Soldier of Missfortune 8 by Angharad Copyright © 2011 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

“You look better than I expected,” Mum said as she came in to sit by my bed.

“It’s good to see you–I didn’t expect you–so this is a lovely surprise.”

“I wasn’t sure about coming after I had such a shock the last time we met.”

“Oh that–yeah–I don’t know how much Colonel Stone prepared you for that.”

“He said we’d have a shock–he wasn’t kidding, was he? Your dad’s blood pressure has been up ever since.”

“It didn’t exactly do much for mine.”
“No–but at least you’re getting what you wanted out of it. I don’t know where we went wrong.”

“Hang about–getting what I wanted out of it? I told you in my letter that this was all the army’s fault.”

“You did not, you said how you’d always wanted to be a girl and you hoped we’d understand. Your dad was happy to have a son who wasn’t too butch, but he didn’t think you were gay or anything.”

“I’m not gay.”

“No, you’re in denial aren’t you?”

“No I’m not.”

“You must be if you want a vagina and men to have sex with you–it’s too much for me–and your dad is a broken man–to think we produced you.”

“If that’s what you think why did you come?”

“To try and talk you out of doing anything irrevocable.”

“You’re too late–they’ve done it.”

“You’re a woman?”

“Apparently–wanna look?”

“Don’t be disgusting. So you went ahead with it despite our pleading you not to. I’m sorry Alexander, but I have nothing more to say to you. I had a son–I don’t need a daughter.”

I was so upset I couldn’t seem to answer her, that she was believing the black propaganda–none of which was true–the fact that I left my balls in a tree isn’t even being mentioned–that I was unconscious when they did it–hasn’t been raised–no one is listening to me. Don’t I count in all this somewhere?”

I got so upset, I refused to eat and pulled the drip out twice–they zapped me with a tranquiliser injection and I slept for about twenty hours and woke feeling like I’d been out on the piss all night.

“Hello, sleepyhead.”

I half recognised the voice, I peered and saw Clare, one of Reynolds’ daughters, the elder one.

“Hello,” I said trying to use the energy of her smile to boost my own low levels.

“We heard about the accident–Todd had been drinking hadn’t he?”

“I can’t remember anything about it.”

“And you got a torn bladder?”

“So they say. I can hardly argue can I?”

“I s’pose not. Daddy feels quite upset by it all, inviting you to the dinner party and then nearly getting you killed by friendly fire.”

“That’s one way of putting it, I suppose.”

“Cheer up–at least you didn’t damage your pretty face or those amazing boobs.”

“That seems a strange thing for a girl to say.”

“Does it?” she blushed scarlet.

“Yes, I’d have thought it was the sort of thing that a boy would say.”

“Or a gay woman.”

“I hadn’t got that far, but yes I could imagine one saying it–not that I know any I can ask to verify it.”

“You do now.”

“No, Clare, I said I didn’t know an–oh.” Now it was my turn to blush.

“I tried boys but they didn’t do anything for me–like going out with kids–but girls–we’re so much more mature and well–you know?”

I didn’t actually but was frightened to say I didn’t in case she thought I was a twit.

“But then you’re a virgin, aren’t you?” She continued to make me blush.

“Not any more–they went through there to fix my bladder apparently.”

She blushed, “Sorry, I didn’t mean it quite like that–you’re a very pretty girl, Lexi.”

“I didn’t think so,” I said and began to feel my eyes filling with moisture.

“Oh, Lexi, don’t cry–you’re beautiful, really you are.” She gave me a little hug–as much as the drip would allow–and my whole body went all fuzzy. She looked at me and said, “You enjoyed that, didn’t you?”

I sniffed and nodded, “How d’ya know?”

“Because your nipples are standing out about half a mile.”

“I’m sorry,” I blushed redder than ever.

“It’s okay–do I detect a kindred spirit?”

“You mean–am I–um–l?”

“Lesbian–perhaps a lipstick variety.”

“I dunno–how would I know–I mean I’ve never thought of it before.”

“Oh–most of us just know–so maybe you aren’t.”

“I think I might enjoy finding out,” I blushed even redder and felt like I was about to catch fire.

“Excuse me?” she said and gave me a strange look.

I didn’t know where to look, I felt about six inches tall and wanted to fall into a hole and have it cover me up quickly–yet she was the most exciting person I’d ever seen–if I hadn’t decorated a hedgerow with it–my little thingy would have been standing proud like mini tent pole.

“I think you’re one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen, Clare.”

She gave me another funny look, “What’s that supposed to mean–you fancy me or something?”

I’m sure I could smell burning I was so hot with embarrassment. I blushed and nodded.

“Oh,” she said and looking at her watch said, “I’ve gotta go–see ya.” She rushed off as if she was late for an appointment–perhaps she was. I sat back and wept–I’d probably made a complete fool of myself–I’d lost the opportunity to tell my mother the truth because she was so wrapped up in her own prejudices–and now I’d driven off the most beautiful girl I’d ever met. I was a failure full stop–I pulled out the drip again and the alarm went off–I got another jab and oblivion.

