Hypnovember Crossover

5. Uniform

by Scalar7th

Tags: #cw:noncon #microfiction #Alteration #any/all #asfr #bondage #comic_book #D/s #dom:female #dom:male #dom:nb #exhibitionism #fantasy #memory_play #multiple_partners #pov:bottom #pov:top #scifi #solo #sub:female #sub:male #sub:nb #transformation #urban_fantasy

Best way to learn things about powerful people is to join the organization, Jane said to herself.

She had arrived on this world... somehow, and had quickly been recruited into the rebellion. Some madman named Varius tearing up the place. Being pretty athletic, it didn't take her long to get a position on the city guard, and from there with the connections the rebellion had, to get her a posting as part of the fortress troops.

A rebellion can always use a spy, after all. And while she wasn't a great soldier yet, Jane Powers was a pretty good actor.

Real magic was a thing, though, and that was amazing. She was excited to see how that might work, maybe try some out for herself. She wondered how she might learn some. But that was an issue for Future Jane. This was the first day of her new posting.

Jane walked into the barracks, and heads turned. Almost all of them, with a variety of energy and expression. New blood was new blood. Jane, meanwhile, drunk in the sights before her; about thirty young, athletic bodies of all types in a variety of states of dress. Some were in the grey-and-blue she'd seen on the guards on her way in, presumably those just back from their shifts or just about to go to their posts. Some wore casual clothes of the sort she'd got used to in the past few weeks. Some wore less.

Communal dorm space with fewer inhibitions, she concluded. I can handle that. It wasn't like she hadn't run into a couple embarrassing situations on campus while she was getting her degree. Just a function of living on top of one another. Only in this barrack seemed to be pretty literal. It was just... beds. Two-mattress bunks. Foot lockers and hangers. But, there was more room and more privacy than there had been backstage at some of the shows she'd worked on.

After being shown her bunk and given her gear (dress uniform, work uniform, leather hauberk, short spear), "Jhanneth" ("Jane" to her friends) was informed that her training shift was in fifteen minutes, and she would need to be in work uniform. Snapping a crisp salute (which earned her a grin and chuckle from those who saw) she immediately laid out her dress uniform, making sure it was in perfect order, her instincts for taking care of costumes kicking in. Seeing it in good condition, she folded it back up properly and put it in her empty foot locker—she was told that she would have time to retrieve her personal effects later. The spear was leaned up against the wall, the armour placed at the head of the bed, and then the work clothes put out.

Aware of the eyes on her, but feeling no real judgment from them, Jane pulled her shirt over her head.

She'd never thought of herself as well-endowed, but years of a strict exercise regimen and exacting skin care had made the most of what she did have. She attracted attention. She paid it no mind. Just another role, she said, audiences have seen more of me.

As indeed that particular audience would. Some were looking, some weren't, some were trying not to appear like they were, but she paid them no mind as she kicked off her sandals then unbelted and dropped her skirt, leaving her in her undergarment. Without missing a step, she grabbed the grey trousers and fluffed them out, pulling them up over her legs.

"Congratulations and welcome," Varius had said to her upon their meeting. "I think you'll find this the role of a lifetime."

Jane wasn't sure why that came to her mind as she sat on the edge of the bed and pulled the garment over her legs. It was a bit tight, made of some stretchy material that was a bit difficult to put on but that fit nicely, allowing her full flexibility and easy motion. They felt good. Comfortable. She slipped on the stockings next, perhaps made of the same thing, and already she could tell they would be warm and comfortable on cool night shifts, and very likely dry on wet days.

"You may find," he continued, "that you're quite a good fit here."

Jane chuckled. She already fit in quite well, judging by the reaction to her presence, and the uniform was an equally good fit for her. She picked up the binding cloth meant for her breasts and wrapped it around herself.

"I'm very good at giving people what they want," he said. "It's how I assure loyalty."

Once around, twice around... a practice she could manage almost without thought after learning it a couple weeks before. It wasn't that difficult. And the bindings weren't tight, weren't meant to make her look or feel like she didn't have breasts; it was not a lot different to a bra, providing support and comfort in case she was required to do perform physical activity.

Jhanneth was finding it a bit more of a challenge to make her hands do what she wanted, though. Perhaps she was just tired with the long day and the excitement of being chosen. She felt like she was fighting with herself a little, as though her hands were resisting her efforts to put on the supportive garment. Good enough, she thought to herself, grabbing the spun shirt and throwing it over.

The armour, on the other hand, felt like it belonged to her, even just lying on the bed as it was. Solid. Powerful. So what if it wasn't mail, not exactly, it would still save her a lot of harm in an emergency. She took a moment to run her hands over it. Familiar.

Easy. So easy. Getting into character.

"I give people what they want," Varius repeated. She hadn't understood then, but of course she hadn't remembered what he'd said until that moment. "What I see you wanting is a character you can really, really sink your teeth into."

Jhanneth walked out to her first shift. Later she would return to the barracks. She would learn her work, make friends, take lovers, enjoy a long and storied career.

And the rebellion would wonder why it is that Jane never reported to them.

Jane Powers' tale has yet to be published.

Varius dominates the story Chains of Want.

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