The Surrogate Ch. 02

Chapter Two - Becoming Mila

Mila slept in a satin nighty and panties that night but she was untucked of course. There was no sign of Peter Randal and she had the apartment to herself. She had practiced her makeup for a while and walking in heels and then after a light dinner she retired. She had tried on her sister's clothes and divided them into two piles, those which fit her and suited her and those that didn't.

Peter had left her some homework, the covenant and tenets of the Church of the Sons of Jehovah. The SOJ was headed up by the very Reverend Ronald Hayes whose great grandfather had formed his church in the nineteen thirties by uniting disgruntled members of evangelical and other right wing Christian churches and bringing them together under the auspices of the Sons of Jehovah in the town of Redhaven Wyoming.

Hayes believed that according to the Christian bible, wives are expected to be submissive in many ways. They are asked not only to be submissive to their husbands but to the church, their community, and God. He preached that at the head of every household is a man and the head of every woman is a man. Wives are seen as second in the family household, and subservient to god and their husbands.

The first Reverend Hayes was already wealthy in his own right when he formed the church and he divided his church into three Orders. The Acolytes were the lowest Order and were the church's worker bees. They still had a good standard of living and they worked for businesses owned and controlled by the church. The second Order was the Patriarchs who were middle order elder statesmen and held managerial positions in the church's businesses. The Apostles were the hierarchy and lived together in a gated community.

The Council of the Apostles were the primate of the religious Order and also the board of directors of the church. They ministered to the congregation supporting Reverend Hayes.

All male members and wage earning women were tithed ten percent of their earnings and any windfalls that came their way. The tithes were supposedly used to support the church and pay for those members who worked solely ministerial or missionary duties.

Mila was no expert by any means when it came to religious matters or business affairs but to her it seemed like a bunch of misogynist assholes living the highlife taking back ten percent of the wages from their employees.

The SOJ seem have to have taken aspects of theology and doctrine from a number of legitimate churches and fringe religions and manipulated them to create their own dogma in order to support the beliefs of Reverend Hayes and his cronies. To Mila it seemed little more than a cult but a very profitable and well organised cult.

She had got tired of reading about the SOJ and had fallen asleep early.

When Mila awoke there was a split second when she didn't know who and where she was but the feeling quickly passed and she smiled to herself and luxuriated in the feel of her satin night attire and pulled the comforter around her and thought about the day ahead.

Despite the morning erection pushing out her panties, she felt very feminine and was looking forward to the day. Mila eventually got out of bed and used the bathroom which got rid of her morning glory; she shaved the sparse hair on her face, brushed her teeth and put on some foundation, powder and a light coating of lipstick.

After tucking, she put on spandex sports tights and gym top and went for a run. She was self-conscious and wore dark sunglasses and a ballcap. The run was uneventful and afterwards she felt exhilarated.

Mila showered and was actually looking forward to putting on her makeup again when she remembered that she was having laser hair removal first thing so she just did her eyes, put on lipstick and brushed her hair. Even without full makeup she still looked pretty. She decided to stay dressed in panties and nighty until after the laser treatment.

Mila was too excited to have anything but coffee for breakfast and Steven Boutros arrived early with a lady wearing a nurse's pantsuit, carrying a small suitcase.

"This will feel just like little pinpricks, especially on your upper lip. It will only take me half an hour at the most," the laser lady said, and she was right.

The session wasn't especially painful and she was advised that she could now wear makeup.

Steven saw the lady out and Mila watched him hand her cash at the door. The lady must have been aware that Mila was transitioning but she never said anything, in fact she hardly spoke at all. Mila supposed that laser hair removalists would likely get many transitioning women looking for permanent hair removal.

Steven returned and looked at Mila's face very critically.

"You look good. It's going to take a few sessions to fully eliminate that sparse beard; you'll need another session in about six weeks. I have purchased a laser removal device so you can do it yourself now you've seen how it's done. Use it as necessary and eventually you will hardly have any facial hair at all."

