Soldier of Missfortune 2

Printer-friendly version
Soldier of Missfortune 2

by Angharad

Copyright © 2011 Angharad
All Rights Reserved.
  
BROOKLYN-INDUSTRIES-Lipstick_95DAEEE9.jpg

By the time the colonel arrived: I had been pulled out of bed; showered, de-haired under my oxters, and dressed in a bra, panties, skirt and top with a pair of shoes with two inch heels. In addition they had pierced my ears and plonked a wig on my head.

To say I felt a complete idiot would be an understatement. In the shower, I did get to see the tiny wounds under my breasts where the saline bags had been inserted and they somehow knew how to inflate them with more salt water, because they did so while I watched. Apparently, they’d have to increase them daily, which meant sticking a syringe full of saline into the breast but in a place where it wouldn’t leak out afterwards. They were tender but not as much as down below, and I doubted I’d be riding a bike for a while with junior being incarcerated by his own scrotum–talk about ironic or whatever.

The catheter came out–no it didn’t, they took it out, and it felt like they were going to pull my bladder with it. Boy did my eyes water, and it hurt to pee afterwards for a couple of hours or so. Now I think I know what cystitis feels like–my mum used to get it a lot at one time. I could, however, pee or wee as I was told to describe it, men pee, girlies wee apparently. Bet you didn’t know that. My voice still sounded like a six year old on steroids–so after my shower I was literally squeaky and clean, and I felt at a distinct disadvantage arguing with them, so I let them get on with things until the makeup. Then I sulked.

“You’re not making me look like some painted trollop,” I squeaked at them.

“Alexandra, please cooperate, we’re going to teach you how to do your own makeup.”

“Why do I want to know that?”

“Like you’re a woman and nearly all of them wear some sort of warpaint now and again.”

“I prefer a natural look,” I squeaked.

“Tough, now shut it and learn.” I sulked but she carried on regardless and I learned there was a bit more to it than just plonking on eye shadow and lipstick.

“You’re lucky, young lady, you have quite good skin and no beard shadow.”

That was probably because I had no beard, when I was in school half the boys had more hair round their dicks than I had on my whole face or body, come to think of it some of the girls had more hair on their faces than I did–I had this peach fuzz–which is still the case. I did try shaving it once or twice to try and toughen it up but all that happened was I came out in a shaving rash which itched like buggery, so I didn’t bother again.

By the time Leonardo had finished painting my face, I looked similar but different. I could see me, but it was like a girl had been painted over the top of me. It would have been fascinating if they hadn’t been doing it to me.

At midday the colonel arrived. “Right, give her a jacket or something.”

“What for, I’m not cold?”

“Here you are Alex, sweetie,” one of the women working with me held a blue fleece jacket for me to slip my hands into, and then gave me a handbag to match the black court shoes I had on.

“Follow me, Montgomery,” the colonel turned on his heel and walked out of the building.

“I can’t go out like this,” I protested in my silly high-pitched voice.

“Get in the car, God, I hate whining women. Shut up, Montgomery and do as you’re told.”

I didn’t have much option, so I got in his large Vauxhall car and pulled the seat belt over my tender tits. Sitting down wasn’t exactly a bundle of laughs either–it hurt and also was as prickly as if I was trying to mount a hedgehog.

“Right, I’m taking you to the officer’s mess for lunch. I expect you to act like a lady, not some scrubber off the streets. If you don’t, then if you think life is uncomfortable now, just wait–I have the power to make life very difficult.”

“You don’t think going to sleep as a man an' waking up like this isn’t?”

“We all have sacrifices to make, Montgomery, if all you lose is your balls–then I’d say the mission was a success.”

“Would you be so positive if it were your balls on the line, sir?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, I’ve risked more than that, loads of times.”

I sat and pouted, pretending to look out of the window.

The drive was a short one and before we got out of the car, I asked him, “Why have we got to come here, sir?”

“I want you to start socialising as a female.”

“Is it wise to come here, sir? I mean, even if I try my best, I’ve never done this before, and you might get embarrassed–accidentally, I mean I wouldn’t do that on purpose.”

