Soldier of Missfortune 7 by Angharad Copyright © 2011 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

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The conversation amongst the women degenerated as the wine flowed. In fear of making mistakes, I made one glass last me all evening, so was the only one sober by the end.

The stories the two older women were telling about their husbands were hair curling if not toe curling too. Stories about their sexual inadequacies or affairs the husbands and their wives had had–I found it embarrassing, to say the least. I mean, I’ve heard a few bar room discussions with men where I found the content difficult to take–partly because of the language. I know we all use the F-word from time to time, but some of the squaddies and NCOs use it all the time as their main adjective, verb, and so on. The women were less crude in their language but just as much so in content.

I was half expecting a discussion based on hair styles or fashion trends, or even the sewing–which Philippa Reynolds obviously enjoyed. The once or twice I tried to raise subjects about such impersonal things, they quickly brought it back to sex, drugs and rock ‘n roll.

“What’s the matter, Lexi, are we embarrassing you?” asked Helen Stone.

“Perhaps she’s still a virgin?” joked Philippa Reynolds.

“You’re not are you?” asked Clare.

“She is,” chuckled Joy–and she was right. I was still a virgin and with my dick sewn into my abdomen, likely to remain that way for a while longer.

They all laughed then, and I went as red as my nails. “I’ll speak to Todd, he’ll sort you,” joked Clare–I hoped she was joking–I also hoped the Colonel hadn’t drunk as much as his wife or I’d have to get a cab home.

I looked at the clock, it was eleven, by now I’d be heading back to my room with my mates from the mess or the pub if we had permits–curfew was midnight. Or I could be on guard duty, wandering round with a gun and no ammo–though whenever there was a raised terrorist alert, we got five rounds which we had to hand back afterwards.

Great, they turn up with AK47s and rifle propelled grenades and we shout bang once our five rounds were used up. I remember Spike Milligan writing about his wartime experiences and his gun crew having no ammunition to practice with, so they’d do the drill and shout bang when they pretended to fire. I must read it again, his war memoirs.

“Ho, dreaming of Todd, are we?” said a rather drunken colonel’s wife.”

“Sorry, ma’am, no–can I help?”

“If you can hold the room still while I just meander across it–oops,” I took her arm and led her out of the room. Colonel Stone heard us and walked out.

“Helen–not pissed again–every time?” he shook his head.

“She’sh not pished, she’sh shtil shtandin’,” Pippa Reynolds offered a rather inebriated opinion.

“Helen, you were supposed to be driving us back–remember?” The colonel said briskly to his wife.

“Ha haha,” she said, “I forgot, silllllleeee meeee, oopsh.”

“I could drive, sir,” I volunteered, more to get home than anything else.

“I don’t think so, Lexi, I’ll have to do it.”

I was going to argue but his stare changed my mind. Oh well, if we all get killed that should cause a few interesting questions to be raised both locally and in Parliament about employing transsexuals–even though I’m not one–I’m undercover–that’s all–deep cover–so bloody deep I can’t see the sun anymore.

“Come on, in the car you stupid cow,” the colonel urged his wife who was giggling and falling all over the place. So that’s what being married to an army officer does to you–remind me not to make that mistake–bloody men.

Just after we’d got her into his car I realised she’d left her wrap behind and I dashed back into the house only to see the tail lights of his car disappearing into the night.

“Oh that’s just bloody wonderful,” I said out loud.

“What is, Lexi?” asked a male voice behind me.

I turned and Major Reynolds was standing there. “The colonel has gone off without me, I came back to get his wife’s wrap, sir.”

“Oh bad show–I can’t take you–had a drink or two, dunno about Todd.” He wandered back into the house.

“If you could call me a cab, sir.” I called after him.

“That’ll cost you a fortune, Lexi, I didn’t think corporals made that much–do they?”

“No, sir.”

“I’ll take her,” said Todd Pearce, “I can go back that way–no problemo.”

“That’s very kind, Captain Pearce, but I could easily get a cab.”

“I’m all kindness, especially with sexy young women, Lexi,” he winked at me.

“I’m sure you are, sir, but you’ve been drinking, sir.”

“Not very much–I have to be up early to watch some prat doing something–you know the army–one workman and three officers to watch, make sure they’re doing it properly.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Okay, Sexy Lexi, in ya get.” He peeped the remote for his car–a Volvo something or other, it looked new and shiny.

I had no escape short of turning tail and running off–and in these shoes–unlike films I was not going to run across fields, woodland and swamps without losing a stiletto–so I got in the car.

“It’s alright, Lexi, I’m not going to eat you–unless you ask me really nicely.”

I swallowed.

He started his car and we drove down the lane to the main road. “We didn’t have much chance to talk did we?”

“No, sir.”

“Dammit, woman, we’re not on duty now–it’s just Todd–okay?”

