Thursday 30 April 2015

LADY ANN'S FOLLY: Chapter Eleven - Part Six

When the Earl – well, the real Lady Harriet – left the picnic with the Countess, Nellie suddenly found herself feeling very alone.

The Earl, when he had been present, had dominated the conversation with his presence and opinions. Nellie hadn’t worked at Griply Hall for long at all but it was remarkable how well Lady Harriet managed to emulate her father. The trouble was that now there was no Earl to lead the conversation, she was suddenly pushed into a much more prominent position. The servants had withdrawn far back from the picnic area leaving her with the Earl’s brother, Patrick, his sister-in-law, Geraldine and the two children (one of whom she knew was secretly and shockingly the Countess).

Reggie remained sullen and silent. Felicity looked off over the water. This left her the sole attention of Patrick and Geraldine.

“So, Hattie,” said Geraldine. “Your mother was telling me about your recent trip to York.”

Nellie felt her heart rate rise as a shiver of panic started to settle into place. “Er, yes,” she said, trying to use short phrases so as to disguise her accent. She didn’t have a hope of duplicating the real Lady Harriet’s mode of speech with her common inflexion.

“What did you buy there?”

“Uh, well...” Nellie had absolutely no idea that the real Lady Harriet had even been on such a trip, let alone the detail of her purchases. She looked at the little boy, strongly suspecting that he, as the Countess, had been in attendance on that trip. The boy was looking conflicted and confused. This wasn’t going well at all. “Um, I’m sorry, uh, Aunt Geraldine,” she said. “I’m not feelin’ well. I think I need to walk it off.” She got to her feet, feigning a light head.

“Are you alright dear?” asked Geraldine.

“Yeah. Yes. I’m sure I am. I just need to be by myself fer a minute.”

The two adults looked on with concern and Nellie gave a little smile and pulled away. She turned her back on them and walked along the edge of the lake.

As soon as she was clear of them she felt a lot better but there was still an edge of anxiety to her thoughts. This was all so new and she didn’t really know what to do with herself. She didn’t know how long it was going to go on for or what was expected of her. Well... she did know she was meant to pretend to be the real Lady Harriet, which was proving difficult. She wished that she was as good at pretending as Hattie seemed to be.

It was such a strange feeling, becoming one of the quality. Her body felt entirely different to how it did and that made her feel different about herself. She was a real beauty now with her raven hair and perfect skin, her generous bosom and curvaceous figure. She wasn’t an antelope beauty like Lady Ann but she was hundred miles above the way she looked in her own body.

She smiled to think of how funny it would be to return home to visit her mam and da as she was now. Just to imagine their faces when they saw how pretty she was – and how gorgeous her clothes were! She had never imagined having the chance to dress like a real lady. The material was so rich and well-tailored. How much could a dress like this have cost? It beggared the imagination to think.

Along the water’s edge, the stable hand was watering the horses. He looked up at her as she approached and took on an immediate aspect of trepidation. She’d seen him around but hadn’t been introduced in the short time she’d worked as maid. He was tall and fairly handsome (for an outdoor servant) with shorn hair and a bushy moustache, but he was very broad and muscular. Though she didn’t know him, he clearly knew Lady Harriet. He doffed his cap and averted his eyes.

“Eh up m’lady,” he said. “Is there anythin I can do fer ye? Anythin at all?”

Nellie giggled to herself. It was so funny to have this man be so servile to her as though she was really as important as she looked. “No thank you,” she said, surprising herself by how well formed her words were all of a sudden. Then she had an impious idea and added, “You can move those horses out of the way.”

The stable hand hurried to do so, apologising obsequiously and bobbing his head nervously.

Nellie stood back and witnessed the power she suddenly had. As far as this smelly man was concerned, she was Lady Harriet. As far as everyone there was concerned she was.

She knew it was only temporary – in order for her to keep this body she supposed the real Harriet would have to choose to remain in the body of her middle-aged father, which would surely never happen – but she wished she could stay like this. It would be like a fairy story if she could remain this way – like becoming a beautiful princess.

She sighed, wandering past the fawning stable hand and walking on along the water’s edge. It was a shame that fairy tales weren’t real.

Though on the other hand, she hadn’t believed that magic was real twenty four hours earlier so maybe anything was possible!





