Chapter 3

As I put bra and panty sets in a drawer, she gave me the quick list of facts.

“The first thing is that this building is dedicated to giving our operatives a new appearance and background to fit in with the people they’re sent to look after. It’s no good to send an obvious westerner to keep an Arab safe. We do enough to allow them to do their job without attracting undue attention. Bancroft calls it the Drama School, and we teach men and women how to act, sometimes as the opposite sex.”

I was sorting out packs of different coloured tights as she carried on.

“We have a well-equipped salon to make your body look female, well enough to fool anyone without extremely close inspection. You’ll be an easy one as you will look like a pre-pubescent thirteen-year-old. That means just a hint of new breasts and hiding your little willy. After that, it’s just making your face more female and adding pierced ears.”

“That sounds permanent.”

“If you leave the holes alone, they could close up, or be closed enough not to notice. Your eyebrows may grow back, but that would take some time. No, the one thing that will take time is training you to think that you’re a girl and do it so well that nobody will question it. You’ll be going back to school in the girls’ dorm and doing gym with them. Hopefully, your enemy will show himself before too long, but if he stays off the radar to be sure that you’re no longer around, you may be a girl for one or two full terms.”

“Why a girl, and why back in Longburrow? I could hide out somewhere else.”

“You need to be totally different from your original look, and a girl is unexpected. As for the school, there are a lot of benefits with that. One is that you already know the place and it’s reasonably secure. Two is that there are some there to watch your back. Three is that it will give you the best education and also help to pass the time. If we put you in a safe house and home school you, you’ll be climbing the walls in a few weeks. If they know about Bancroft working with the administrators, they’ll be watching him now to see if he’s doing anything odd.”

“What about Penelope, she’s going to be sad?”

“The plan is for her to act normally for the memorial service, and then there’ll be a plaque put on the wall of the Warwick Cemetery noting your details. Nothing is going to be left to chance.”

“So, I go back to school and sleep in the girl’s dorm?”

“Actually, the plan is for you to go to the school as a late entry. You will be put into Mopsy House as daughter of a policeman who has just moved to the area. That way, you will continue your weapons training and will get self-defence classes in third year. The Mopsy dorm is some way away from the Doe dorm, and the normal lessons are in different rooms, so you won’t be mixing with your old friends. You won’t be running cross-country, but you can still run the track. Hopefully, we will find the mole in the school before too long. The police are running finance checks and background checks to see if something comes up.”

I was looking at the cosmetics that they had supplied and was setting them out on the vanity.

“Do you really think that it will take long?”

“Your enemy has played the long game so far. It’s been some years since your parents were murdered. It looks as if he had lost sight of you while you were in care. We think that he will make absolutely certain that it was you that died in the explosion. When he does contact the administrators, I expect that it will be from overseas. He will have to use his real name, even if he changed it. Then he will have to come and present himself in person. He won’t like that.”

“So, that’s when he gets arrested.?”

“If we’ve discovered who has been acting on his behalf, yes. We have to find the murderers of your parents and the lad that died, as well as the Johnsons. Then there’s the attempted murders with the bus and the wire. We’re all hoping that his men turn up at the memorial service, and then to check the plaque. That way, the police may be able to track their movements and see if they can get some DNA to match with traces that have been saved from all the crime scenes.”

When my new shoes were lined up, she took me to a canteen to have a light meal and then to the salon to have a quick inspection and my skin colour rated. She said that my hair was not long enough for extensions yet, so my early training will need a wig. After that, I was taken back to my room to see if I could have a good sleep. When I laid down, the efforts of the day caught up with me and I was out like a light.

The next morning was the start of my new self. I understood why a drastic change was needed but didn’t realise how drastic that change would be. After breakfast, with me still in a nightie and robe, I was taken to the salon for my first session. That started with any errant hair that dared to sprout below my nose was removed. That included my pubes, which were sprayed with something to deaden the nerves.

