A five-K run was a rough start to the morning. Especially before breakfast, though I was at least not yet starving. The large dinner from the night before kept me from feeling like I was utterly famished.

At the start. 

By the end of the run I’d worked up a serious appetite and was thrilled to wolf down the scrambled eggs, sausages, bacon, and hash brown patties we were served. The coffee was also a blessing in my still only partially awake mind. It was all very cafeteria quality, but I’d been living off of mostly cafeteria food for the better part of a year at university. I could handle it. Plus, the extensive exercise had me hungry enough to make it seem delicious.

Before I had any real time to try snooping around for a phone, however, we were led back into the shop building. Hannah hurried over to my side, seeming more than a little nervous about what was ahead of us. Thankfully it was fairly simple. We had toasters, blenders, and that sort of thing in front of us, and were tasked with taking them apart to try to figure out what was wrong with them. Then, when they proved simple to fix we’d make the repairs. The sort of thing I’d done in high school.

Hannah, however, didn’t seem to have any idea what she was doing. 

“Are you really that worried about doing it well?” I asked, looking at her nervous expression.

The interior circuitry seemed to have her utterly lost.

“I—yes. I mean, it’s a boot camp, right? We might end up having to peel a thousand potatoes or scrub the bathroom out if we mess up,” she said in a quiet voice.

“Oh… right,” I replied quietly, realising that was fair.

My mind had been too focused on trying to figure out how to get out and get help, mixed with hating the idea of learning what was being taught, that I had forgotten about the risk of punishment entirely. Not wanting to make another girl suffer for my half-baked plans of resistance, I did my best to explain the principles of soldering and electronics to her. By the end of the morning her toaster was almost functional, with only a little mysterious smoke escaping it. 

For a first attempt I hoped that would be acceptable.

While it might not have been up to snuff, the instructor proved distracted by another young woman whose blender caught fire when she plugged it in. A fire extinguisher and a stern talking town later, the instructor’s standards for the rest of us seemed lowered.

Having spent the morning on that, we then had a light lunch, followed by another jog and then hitting the gym. The instructor there was certain to push each of us to our limits. My arms and legs both felt like wet noodles by the end of it. I hadn’t wanted to so much as walk after that…

Only to find out our next lesson block was on properly loading up a couple old (and slightly rusted) SUV with all sorts of oversized items. Kayaks, bicycles, long 2x4s, and all sorts of other awkward things. I wasn’t looking forward to having to lift those things. At least it wasn’t complicated, and I’d grown up helping my dad with these sorts of things from time to time. So, I had the basics of bungee cords and carabiners down. Apparently more than a lot of the other girls. Which made it the perfect chance to excuse myself to use the washroom.

Of course, I wasn’t actually using the washroom. It was an excuse to sneak and snoop. There were a few other outbuildings that we hadn’t used yet. Those were mostly a bit smaller, though. Just storage sheds, I was guessing. Which left the older house, that I suspected was the original building on the property. Before they turned the place into… whatever it was now.

Doing my best to avoid being seen (ducking behind the SUVs and anything else that I could use as cover) I made my way over to the old farmhouse. Peeking into the windows, I saw a small living room, a basic kitchen, and then an office. With… bingo. A phone. 

I just had to get in. Hurrying towards the door, distracted by a rush of hope, I collided into one of the instructors. She’d been leaving the building and was now staring down at me as my heart skipped several beats. 

“What were you doing here, trainee?” she asked in her gruff voice.

“I—uh… I didn’t really need the lesson and I wanted to—um, get the lay of the land?” I replied, hoping that might work. It was the sort of thing ‘manly men’ would say in old movies, wasn’t it?

The woman gave a small nod. “Admirable, but it’s better to help your peers.”

“R—right. Right. I’ll… I’ll go back and do that,” I replied, scrambling to my feet. 