Tuesday 28 April 2015

CLEANER: Chapter Three - Part Seven

DAHLIA

The bus journey to Melissa’s hotel took forty minutes and was bumpy and uncomfortable. Add to that the walk to the bus stop, the wait for the bus and the walk at the other end and it took me well over an hour to get there. A taxi would have been much quicker and far more relaxing but I’d given all my bank cards and cash to her. My finances were strictly limited now. After the series of unpleasant and demeaning situations I’d faced settling into my hotel the journey and that sense of monetary restriction was the final straw to my thinking.

Playing at being Melissa at home in Nockton was one thing. This was something else entirely. I valued the total change from my former life but it was too much and the restrictions felt too complete. The removal of my wealth was like I was handcuffed and chained by the ankles.

As I approached Melissa’s hotel on foot my feet were getting sore. I’d been on them most of the day but I had a feeling they were already a little fatter and the shoes were rubbing. I stopped and winced, trying to take the weight off one foot and then the other and I became aware of my glasses. I wondered if I should take them off but I was in two minds about my intentions now. The greater part of me wanted to continue the transformation toward looking more like Melissa but I also felt it was important I re-establish my position in our relationship.

It had been nice when she pretended to take control... very nice... but there was also an uncomfortable element to that. I’d never truly relinquished control in my life. What we’d constructed here together; and then what Melissa had arranged without my consent... It was all a little bit too much like I had no control in my life at all anymore. I knew that was the fantasy I'd had: to be a normal person ruled by the practical necessities of life; but it was too much too quickly.

I took off the glasses. When Melissa saw that she’d recognise it as symbolic of my determination.

Except... taking them off made my vision swim. These were a couple of notches up now from zero prescription and I’d been wearing them all day. Removing them brought on a slight but instant sense of dizziness and headache. I frowned, blinking to clear my vision. Was it possible my brain was already getting used to glasses to the extent that I would have to go on wearing them?

Surely not. If I went to bed it would reset my vision I was sure – but I was inclined to keep them on now.

Shrugging, I did so. What did it matter?

Though I was conscious of how much plainer I looked in them; how much closer I looked to Melissa.

The hotel had a long drive that was lined with palm trees. I walked along it feeling dwarfed. The Satine Palace was absolutely gigantic compared to the squalid little hotel I had been forced to stay in. Stretching off from the grand entrance it had two great wings that clearly faced the sea beyond. The air here was cooler than it was at my hotel; less stifling. This was clearly a superior residence in every way. Now that I was bringing this failed start to a close it was going to be nice to move in here; to get some quality lounging time in. And I looked forward to continuing my weight gain. It would be even easier with no pressure to work. I could just eat and lay out in the sun day after day after day. It would be great.

I walked into reception and went to the desk. I introduced myself (after a moment’s thought) as Melissa Chapman and asked where Dahlia Western’s room was. It occurred to me then that even if I moved in here I would have to continue using that name now. There couldn’t be two Dahlia’s. The idea of that was... intriguing. It was the work and lack of power that was getting to me. I still wanted to explore our swap.

The receptionist wasn’t polite to me. She was aloof and snooty. She didn’t even respond to my request; just went to a phone and made a call. It was a bit annoying actually. I was getting tired of people not treating me with respect. I was still a human being even if I my clothes and slightly dishevelled appearance suggested I wasn’t in the league of the clientele here.

I heard her use my new name and presumed she was talking to Melissa. After she put the phone down she ignored me and went back to the papers she’d been going through when I approached. Feeling irritable and impatient I said, “Excuse me. Should I go up?”

“Wait,” she said sullenly.

“Oh. Right. For how long?”

She ignored me. I waited. She still didn’t respond.

I huffed to myself and stepped away from the desk, loitering.

Five minutes later I had heard nothing. I went back to the desk. “Excuse me. Sorry. Did, uh, Miss Western say how long she would be?”

“You need to wait,” replied the receptionist without looking up.

I frowned and shook my head at the deplorable service and took a seat nearby.

It was starting to piss me off that Melissa was keeping me waiting. She was my employee. She should have told them to send me straight up. I shouldn’t have to wait.

But wait I did. Ten more minutes went by before I went back up to the desk. “Excuse me,” I said.

The receptionist scowled at me.

“Please can you just tell me what room Miss Western is in? I’ll go up and knock.”

She glanced down at my clothes and gave a little sneer.

“Could you at least ring her room again?”