I wasn’t prepared for the next step as I had my legs put into some sort of frame which left my penis totally at the mercy of the ladies in scrubs. Making sure that my testicles were well inside my body, they pulled up flaps of skin and glued them together to hide my little fellow. After that I was fitted with small breasts glued to my chest, colour matched to my skin.

After a while for everything to set, they allowed me to stand up and walk around, so that I got used to the new feelings. Then I was allowed to dress. In a bra and panties, I felt as if they were right, as my crotch was now smooth, and the bra cups filled.

I was given a tee-shirt that showed my belly button and a skirt that only just hid my panties and then had to walk up and down for what seemed like hours. There was line on the floor which I had to place both feet on as I walked until it became my natural walk.

They gave me shoes with a block heel about an inch high. I then walked the line again until I could do it without thinking. Dressed as I was, Elizabeth took me to get some lunch and the afternoon was spent walking the line again with two-inch heels. My visits to the toilet were supervised, to make sure I did what I needed in a female way. By the end of that afternoon, I was proficient on three-inch block heels. Elizabeth told me that tomorrow I would be repeating the procedure in thin heels.

Dinner was a more interesting meal. I remained in the short skirt and heels to join a number of other operatives in various stages of learning a disguise. I was expected to talk to them as if I was a teenage girl and I think that I did quite well. One guy even declared that the protection game was going crazy if a teenage girl was being employed.

Elizabeth told him that I was an Annie Oakley on the range. That evening we met in the basement range, and I outshot him in every calibre. The rest of the group applauding me every time I put a round into the centre rings. He did concede defeat graciously and shook my tiny hand in his chunky one. After that there was no question whether I belonged there.

The following days saw me walking the line in all sorts of shoes up to four-inch stilettos. My skirts and tees were changed as we went along. I learned to move in long skirts and heels, and then spent a day walking up and down steps in long skirts without stepping on the hem and falling over. These days Elizabeth would be talking to me and wanting answers in a girls voice. Being pre-pubescent it was easy for me to fall into talking with a breathy voice.

Only after I had succeeded in all of this I was back in the salon. This time they checked the previous work to make sure it was all still holding together. Then came what I had expected some days before. The manicure and pedicure was first. That was followed by extra nails and a couple of days picking things up, doing up zips and buttons, and every other thing that I was likely to come across. Even opening a can of soda was totally different to the way I would have done it before.

The next few days saw my doing all this with a wig stuck to my head, with the hair hanging down to my chest. That took a few days to totally master, learning how to push it away from whatever I was doing with a natural movement. It also took a lot more time to look after.

We finally came to what I had thought would be much earlier. Back in the salon I had my ears pierced and then they started to teach me about make-up. Every facet of make-up was explained, and I had to follow instructions until I got the applications right. I didn’t tell them about my previous experience and two days later I could had been a make-up girl in a movie studio. And it was definitely a girl who stood in front of a mirror one afternoon.

The reflection that I saw was that of a typical teenage girl wanting to look good for a date. I was leaving the building for the first time in a month. There was a group of us going out to test our new personas on the unsuspecting public. The venue was a family friendly place, and I was the child of one of the men and one of the women. Elizabeth and a couple of the other instructors were with us to see how we got on.

I had my new identity now. For the last few days I had been Francesca Emily Mottram, with everyone calling me Francesca or Frankie. I had been given the surname so that Elizabeth could play my mother, if needed. We had a good time at the venue, not a lot of drinking as that was frowned upon with operatives. They had a juke box and I found myself dancing with a few of the group.

I was shocked when a boy about my age cut in and we danced. Even more surprised at a slower number and him holding his arms out. I was now girl enough to take him up on it and we moved around the floor in a slow embrace.

He told me his name was Bruce and I told him that I was Francesca as he nuzzled my neck and I smelt the odour of man for the first time as a girl. When my group called that it was time to go, I gave him a kiss on the cheek and thanked him for a lovely time. On the way back, I pondered the new sense of smell. I had never thought what I had smelt like as Tom, only having a vague appreciation of what girls smelt like.

