WRAF Memories – Maids In Uniform

Maids In Uniform

Over the last couple of years there have been a number of cases reported in the press of members of the armed forces and the police who have dressed as women and gone on to undergo treatment preparatory to a complete sex change. Is there something about the wearing of a uniform which impels them to seek the comfort of the softer more attractive garb of the female?

The tabloids have a field day when such a case comes to light with headlines such as the vulgar ‘a nicker in knickers’, and articles brimming over with double entendres for the delectation of their more prurient readers.

There is of course always the lure of a woman in a uniform, but that is the attraction of seeing the uniform graced by the complement of a skirt and long black stockings. No doubt that was partly the motivation of the police officer who, having been revealed as a secret transvestite, announced his intention of seeking a sex change so that he could continue in the police force as a policewoman.

Well, I remember my secret ambition as a child to become a member of the WRNS; that smart but nevertheless utterly feminine uniform of the blouse and skirt, with shapely jacket and slightly coquettish hat was utterly fetching.

And so often in the films of yesteryear, of heroic naval deeds, the Wren officer played the subservient feminine part alongside the brave handsome naval officers, and the rough macho common seamen with the hearts of gold concealed by their tough exterior and old-fashioned gallantry. Enough to turn any girl’s head, including mine.

The nearest I ever came to satisfying this ambition was in the days of National Service, an utterly frustrating time for any transvestite. Needless to say I had secreted a case containing all my pretties at an address near my station where I could retrieve it quickly when the opportunity of weekend leave presented itself.

Unfortunately, I was not in the Navy, but in the Air Force on a camp which also contained a fair complement of WRAFs. Our work was in a secret control bunker where airmen and airwomen worked together as equals.

My chance came one night when I was deputed to control the bunker against the outbreak of fire. I was alone in the deserted building with access to all parts of it, including the offices of the Commander of WRAF at this base.

Routinely checking every hour, my excitement may be easily envisaged when I saw in her office a wardrobe containing her dress uniform. I looked further and found a chest of drawers containing some underwear and also some civilian clothing.

It took me very little time to strip off my uniform and soon I was stood before her mirror dressed in the full panoply of a WRAF senior officer, complete with shoulder bag. I was safe for at least two hours before the duty officer would come on his rounds. I relaxed sitting at her desk, reading a couple of fashion magazines she had left there. The time passed all too quickly before I had to change back at the end of my shift and remove all traces of my activities in her office.

The opportunity never arose again during my term of service, but whenever I saw the Commanding Officer on parades dressed in her finery, I had a secret giggle. If only she knew what I had been up to.

And if I had been caught, I wonder what naughty headlines the tabloids would have printed?

And would I have announced my intention of changing sex so that i could serve in the Women’s Royal Air Force as it was then known? It is an intriguing thought.

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