Promotional Advantage
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

John Dabney and I were army through and through. We had served three years each out of OCS. Both of us had chosen careers in logistics, but I found myself in a dead-end posting in personnel records in a well-known garrison in Kentucky. John was in the same camp but in another building complex working on engineering support.

What brought this whole thing about was the promotion of Carolyn Guscott to 1st Lieutenant and then to captain. She had graduated the same time as us and was not highly rated. She was ambitious, and she was female. Over a few beers in the officers’ club John and I bemoaned our fate.

“I have been mistaken twice for a woman,” I told him. “If the mistake hadn’t been discovered I would probably have been promoted too.”

The reason was not because I looked like a woman. It was my name – Dana Dawn Holder. Dana was my grandfather’s name at a time when that was clearly a man’s name. Dawn was my mother’s maiden surname, and as her parents had no sons she wanted her second son to carry that name. But it looked like a woman’s name on paper, and on paper the mistake had been made. More than once.

“You’re in records,” said John. “A couple of strokes of the pen or punches of the key and you could be a female officer on the path to promotion,” he chuckled.

“I bet you that if I did I would make major before you,” I said – joking of course.

“Done!” he responded. “If you do I’ll pay for the corrective surgery.” We laughed long and hard.

But a few days later my leave was cancelled out of some petty paper crisis and my request for transfer to something better had been refused … again. I started to think seriously about that exchange at the bar.

I had a good look at myself in the mirror. I was not tall. I was light in weight, with smallish hands and feet. My features were not pronounced. Could I pass as a woman? Would it advance my career in the army? Would it confirm my view that I was disadvantaged as male? Could I get promoted and then disclose myself as not a woman and demand that the army recognize my promotion was on merit? The army could never say “no we only promoted you because we thought you were female.” That would prove my complaint. If I could pull it off it could be a big win. If I couldn't then we would know early, and I could pass it off as a joke, or as using initiative for advancement. The army values initiative. The worse that could happen is that I would be to be discharged, and quite frankly at that point that seemed a risk worth taking. If I could not advance, then I would rather leave the service and try my luck as a civilian.

“I’m going to do it,” I told John. “I’m going to apply for a posting in specialized equipment as Lieutenant Dana Holder, female officer. I am in the right post to make the necessary changes to my records. If I get the posting and get out of here, then I will need to make some serious physical changes. If I don't get the posting, I will have serious doubts that I will get anywhere in the service. I'll probably resign.”

John told me I was crazy: “If you get the posting, the changes you need to make are not that easy. This is the army. You need to pass without a wig and make up. How can you do that? You don’t look female.”

I did what any resourceful officer in the United States Army would do. I took advice. I took advice and I made a list. That's what we do. Before I submitted my application I needed to know that if they called on me, the female Dana could fill the job.

Jane Nesbit was an acquaintance of my sister who lived just out of state. Jane was a male to female transsexual and one who was completely immersed, or what they call “stealthy”. She was married to an older man and was completely accepted as a wife and stepmother. She agreed to help.

To my surprise she was very positive: “The two most important things are skin and hair. You have good skin and plenty of hair, even if it is short at the moment. You also have a good face for passing – a small nose and large eyes. You have quite a masculine jawline but on many women that looks great. Your body will convert nicely with hormones and just modest breast implants.”

“Whoa, hang on. I’m not sure that I want to go that far,” I protested.

“There is no half-way here, my darling. You either cross over or you stay on your side. You need hormones, electrolytic beard removal and at least B cup breasts; no argument. Shaped eyebrows and semi-permanent eye-liner will do the rest. And you need to grow that hair. A wig will not work long term.”

She also explained to me the importance of voice. In logistics we do a lot of work over the phone. Being mistaken for a man over the phone was a no-no. We started on that right then and there and continued with coaching over the phone until I had it right.

It was just as well when I got the call some weeks later: “No lieutenant, I am looking for Lieutenant Dana Holder, perhaps you can get a message to her…”, said the voice over the phone.

In my deepest voice I said: “No, hold on and I will get her.” I transferred the call to the vacant office and squeaked to myself a little to get to the right register: “Hello, Dana Holder speaking”.

“Ah Lieutenant, Colonel Marsh here. I have your application and I inviting you over to join our team reporting the 14th of next month. I am emailing your captain Steadman right now. The posting comes with a promotion to 1st lieutenant.”

“Thank you, sir”. After a few pleasantries I hung up and rushed into Captain Steadman’s office to check the email. I just needed to make a couple of changes to the incoming mail, changing “she” to “he” just twice, so that he would not notice the confusion.

An hour later Steadman called me in: “Your transfer has been approved,” he snapped. “You can have that overdue leave until the 14th so you may as well pack your kit tonight. Oh, and Holder, get a haircut man.”