She snapped something in Greek and then went back to the phone.

This time there was no answer. She put it down and said, “She isn’t there.”

“But you told her I was here to see her, right? Could she be on her way down?”

The receptionist ignored me.

“Oh for God’s sake,” I muttered. I walked away from the desk and then turned back to go and give her a piece of my mind, but something caught my eye through a wide window that looked into the expansive dining room to the pool area beyond.

I saw Melissa walking along out there. I was flabbergasted. She had been told I was here and she hadn’t even bothered to come. She was going out to the poolside.

“I’ve had enough of this,” I said and started toward the door leading to the back.

The receptionist called after me but I ignored her. This run-around had to stop. It was great that Melissa was playing along with this part she’d created but it had gone way too far. It was high time we had words. I wasn’t comfortable with the way she was treating me and it was time for her to stop.





Saturday 25 April 2015

LADY ANN'S FOLLY: Chapter Eleven - Part Five

Hattie was enjoying herself immensely.

The picnic blankets had been laid out and the sumptuous meal spread out across them as the servants scurried round. Her father, the Earl, trapped in the body of the maid, Nellie, had been one of them and it had been so gratifying to see him forced to work and get snapped at when he acted clumsily. The mighty and pompous man had been reduced to a pitiful creature and it was so funny to see the accusing glances he threw her way. Hattie was the Earl now and that couldn’t be denied.

Both her and Uncle Patrick’s family had taken their seats, little Reggie, the former countess, called back from his childish game. Again Hattie smirked to see it. Her mother was just as trapped as her father was in a new body and life. She had no power or control over her actions anymore; no choice but to follow the bidding of her new father. It was clear that Patrick was quick to anger when it came to the discipline of his children and Hattie’s former mother had quickly understood where her limits lay. She was nothing but a small child now. She took a seat on the edge of the blanket looking sullen and cowed. She too stole glances at Hattie, probably in the hopes of being given a reprieve from this new life of hers, but Hattie showed her no sign of even knowing the truth. It was too amusing to leave her squirming.

For her own part, Hattie sat on the picnic blanket far less decorously than she would have been forced to in the past when she was a young woman. The new Lady Harriet, the former maid, was forced to sit daintily in her tight dress and corset. Now that she was a man, Hattie didn’t have such problems. She could sit back, leaning on her arm, one leg out, the other crooked up. She was so much more comfortable and free than she would have been.

It was remarkable how different she felt now. She had been such a slip of a girl before, slim and dainty. Now her torso was thick and muscular. Her shoulders were strong and broad. She was the tallest by far out of everyone and that gave her a sense of power over and above what she knew came from her esteemed position. Society and wealth made her the Earl, but her physical presence made her the alpha male here and gave her the swell of confidence that came with that.

There were many advantages to being a woman that she missed and was eager to get back to, but she was starting to see some benefits of being a man.

She hadn’t been her father for long (been her father!) but already she had developed the odd habit of casually stroking her thick moustache and running her paddle-sized hand back across her bald head. She enjoyed the subconscious actions because they brought home, each time she did them, the nature of her new identity. It reminded her she was a man now. She was the Earl. She was her father. It had felt alarming to do it at first. Now it jogged her memory of who she was and that filled her with confidence.

It was so funny. Becoming her father had only been a necessary annoyance of achieving her plan for revenge on her parents and Ann but it had turned out to be diverting in its own right.

“Capital picnic Howard,” said Patrick.

Hattie smiled to hear herself addressed by that name. “Well tuck in my good man,” she replied, taking up a chicken leg in her meaty hand and chomping into it. “I told you coming out was a good idea.”

Aunt Geraldine tutted at that and Hattie remembered the scorn she had shown toward it at breakfast. She gave a bark of a chuckle. It only felt natural to take credit for the spread now that she was here enjoying it. As long as she was the Earl then it was effectively thanks to her that anything got done.

She finished the chicken leg and took up another along with a hefty chunk of bread. She took great bites out of each and then reached for a pork pie, taking a chunk from that. Nellie, in her former body, was nibbling delicately from a cucumber sandwich. Hattie sneered at that and guzzled some wine. It was hilarious. She had never had the chance to eat like a man before. She could eat any and all of the food put before her without worry now. There was little need for decorum and her appetite was huge.