He looked at me and thought over my comment. “Okay, Montgomery, there’s a pub a mile or two down the road, we’ll go there. If you are thinking of starting something or legging it, I shall make life not just difficult–it’ll become impossible, especially in the glasshouse with all those randy squaddies.”

I shivered despite the sunshine. “You’ll have nothing to worry about, sir, I’ll do my best to act like a woman.”

“Alright, Montgomery, the pub it is then.” He started up his car and we drove on to the pub, which was a little country one. The New Inn or something equally bland, but if this was a new inn, the other ones must be very old, because this one looked about two hundred years if it was a day.

We alighted from the car and he waited for me to walk round to him, “Off we go, Montgomery, ladies first.” He pulled open the door and waved me through.

“Hello,” said a cheery young barmaid.

I smiled back and the colonel offered a verbal greeting back to her. “What would you like to drink?”

“Could I just have a fruit juice, sir?”

“A pint of Old Peculiar for me and a fruit juice for the lady.”

“Which juice would you like?” asked the smiling woman.

“Um–orange, please.” I squeaked and blushed–goodness, multitasking already, must be the implants.

We took our drinks and sat at a table in the corner, it was just as well the glass wasn’t filled to the top because my hands were shaking as I picked it up and carried it to the table.
The colonel drank some of his pint and then excused himself to go to the loo. The barmaid came over to me. “Is everything alright, you seem very nervous?”

Oh poo, what do I do here? “Yes, I’m fine thanks, he’s my boss and I don’t know him that well.” My squeaky voice began to sound more little girl than Minnie Mouse.

“As long as you’re okay, that’s fine–will you be eating?”

“I think so.”

She went back to the bar and came back with two menus, “Depending on how hungry you are, the stilton and broccoli soup is pretty good, and the bread is fresh baked.”

“Thanks, I might try some.”

The colonel came back and saw me chatting with the barmaid, who went back to serve a customer. “What was all that about?” he asked gruffly.

“She asked if we were eating and recommended the soup.”

“Is that what you’d like?”

“Yes please, I think I would.”

He rose and went to order the food. “It’s on its way.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“I suspect it might be better if you called me, Mr Stone, or Harry.”

“Yes, sir, Mr Stone.” Poo, no wonder he acted like a nutter, he was a total psycho–at least by reputation he was. Even the tabloids call him The Flint, which means we of course call him Fred Flintstone, yabba dabba bloody doo. He’s from the Paras and they’re all barking mad–hard as nails and about as bright. Nah, I’ll stick with the techies–at least we have a few brain cells functioning–I reckon it must be all that hitting the ground from forty thousand feet or whatever they do for kicks–apart from killing people that is. Thank God were not at Aldershot.

I caught him staring at me, “Is everything alright, s–um Mr Stone?”

“Um–what? Yes fine–if you pull this job off, it’ll save hundreds if not thousands of lives.”

“I’ll do my best, Colonel.”

“Good m–um–girl. You know, you have a potential to make quite a reasonable looking female, Montgomery.”

“Mr Stone, my name is Alex or Ms Montgomery.”

“Yes, alright, you’ve made your point.”

“So have you, Colonel.”

“One soup, one ploughman’s,” said the barmaid delivering the food and eating irons. She was spot on, the soup was really tasty and just as well I didn’t have too much because even though I was wearing a girdle thing under my skirt–you have to support the tissue that’s been lipo-ed or it goes all wrinkly–the waistband of my skirt was getting tight.

We ate in comparative silence. Then I asked the question. “What exactly is this job I have to do.”

“I’d have thought you’d been in the army long enough to know that you don’t ask stupid questions, Mizzz Montgomery.”

“Seeing as I’m taking all the risks, I’d have thought I had a right to know.”

“It’s just as well we’re in a public place, Montgomery, because I’d have happily slapped that pretty face into the middle of next week for impudence. You have no idea how many are at risk just to get you close to the target. Now shut your stupid painted mouth unless you can say something sensible.”