The first call I made was to Jane – she was excited to hear the news and primed for action. She had my list. Then I called John. I told him of my promotion and said I would be collecting on our bet in cash within a year or two.

That night at the Officers Club John and I shared some laughs with colleagues. All the boys wished me well. I was a little vague about where I was headed just in case anybody had an idea to look me up. Only John knew. We would stay in touch. And there was the bet – “I’ll take the cash equivalent of the surgery,” I joked.

Jane had invited me to stay for the 3 weeks leave. Her husband would be away for part of that time. It gave us the opportunity to prepare the new Dana for what was ahead.

The first thing was to book in for the breast implants. I was assured that this was a fairly minor operation and fully reversible. Fortunately there was a gap in the schedule and I could be in within a week giving time to heal before I travelled.

Next was the hairstyle. Following Jane’s advice I had kept my hair long on top and used some gel to make it look like a small volume of hair. As long as the sides and back were short it was not noticed that I had grown a good amount. The trick was to give that volume. And so we went to her hairdresser and had it dyed blond and styled.

After the chest surgery I would need to wear a specific breast support for a few weeks, but I also needed to get fitted for a bra and panties. At this point Jane needed to introduce me to the approved and effective means of concealing male organs. The item was called a gaff and drew the balls up and the head of the penis back to where I could pee sitting down. She also showed me how to do a concealment without a gaff using tape and surgical glue. Both would be painful if I were to have an erection, but the hormones seemed to have put a stop to that.

Then we pulled together a footlocker full of clothes suiting a female soldier, with a little help from the local dressmaker living next door. This included 3 ACUs, a dress uniform and a mess dress, plus fatigues and a few off-base outfits. I just went with her advice. I did insist on some jeans and tees but these we bought from a women’s boutique. Jane remarked that I was a good shape for this look.

We walked around town together as just two girls shopping. We went for coffee and then for lunch. Nobody detected that we were not born women. At least neither of us was aware of it, and I was sensitive to the issue. My confidence grew. I learned that I could smile at men and always get a smile back. It made me feel … good.

I received more coaching in makeup, feminine hygiene, movements and voice. Jane pronounced me ready for the mission. Just before I left she gave me a few things for my quarters – to “femme it up a little” she said. We kissed and hugged as girlfriends do. She cried a little. I cried a little. It was the first time I had cried since I was seven. That felt good too.

I travelled most of the day and arrived late in the afternoon. I went to meet Colonel Marsh before finding my quarters, with my baggage in the outer office. I wore service uniform with a skirt and low heels. I was careful with make up as Jane had specified – enough to show off my eyes and lips, but conservative. My hair looked good. The overall impression was more than female, it was feminine.

Colonel Marsh was an older soldier – nearing retirement I guess. He was friendly but maintained old style formality. He seemed to approve of my look but he did make reference to the photo on my profile. Jane and I had prepared it sometime before using a shoulder length blond wig and perhaps a little too much make up.

“Oh I cut it short for combat training, sir,” I explained. “Perhaps a little too GI Jane. With your permission I am growing it out.”

“Permission granted and intention approved,” he said, with the obvious hint that he liked his women soldiers to look like women.

My quarters were a room in a block of four. What could be described as a suite in a hotel – a small living area and desk with the bed in a separate alcove. I unpacked a few things and then went to meet Colonel Marsh at the Officers Mess. He introduced me to others on base. I smiled and used my best lady handshake, firm for the women and a little yielding for the men. I don’t know why, it was just the way it turned out. I guess that for the men I was giving them the handshake that I would expect from a woman.

I felt surprisingly relaxed. I was waiting for some comment that would indicate that my disguise was suspected. I could not imagine somebody ever accusing me: “You’re not a real woman”, but I did consider the possibility that there might be suspicions, in particular from the women. I was looking for it, but there was no sign. Everybody was welcoming. I found that my dorm block was all women, and that there would be some socializing – just us.

Jasmin and Bella were the same rank as me, and somewhat plain. 2nd Lieutenant Diana Morgan was gorgeous. The truth is that I would have been as turned on by her as half the men in the mess hall that night, but the hormones had played with my prick and it barely flickered. Just as well. I had taken to wearing my gaff daily, and while it was tight it now seemed completely natural. A girl doesn’t need a tent in her skirt, and I wasn’t likely to have one while I was taking the pills and keeping tightly tucked.

Diana got plenty of attention from admirers, but I did too. Some of the male officers referred to us as “Team D” – Dana and Diana. It was watching her that convinced me that there was real power in appearance and the management of male ardor. It was a lesson that served me well.

***

I kept up an email correspondence with John. In keeping with army policy I kept information about work to a minimum, but I told him about the base and the people I was working with. Still, it was almost a year before he could get across to see me. He was in charge of procuring some machine tools for a workshop that our department was working on, and would be on my base for a few days.

