Chapter 4 – Is it Arthur or Martha?

“But first” he said “we should have a meal. I am sure that it has been a long day for you so far.” We served ourselves from the tureens and sat down to eat. It was a pleasant enough meal if you discounted the fact that I was sitting there in a dressing gown and wig.

There was no shop-talk while we ate and afterwards Sir Lionel took me through to the library where coffee pots waited for us. He poured me a coffee and I sat in an easy chair. I could get used to this level of service! He sat opposite me and said “Arthur, you have no idea just what ructions you have caused us. I have colleagues who want you taken to be hung; others who just want to shoot you and bury you somewhere isolated. The more religious of them are happy with your appearance, even if it means the ‘End of Days’. They have surmised that we have had heat waves, floods, swarms of locusts, drought and the recent pandemic so it must be that you, and your baby, are the next step. Churches around the country are reporting huge increases in attendance.”

I said “I am sorry to have been a burden, Sir Lionel; I can assure you that none of it is my doing. It all started with that idiot reporter and the equally stupid radiographer. It all happened while I was tucked away in a hospital bed.” “That’s all right, my boy” he said “we understand what caused all of this but the basic problem is that you were a bloke with a baby inside him. You are at the start of a new journey and I want you to be happy with what is in store. My first priority is to keep you safe and well and then in a fit state to go full term. The baby is really the most important person here. When he, or she, is born, they will be the first truly virgin birth that we have recorded. I don’t go with the Virgin Mary stuff; she was a married woman, for goodness sake, out on a business trip with her husband.”

I took a sip of coffee, making sure my gown properly covered my genitals and then said “I think there are a lot of churchmen out there who would take offense at that statement.” He grinned and answered “Don’t be too sure, young Arthur, I have met a lot of the leaders of different religions and for most of them it is just a good job where they just have to say the right things to live a life of luxury. There are, I give you, a lot of people in the churches who do good things for the right reasons but, in most cases, they are not the ones in charge. Look, I will come clean here. I am doing this as a long-term project. I, and a small number of like-minded people, have realised that having you and your child as a rallying point we may be able to make some sense out of the chaos. We will look after you for as long as it takes and you will want for nothing. There will be no stories in the magazines, no film and no nagging. We just want you to go down the path to womanhood, have your baby naturally, if possible, and then we will look at the situation then.”

He poured himself a brandy and carried on. “If the child is stillborn or disfigured we will give you enough money to live peacefully somewhere. If the child is whole, hearty and able to grow up normally, we will give you a place like this to live in. There would be nannies, teachers and assistants galore if you need them. The only thing we ask is that we can then go to the people with the two of you alongside us. Yes, it is all about power, but it is, for us, the need to have power to do good things. It is only a year out of your life and I am certain that you will start to enjoy life as a woman; almost every woman I have met has said that it is wonderful to be female.”

I laughed and drank some more coffee. “What about the operations and the feminisation?” I asked. He said “All of it is in hand. There is a full operating theatre in the Army camp nearby and we can get you there and back by helicopter. There is a separate ward there as well where they look after anyone sick from the guardhouse so you will be secure. We will bring in specialists to do the work; some of them have offered their services just for the experience. When the operations are over and you are recovering, you will be here with a few more specialists, this time ones who will teach you all the things you will need to know. In the meantime we will create the paperwork for the person you will become. We will then be able to move your own savings into an account in that name without leaving a trail. For all intents and purposes, Arthur Prendergast will be no more.”

“Of course” he added, “we need you to decide what your new name will be so we can get the paperwork sorted.” I had a few seconds of thought and then said “My name will be Morgan Josephine. I would choose Pendragon as a surname but, to be a bit more modern, we can make it Pendleton.” “Right!” he said as he wrote it down, getting me to spell it out so that he got it right. “When you have the baby have you had any thought about the childs’ name?” I had an answer to that straight away. “Merilyn” I said.