I felt myself get very hot and tears filled my eyes–I hadn’t cried since I was in the year ten at school when some bastard called Bevan kicked me rather hard in the balls–but I was close to bursting into tears; very close.

I picked up my bag and walked–no–I ran to the toilets–and straight into the gents. “Next door, love,” said some bloke who was zipping up his fly.

Shit–I can’t do anything right, can I? I backed out apologising and felt tears run down my face.

“Are you alright, love.”

I nodded, and slipped into the ladies and locked myself in a cubicle and the tears came. I howled to myself, but not loudly enough not to hear the door open. It did, and the footsteps, women’s footsteps, sounded on the ceramic floor. “Are you alright, Alex? It’s me Tanya the barmaid.” She tapped on the door of my cubicle. “Alex?”

I was trying to hold my breath and shudder silently, sitting on the toilet and shaking.

“Alex, I know you’re in there–are you alright?”

I sniffed and gave the game away. “I’m alright–just my time–you know.”

“D’you want some paracetamols, I’ve got some in my bag.”

“No, I’ll be okay, thanks for caring.”

“Well of course I do, we girls’ve gotta stick together.”

“Yeah, solidarity sister,” I said pulling up my panties and tights before flushing the loo.

“Your boss asked me to check on you, you’ve been in here about quarter of an hour you know.”

“Have I?” Serves the bastard right.

I emerged from the stall and went to wash my hands after wiping what was left of my prickly genitals–the stitches were pulling.

“Better sort out your makeup, I’ll tell him you’re on your way.”

I nodded and felt like crying again–from the glance in the mirror I had rivulets of mascara down my cheeks and my lipstick was worn off after eating. In short, I was a total mess.
I wiped most of the mess off with toilet tissue and powdered over the cracks, then I added a bit of lipstick to my bottom lip and rubbed them together–it improved things a bit without me getting it all over my face.

A woman came in to use the loo and I smiled and left.

“Where the bloody hell have you been?” asked an irate colonel as we walked back to the car, “I had a bloody good mind to leave you here. Get in,” he spat opening the car remotely.

Sat in the car and burst into tears again. He sighed loudly and as he drove off, he muttered to himself, “What the hell have we created?” That made me feel really wanted.

Over the next few days, apart from saline injections and anti-testosterone jabs, I realised that my emotions were possibly stirred up by the hormones–no wonder women are so unbalanced if they have these bloody things circulating round them all the time–I didn’t really do emo before–but have I made up for it since?

My hair was bleached to match some blonde wigs they gave me. I was drilled in speech, movement, deportment, gesture, makeup and personal care. My bra size had gone up from a thirty four A to a thirty four D–yeah, I didn’t wear a bra, I used a wheelbarrow until they can get the scaffolding delivered.

All the bloody surgeon said was, “Think how lucky you are, at least your tits are the same size, most women’s aren’t.” Then added, “You won’t be lying on your face for a while, will you?”

I wanted to say all sorts of nasty things to him, but that just made me enemies, so I held my tongue. I continued with the programme, developing a reasonably good appearance and manner as a female, even the colonel was pleased.

I also gleaned a little about the job–and I decided I wasn’t up for it–I had to kill someone–no way. I don’t care who they were, I’m a technician not an assassin, and the more girly I got, the less I wanted part of it. We’re Brits, we don’t go round popping people off–do we? Well this one doesn’t.

Because of my apparent progress, yeah, I was a real girly now, I was allowed to come and go as I pleased. I hadn’t spent anything for weeks, so I went into the town centre every day and drew out some money. I set up an account with a different bank under the name Alison Bright and they accepted my home address–I explained I was a technician with the MOD and would transfer my other account over in the next month or two. Meanwhile, I shoved in over two thousand pounds and kept a further five hundred on my person. I might be working with spooks but I could be sneaky too.

I’d made my mind up, despite how much it hurt my pride and transgressed everything I thought I believed in about serving my country–I was going to desert. All I had to do now was pick my time. It had to be as a woman, because that’s what my body was now, so was part of my mindset–although had I changed that much?