I suggested that he arrive the night before and that we catch up off base. In fact not just off base, but away from town, which was really just an extension of the base. That meant driving to another town nearby and meeting him in a local restaurant, in civilian clothes

I decided to wear a dress. I wanted to show John just how successful my ruse was, and also get any surprise in my appearance settled in advance of his arrival on base. My hair was long enough to wear in a French roll, a style Jasmin had introduced me to and which I could now do myself. I often wore it when in dress uniform, where, when in ACU, I just had a ponytail or a low bun. My hair was a natural color, but now that was quite fair – not quite blond but close to it. I tidied up my plucked eyebrows and applied a little make-up – evening style but not over the top; and a little perfume. Colonel Marsh had given it to me on my birthday. It was a secret gift – not appropriate for a CO to give to a junior officer. But Colonel Marsh had become a father figure rather than an admirer. We were becoming quite close.

John was already there and seated. He looked at me as I entered and smiled, but I could see that he did not recognize me. He was still looking behind me for his old friend to arrive. I had to sit right down in front of him before he knew it was me.

“Well hello there, big boy,” I huskily whispered with a smile ear to ear, looking at his open mouth. “Now pull your chin off the table.”

“This is amazing,” he gasped. “How did you do this? How can you look like …? What have you done? This is incredible.”

I knew he would be surprised. I did not want him looking at me like this when on base the day after.

“You doubter, you,” I scolded. “100% accepted as female. Lined up for a promotion to captain next month. On track to win. So I am expecting you to buy dinner tonight. And I’m starving.”

“Well I would not expect the lady to buy dinner,” he said, smiling now but still recovering from the shock. “You look fantastic. And your hair … it’s beautiful. And you even sound like a woman.”

I smoothed the nape seductively and then pulled a compact out of my purse to check my make-up. These were feminine gestures that I had practiced and I was putting them on show for him. I snapped the compact shut and said: “So Johnny, tell me what you have been up to …”.

John had just been promoted captain and was clearly enjoying what he was doing. He had been unable to get to us because he had been travelling extensively, not just within the States but to overseas bases.

I explained my position, that my CO was great and that I had great work colleagues. I told him that I had two other male officers vying for my favors. Hal Brooking and Jim Nugent were both captains and flirted with me outrageously. Plus I had a corporal and two sergeants who worshipped me.

“This is the power the female sex has in our army,” I said, in part complaining, but also acknowledging an advantage I now had. “But I am also aware of the shit we girls have to put up with. There is still the assumption that we cannot do the job, whatever it is.”

“You mean by that: 'We women',” he smiled, signaling to the waitress to come over and take our order.

“Yes, in case you hadn’t noticed, that is what I am.”

We had a great meal and we drank two bottles of wine. He suggested that we finish with a little hard liquor.

“I don’t think that I can drive back to the base,” I said.

I am staying tonight at the motel 2 doors down,” he said. “You can crash there.”

That seemed like a good idea. So we downed a few shots and it was quite late by the time we got to his unit.

“Just one bed? A double? You’re not trying to take advantage of a girl I hope.” I was joking but initially he looked worried. “Don’t be silly,” I said. “This is the army. We can share.” It was his room and I did not want to sleep on the floor.

I slipped off my dress and while he was in the bathroom I took off my bra and gaff. I slept in my slip and panties.

When I woke up in the morning. He was lying beside me looking at me. “You have real tits,” he said. I wasn't sure what to make of the expression on his face. Was it fascination or admiration, or what? I should have felt uneasy but did not. I think he wanted to touch them.

“Implants”, I explained. “Assisted with a few hormones. Fully reversible. But necessary equipment – general issue for every female soldier.” Humor to break the odd circumstance.

I drove back to the base. I showered and I was on station on time to meet Captain Dabney.

“We know one another. We served together a while ago,” I explained to my CO after introductions, smiling knowingly at John. Captain Brooking was there and I could see him looking at this stranger with jealous hostility.

“Why don’t you show him around then?” said Colonel Marsh. So John and I spent the morning together. And we dined at the officers club and again talked through the evening, but this time with others. I was sad to see him go the following day. But of course, we stayed in touch.

***

Only a month later Colonel Marsh gave me the best news of my career. He was being promoted to BG and being posted to Washington, and I was going as his adjutant, with the rank of captain. I was getting my promotion and I was staying with my mentor.

I told John immediately. He sent congratulations of course, but then as the posting took effect in mid-February I was surprised to receive from him a Valentine’s Day card. He had written inside “Congratulations Captain Heartbreaker”. It was a joke of course, but I kept the card.

I had my own apartment (small but well appointed) near the Pentagon and also not far from the very large apartment where (now) General Marsh was housed. His apartment was large enough for entertaining and was equipped for that purpose. I also received a “grooming allowance” which I learned was to cover dresses, hairstyling and other preparation for particularly evening engagements. Our role was in relation to funding special equipment, and that meant presentations to high ranking Defense staff and even Senate and Congress committees, and attending key functions.