“Yes, sir, Todd.”

“No, just Todd–you’re a very attractive woman–d’ya know that, Lexi?”

“Ummm–am I, sir–I mean, Todd, sir?”

“Oh yes, and those tits of yours are just calling out to be touched and sucked, aren’t they?” His hand stroked my breast and I paused in my efforts to leave the car at fifty miles an hour. It was nice but what would come with it wouldn’t be.

“Oh, that is so good, Jesus the size of your nipples, girl...”

“Sir, watch out...” I tried to grab the wheel but it was too late, we mounted the kerb and smashed through a hedge before I felt an impact and everything went black.

I had a vague dreamlike feeling of voices and hands easing me onto something flat. I woke up in hospital with tubes in every orifice plus some. “Well young lady, and it is young lady now.”

“What d’you mean?” I croaked.

“You’ve been asleep for a week, we had to do some repairs to your bladder and discovered that your very convincing mock pudenda was just that. We checked with your MO and he said you were transsexual on the list for surgery–so we helped you jump the queue a bit.”

“I’m sorry, sir–I don’t understand.”

“We’ve given you the op–we have a urologist who used to work at Charing Cross.”

“What op, sir?”

“A sex change,” he said quietly shaking his head.

“But I...”I felt my eyes fill with tears and I sobbed.

“Yes, I know you thought you’d have to wait a bit longer–well we thought you’d be pleased.”

I think it was at this point that I passed out or something because I woke up again on my own and had to wait for a nurse to come and help me get a drink.

“There we are, Lexi, sip it gently.”

“What have they done to me, exactly?”

“They did your vaginoplasty and clitoroplasty, so you’ll be able to have reasonable sex–they took a bit of your ileum to do that.

“You had so little for reconstructive surgery that they had to take a bit from your gut, so you’ll have a self-lubricating channel as a vagina.”

“Great,” I said.

“Your bladder got torn when part of a tree stuck into your groin–I’m afraid, that if you’d been a normal man, it would have probably severed everything anyway.”

“Great.”

“It could have been worse, Lexi–just think, you’d have been a bloke without a dick and now you’re a fully formed female–like you wanted to be.”

“Who told you that?”

“Your army medical officer, your commanding officer and your parents–I get the impression they were a bit snotty, but they were your next of kin, and they gave us authority to carry on because they knew it’s what you would have said had you been conscious. You really hit the jackpot, because one of the best surgeons in the country is our consultant urologist.”

“Why is my chest sore?”

“Ah, yes, they had to rebuild it somewhat–the impact damaged your implants, and we managed to get enough fat from your gut to rebuild them with fatty implants–it’s the latest thing–so no bags of saline, it’s all you and you have a waist like a sylph.”

“Great.”

“Initially your boobs will be a bit smaller, but you might well grow a bit with the hormones which will be more effective now you’re not producing much testosterone. I think you’ll have a brilliant body.”

“Great.”

“I suppose it’s just the shock of achieving all this so quickly that’s making you seem unimpressed, is it?”

“Something like that, I suppose.”

“Your parents were notified that you’d regained consciousness but they declined to come and see you.”

That was hardly a surprise–well, whether they like it or not–they now have a daughter. Whether I like it or not–I happen to be that daughter. Oh fuck.

“Your commanding officer is coming in this afternoon, he’s delighted that you’re on the mend.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet he is.”

“Look on the bright side–your colleague who was driving–he’s in a bad way, broke his back–he won’t be walking out of here unless some sort of miracle occurs.”

“Is he still here?”

“On orthopaedics, yeah.”

“Could someone take me to see him?”

“I suppose it could be arranged, we’ll have to check if he’s well enough for you to go.”

“Of course.”

“I’m afraid that because of the nature of the plumbing job we had to do to repair the bladder, you won’t be on solids for a few more days.”

“I don’t think I feel very hungry anyway.”

“No, maybe not–d’you want to sit up?”

I nodded and she pressed some remote control device and the bed began to hum, the back rest lifting me into a sitting position. I sat there listening to the radio in my locker–once again in a private room–this time on women’s surgical.

After a wash–bed-bath variety–and my hair combed, I felt a bit better. I was now wearing one of my own nightdresses so that felt better than a hospital gown. I was still on drips and things and still in a state of shock. My dreams of going back to my normal masculine self were now all to hell. I didn’t hold the doctors to blame–they just did their best for me–or what they were told was the best for me. I’d have quite a bone to pick with Stone when he arrived. One good thing, his stupid idea of this target thing was finished, so it’s all been in vain–ain’t life just wunnerful? Stupid army.

I was black and blue in various places, some of it from the accident, some from the surgery. I felt really beautiful in my white elastic stockings and the missing bits between them. Yeah–I know–they’re still hanging on a tree somewhere.

