Chapter 5 – Morgan Emerges

Over the next week that became our routine, walks around the house and lessons in basic womanhood. One day we spent several hours on the glory of childbirth; and then some time on getting through periods. “Every woman is different” said Gwen “we will know what you are like with your first. Some women have it easy and some have some pain. All of us have mood swings and most of us become bitches for a few days.”

Every day I spent in skirts and dresses and the wig until I was getting used to being dressed that way. No-one told me I didn’t pass because that was not the point of it all. There would be time enough to brush up on making myself beautiful when I had healed. I learned about pulling on stockings so they don’t get holes, how to wear different styles of bra with different tops and, slowly, how to walk in heels. In the beginning of the second week we had a visit from a cranial-facial specialist who was choppered in along with his scanning machine. I had to sit perfectly still while he did a scan of my head and then we watched as he played with the resulting face until we had picked a feminine face that was nice enough to be considered pretty but still able to be produced with a minimum amount of surgery.

The following week I was taken in the helicopter to the Army camp where I was prepped for surgery and all of his changes were made, as well as my Adams apple being minimised. I spent a week there before going back to the house and another week before I was allowed to speak, now with a much more female tone. I just went along with it all because what else could I do? I was not looking forward to the next stage but a couple of surgeons had visited me while I was still at the camp and they assured me that my conversion was no big deal; just a matter of making an entrance to an already existing system. Also, while I was there, they did another ultrasound which showed my baby developing normally.

When all of the bandages had been removed and the bruising had faded I looked quite different and, with the wig, quite pretty. It was odd to look in the full-length mirror and see a womans face on a guys’ body but that would be the next stage. Gwen had been giving me hormones from day one and all of the effects were starting to take place. I was becoming more sensitive to the things around me and was taking a lot of notice of smell. As a guy I could appreciate a girl wearing perfume but had not realised just how men smelt different. Sir Lionel had a constant waft of brandy about him and I could tell which ones in the team smoked.

I was now well over three months into my pregnancy and it was decided that I was ready for the final operation. This time I was put on a stretcher before being loaded into the helicopter so that as few people as possible could see the new-look me. When we arrived I was taken straight into the pre-op room and given a soothing injection while they cleaned and shaved my groin. I said goodbye to my penis before I went to sleep.

They must have kept me out for several days because, when I was brought round, the orderly told me that everything was a success and that the healing was going well. After a sip of water I went back to sleep again for several hours. Next time I woke another orderly came in and I was helped to sit up and take some solid food and a sip of army tea. It was only then that I realised that I now had breasts as well. A couple of days later I was eating and drinking normally and a doctor came in to take off all the bandages to have a good look. He declared me fit and healthy and ordered the tubes to be all removed; something that I now found to be embarrassing and not a little strange, seeing that all of the nurses were blokes. They still wrapped me up in dressings which I could shower without them peeling off.

A couple of days later I was loaded back onto a stretcher wearing a hospital gown and taken out to the helicopter to go back to the house. There Gwen introduced me to Susan and Tilley, my new teachers and helpers for my next stage. Over the course of the next week they got me back on my feet and helped me in my development as a woman. Tilley was a registered nurse and looked after all of my various wounds, also showing me how to dilate, something no-one had mentioned before. Susan was a beautician and she worked on all of my nails and plumped my lips before using a machine to remove the remaining facial and body hair over several sessions.

After that she started lessons in make-up and all of the different looks you can produce by the use of colour and style. It was a lot to take in but I was now engrossed in the new me and sucked it all in like a sponge. By the time she left us I could go from the girl-next-door to princess inside half an hour. When a visiting specialist announced that all of my operations had been successful we said goodbye to Tilley and it was back to Gwen to keep me on the path; that path now being to motherhood, rather than just womanhood.

My hair had been growing in the meantime and Susan had given me a pixie-cut before she left so the person who was now Morgan was totally female and I was now appreciating just what had been done to me and for me. Sir Lionel was getting a lot more jovial as time went on and the team was working like a well-oiled machine. One odd thing that was happening was that all the men in the team were friendlier with me, especially Griff, who used his time on the evening shift to entertain me with stories from the world of the service and we would also sit in the library and chat when Sir Lionel was not present.

When I mentioned this to Gwen she laughed and told me that I was now the object of affection for the male half of the population and that some may feel more affection than others. It took me some time before I was ready to see myself as attractive. I pondered this for a while. As Arthur I had a couple of girls willing to have sex with me and I now saw that it was very much a decision that a girl makes. As Arthur I was just happy to have the sex but now realised that it was more than just that for a girl; there was also an element of trust.