"I see you've sorted through the clothes I laid out for you which is good. Once you're confident you will be able to buy your own clothes but you have quite an extensive wardrobe there to get you started."

"Go and fix your makeup and get dressed, let's see what you've remembered," Steven took out his phone and started playing with it.

"And good morning to you too Steven," Mila said sarcastically.

"I'm not here to be your friend Mila; Peter is paying me to transform you, not to keep you amused," Steven looked up from his phone briefly.

"And where is my soon to be husband?" Mila asked.

"He's up in Redhaven getting his head around his new job," Steve replied.

"Those Sons of Jehovah seem little more than a cult to me," Mila was sitting at the dresser applying foundation, powder and blush.

"I don't know too much about them. They aren't exactly secretive but they congregate together and keep to themselves," Steve said whilst punching a text into his phone.

Mila tucked to Steven's satisfaction. She was surprised that she was not embarrassed doing so in front of him but like he said, he was her teacher, her mentor. She slipped into pantyhose, once again delighting in the feel of the cool slippery nylon on her legs and the slick feel of her panties sliding up her thighs.

She put on her only bra and selected a designer label flowing day-dress and sat down to put on her only pair of heels. Mila had quickly developed a sense of style, in her previous life she had taken an interest in fashion but this was different, this was so much better.

"Let me see you walk," Steven said and Mila obliged.

"Hey you're pretty good Mila, you've been practicing. Maybe we should reward you with some new shoes."

"Do I get to choose?" Mila said excitedly.

"Honey... we are not spending Peter's money on Louboutin without you trying them on first. Of course you get a say."

Mila was aware of Steven's Freudian slip calling her 'honey', but she was also aware that becoming Mila meant giving up her freedom. She reminded herself that this was a paying job.

The front doorbell rang and Steven went downstairs to answer it with Mila following behind, being careful on the stairs in her heels.

The voice coach was a severe woman in her forties and once again no introductions were made. She was all business. The voice coach explained that over the next ten days they would be focussing on increasing the pitch of her voice into the average range for a woman her age, decreasing vocal effort and loudness, and increasing breathiness.

They spent an hour voice training, including imitation of female voice models.

Mila's sister had a distinct husky, breathy voice which made their job easier to some extent. Mila didn't need to be able to mimic her sister, just be capable of producing a reasonable feminine voice that was close to how her sister sounded.

The hour was mentally exhausting and the coach left her a series of voice exercises to complete and a computer program to run as a study guide.

Mila was lucky in that as well as being a guitarist; she was also the singer in her band and developed a reasonable vocal range.

"Look. You've got the makings of great feminine voice. You just need to keep concentrating and practicing. Once you find yourself talking that way without having to concentrate you'll have it nailed. See you tomorrow," the voice coach said before she left.

Once again cash was exchanged at the door.

"Why all the secrecy? I don't know anyone's names except for yours and Peter's. Is it really necessary?" Mila asked.

"See what happens when you get excited, you just dropped your femme voice; concentrate!" Steven replied.

"Let's go back up to your room and practice walking and talking. Remember what I said about developing your countenance; how you need to present yourself to the world as Mila without consciously thinking about it. You need to become Mila."

"We can have some fun with it. Put on a fashion parade. Show me how you look in the clothes you have selected and if you're a good girl we'll go out this afternoon. We need to get you confident being out in public."

And so they spent most of the day doing exactly that. Mila practiced walking, talking and using feminine mannerisms whilst slipping in and out of her wardrobe. Steven encouraged her, always calling her Mila or honey; it was as if he had never met Miles and knew her only as Mila. Mila wasn't sure if Steven was just trying to boost her confidence or if he was actually accepting of her as a woman.

A package was delivered during the afternoon and Mila was delighted to find that Steven's seamstress had put together a collection of brassieres for Mila that would accompany any outfit she decided to wear. There were full-cup, strapless, push-up and sports bras; mainly black, white or flesh-toned but there was a red one, a blue one and burgundy one amongst the collection.

