Soldier of Missfortune. Part 1 by Angharad Copyright © 2011 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

It wasn’t as if I’d volunteered, I’d been picked–that in itself was a laugh–I was never picked. It was like back in school when they were picking teams for cricket or rugby, I was always last to be picked because I wasn’t very good at sports. The same was true of the army–I was small and slightly built. It took me umpteen goes to get over the wall on the training course, which was a source of some amusement to the rest of the squad.

Hell, I’d only joined the army to learn a trade–this fighting for Queen and country stuff left me cold–worse it could leave me dead. I wanted to be a technician, play with helicopters or some other electronic toys. Seems I joined the wrong branch of REME, this lot were fighting men, unlike me–I come from a long line of cowards–long lived cowards, not short lived heroes.
The final joke was my name, Alexander Montgomery, two fine generals and me a squaddie without a clue. I did my six weeks basic, then off to school to learn about electronics and mechanics–another six weeks–then we get to play with things, and at last I’m starting to make people notice me for the right reasons–I was good at this, and with some of the stuff we were doing my small fingers and hands could do things the bigger blokes couldn’t. I actually began to think I might not have made such a mistake after all.

I was sent for some advanced training–the only one from my squad–and realised I was being trained to sabotage enemy equipment, so that it malfunctioned and did a variety of things which would be useful to us. Seeing it as a challenge, I got a bit carried away and proved I could do whatever they wanted me to do with it and we’re talking rather expensive missiles and other projectiles. They all get programmed–I could reprogram them to do what I wanted. There were three others on the course but I made sure I came top on everything–I had shown the world at last. Then discovered that last might be the operative word. I was called into Major Sheridan’s office–he ran the course we’d been on.

I stood at attention before the major and this other officer. “Relax, Montgomery.”

I did, standing at ease with my hands behind my back.

“So this is the one, is it?” asked the stranger.

“Yes, Sir, Montgomery was head and shoulders above the rest.”

“And we have no women for this job?”

“No, Sir, none made the training this far.”

“We have two months to prepare him,” the stranger stood up and walked around me, “strip off your uniform, private.”

I looked at the major and he nodded, I began undressing.

“Come along, we don’t have all day,” urged the stranger, finally I was down to my Marks and Spencer underpants. “Those as well.” I blushed and took them off. At the best of times my equipment was below standard issue, now while I was nervous I suspect my nipples stuck out more than junior did.

The stranger walked round me again, “Hmm, looks very possible. Read this,” he shoved a piece of card in front of me.

‘There was no possibility of taking a walk that day. We had been wandering, indeed, in the leafless shrubbery an hour in the morning; but since dinner (Mrs. Reed, when there was no company, dined early) the cold winter wind had brought with it clouds so sombre, and a rain so penetrating, that further out-door exercise was now out of the question.

"Jane, I don't like cavillers or questioners; besides, there is something truly forbidding in a child taking up her elders in that manner. Be seated somewhere; and until you can speak pleasantly, remain silent."

“Read it out aloud, you clot.” He said sarcastically, which I didn’t think I deserved as I was doing what he’d asked me to do. I blushed and something got even smaller, I could almost feel it trying to crawl back into my groin.

It so happens, I wasn’t too bad at reading aloud, and had done it for things in both junior and high school, so I tried to do it as well as I could.

He looked at me again, “Hmm, needs a bit of work but not too bad, a nip and tuck here and there. Okay, we’ll take her.”

I looked at him in astonishment. “Get dressed, get your kit and report back here in half an hour. We have a job for you.”

“Might I ask what sort of job, Sir?”

“No, now hurry up or I’ll stick you on a charge.”

“Yes, Sir.”

I dressed and scrambled to my room–yes we actually had single rooms–packed everything I could carry into my kitbag and suitcase and was back at the major’s office in twenty five minutes.

The stranger directed me to his car and told me to dump my possessions in the boot, which I did. Ten minutes later we were driving, but to where I had no idea. Whenever I asked anything he gave me a hard stare and I went back into silent mode. Surely it wasn’t anything hush hush, I mean I was the lowest of the low, so I was quite surprised when I recognised signs for Aldermaston–where they do the nuclear stuff, bomb and missiles and such like. Shit, what was I getting into.