I lay in my bed churning things over in my mind–perhaps I hadn’t changed so much–or was I just too close to see. I wanted to see my parents but they’d be watching for me there–unless I was clever. I knew they’d support me if they heard my side of the story before the army told them a pack of lies.

My dad would be disgusted if he thought I was some sort of freak through my own choice and as for deserting, well that would just about send him loopy, which is exactly what they would tell him.

I’d have to chance it–let him know he now had a rather curvy bit of totty for a son, and let him know it wasn’t me who did this to me.

I felt so alone and very soon I’d be even, more lonely as I went on the run.

up
312 users have voted.
If you liked this post, you can leave a comment and/or a kudos! Click the "Thumbs Up!" button above to leave a Kudos

Comments

missfortune

Keep em coming, this is getting interesting

No Offense-

But I noticed how the Title "SNAFU" would work perfectly well for this story too. Military doctors don't all lack the bedside manner of these I hope. Maybe this batch is the ones with questionable pasts. I rather agree, with Alex. They could all kiss my A$$. Having worked with Special Ops fellows before, yes they are all touched in the head. :)

Hugs!
Grover

Nice!

Just picked up on this one Ang.

Nice start with lots of possibilities.I look forward to the next chapter.

Hugs
Sue

~~ This post brought to you by the sponsors of Sue Brown and the letters q, f, j, l and the number 67 ~~

Desertion

Without a doubt, Alex has been treated abysmally by the military. I don't blame his desire to remove himself from the situation in which he finds himself.

But I question his decision to desert. In doing so, he immediately breaks the law and ends up a fugitive. Surely there's some other route that service people with grievances can follow. I'd prefer to see him trying to punish the perpetrators in other ways.

Anyhow, thanks Angharad for continuing this story. I'll be interested to see where it goes next.

Personal Stress


Bike Resources

They can just cite the

Brooke Erickson's picture

They can just cite the Official Secrets Act and lock him up for even describing his situation to anyone.

They're quite mad to be doing it this way though. They'd *need* him to be willing and committed to the mission when they place him. But they way they've handled this makes it pretty much *impossible* for him to feel that way.

If and when it all comes out, everyone involved is going to get handed their head.

Brooke brooke at shadowgard dot com
http://brooke.shadowgard.com/
Girls will be boys, and boys will be girls
It's a mixed up, muddled up, shook up world
"Lola", the Kinks

No half measures

My god you go all the way, this is going to be a great ride :-)

He needs to think it through a bit

If he decides to desert, how is he going to go back to his proper body? I do not recall military units in the States that would do this to one of their own unless it is strictly voluntary. The Colonel is a piece of work that wants it both ways and have a woman and a soldier at the same time in a presto chango fashion. He is treating Alex like a weapon system that needs to be slapped together and use up and then dispose of, damn the consequences.

I don't blame the desertion thoughts one bit but desertion will bring its own issues. A better way would be to arrange to phony up his own death while on the mission.

Kim

Still looking for a few good...

"I do not recall military units in the States that would do this to one of their own unless it is strictly voluntary"

Over here it would be done as a subcontract to a subcontractor who would be their handler. It keeps things tidier and plausibly deniable as well as far enough removed to nail it on anybody.
About 15 years ago an individual was recruiting attractive pre-ops, the carrot being employment, surgeries, clothes and travel. This was all under the guise that it was an entrepreneurial venture. He had done this years earlier as well.
It later came out in a remotely related story in the press that he was a subcontractor to one of those three letter activities. The bigger story is the involvement of the President, presidential security, cabinet members, the mayor of London, the IRA and the Soviet Union. If I could write it would be a hell of a story.
He even had Dr Schrang endorsing him as a benevolent benefactor to the community, which Schrang later denied when it all blew up.
In both their words we are the disenfranchised, unwanted, higher percentile of intelligence and creativity, overeducated and underemployed. Who better to tap into train for intelligence work? And we're disposable.

He still calls from time to time, it is amusing. The real world is not that far removed from fiction. Sometimes more exciting.

One hopes ...

