Childhood Crush, who was sent to a military academy.

Jessie rose from their slumber. They walked over to a dresser, grabbed a binder, and compressed their small chest to make it non-existent. Jessie got dressed in a shirt, a black leather jacket with shoulder pads and loose trousers. Their outfit, with the huge muscles from keeping up with the old army workout, led most people to mistake them for a man, which was exactly what they wanted. Their breakfast would be overnight oats with some extras, mainly fruit. Finishing it, they prepared for today's classes. Today’s schedule was simple and short, and would leave enough of a break to do a long workout afterwards.

Jessie planned to arrive 10 minutes early to class because if you aren’t five minutes early, you are late. Arriving early, the first thing out of their bag was the course book to review. They had done this how many times before class and hoped they actually remembered everything. Until the last minute before the class, fellow students wandered in, in various states of disrepair; they were close to 10 years younger than the non-binary person. The lecture started, and they followed along with it with ease. The teacher completed the lecture and asked a person, “Do you know who Miss Jessica Williams is? I haven’t seen her show up to class.” The person who was asked shrugs.

Walking up to the lecturer, they introduced themselves. “Hi, I am Jessica Williams, Sir. I go by Jessie, and please do not address me as Miss.” Holding themselves back from doing a salute.

“Okay, formal, aren’t we, Jessie?” He asked with a smile, partially as a joke and trying to get them to relax.

The reaction showed it hadn’t worked. “I have done a stint in the military, sir. Habits die hard, especially if they have been drilled into you from 12, military school. Better to be formal and people telling you can tone it down, rather than insult someone higher up on the totem pole and then suffer the consequences.”

“Well, that clears that up, Mr Smith works or Professor Smith, whatever you prefer. School policy states I can’t ask for anything less formal, even if I would like it to be. Sir feels too stiff, especially seeing as we are almost the same age. Why do you look like a brother of your profile picture in the system?” Prof. Smith asked.

“I have been recommended by my psychologist to see how it would be if I acted as a man... This is me doing that. All that I needed to do was get a binder and cut my hair since my clothes leaned more male-coded anyway, and this is the result. Everyone thinks I am a man. I can even use the men’s toilet without any issue, kind of neat in a sense. I feel like I fit in better, and no issues have happened as a result. Don't know how much that is because of me fitting with me in contrast to me being more in line with what people expect.” The former soldier explained stiffly and uneasily, explaining this in a public space. They had thought about needing to explain it a bunch, but not wanting to actually do it.

“So they suspect you are a AFAB man?” He said practiced in the verbage. What was his position again? They couldn't recall, probably not important.

“Yep,” Jessie admits with a nod.

“You will have an uphill battle. I wish you luck. Should I talk to the other Professors in the program or will you do it yourself? Attendance is hard to do by eye otherwise. But I don’t know how they will react if they see you at an exam like this for the first time.” The professor asked with genuine care something the former soldier hadn't encountered elsewhere in recent years.

“Good point... I will do it, Mr Smith. No worries, I have a meeting with the dean planned at the end of the month. The paperwork from my doc should be done then, and it will help with this as well. It will, at the very least, make it a medical issue the dean can’t complain about. But yeah, sure, I will inform all the more practical courses I am taking about it.” Jessie answered with the same trepidation as earlier. They knew that the venue with the other teachers and the dean could be more private if there was a proper plan.

Leaving class, they headed home to change into a workout outfit and started by going for a jog with an audiobook. Fifty Shades of Grey, not the best-written book, but there was something they liked about it. The book wasn't keeping their attention, though. They were bothered by the fact that they didn’t have friends. Not from the college, the former soldier found fellow students immature for their liking. In contrast, TAs and teachers couldn't fraternise with them. The vets that were around, Jessie didn’t gel well with. Most people from their batch were still overseas and had extended their contract. Jessie hadn’t. A single eight-year contract was long enough for them. No contacts from high school remained, let alone sooner. Since twelve, since grandpa died, it had been all about surviving, keep your head down and move on, avoid punishments, don't get bullied, don't become a target. Mulling it over during the jog. No conclusion was reached until they stepped into the shower; Realising they kept everyone at bay out of fear would be a breakthrough, according to their psychologist. He wasn't there.

Dinner was curry with rice and chicken. It was a great mix of protein, carbs and flavour, and maybe more importantly, you could make a large pot of the curry and heat it later. For the rest of Jessie’s evening, they had decided to do some prep for the next day's classes, followed by watercolour with that same audiobook. They ended up painting a dust-covered environment, ruins and dunes, not a soul in sight. The colours are mostly yellows, oranges and browns to accentuate the ruins here and there, and a grey for a shadow. Another thing the doctor had suggested was that creative activities can sometimes help with mental issues you don’t even know yet. It helped you process your thoughts without you even knowing why it helped. He wanted them to take pictures to talk about them afterwards. This had revealed a couple of memories she had issues with without knowing it, things they didn’t want to talk about, but needed to. After finishing painting, they went to bed without the restrictive garment on.