The car went through a checkpoint but not at the main centre, this was a small place quite a way past the main buildings–like a couple of miles beyond. The stranger showed his ID and I gave mine, the sentry checked us against a list he had on a clipboard and raised the barrier, we drove on down a narrow lane stopping in front of an old house, as in country houses–you know straight out of Charlotte bloody Bronte.

“Follow me,” I was instructed and without stopping to collect my kit from the back of the car, I walked quickly after the man. He knew where he was going and I tagged along down corridors which had once been some very rich family’s home–now it was more institutionalised, lino over tiled or blocked floors, that sort of thing, however, the paintwork was clean and in good order so someone was taking some care of the place.

We arrived at a door where I was told to wait while he went inside. I watched one or two girls go past carrying bits of paper–presumably office wallahs–well it is the army, everything in triplicate despite having computers big enough to control a whole battlefield, they were still using paper.

I was called into the office. “So this is her, is it?” said a woman officer. I looked around to see if I’d missed something or someone. “Okay, soldier, strip–” twice in one day and I don’t think she was wanting me as a sperm donor.

I stood there bollock naked while she poked and prodded, fingered my doodah, which twitched in her hand much to her amusement, and touched my nipples making hums and haws to herself. “She might just do, Colonel.” So I was being chauffeured by a full colonel–no wonder he kept treating me as if he’d stepped in something.

“When did you last eat?” asked the woman who it seemed was a doctor. I was hoping for some food, my stomach was rumbling.

“Breakfast, ma’am.”

“Which was?”

“Six hundred hours, ma’am.”

“Good, we can start it now, here, put this on,” she threw me a hospital type gown. “Leave your clothes there, c’mon girl, we haven’t got much time.”

I was becoming a bit concerned that people were referring to me in the female, and while I might not be Tarzan personified I was still a man, albeit a smallish one.

I was led to medical room and asked a whole pile of questions about my family history, you know the stuff diabetes, heart disease, mental illness, drug allergies and any other sensitivities. I felt like declaring cowardice but thought better of it–these two didn’t look like they had much sense of humour.

Next thing my wrist is swabbed and a cannula was shoved into a vein, by some bloke in scrubs. They ask me to sit on the table–an operating table–and my nerve began to fail me.

“Just what are you going to do to me? I haven’t signed any consent forms.”

“Just lie back and think of England,” said a large man in blue scrubs, someone injected something into my cannula and...

I came to wondering where the hell I was, but as I was still sleepy, I didn’t care and slipped back into sleep. Eventually, I woke enough to ask for water, only my throat was sore, my face felt funny and my chest and groin hurt.

“Here we are, just sip it gently, me darlin’.” I wouldn’t have minded if some twenty year old nurse had been saying this, but it was thirty something male medical orderly.

He gave me some pills and an injection. I was attached to a drip and had one of those oxygen pipe thingies under my nose. I went off to sleep again and was woken by the big bloke who was still in scrubs–goodness, his dress sense was worse than mine.

“Don’t try to talk for a couple of days, we did a small procedure on your vocal chords. How do you feel?”

I mimed ‘terrible’ and he smiled a set of huge white gnashers and I wondered if they were his own or had been improved.

He said something to the orderly who gave me yet another pill. I sat up to take it and discovered that my chest felt larger than it had when I arrived–what the hell was going on? I tried to fit the glass of water to my mouth, but my lips felt like I’d been to the dentist and had a jab for a filling. I also became aware that my groin felt very strange.

I put my hand down to it and couldn’t feel my little weaner, I gasped and someone jabbed me in the leg and the lights went out.

The next time I woke up, I was wearing a nightdress–yes, a bloody nightie, and what felt like a bra. The woman medical officer came to see me. “Ah, Miss Montgomery, how do you feel?”

“Miss?” I squeaked and gasped at my voice.

“For the moment, yes it’s Miss.”

“Why?” I squeaked again, sounding like an enraged Minnie Mouse.

“They need you to do a mission.”

“So why have they done this to me?”

“They needed you to look like a female.”

“Oh, so that’s alright then,” I said sarcastically.

“I’m glad you think so, it’ll make things much easier.”

“No I don’t think so,” I sounded like a ten year old girl.

“Oh, too bad–you should have considered this before you volunteered for Special Ops.”