... that someone intelligent actually gets involved in this mission before Alex decides to make a break for it. After all, he has specialized skills, and can successfully impersonate a woman. It's VERY important to have him on board, heart and mind, because if you lose him by treating him badly, the mission will be compromised. They've already done a fair job of turning him against his superiors. Some General with more brain cells than testosterone needs to step in and explain to Alex the importance of the mission, and promise him hazardous duty pay or some sort of recompense for what they did without asking. Might also be nice to give everyone who did this to Alex without his buy-in a swift kick in the brass.

Desertion will hurt him more than help him, I'm afraid. I just want Alex to wind up okay. *grin*

Randa

Thank you Angha,

ALISON

'for an intriguing story which is an absolute hoot,although you did give her big hooters!

ALISON

I find myself asking ...

The English Teacher's picture

... If I were in her position what would I do? Course now I'm a bit brighter (well maybe) older anyway, but at his (?) age, he might not think that they don't know about his new account at the bank, and knowing that he-she is on the hostile side of this questionable mission, with details marginal at best, that it is likely to them that he-she would take off. So, I don't see her getting away with it.

I think I would go to the legal people and explaining all that was done to him was without consent without explaining more than required would be the way to go.

Still, a riveting story, what will the mind who came up with it think of next?

No volunteering for this you must tell. We have ways of making you tell us the rest of the story. Unnd, we hafe ways of making you like it.

So much to read, so little time and only one of me :)

The English Teacher

So much to read, so little time and only one of me :)

The English Teacher

The Blurb Gives It Away

joannebarbarella's picture

"On the run/In hiding", so our inadvertent heroine does make a break for it.

Are her superiors so stupid that they don't know about her bank account?

Or are they totally incompetent as well as totally insensitive? My guess would be yes, because any half-way sensible organisation would have at least told her what she had to do.

On second thoughts, silly me. This is Military Intelligence, one of the prime definitions of an oxymoron, with the emphasis on the moron.

So far, great fun for us, if not your protagonist,

Joanne

Given how off the cuff, on the fly this whole ops seems...

Is this a rogue operation?

Who is she supposed to assassinate by sabotaging some weapon? The enemy or something rather less of a legitimate target?

I can understand *need to know* and minimizing what they tell her as a precaution if she gets caught but the coronel's high handed treatment of her and how abrasive the rest of the unit/staff are hints though this unit is possibly legit, this mission is unauthorized. At best it is a last minute scrape up to assemble a mission and thus the Chinese firedrill /bum's rush atmosphere.

Are they abrasive because they are jerks? To keep her off balance and her mind focused on the mission and her hate of them and not on wondering if this mission is legal or if they lied about reversing all of this? IE is what they re doing crude professional detachment , to confuse and manipulate her or simply proof they are asse*?

Plus I thought there were standards of conduct ALL officers had to obey. There are in the US military so I am told and I assume the veeery formal British military would be even more so. Frankly, other than difficulty proving it, I think some of the cornel's statements and actions constitute misconduct as an officer.

So on the run but from who?

And we got more tidbits about his past suggesting either , like Jamie in Snafu he was essentially castrated by physical blows as a teen, -- the kid who kicked him hard in the family jewels several times, or maybe he is not really a he? The near total lack of body hair, even less than some women he knew suggests something is odd about him or her?

John in Wauwatosa

Now can he or she survive this nightmare, do his or her TRUE duty and come out of this alive and well?

John in Wauwatosa

language ....

Men Pee - girls 'wet their hair'

He should have legged it when in the pub, one word to the barmaid and they'd have arrested him and she'd be home free.

Mr. Stone would be out

Brooke Erickson's picture

Mr. Stone would be out shortly after reaching the station. And the victim would be facing charges. Or just locked up with the reasons being "classified".

Even in the US it's possible to do that as long as the Patriot Act is still around. Just claim it's terrorism related and there are *no* legal channels available for the person in custody. Nor for anyone who knows they are in custody and wants them released or even given a hearing.

Brooke brooke at shadowgard dot com
http://brooke.shadowgard.com/
Girls will be boys, and boys will be girls
It's a mixed up, muddled up, shook up world
"Lola", the Kinks

Interesting twist

Interesting twist to the expected story line... :-) A pleasant diversion.