Steven had her strip to her underwear and try them on and then had her choose the right bra to go with the appropriate outfit. It was actually fun. Mila just wished she had more shoes to wear to complete her wardrobe.

They shared another cigarette on the balcony and then Steven surprised her.

"We have created a beautiful women; now we need to accessorise her," he led Mila inside and produced a large jewellery box.

"Your sister took most of the good stuff, most of this is costume jewellery but some of it is nice."

They spent an hour deciding what pieces would go with which ensemble. Mila was lost in herself again, enjoying playing dress-up as much as any girl would. Feminine mannerisms were becoming natural to her and her voice seldom slipped. At one stage she was dressed in an evening gown with a plunging neckline, her new padded bra giving her the necessary cleavage and her heels giving her height.

Steven stood close to her and looked at her critically, her blue eyes sparkled and she looked genuinely happy.

He held her at arm's length, studying her, inhaling her perfume.

"You really are magnificent," he smiled at her.

Mila leaned in and kissed his cheek. I was such a natural and feminine thing to do. They both stood still, Mila could feel her heart pounding and it seemed like neither of them was breathing.

"Thank you," she whispered and lowered her eyes

Steven embraced her and she put her head on his shoulders.

"You're welcome. You are very good pupil. What you did just now was perfect, very ladylike. Flirtatious without being vulgar," he eased her from his grasp and stepped away from her.

There was no hiding that they were both a little embarrassed.

"Ok. Dress casual; I'm taking you out," Steven suddenly announced.

Mila took off her dress and slipped into a pair of tight skinny-jeans, the pantyhose helping her legs slide into the stretch denim, she put on a long-sleeved t-shirt and a light jacket over it.

They walked and Mila felt exhilarated to be out on the streets. Two days ago she would never have dreamed this was possible. She was worried that she would be stared at and she was... by appreciative men; no one suspected that she was different.

Steven took her to the park where there was a small crowd, he wanted her to become used to being around people and then he took her to a food truck and made her order tacos for both of them so she could practice her feminine voice. It wasn't quite right yet and the vendor gave her an inquisitive look but she concentrated and when the vendor made change and she said thank you, she got the inflexion and tone just right. The vendor gave her a wink and she blushed.

They ate in the park and then Steven took her to a bar for a drink. She didn't want to go in but he took her arm in his and walked her though the door. The lights were bright inside the bar and a few heads turned and a few men stared. She smiled when she realised that she was being appreciated and Steven took her to the bar so she could order.

They had one drink at the bar and then Steven took her back to Peter's apartment.

"Another chore for you now. I want you to spend at least an hour a day outside the apartment getting used to being around people, getting more confident," he stopped at the door to her apartment block.

There was a moment's awkward silence and then Mila leaned in and kissed him on the cheek and said goodnight.

And so it went for the next week, speech therapy every day followed by developing her femininity and reading up on her sister and Peter's marriage. Peter had left her a potted history of where they had been, what they had done, friends they had made and a number of little anecdotes for her to learn. Peter and Mila needed to behave exactly like a married couple and she needed to know all the little details.

Mila also read more about the SOJ church and the more she read the more cynical she became. She was glad that she and Peter would not have to actually join the church, just abide by their moral code.

Halfway through the second week Steven dropped by and announced that they were going to get her driver's licence replaced. Her sister had taken her passport of course but had left behind her birth certificate. This would be Mila's first brush with the authorities. It turned out to be a simple process as she had Mila's social security number and her birth certificate. The clerk bought up a copy of her current licence and compared the picture to Mila and issued her a new licence on the spot.

Mila now had two valid identity documents.

"Well that was easy," Mila grinned as they left the building.

Steven was quiet in the car and Mila became aware that they weren't going home.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

Steven pointed out the windscreen to the South Coast Plaza.

"Time to get you some shoes."

Mila squealed and put her hands around Steven's neck and kissed his cheek causing him to swerve the car. She apologised and rubbed her lipstick off his cheek.

They spent six thousand dollars of Peter's money and Mila was a little embarrassed.