“I didn’t volunteer–what have they done to my voice?”

“Just tightened your vocal chords a little–want to know what else?”

I nodded dreading that she was going to say they’d cut it off and turned me into a woman.

“They did a shave of your thyroid cartilage,” when I looked blankly at her, she elaborated, “Adam’s apple–you don’t have one anymore.”

I was waiting for this to be said of down below.

“You now have a pair of breasts which they need to enlarge to match the rest of your frame–don’t worry, once this is all over, they can remove them again.”

Well that was something I suppose.

“They did liposuction round your waist which gives you one a bit more pronounced than before, and they shoved the fat into your hips and bum–so you have a decent sized tush now.”

Gee thanks–all I ever wanted was a bubble butt, not.

“Down below, they did a little procedure which will hurt for a while but you will find it gets easier.”

This was it–the sixty four dollar question–and I asked it, “What did they do?”

“Effectively, they gave you a false pudenda.”

“A what?”

“Once it’s settled down, it’ll look like you have labia–a fanny?”

I nodded. I knew what labia were, I just didn’t have any before–not down there anyway.

“Don’t worry, they didn’t cut anything off, just disguised it. Essentially, you were lucky you’re such a little guy, they pushed the testes back up into you abdomen, and pretty much did the same with your penis, then they stitched the penis into place and stitched your empty scrotum around it, so you can pee, or will do when we take the catheter out, but you’ll have to sit to do it. It can all be restored once the job is over, hopefully with no harmful effects.”

“What if I get excited?” It seemed unlikely seeing as it sounded as if they turned me inside out and it felt like it too, all done with a nail gun.

“Ah, yes, you won’t, they gave you an implant to stop that.”

“What sort of implant?”

“An oestrogen one, like they do for contraceptives for women–it’s no big deal, but it will stop your little fellow becoming a slightly less little fellow.” She laughed at her own joke. I didn’t think it was funny.

“I don’t remember consenting to any of this,” I said as menacingly as possible, but with my squeaky high pitched voice it sounded more querulous–but that’s how I felt, very querulous. In fact, if I hadn’t been in bed, I’d have stamped my foot to show how angry I felt–that would show ‘em.

“You didn’t directly, but you agreed when you came over to S.O. that you’d do whatever was required by the unit. I mean, most of our team are prepared to die for the success of the unit if they have to, so this whinging about a few cosmetic procedures, seems very juvenile.”
“What? I don’t think it’s juvenile to complain that you’ve turned me into a bloody woman without my say so.”

“You’re not a bloody woman–menstruation is not possible.”

“Halleluiah–thank goodness for small mercies.”

“Miss Montgomery, you are getting very close to insubordination.”

“Well I think you lot are guilty of GBH with a medical licence, and I’m not, Miss.”
“According to your records and ID you are, Miss Alexandra Montgomery and work for the Inland Revenue as a clerk.”

I went to say something when I remembered my mouth felt funny, “What happened to my lips–they feel like I’ve been to the dentist?”

“They gave you collagen implants–they tend to disappear over six months or so, but you actually have a lovely mouth now, which is just as well because you’re going to need to kiss a few frogs to get your way to our target.”

“Why couldn’t they use a normal woman–why mess me about?”

“It was quicker to change you than it would be to train a female operative to your level of expertise with weapons systems.”

“What am I going to do–give a blow job to a missile?”

“No, to the bloke who will be trying to fire it at us, after you’ve reprogrammed it to self detonate.”

“I’m not kissing any bloke–I’m not a poofter.”

“No, you’re an honorary female, so it isn’t homosexual–and don’t worry, we’ll train you in the seduction stuff.”

“What if I refuse?”

“We can’t let you go, now I’m afraid...”

“So you’ll kill me?”

“If you’d let me finish, I’d have said we couldn’t let you go until after the operation is over–assuming we can find a replacement for you.”

“You’d better start looking then, because I don’t feel particularly cooperative–must be on my period.” I sat and folded my arms and pouted.

“That is so precious, Alexandra, absolutely all girl.”

“Oh piss off,” I said and pulled the bedclothes over my head.

“You wait until the Colonel comes back.”

I waved my second finger at her, palm up.

This is an idea that came into my head this afternoon - dunno if I'll continue it or pull it. Opinions please as comments or PMs.