General Marsh, as was his style, was very blunt about our respective roles: “Dana,” he said, “this is a pre-retirement stint for me, but for you, it will make your career. You are a first-rate soldier with a complete knowledge of army systems and the ability to understand new equipment. I also trust your judgment in your presentations. And you are an attractive woman with a winning personality. That is a key asset is this town. A good soldier needs to use all that he or she has at their disposal.”

We threw a party to announce our arrival. Because General Marsh was alone (a widower with two sons serving overseas) I was the hostess. At his instruction I prepared well. I managed all the details and I spent some of my allowance to get myself ready on the day. I had my hair color lightened and I had it put up in an ornate updo. I had my make-up done professionally and a manicure and pedicure. I bought an evening gown and pair of high heeled sandals. I practiced moving and dancing with General Marsh. For the first time I wore a push up bra and a bustier to promote my figure and reveal my sexuality.

That first night I was a hit. My appearance drew men in and then I could floor them with my clear knowledge of the army’s requirements, backed with costings that I knew better than most. My dance card was full.

That evening I first met with Senator Anthony Mazzini. It was quite late and I had been kept busy by younger men, but I knew that this was the most important man in the room. He was not chairing the Senate Committee but he would soon, and even now he controlled it. I have to say that the look he gave me was a little like a wolf watching a tethered lamb. But I had seen similar looks before and I could take it. I was in no doubt that I needed to foster a relationship with this wolf.

***

Captain John Dabney came to visit me in Washington about a year later. The occasion was the retirement of General Marsh which coincided with my promotion to Major. There was another party, perhaps as many as fifty in that year. Daddy (as I would now call General Marsh after he left the army) had allowed me to invite a few people to add to the Washington set who were so important to the work we did.

John was my first invitee. I also invited Diana Morgan now Diana Jeffries. She had left the ranks after marrying a Colonel posted to the Pentagon. I had been a bridesmaid at her wedding and counted her as my best girlfriend. And I invited Hal Brooking and Jim Nugent from my old base. Both were in relationships and brought their ladies, but were still fascinated by me. I now outranked them and that was highly satisfying.

It was yet another success. I gave a speech congratulating Daddy (but not using that name) and he gave one congratulating me. It ended with him handing over the keys to his apartment. He had already moved out and it was mine. After the army catering personnel had cleaned up I found that the last guest remaining was John.

I unpinned my hair and let the blond curls fall about my shoulders. I kicked of my heels and accepted the whisky he offered. “I expect you to stay the night,” I said. “There is plenty of room”.

“You won the bet,” he said. “I owe you that corrective surgery.”

“Too late for that,” I responded, in a matter of fact way.

“What?” John was stunned.

“We got the funding for the Ajax project. It was the hardest thing we ever had to do. Daddy and I believed in it. We had to get it through. Senator Mazzini needed to fuck me. There was only one thing in the way. It’s done. Job complete.”

John sat down on the sofa next to me.

“I don’t think I believe you,” he said.

How do you answer that? I pulled the hem of my long gown right up over my waist and I pulled down my expensive black panties. There nestled below my cropped and perfumed pubic bush was my pussy. Well-engineered and fit for purpose.

“So, what now? What now for you?” he asked. “You have your promotions. But you have sacrificed a normal life to get where you are. Is it worth it?”

“I just go so caught up in it,” I explained. “Since I crossed over I have had the career that I dreamed about. I have made a difference. I have made our service better. I am proud of what I have done. Some people give their life. I have only given a small part of myself...”.

“What about love?” he asked, looking at me intently, in a manner that I had never seen in him before.

It dawned on me that this was the question. I was not a real woman, although I had become everything short of that. Could any man who knew who I was, love me as a woman? I felt a tear roll down my cheek. All I said was: “Would you hold me?”

John Dabney took me in his arms. That night he took me to his bed. I had let myself be fucked before that night, but I had never been made love to. When John exploded inside me and we both squealed in ecstasy I knew that I had made the right decision, even if the reasons for it might still haunt me a little.

Daddy gave me away on our wedding day. I returned the favor and Diana and Jane were my bridal attendants. I waited until John’s promotion came through, so we were both majors on the day, but I was on a faster track and was looking forward to my next rung up well before him. After all, I had proven that women have the advantage in the US Army.

The End

John opted for Number ones, but I wanted a bridal gown!

© Maryanne Peters 2017

Author's Note: Here is another story that I thought I had posted here but found out I had not. At the moment I am compiling another collection to be published on Amazon tentatively entitled "Getting Ahead" which will be at least 13 stories (some new) on a similar theme to this - changing gender to get some career or other advantage. Look out for that, but it the meantime check out my anthologies already published and available on kindle.
Maryanne