We got back into a routine with my walks becoming longer and quicker. The bump was now very visible as I approached the end of the second trimester and I could swear that I felt Merilyn kicking. We were now absolutely certain that it would be Merilyn as the regular ultrasounds were very clear. Except for the trips to the army camp I had not been out of the grounds for over five months and was getting antsy but Gwen assured me that I would not be totally safe outside, even though I looked nothing like Arthur any more. We did look at the TV news every night and I knew that there were a lot of people still flocking to churches as the expected delivery date approached. The roaming bands of ‘Anti-Arthurians’ were still using me as an excuse for attacking the police and causing general mayhem.

It wasn’t exactly a surprise when Gwen suggested that I put together a ‘grab-bag’ in case I had to get out quickly so, together, we packed a case with clothing for every day wear, some new underwear and shoes. She got me a cosmetic case and we put together a range that would be suitable for several weeks, along with some new bottles of hair products. These were taken away to the garage at the back of the house and put into a black Range Rover. From that moment I kept all of my documentation in a neutral handbag which never left my side. By now I had been issued with a new passport with my new picture, a driving licence and some store and credit cards in my new name. When I looked at my bank account on-line it was doing quite nicely, considering that I was not spending a penny. The money for the house and land exceeded my expectation and there had even been a little bit back from the sale of my old car to a person who obviously thought it would be a collectors’ item in years to come, seeing what they had paid for it.

I was more than seven months pregnant when things started to look ugly. Gwen told me that there had been social media chatter about likely places where I may be hiding and one person spoken about was Sir Lionel. It appeared that he had been laying the groundwork for a campaign which I would star in, along with my child, saying that there would be a new beginning. Obviously the brandy had pickled more than his kidneys.

It was after dinner when red lights started flashing in every room. Griff was with me at the time and he said “Get a coat on, we are leaving! Meet me at the garage.” He rushed off to get his own ‘grab-bag’ and I went to my room, put on a good coat and changed from my inside shoes to a pair of sturdy boots. There was nothing else I needed so grabbed my handbag and went through the house to the garage. Griff was warming up the Range Rover and I got in the passenger seat, asking “What about the others?” He said “There is a plan in place, they are to hold up the mob long enough that we can get away and then they will escape by other routes.” He put on a set of night goggles and then we were off.

The door of the garage rolled up and he gunned the car out into the back garden and past the helicopter which was spooling up. There was a wide pathway which I had noticed on my walks and he headed for it and a frightening rate of knots in the dark. It curved around a bit before getting to a set of doors which started to open when he pressed a button on the key-fob. Out on to a road we headed north. At the corner of the wall I could see down the road towards the main gates and there was a crowd down there brandishing flaming torches. He kept the lights off until we were well away and then pulled over to take off the night vision goggles, turn on the headlights and set off again.

We went north as far as Ross-on Wye and then east towards Gloucester to pick up the M5 there to carry on north again. We stopped at the services so that I could have a pee, something I needed every couple of hours, and then he went as fast as he could until we reached the services just before Worcester. Here I had another pee while he put some petrol in the tank. When we got back in we only went as far as the northern exit to the city and we left the motorway to go into the city itself, pulling up at a posh hotel.

When he turned the engine off he looked at me and said “I don’t want to alarm you, Morgan, but I made a booking here by phone this afternoon once I thought the crowd would be coming. It is the bridal suite and you are now Mrs Jeffrey for the immediate future. It will muddy the waters more and any searches of videos along the motorway will show us heading north. Now, we need to get all of your bags out of the car and into the hotel; I have arranged for a friend of mine to take this and keep going north before torching it somewhere in Scotland. We will get something different for our further travels.” We got out of the car and unloaded our bags onto a trolley a porter had brought out for us. A younger chap came up to Griff, shook his hand and took the keys from him, getting into the car and leaving.

The porter pushed the trolley into the hotel and we went up to the counter to register. When the receptionist saw my condition she smiled and said “Was it a nice wedding, madam?” I told her it was lovely with all our families there and Griff added “Her father had a nice shiny shotgun which he kept by his side until we had signed the register.” We all had a laugh and she gave us the key-card for our room and we followed the porter to the lift and our first night as man and wife.

Marianne G © 2021