The writing is fun but, you're twisting the story in ways I'd not have guessed. Don't ask me why, but I was thinking about how this resembled SNAFU... With a different screw up to get started. On the run, huh...

Thank you,
Anne

THem ilitary owns your body

Renee_Heart2's picture

and they do too according to this storymwhich is true. With Alixandra I don't think diserting it the way out since she is alowed out to come & go as she wants a phone call to her family & another to paralment could work but not before she she has to go on her assignment they will be looking for her & she can't leave the country as her documents still show she is her old self but if she did get out of the army or some how escape I tink as girly as she is now she might as well go ahead & have the surgy & give her self a real vigina & labia then she will be a full female.

This story is intresting to say the least so please contune with it.
Love Samantha Renee Heart

Love Samantha Renee Heart

Without resources

Desertion would hurt more than help Alex. I suspect that 2500 pounds would be no where near enough funds to disappear. I suspect that the UK would not be big enough to be able to successfully hide unless Alex managed to get declared dead. Here in the US it would be much easier to disappear because of the hugh amount of area to disappear into.

That Colonel is a right bastard and is definitly not the right person to be in command of that operation. With his attitude I have no idea how he developed the leadership skills to rise to his elevated position. You don't mention whether or not "Mr Smith" is a Lt Col or a full Col. A LtC would typically be the commander of a Battalion strenght unit while a Col would be the commander of a Brigade or Regiment strenght unit in the US Army and I believe the UK as well. Based on my experience in the US Army both as the son of a LtC in the Army Corps of Engineers and my own career in the Army as a Non-commissioned Officer I have run into jackasses like that in line units but not in more elite units. In the more elite units in the US, such as Airborne, Ranger and Special Forces, personal initiative is more valued than blind obedience to command.

Oh, and I also have my experience as an Army Drill Sergeant (NCO's responsible for the initial 9 weeks of training for Recruits.)

One-way Ticket

terrynaut's picture

Those military types are all at least a little crazy. I think it's something in the food. Heh.

This is fun. I like that I can't predict what's going to happen next.

Thanks and kudos. Please keep up the good work.

- Terry

Making a break...

Hopefully she'll use her knowledge of technology to secure some ID in the name of Alison Bright. But in the meantime, it would probably be her best bet to attempt to be a diligent student and give no indication that she's in any way dissatisfied with the program, so when the desertion eventually happens it takes them by surprise. And by the time they start sending out the search parties, "Alison" will probably have re-dyed her hair and/or bought a different coloured wig to the one the military are supplying, and possibly have bought some clothes in a different style to those the military are giving her to wear.

Needless to say, contacting dad might not be such a good idea - not only because of his possible reaction, but he's likely to be one of the first people the military call on in their search.

 

Bike Resources

There are 10 kinds of people in the world - those who understand binary and those who don't...

As the right side of the brain controls the left side of the body, then only left-handers are in their right mind!

Desertion?

I think it is a bad idea. Life has enough problems without being a deserter.

The're a weird mob -

Sounds a good name for them.

No wonder Miss M wants to POQ.

She's being treated like a mushroom, kept in the dark and fed bullshit!

Can't wait for some action Ang?

LoL
Rita

Age is an issue of mind over matter.
If you don't mind, it doesn't matter!
(Mark Twain)

LoL
Rita

Soldier of Missfortune 2

Forcing a soldier to do what she is being forced to do is tantamount to slavery. A soldier in America and England volunteer to enlist. and are not drafted into any action against their will as she has been

    Stanman
May Your Light Forever Shine
    Stanman
May Your Light Forever Shine

Not the right decision

Jamie Lee's picture

Deserting from the military is not a good idea, unless a long prison sentence and a really messed up future is the goal.

While Alexander had no say so in what was illegally done to him, unless he has a full proof method to vanish from the earth, he better come up with another plan.

If they do want him to assinate someone, then regardless of their threats, sticking to his guns of not killing anyone would go a long way towards derailing their plans.

Others have feelings too.