“You are surely well versed in the Arthurian myth” he said “Gwen has mentioned that you twigged my little game almost immediately. I have to admit as being deep into the stories myself as there could well be some small truths back there in the third to sixth century. Geoffrey of Monmouth had a plausible story but I am sorry that Malory totally messed it up with the fanciful ‘Mort d’Arthur’, I doubt whether anyone would take the story seriously anymore. It does bring in the tourists, though. I do have to admit that it was a hell of a job finding good security people with the right names for my own knights. Gwen was a real find as she is focused and fearless as well as being so good to look at.”

We then chatted for an hour or so, he regaling me with anecdotes from the depths of Whitehall. It was all very surreal, me sitting in my wig and gown, trying to make sure that I didn’t flash my cock at him when I moved; and him in his suit pants and a cardigan drinking enough brandy to pickle his kidneys. In the end we said goodnight and I went to bed. When I got to my room I found a black nightdress laying on my bed and a note that told me to make sure that I started my new cleansing routine tonight. With a sigh I took off the wig, went into the bathroom and used the creams as advised, sat for a pee and then put the nightie on, got into bed and tried to sleep. It was eerily quiet after the constant noise in the hospital but I did manage to drift off naturally for the first time in days.

The next morning I was woken by an alarm clock beside my bed. I had no recollection of setting it myself and that question was answered when Gwen opened my bedroom door and said “Breakfast in twenty minutes, just put the gown on over the nightie and we will get you dressed for a little exercise after you’ve eaten.” I looked at the time and it was only six-thirty but groaned a bit as I got out, took my ablutions and put the gown and slippers on to go for breakfast. Again there were the tureens but this time had a range of country squire breakfast foods. There was a toasting machine like they have in hotels and I put a couple of wholemeal slices through while I got some coffee.

Gwen and Lance were there and they told me that the team had now split so that they would give twenty-four hour coverage from now on. Percival and Tristan would be the night shift while Eric and Griff would handle the evenings. Hector would be floating while Geraint and Gareth manned the gate. From today the team would take their meals in the kitchen except for Gwen, who would be at my side for most of her shift. I was not expected to be going out after six. After I had eaten Gwen took me back to my room and told me to shower and wash my hair again as today I was to be prepared for a little taste of female life. With just the gown on I was taken to a room with some salon equipment in it and then subjected to the torture of the thousand wax strips. She even used some small ones on my face. “That will hold you until we can do the better treatment” she said as she allowed me to put the gown back on “when you have your new face will be soon enough for the rest of the treatments. It’s not as if we are in a hurry.”

Back in my room she got me to put on panties and a bra which embarrassed the hell out of me until she reminded me that this would be an everyday thing from now on. No padding in the bra as she said it was just to get used to putting it on for when I really did need it. Then it was leggings and a long top which she called a tunic. Ankle socks and some walking shoes were followed by a cardigan and matching beanie. We then went outside and I had a good walk for the first time in a week. Now I knew what the odd feeling in my gut was, it did not bother me like it had so I was able to stride out without being afraid of hurting myself more. We did a full circuit around the house and it was wonderful to be there, especially with a beautiful woman by my side. It was then I realised that it was no big thing now; it would be different if it was a handsome man. I stopped and hyperventilated for a few moments with Gwen looking worried.

“Feeling sick?” she asked. I calmed down and said “No, not sick. Just realised that once I had the operation I will be a bit like you but I doubt that there would be any chaps chasing me unless they wanted to kill me.” She laughed and said “I have had a few of those in my time but it is the ones who want to take you for their own you have to worry about. Often you don’t see their agenda until it is too late. I am sure that you will pick it up as you go along but I have found that when you look at a guy and your heart lurches, it is either time to dive in head first or else just get out of Dodge and forget him.” She hooked her arm in mine and we carried on at a slower pace with her telling me about some of her experiences with men. It would have been strange just a week ago but I now knew that these were all things I had to take note of as they may be life-savers in times to come.

We did three full circuits before lunch and then she subjected me to an afternoon of lessons in walking, talking and acting like the girl I was to become. The last part was swapping the tunic for a dress and learning to sit properly and to pick things up by bending my knees. The evening meal was taken with me still in the dress and everyone was now calling me Morgan. After the meal we three went into the library again and Gwen nodded when I properly swept my skirt before sitting. Two of us were offered sherry while Sir Lionel again pickled his kidneys with brandy.

Marianne G © 2021