-

After that failure I decided to stick with the rest of the group for the remaining lessons. The next one turned out to be a lesson on tying ties and other masculine fashion advice. I ended up zoning out for most of it, occasionally swearing the instructor had said something strange, but having not been paying enough attention to figure out what it had been.

As with the day before I was starving by the time dinner started, and happily devoured the double patty hamburger. At least they were feeding us well. 

The protein rich food also helped us recover just enough that being led off to chop firewood didn’t seem an utterly impossible task. It wasn’t something I knew much about, unlike some of the previous lessons, so I was forced to pay attention. And then to be embarrassed when I was rather bad at it for my first few attempts.

Honestly, though, it was nice to be bad at something they were teaching. I didn’t want to be an expert at masculinity.

What I did want, by the time we were done, was to collapse into bed. I barely had the energy left to take a shower and then get ready for bed.

-

It was another horribly early morning the next day. A ten kilometre run this time, with my legs still sore from yesterday’s workout. At least after that came another large breakfast, just as heavy on the protein. The food was the highlight of each day.

Then, changing things up, we were handed fishing poles, coolers for bait and fish, as well as an offering of a variety of hats and sunglasses to help with the sun. Grabbing a bucket hat and the most androgynous sunglasses I could find, I quietly followed the instructors as we began a hike. Despite the protests of leg muscles that had been through a major workout yesterday.

The hiking trail was winding, going up and down the hilly terrain for a few kilometres. We wound in and out of forested areas, before finally reaching a small lake. 

“Find a place to fish, we’ll see how you all do. And remember, princesses, no talking. It scares the fish,” the instructor announced.

I let out a tired groan before proceeding to walk about as far around the lake as I thought I could get away with. Baiting the hook was as unpleasant as always. Then it was a waiting game.

At least it was easy on the muscles, just sitting there quietly, waiting for a fish to bite. With hours rolling by and minimal activity from the fish, I was pretty sure I nodded off at a few points. It was difficult to get enough sleep on the hard bed under minimal sheets. Even if it wasn’t all that cold… it wasn’t exactly what one would call cozy. Especially when my mind had still been trying to race, with what little energy I could spare it. Trying to work out plans to sneak into the office.

In the end, I managed to catch two smallish fish. That seemed to be about average for the group, though a few of us hadn’t caught any. The instructors had brought up some of last night’s firewood and we were then given lessons on how to get a cooking fire going. Which was followed by instructions on how to gut and prepare the fish. A few of the girls proved squeamish, which was to be expected. The insides of a fish were reasonably gross. Though, after having had to dissect a pigeon in biology class I could handle a fish or two fine. 

Or six or seven when a few of the others saw how much better I was at prepping than them and begged me to prepare theirs to ensure less of our lunch would be wasted. I complied, especially when a few of them (including Hannah) pulled out puppy-dog eyes. The instructor seemed to notice and gave a small grunt, reprimanding the other girls. I, however, was given a nod that left me feeling uncomfortable. Was I too good at all this?

Maybe I was just newer to my transition than the others.

I was going to tell myself that was the reason. They were all just more used to femininity than I was. Heck, most of them looked like they must have figured themselves out as kids and gotten on puberty blockers.

So it was just a matter of time that separated me from them. That was what I repeated to myself as we grilled our lunches.

-

Following lunch we hiked back to the main compound, storing the fishing gear. After that we were led to an open area, the third instructor waiting beside a pile of what looked to be body padding and something covered in a tarp. A rack of some sort was my best guess. 

“I hope you princesses managed to catch enough fish for a proper lunch, because you’re going to need fuel now,” she barked. “It’s high time you learn some fighting techniques. For a bit of fun we’ll be starting with the HEMA lessons. No swords, though. Swords are delicate finesse weapons… much too fem for any of our graduates.”

She stepped to the side and drew the tarp from the racks, revealing a small armoury’s worth of what looked like medieval battle-axes.

