Operation 'Thock Removal'
Disclaimer: I know this isn't Terry Pratchett's style, and I know it's a twisted storyline. Just to let you all know it's my storyline, but not my characters, and CONSTRUCTIVE criticism is welcome, but flames aren't.
Author's Note: If you've read Monstrous Regiment, you're probably old enough to deal with this twisted storyline, but check the rating anyway. Just reminding you to review!
Igorina was making quite a name for herself, helping women. In fact, some men had even come to visit her once or twice. This had come as a shock the first time it happened, but someone needed to sort out his arm, and she was the best man – or woman, as the case may be – for the job.
She had also operated on one or two female officers who wanted to keep their sex reasonably secret. It was nice that they trusted her. They didn't know about her notebook and correspondence with Polly.
And then there was Wrigglesworth. He was male, but he dressed up as a women far more than was healthy. And Igorina knew what she was talking about.
Then again, if there's one thing an Igor is, it's a traditionalist. It's in their blood. Igorina, however good she was at surgery, had found it very hard to join the army. Igors didn't do such a thing. Females didn't do such a thing. It wasn't traditional.But you couldn't be traditional all the time, or new things would never happen.
What Wrigglesworth was suggesting broke tradition into twenty thousand pieces, jumped up and down on it, wrapped it in newspaper, rammed it in the bottom of the dustbin, and didn't let you collect the insurance.
"Tho you want me to tranthform you into-"
"A woman, yes."
Igorina had not dropped the lisp. She'd been getting used to it, and anyway, she liked it.
"You do know that it ith-" phythically impothible, she wanted to say. Instead, Igorina said, "-difficult, sir? And it will thting a bit?" Or rather, it would be incredibly, unbearably painful.
Wrigglesworth nevertheless seemed determined to go through with the… operation.
And so, Igorina found herself holding a knife, with a man on the slab, and preparing to surgically remove his socks she would much rather leave in its place.
"Are you abtholutely thure about thith, thir?"
"Quite thure, er, sure, Miss Igorina."
"Can I at leatht knock you out, thir, tho you don't feel anything?" she pleaded.
"Oh, all right the-"
Igorina didn't know how she did it. She didn't know why she did it, although she suspected the money may have played a part. She was well aware that if this went well she could have that bigger place in the main street that she'd had her eye on.
She didn't even know why Wrigglesworth wanted her to do it. Surely he should be happy as a man? They got all the respect in life, didn't they?
But he wore women's clothes, so maybe he thought if he was going to go a little way, he might as well go a long way…
Anyway, it was over now. All of it. She had managed to get the necessary hormones from her brother Igor. He had asked what she wanted them for, but hadn't got a reply. Maybe that was a good thing. And the …chest… had only needed a little fat removed from elsewhere. She had …sorted out… the rest.
Now Wrigglesworth only needed to grow his- or maybe her-hair and get used to walking with the transfer of weight.
"Wrigglesworth?"
"Yes, General Froc?"
Wrigglesworth managed a surprisingly good curtsy, and fluttered hi-her not inconsiderable eyelashes.
"What in Nuggen's name have you done to yourself?"
