The front line

“Sir, may I please speak with you privately?”

The lieutenant eyed his charge closely, especially her cleavage and ass. Taking her in the tent, he said: “Alright soldier, what’s on your mind?”

“Um, sir, when I volunteered again for the service, I expected some combat duty over the disputed territory in Sakhalin Island. When they changed me into…this form, I’d anticipated being secret agent in enemy territory or at least a field nurse. But this past month I’ve been fighting nobody except our own troops who want a piece of my ‘territory,’ if you understand what I mean.” Tamami blushed with her head down and hands over her midriff.

The lieutenant’s gaze softened. “You are right, Sgt. Asamiya Tamami; this is an injustice. You were Sgt. Yamamoto Nobuhiro, who’d won a medal for valor in the last war, and it’s not right for those stupid commanders to do this to you, a decorated war hero. I will request that you be rotated with a frontline soldier who comes back claiming he’s crippled when it’s only a minor flesh wound. How does that sound?”

“Sir, I’d love that, thank you sir!” As she saluted, she saw the lieutenant’s eyes on her breasts once again. Tamami couldn’t stand strutting around in a woman’s uniform behind the lines while battle raged at the front. Luckily, a young trooper who was just barely grazed by a bullet came by: as their eyes met, they swapped by Army orders. Now Sgt. Yamamoto would be back home at the front, and the cowardly young private could help win at the “home front.” Maybe the new Pvt. Tamami could please the lieutenant.


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