"He'll consider it an investment; you have to look the part. Besides, the money will come out of your end when he starts paying out," Steven said dryly as they drove home.

Mila came down to earth with a bang. She had been living in a fairy tale for the last week and half, now the reality that she was about to be a surrogate wife hit home. But with those yummy shoes sitting on the back seat she soon became upbeat again.

"I'm sticking around this evening and you're cooking me dinner. I want a full on performance from you, call this an audition if you like. Pretend I am your husband who has been away for a while and you want to look your best and please him with your hospitality."

"You've read what those SOJ assholes expect from their wives. I want to see how much you've learned," Steven pulled the car into the underground parking lot.

As soon as they entered the apartment Mila took on a subservient role, trying her best to be the type of wife that SOJ would approved of.

"Come sit down Steven; let me get you drink," Mila led Steven to a comfortable seat and fetched him a drink.

"Let me start dinner and I'll come back and ask after your day," Mila was actually a pretty good cook.

Her interest in the arts and music had also piqued an interest in fine food and dining, not that she could afford it. She prepared a simple meal and made a salad and miso sauce to accompany the tuna she would serve as the entrée.

"Tell me about your day," Mila sat on the floor beside Steven with her legs folded under her demurely.

Mila doted on his every word and topped off his drink when it was nearly empty.

"I'm a mess. You caught me having just come back from shopping, let me dress for dinner," Mila kept up the role-play.

Steven stood up when Mila came downstairs half an hour later; he was so taken with her. The concealed lighting picked up the highlights in her platinum-blonde bob, her blue eyes sparkled, her lips were full and ruby-red. She was wearing a simple silver lame sheath dress with a low collar; the hem rested halfway up her thighs which were sheathed in glossy flesh-toned fifteen denier nylons. Despite the fact that she had just acquired three pairs of Christian Louboutin shoes she had decided to wear the simple black high heels that Steven had given her.

Mila walked over to Steven and enveloped him in a cloud of perfume. She gently kissed his cheek.

Steven could not believe that this beautiful woman had once been Miles Francis.

"You are perfect Mila. You have done such a wonderful job in such a short amount of time," he stared into her sparkling eyes.

"You created me Steven. What you see before you is all your work."

Mila and her voice coach had settled on a breathy contralto voice that Mila found came to her naturally. It was subtle and smoky and quite sensual to the ear.

Miles had ceased to exist for Mila; she no longer thought about him. Her recent life had begun almost two weeks ago and her history before that consisted of series of imaginary vignettes of her and Peter happily married.

"Come; let's eat," Mila took Steven's hand and led him to the dining table.

The apartment was open plan and she could talk to Steven while she was cooking.

She seated him and poured him wine keeping up the small talk while she seared the tuna and dressed the salad. She took a small glass of wine with dinner and ate delicately, chewing small bite-size pieces of tuna with her mouth closed. Mila kept up the patter all through dinner but encouraged Steven to do most of talking, telling her about his life in the theatre.

"You said something interesting last week. You said not all drag queens are gay but most are. Then you said that you're not gay either but that trannies don't count."

Steven blushed.

"I was being flippant and I apologise for what I said and the way I said it," Steven began.

"What I meant was that not all men who enter drag shows or all crossdress are gay. Many are heterosexual."

"But what I said does not apply to you at all Mila because you are neither a drag queen nor a crossdresser."

"You are just Mila. Yes you are a different kind of woman but a woman still the same," Steven smiled at her and Mila smiled back.

"And what about 'trannies don't count'?"

Steven blushed a brighter red this time.

"Never mind, it's a stupid saying," Steven patted her hand.

"No come on Steven, I'm not letting you off that easy," Mila put her little finger in the centre of her mouth and licked it.

Steven didn't know if it was a subconscious gesture or something she'd been practicing; either way it was unnerving seeing Mila using an overt suggestive gesticulation.

"There used to be this saying in the theatre that if you accepted sexual favours from a transvestite, that it didn't count as being gay. It's stupid, it's sexist, it's transphobic and once again I apologise for saying it."