“Miss Montgomery, if you keep removing the drip, how can you expect to recover? Your accident caused you to lose a great deal of blood, we’re still trying to replace that–it’s expensive, and has been donated by decent folk who deserve better than you emptying it all over the floor of this room. Do I make myself clear?”

Mr Sedgewick, the urologist, was reading me the riot act.

“Look, young lady, if you intend to kill yourself I wish you’d told me before I spent nearly ten hours rebuilding your body–I could have more happily spent the time seeing someone who appreciated my efforts, played golf, or even spent time with my wife and family.”

I looked up at him and felt the tears streaming down my face. “I’m sorry,” I almost whispered it was so feeble.

“Look, dear girl, I don’t know what’s your problem but they asked me to perform miracles on your rather damaged body. I assumed that because your tiny little willie was stitched up inside your abdomen, that you didn’t have much use for it. The fact is that when I saw it, it had been torn out of its hiding place and was hanging on by a tiny flap of skin–your gonads having since departed this place–courtesy of the piece of tree which pierced your bladder and virtually amputated your penis. I managed to save a tiny bit as a clitoris, and some of the skin–hence the need to use some of your ileum. However, you’ll eventually have a very useable vagina–so do cheer up. You make a very attractive young woman–enjoy yourself–break a few hearts–get laid–life’s too short an’ all that–okay?”

I sniffed and nodded. Whatever happened in future, I was never going to re-grow the bits that were missing so maybe I did need to think of how best to survive with what I now had–or take a running jump off a short pier.

I was apparently the lucky one–Todd had lost more than his manhood–he’d lost his legs–I’d just lost a few inches of flesh and two little spherical things and gained a large hole between my legs–well it didn’t feel that large–it was all dressed in bandages with drains and things coming out and it felt a bit tender, that’s all. Actually it felt rather strange–because part of me felt like I had an erection but of what?

If I decide I want to live–and so far the only reason for doing so is to try and get some justice–I was transformed into whatever I am now against my will–or would have been if they’d actually told me what they were doing. That doesn’t include the surgeon–he did the best he could to sort out what must have been quite a mess. Given how he saw me, and how ill advised he was by others, he did the best he could–quite how I feel about it–I don’t know–I mean about it my new plumbing arrangement–the bit that goes in which should stick out–that bit.

I had no idea how long I’d been in hospital–at least a week–I think they said I’d been out for a week–so how long ago was that?

“Well, Lexi, are you going to wash yourself today?” asked the nurse.

“Exactly how long have I been here?”

“About twelve days, why?”

“Just wondered.”

“If you’d stop pulling the drip out you’d get home sooner.”

“I don’t have a home–my parent’s disowned me.”

“What for?”

“They don’t like having a daughter.”

“That’s plain stupid–you’re a very pretty girl–they should be proud of you instead of sticking their heads up their arses. Bah–people–give me cats any day.”

She left the bowl of warm water and my flannel and towel with it. I waited until she pulled the curtain across before lifting up my nightdress and pulling it off over my head–I couldn’t take it off completely because of my drip. I washed myself as best I could and dried myself. I looked at the bandage hiding the new part of me and blushed. I don’t think I’d ever seen a real pussy, except in photos and in films, and now I had one. It felt really strange–I don’t mean–it literally felt strange–well it did, wrapped up like a Christmas present–I meant–I felt strange about having it. I was so naive and so inexperienced.

I washed under and around my breasts–they so badly wanted someone to touch them–they seemed even more sensitive since my accident. Could I make it as a girl, I hardly did as a boy? I really didn’t know. Did I want to be a lesbian or did I want the hands caressing my breasts to be those of a man? I didn’t know that either. I suppose I was passive–could I be a passive lesbian? I had no idea–and besides, I’d scared off the only person who made me want to love them.

With help, I got my hair washed and that felt better–it looked real and I looked forward to when I could get my hair restyled into something softer and more feminine–hang on–oh forget it–I’m a girl now whether I like it or not–so let’s make the best of it.

They’d taken the drip out–my blood count was up to normal–hoo–bloody–ray. They’d even hinted that the packing would come out tomorrow–down below–you know. I was hoping I’d be allowed up sometime soon as well.

I was reading a book–a chick lit thing, aimed at teenagers I suspect–the plot was ludicrous, about some girl who was in love with–oh forget it. I put it down in exasperation. Once I get out of here, life really gets challenging, and I don’t just mean looking for loos with toilet paper in–boys have it so easy, wee and shake–but I mean, how do I get away from the army? They’re not going to let me go because they’d invested a lot of money in me and presumably have been setting up this hit, I have to do for some time. How do I tell them I’m not going to do it?

I was deep in thought when a familiar voice said, “Oh, you’ve done your hair differently?”

I looked up and there was Clare, “Hi,” I said smiling.

“I brought you some flowers and some chocolate–every girl needs chocolate.”

“Hmm, thanks, this one does at any rate.” She chuckled and I did too. Maybe there was a God after all.