Elizabeth asked me how I got on when we met for breakfast, and I told her about the new sense of smell. She told me that I had carried myself well and that I was ready to be returned to Longburrow as a Mopsy.

There was a suitcase in my room when I went back to it. I packed it carefully, folding things so they didn’t crease and putting pairs of shoes in bags. I was told to pack a travelling bag with things for an overnight stay and a change of outfit for the next day. That afternoon I was back in the salon to have the wig removed and given a pixie cut, my own hair now long enough. I was taken to Norwich in a car then booked into a hotel for the night. I was given a folder with details of my cover with enough to allow me to say that there were things I didn’t want to talk about.

My cover was that my father had been transferred to Coventry and that he had paid for my tuition at the school. There were problems with my mother that were family matters only. I was an only child and had gone to school in London. It had been a bad time for me and best not spoken about. It was due to this that I had a regular visit booked with the school nurse to make sure I was coping. That was the chance to make sure my glue was holding on and to check for any sprouting of hairs. I wasn’t on any hormones or blockers as it was thought that I would be back as Tom well before puberty started.

I read the cover information until I was happy with it and then took a walk to the lounge room fire and burnt it completely. The next morning, I was on a train from Norwich to Warwick to start my second incarnation as a Longburrow student.

I was picked up by a new person at the station. She said her name was Julia and that she was the House Mistress of Mopsy House, where I would be a student. I acted dumb and asked questions as she drove me to the school. There we entered through the double gates with a stop so that the man could check the car for any extra passengers.

Up in the girls dorms I was shown to one that was some way further to the back of the school. The view out of the windows was over the running track. There was introductory package on the bed and Julia told me that she would give me an hour to unpack. There was the usual toilets next door and an activity room further on. After I had unpacked and put my things away, I pushed the suitcase under the bed and wandered past the toilets and into the activity room.

It had windows on two sides with a view over the grounds. One window looked towards the gate to the park, and I could see the camera on a pole. I was sitting by the window and looking out when Julia found me.

“It’s lovely, isn’t it? That gate leads out to the public park and is open for the cross-country runs. Do you run?”

“Just a bit of track, but a long run might be fun.”

“That’s good. Come along Francesca, I’ll show you the school.”

She gave me the tour and I tried to look as if it was all new and asking questions to which I already thought I knew the answers. Some answers were not as I expected now that I was a Mopsy. There were places that I used to go that were not for me until I got into third year. The Mopsies and Flopsies were treated as lesser mortals in the first two years.

I was issued a whole new set of school athletic outfits. For a couple of days I ran the track, starting off slowly as I hadn’t ran for a long time. On some days I was joined by other girls, and I began to make a new set of friends as one of the lower classes. When we did start the next term, I found that I hadn’t missed a lot. Perhaps the Mopsies were behind the Does, so I only needed a couple of weeks with the books to fill the parts I had missed.

The dressmaking classes were more towards mending and stitching rather than making actual clothes and I kept my drawing abilities quiet. With the firearms lesson I was trained in the use of a small-calibre pistol that could be carried in a handbag. I found that it took a lot of practice before I hit the proverbial barn door at any distance.

I kept my head down and mixed with my new crowd until the end of term and the end of my second year. Only then did Elizabeth get in touch and arrange for me to be picked up on the first day of the summer holiday. I had my case packed and was ready to leave when she arrived. She greeted me like I was her daughter, and we left the school in her car.

When we were some way from the school, I asked her what had been happening.

“Well! The memorial service was lovely, and a lot of your friends had a little cry. There were three guys there who stood out and it was possible to put a tracker on their car while they were in the line to leave the church. That led us to a house in the East End of London. With that, we were able to get their names. They were all Spanish-speaking thugs who had been in the country since before your parents were killed.”

“That sounds like a good move forward?”