The nurse returned and told me they could take me down to see Captain Pearce. Somehow, I managed to wriggle into a wheelchair, one that could take my catheter bag and my drip, and with a blanket wrapped over my legs a porter pushed me to the lift and thence to orthopaedics.

Todd Pearce was also in a private room–on an air mattress, with drips and so on. He looked a real mess, his face was all bruised and so was his upper body–he lay naked under the bed linen as far as I could tell.

“Sir, excuse me not saluting.” I said as I was wheeled alongside him.

“Lexi–sorry doll, dunno what happened, but I could walk before I came in here–an’ I never got to shag you–bugger–I won’t now–can’t feel it let alone use it.”

“Tell you what, sir, if ever you do find it works again give me a shout and I’ll see what I can do.” Offering sex to a paraplegic was hardly an act of charity, but compared to him, I had some sort of future–quite what–had yet to be determined.

“Yeah, thanks Lexi, it might be a while–I’ve got a lot to catch up with first–but I’ll keep you in mind.”

“You do that, Captain.”

“I expect they’ll kick me out now–can’t do much bomb disposal from a wheel chair can I?”

“Oh I don’t know, sir...”

“You know the old joke, if your bomb disposal chap is running away, it’s a real emergency. Can’t fuckin’ run fast in a bloody wheel chair, can you?”

“You can get electric ones, sir.”

“Yeah, sure–look beautiful, it’s good to see you’re going to be okay–you actually look really good–even without makeup–you’re quite a looker–do us a favour and piss off–too many memories,” he pointed at his middle, “if you get my drift.”

“Sure, okay.” I reached out the hand without a drip in it and he took it and kissed it and began to cry. I felt rotten and wheeled myself back out to the corridor–where they sent for the porter to take me back to my ward.

Lunch was clear soup, jelly and cup of Bovril–no solid waste–my bowel and bladder are still recovering. Great.

I was dozing when Colonel Stone came in carrying a huge bunch of flowers. “Lexi, you’re looking good.”

“I don’t feel it.”

“No? Well, once they get you back on solids eh? Couple of bacon sarnies–make a...”

“A man of me? Take more than that won’t it? You’ve seen to that.”

“Oh c’mon, Lexi, you were hardly much of a specimen of masculinity, were you?”

“Compared to a dick like you, probably not, but not everyone wants to be a total arsehole like you–some of us like who we are–or were. I wasn’t much of a man, but I was one.” With my girl’s voice it probably sounded absurd, but I at last told him what I thought of him.

“I can understand your anger, Lexi.”

“How dare you say that? How can you possibly conceive how I feel? You’ve still got your genitals, even if your wife says you’re useless in bed.”

“She said what?”

“She told us all how useless you are in bed–after she’d had a few glasses of wine–it’s about all I can remember. I suppose my dress is ruined?”

“You talk about dresses and in the same breath tell me you’re a man? Ha.”

“That dress cost me eighty quid, that’s a lot of money to me.”

“We’ll arrange some sort of compensation package.”

“I should hope so, as far as I’m concerned I was on duty when it happened. Anyway, you can add it to my redundancy package.”

“What redundancy package?”

“Well, you can hardly employ me now, can you? Despite the supposed policies, we all know the army is full of sexist bigots like you, and won’t employ sexual minorities like me–or like I am now.”

“It does and will–that equal opportunities statement is real–and I’ll make sure it’s enforced–but, um–you’re not in a minority group.”

“Come off it, sir, gender benders are hardly hanging off every tree are they–unlike my balls.”

“Officially you’re female–we got a few documents changed to ease the way.”

“Yeah, until we get to DSS and so on.”

“No–everything–birth certificate onwards.”

“So how can I sue for compensation from the accident if you’ve got me down as not having the missing bits in the first place?”

“You won’t–the insurance pay-out will be adequate, for your torn bladder and so on. Don’t worry about that–we’ve got a good chap negotiating for a quick settlement.”

I was astonished.

“But how can I go back to my unit–like this?”

“You won’t, you’ll stay with us, we still need a technician.”

“Oh–so who’s doing the job I was meant to do?”

“You are–we’ve put it back a few weeks–and you’ll be even better able to convince him, won’t you?”

I sat there speechless–no wonder they wanted the surgery done.

“Enjoy the rest, I’m off to see Todd Pearce.” He was gone before I could formulate how I felt about everything.

I sat there weeping quietly–as soon as I was out of here I was going to resign and get a job in civvy street, even if it was on the tills in Tesco. Fuck the army–fuck everyone–this guy–okay, girl is looking out for herself from now on.

I was so lost in my reverie, plotting how I’d enjoy dropping Stone in it that I didn’t notice the figure standing by the door of my room.

“Alexander, may I come in?”

I looked up and nearly died. “Muuum,” I squeaked and she smiled at me.