"There we are, captain," A young nurse stated as she dropped a folded dress onto Martin's bed, "Douglas said you needed a dress for the music hall performance. Any idea what you'll be doing?"
"Top secret, I'm afraid," Douglas joked from the side-lines.
"J-just the usual; s-sing, a crude j-joke or two, that sort of thing…" Martin informed.
"Try the dress on, let's see how it looks!" The girl hurried. Martin – a little shocked at her insistence – followed her order blindly. He stumbled out of bed to go and get changed.
"I think you made a good choice…" Douglas acknowledged.
"Well, thank you Douglas. I told you not to doubt me. It will look even better with some makeup; I talked Dr Knapp-Shappey into letting Martin borrow some of hers, if he wants to."
"Well, Mary is being spoilt," Douglas smirked.
"I'm ready…" Came an airy, breathy, feminine voice came from outside the ward before Martin stumbled into the room, dress flowing as he did.
The nurse tutted, "I'll get Dr Knapp-Shappey; she hasn't seen you walk, has she?"
"Uh…" Martin begins before the nurse sighs, silencing him.
"I will get her and we'll start relaxation therapy tomorrow; you should be walking normally by the end of the day…"
"W-what?" Martin couldn't keep the smile off his face.
"Our results have shown dramatic improvement over the course of one working day. You should be walking somewhat properly by the end of the day," she smiled.
"Oh, God!" Martin gasped, "Please, get her! I'd love to walk properly again! Please!"
The nurse chuckled as Martin took a stumbled, clumsy step forward; the hem of the dress brushing against his smooth legs. "I'll do that now," she smiled, going to complete her task.
"You look lovey, Mary," Douglas drawled with a smirk on his lips.
"Stop that, now," Martin ordered firmly, but in his feminine voice.
"Oh, I mean it that you look lovely…" Douglas admitted.
"No, I mean I'm not the kind of girl who kisses any chap who calls me pretty," Martin smirked.
"I can see you were popular…" Douglas comments with a raised eyebrow.
Before Martin could respond, he noticed a hand running down his hip. Dirk. Of course. "Sorry, Dirk; I'm not that sort of girl," Martin stated in his masculine voice. Dirk startled backwards.
"Dirk, you have to start being careful," Douglas drawled, "The boys are going to start to think these aren't accidents…"
Dirk frowned at Douglas in return. Karl chuckled, "Well, Martin; you do look the part."
"Thank you," Martin stumbled into a clumsy curtsy.
"Oh, Martin; don't you look pretty," Carolyn smiled, Martin blushed, "I'm still ticked off that you didn't tell me that you were having trouble walking. We'll start therapy tomorrow and you'll be walking fine again."
"Thank you."