanks.” Thomas shook his head in exasperation. Some people always seemed to be so helpful and at times that just bugged him. Thomas waited to see if there was anything else but there was no reply. He sighed but then cocked his head in thought. It was a weird realization that sort of settled on him and he found he couldn’t argue with it. He looked over at the mirror in his room and wondered, ‘Maybe I really am fine.’

Thomas smiled and shook his head, chuckling to himself. Sometimes things were so amazingly fucked up that they seemed to be normal, like this whole situation. The idea that he could be a girl was so preposterous that it almost made some sort of sick, twisted sense. That could explain why the thought of himself looking like a girl wasn’t utterly disturbing. He had thought it would be but the idea of himself with long hair and curves and breasts and wearing girl’s clothes was almost normal, almost as if that was the way things were supposed to be. It didn’t make sense even though it felt sort of right. His life was way too fucked up.

In two more weeks, he would be discharged from the Army and would be moving into his new apartment, at some place near the college. Come January he would start college and he would try to make something of his new future. His life was going to be very different than it had before and he wasn’t sure he liked that. He would be alone, for the first time in his life, with no meddling parents, sibling or fellow soldiers to get in the way and that would give him the privacy he needed in order to enable him to explore whatever he wanted. He would still be Rhymer, although he wouldn’t have to be on someone else’s schedule anymore. The idea was appealing and scary at the same time. And if he was trying to find out if this feeling of being a girl was real, then being alone would make his life so much easier. He wouldn’t have to explain himself until he actually had an explanation.

The idea of trying to work through this whole mess in his head with everyone else watching, like his friends in the Unit or his family was not a pleasant one. He could just imagine what the guys would say and he wasn’t sure exactly what his family would say, but he had an idea. Maybe it would be best to not mention anything about this to anyone until there was some sense of surety in all of this insanity. If he said anything to any of them, he wouldn’t be able to take it back if things changed for the worse.

Thomas was also wondering, just a little, what women’s clothes felt like to wear. Would they be softer, the same, tighter, looser? He really didn’t know and wasn’t sure what he might need to buy anyway. Maybe he could figure things out by paying more attention to Debra and the stuff she had, and wore and did. He was sure he would be able to figure things out about the clothes, makeup and all the other crap, given enough time. Honestly, how hard could it be?

* * * * * *

“Incomming!!”

The mortar round exploded, throwing chunks of hard packed earth onto them. The platoon scrambled for cover on the streets, trying t find some hard cover to keep fragmentation injury down. The Republican Guard unit they were facing as they neared the bridge opened up on them, trying to lay down a heavy curtain of fire to keep the American soldiers pinned down. The LT was on the radio calling for some air support as the rest of the unit returned fire.

“Rhymer!” Thomas turned and looked at the Sergeant.

The Sergeant used the hand signs to let him know to take his team to try and flank the heavy weapons squad that was firing at them. Thomas nodded and tapped the guys in his team on their Kevlars and headed away from the conflict.

Thomas had Schapiro work overwatch and covering their backs as Thomas and Edwards moved quickly down a narrow alleyway between buildings. It looked as if the enemy hadn’t thought of flanking them yet, but they would, probably sooner rather than later. When the three of them reached the end of the alley they scanned the road, looking for any sign of the enemy. They could hear the gunfire and several voices yelling in Arabic back towards where they had been engaged but nothing nearby. Thomas really wished they had a translator at that moment. Who knew if that babble was important? Intel always seemed to help.

Suddenly, there was movement on the side of the street that Thomas was watching. A door opened and Thomas quickly opened fire with a three round burst from his M-4. The bullets tore through the thin wood of the door, splinters flying. The body of a child fell forward, bleeding from at least one bullet wound. She fell limply, apparently dead and Thomas screamed.

* * * * * *

Thomas snapped bolt upright in bed, screaming. He quickly scanned the room for any signs of danger, eyes darting back and forth, almost afraid of what he might have seen. There was nothing there, anywhere in the room. He still looked for threats.

His heart was racing, pounding in his ears, cold sweat running down his back, clammy. Ran a hand through his hair and rubbed his eyes. He shuddered with memory. Thomas turned on a light and limped over to his fridge to get a bottle of water. The cold water was soothing and he chugged it down easily. He ran his hand over his head again and sighed. It had been so real, so vivid. He shivered a little and looked back at his bed. The dream had mostly faded but some images lingered. He could still smell the desert, the heat and the sand. He could still see… he took another deep drink hoping it would wash the image out of his mind.

He felt dirty, both inside and out, like he had a stain inside of him. He reeked of sweat, smelling as if he had just run a ten kay and there was a bit of fear smell in there as well. Maybe hot water pouring over his head would make him feel better. It hadn't worked yet, but it might help him be able to fall asleep again and that would be a good thing. He slipped on his shower shoes and grabbed his towel. A shower could, at the very least, clear his head and get the sweat smell gone.

The warm water felt good and helped him to clear his mind and relax enough to get tired again. He yawned a few times, his bodies weariness was mounting. The water pounded on his head and his thoughts drifted back to Iraq. He recalled all the things that had made the whole situation so bad over there: camel spiders, IED's, snipers, the heat, the dust that got into everything. He scrubbed some more, still feeling as if he was caked in the sand. He needed to get the dirt off. He needed to get clean. He needed to wash Iraq from him.

Thomas started shaking. He remembered the heat from buildings burning, the sound of gunfire, explosions, helicopters, and the odd sound of Iraqis yelling at each other. He had flashes of events, the fighting in the streets, the injured crying out, grenade blasts coming out doors and windows, laser sights visible in the hovering dust, bodies lying as if tossed aside, pools of blood congealing in the sand, the screams, the body of a small child falling lifeless onto the street.

Thomas slowly slid down the tile wall to the floor of the shower. The scenes of Iraq playing over and over in his head, like a film loop he was unable to stop. He was a murderer, a killer. He was a child killer. A killer. Killer.

Warm water rained down onto his body as he cried.