“Yes. The landline and nearby phone boxes were tapped, and their mobiles monitored. They rang a man in Brazil once a week to give him an update. They did go and check the plaque and took a photo which they sent to him. The Brazilian police are difficult to work with, so we sent someone to check him out. He managed to get a photo and we could match that with his earlier ones. It is Bastien Sanchez, and we were able to find out what name he is now using. We pulled our guy out as soon as we knew that.”

“What about the mole in the school?”

“That was the music teacher. They had caught him in a honey trap and forced him to unlock the door to the dorm stairs. The police found indentations in the ground on both sides of the fence where they had used a stepladder to enter the grounds.”

“What about Lofty?”

“He still teaches music, but we are keeping an eye on him. They ring him every week to ask if Tom has come back under another name. He hasn’t seen you so doesn’t know about the new girl in the school.”

“Where are we going?”

“Frankie, you’re my daughter and we are going on holiday. This summer, the two of us will be having a quiet tour of France and Spain. We may even stop off at Pontevedra to see where your mother came from. It will allow you to use your French and Spanish. The teacher has told me how good you speak both languages.”

That was going to be nice. She gave me a new passport in my new name, with the F in the right place. We stopped overnight at the Drama School where my glued bits were checked out and my hair given a new style. We were on the train to Paris the next day. When we had booked into the hotel, we both spoke French as we explored and visited a lot of museums and art galleries. Of course, with such wonderful dress shops there we couldn’t help ourselves. She gave me a necklace and matching earrings for my fourteenth birthday. We even shopped at Valerie’s in Paris.

We went further south, and I found that I was a good swimmer in a bikini. All the way we were spoken to by nice boys. In Toulouse we were taken out for dinner by a man and his son who we met at the hotel. It was an interesting meal with the man chatting Elizabeth up and his son trying it on me. There was dancing and I could feel his manhood against my stomach. Elizabeth and his father disappeared for a while and I found myself in a quiet corner of a terrace with the lad’s hand on my breast and his tongue halfway down my throat,

I realised that I had crossed the line between Tom and Frankie when we went into the hotel gardens, and I helped him cum. In my mind I was just staying in character, but I did like the power I had over him. Back on the dancefloor he declared his undying love and we kissed some more. When we saw his father and Elizabeth again, she was looking flushed but radiant.

The next morning, we had left before breakfast with guilty consciences. We had breakfast at a roadside stop and when I looked at her, I just said “Mother, what did you do?” and broke into giggles. That broke the ice, and she asked me how I had got on with the son.

“We danced, we kissed, and we went into the gardens, and I rubbed him up the right way. It was interesting and a little naughty, but I made him so happy he said that he loved me. I think that he must be about fifteen, so I’ve had my first older man. How about you?”

“We danced, we kissed, and we went to his room where he screwed me. It was nice to be wanted by a man with a good cock that he knew how to handle. I’m almost moist to think about it. I hope we score a few more before we go home, Frankie. Bancroft would be proud to know how well you are living the new life. We won’t tell him, though, will we?”

We did score again with two Spanish brothers in Valencia. We were staying in the Hotel Balneari and were having a moonlight swim when we were joined by the boys. The older brother would have been late teens while the younger was about fifteen. Elizabeth got out of the pool and sat on a daybed. The older boy pulled one up beside her and sat. The younger one joined me in the pool.

I guessed that they worked in the kitchens or did cleaning but were nice enough. The young one swam beside me as I did laps and we talked. When I turned to swim back, I saw the other boy and Elizabeth in a steamy kissing session on the daybed, with his hand down into her bikini bottom.

The younger one asked me if I would like the same and I told him that I was only fourteen and on my first period. I stopped when I got to the shallow end and stood. He stood and wrapped his arms around me then gave me the most toe-curling kiss. As we were kissing, I saw Elizabeth and the boy walk by. Elizabeth told me to give her an hour or two.

Marianne Gregory © 2024