“Ax handling is important for wood chopping, so you might as well have double the time to learn to use them,” the instructor declared. “These are, of course, rubber, so you’re not actually murdering each other out there, but they’re a rather hard rubber. Which means you need to wear your padding and not be idiots when it’s time to start sparring. Suit up, girlies.”

Some of the other women seemed quite excited by this, though I was left more confused than anything. It seemed rather out of left field for what this bootcamp was, wasn’t it? Boxing or wrestling, I could have seen, but…historical battle-axes?

Apparently my confusion was visible enough that one of the instructors walked over and gave me a small nod.

“Trust us, gals will swoon if you go to a reenactment in armour and actually know how to fight,” she said.

That wasn’t exactly high on my priorities (sure, women were amazing and wonderful and beautiful and so forth, but that feeling was driven by my desire to be one, nothing else), however, I didn’t want to get in trouble for not cooperating, so I gave a small nod in reply and hurried off to suit up in the awkward looking padding.

“Now,” the main instructor said, “as much as it would be fun to let you all just start sparring straight away, we’re going to have to have some actual lessons first. There’s basic forms you need drilled in before you can start trying to beat each other to a pulp.”

-

Proper stances were tiring. Swing the axes the same way dozens of times for at least a dozen different forms pushed me even close to exhaustion. And then they had us sparring, after all of that. Everyone had to go against everyone else. It had been nearly as tiring as the gym workouts had been, and I was sure we were sloppy not just from lack of experience but also exhaustion. 

Much like with the electronics and repair sessions, we were once again paired up in the end, based on ability. This time, though, I was somewhere closer to the middle and so was paired up with someone of roughly similar skill. A blonde woman named Patricia, though the instructors were calling her Pat.

She was short and solidly built. Between her height and her fat distribution I was sure loads of trans girls would have wanted to look like her. I found myself wondering if she’d had some secret HRT formula or… just, how.

“We kind of look like a dwarf and an elf together,” Patricia said. “I wonder if that means you’ll be better at the archery part.”

“There’s an archery part?” I replied, wondering how she knew.

“Mhm, it’s—”

“Less gabbing, ladies,” the instructor barked. “We’ve only got a month for a crash course. Spend that time learning and training.”

“Right! Sorry!” Patricia said, with a salute.

I fumbled a stiff salute of my own, following her lead. Then we focused on running through the two person drills we’d been told to do.

-

After sparring, we had another large and meaty dinner. Lasagna this time. Then it was back to the shop and electronics out-building. It was cooler that evening, so the instructors handed out some plaid flannel overshirts while we worked on more simple repair projects. 

I had to wonder where they got all of these small appliances, but I supposed that was just how it worked in rural areas. Junk piled up. It probably wasn’t too hard to drive around the nearby farms and small towns to get a decent haul of scrap. Then the stuff we actually fixed they could probably sell. While the blenders that managed to catch on fire and similar disasters were an acceptable write-off.

At least that was the hypothesis I would go with for now.

In the end, though, it proved to be a slightly less exhausting day. Or I had just managed to get enough sleep while fishing to have recovered. 

Either way, when we were sent back to our small rooms, I shut my lights off and pretended to go to bed, but stayed dressed and waited. After about an hour (during which I may have briefly dozed), I got up, sneaking through the building to get outside. It was dark and rather colder (nights remained chilly well into the summer on the Prairie, after all), but the crisp air kept me awake and there was enough starlight to navigate. Plus, I was trying to find an entire building. That wasn’t hard as long as there was any minimal light. 

Reaching the old farmhouse, however, my heart dropped as I found the front door was locked. Slipping around, the kitchen door proved just as secure. And, well, I had no idea how to pick a lock. Checking obvious hiding places for spare keys also got me nowhere.

I was very close to trying to grab a rock and seeing if I could just break in, but… it seemed like too much. That wasn’t how I’d been raised and I wasn’t desperate enough to try it just yet. Plus, that would make noise and the instructors would probably catch me before I made it to the phone.

Defeated, I slunk back to bed, trying to figure out what else I could do.