Back at the semi-circle, Ryan said, “Who wants to make a bet for who shows up next?”

“We don’t know who you guys hang out with, Mr Roberts.” Heather countered.

“No more attitude-wise or based on Chris’s reaction. For example, I think they will be happy, and Chris will like them.” Ryan explained.

Most people picked that Chris will not like them cranky or that Chris will like them happy. Chris, however, started to think aloud. “The emotional attachment to me has been going up as more people have arrived. So it is someone I am reeeaallyyy invested in or the other way around. The emotional reaction to me has been bad as we have gone on. We have been alternating people I dislike with people I like in a similar range. Based on that, I will be happy, and she will be cranky. I guess that it is going to be Jessica Williams. This is unpredictable bulshit she is going to hate it. Any of you want to change your bet based on that?” Everyone shook their head. That called shot is such a shot in the dark. This bet was just for funsies, but it would be cool if Chris were correct.

“You might be right, but why would you be emotionally invested in Jessie?” Becky questioned being the only person who knew Jessie. She knew the two were close before she was sent away, but nothing that would make her qualify to fall in love with him.

“No comment,” Chris replied, blushing, not wanting to admit that Jessie was his first crush.

Decades earlier, Jessie was in elementary school, walking through fields and forests with an equally young Chris and her grandpa. Jessie calls for their grandpa as the three look over insects, other invertebrates, and lots of plants. This had been a ritual for them, a semblance of peace. The old man taught them about nature and biodiversity over many years until Jessie's departure, as well as his own. Jessie had, shortly after his death, kissed a girl; Their parents found out and, in response, sent them to military school. Chris kept his interest in biodiversity. He became an ecologist to help protect it, and in part in memory of the old man.

Jessie was standing in front of Alex, who smiled with her clipboard in hand. “So if all is correct, you are the last camper to show up, Jessie Williams, official name Jessica Williams?”

“Yeah, that is me, ma’am.” They said saluting, unable to stifle the response this time.

“Just call me Alex. Syl will appreciate the ma’am more than me. Shall we go meet your fellow campers?” The elf responds with a kind smile.

“Sure, this is a dream, right? It can’t not be with an elf greeting me on what seems like a camping ground.” Jessie walked along as Alex guided them to the semi-circle.

“No, this is real, Jessie. I hope you enjoy your time here, though,” the orange-clad employee said as the semi-circle approached.

Chris reacted with a smirk. Jessie had changed and gained more muscle, but they were still Jessie. They had had small budding breasts before, but they were gone now. This didn’t stop him from shouting, “Hi, Jessie, sorry for getting you into this mess.”

“Why is he saying that? Who is he?” Jessie questioned. Chris had gone through puberty with all the changes that entailed. It would surprise no one that Jessie couldn't recognise him, Becky hadn't either.

Syl popped up, but Alex didn’t disappear this time. “Jessie, how about you answer my questions before I answer yours, okay?”

“Yes, ma'am. You must be Alex’s boss, I am assuming, ma’am.” The former soldier said, reacting on instinct again, stiff but trusted, safe.

“Good to see someone is paying attention to the context clues. Who are you? How old are you? What is your job? Hobbies? Last sexual encounter? Relationship to your Master? Anything fun you want to add?” The elf in a ranger uniform asked, holding the magical mic in front of Jessie's mouth.

“I am Jessie Williams, legal name Jessica Williams. I am 31 years old, and am studying to become an educator. Before that, I was in military service. My hobbies are painting, reading books, working out, and, in general, trying to keep busy. I have never had sex. The one time I kissed a girl, my parents freaked out and sent me to military school. After that, I have been afraid to form connections with people. Master is my childhood friend. We used to go into the forests and fields near my grandparents’ place to learn about nature with grandpa all the time. That is one of my most treasured moments.” She blinked as the magical effect faded. “So let me guess, the guy who shouted is Chris.”

“Yep, and if you sit down, I will explain what he means by this mess. But the short answer is.” Syl said, waiting for a dramatic pause. “Harem Hotel Goes Camping, a pervy dating reality TV show. The master for this season is Christopher Philips, as all of you have found out. The contestants, the rest of you, will compete for a place in his harem. Now sit down. Once you have done that, I can go into the details of how this is going to work.” With a groan, Jessie sat down. Dealing with people her own age was at least better than dealing with the kids from college, but not by much.