While she gobbled up as much food as she could she chatted to Patrick more about the mine. Still she found it rather tedious but she was able to get enjoyment from the ruse she was playing on all of them. Nevertheless, this was one aspect of playing the part of her father that illustrated how little she would truly want to be a man. It was diverting to pretend to be interested in these matters but business and management were hardly topics that fascinated her. Geraldine was talking to the apparent Harriet about a new dress she was planning to buy and part of Hattie wished she could be engaged in that conversation instead.

That was impossible for now though. The Earl obviously couldn’t show interest in such women’s things and she had to go on playing the part she was given.

“I say,” said Patrick, pointing. “Isn’t Elizabeth going to join us?”

Hattie looked where Patrick was pointing and frowned in irritation.

Little Reggie was in her mother’s body and his childish restraint was proving limited, no matter what instructions he had been given.

He had run off to the water’s edge just before the food was served and was now jumping in and out of the shallows, kicking up spray and squealing with delight.

Hattie and Nellie shared a glance of concern then Hattie clambered to her feet, briefly enjoying the ease with which she could move unencumbered now.

“Is Elizabeth alright?” asked Geraldine. “She doesn’t seem quite herself.”

Hattie’s face flushed slightly. She didn’t like the position she was suddenly in. Her fake mother’s actions reflected badly on her and jeopardised exposing the series of swaps she had put in place. What if Reggie started calling Geraldine Mummy or started telling people who he really was?

Hattie hurried across to him and took the woman who looked like her mother’s arms in her hands. “Reggie,” she hissed. “You’re acting childishly. Stop it.”

Behind his aunt’s face, Reggie looked startled and chastised. “I’m shorry Uncle Howard. I should have been more careful.”

“Shush!” snapped Hattie urgently. “Don’t call me Uncle Howard,” she whispered. “You’re meant to be Elizabeth Neville now. You’re an adult. While you are in that body, I am your husband. Is that clear?”

Reggie pouted, tears forming in his eyes.

“Oh for God’s sake,” muttered Hattie. Reggie clearly couldn’t be trusted in the least. He could ruin everything.

Hattie turned back to the family. “Bad news I’m afraid,” she said, her plum voice an exact match to her father’s. “Elizabeth is feeling rather under the weather. I think I’d better take her back to the hall.”

“Oh dear,” replied Geraldine.

“Bad luck for you Howard,” chuckled Patrick. “You’re going to miss out on all this grub!”

Hattie gazed at the spread of food sadly. That was a shame. She would have liked to tuck in some more.

“Why don’t you get one of the servants to run her back?” said Patrick.

“No. I’d better go with her,” said Hattie, taking Reggie by the hand. “She needs someone to look after her, not some blithering simpleton.”

She started pulling Reggie toward the main carriage and snapped her fingers for a driver to attend. The coachman sprang forward and opened the carriage door for them.

“Get inside,” muttered Hattie, pushing Reggie up into the carriage.

She sat stormily down opposite the woman who looked like her mother and scratched her bald head.

This problem had to be taken in hand quickly. She couldn’t allow Reggie to ruin everything. What she needed was some way to moderate his behaviour and encourage him to act more maturely.

Being so childish was not going to work.





Thursday 23 April 2015

CLEANER: Chapter Three - Part Six



DAHLIA

I spent the morning mopping the corridors and then started work on the bedrooms. For my sins, Maxine, the nasty British cleaner, was the one allocated to train me.

“You better listen carefully to what I tell you,” she snapped right off the bat. “You do what I tell you and you might keep your job. Give me crap or don’t listen and I’ll get you kicked out of here in a second.”

She showed me the process in the first room: stripping and making the bed, cleaning the bathroom, vacuuming in the floor, dusting the surfaces. She was nasty about it at every opportunity and clearly resented the time she was having to waste on me. She threw in sighs every few minutes and sullen pointed words. She pointed out anything I didn’t get immediately right with relish and scorn.

“Well look at this table. You’ve missed bits here, here and here. Do it again!”

I found myself apologising over and over again but after we got to the fourth room I started to realise that she was slapdash with her own work. The parts of the room she did weren’t done to the exacting standard that she was demanding of me. It left me feeling sullen and confused; resentful of the way I was being treated.

This really wasn’t what I had imagined when I agreed to come here and make this trade. I hadn’t expected to be made to feel so awful all the time. I had wanted relaxed anonymity and routine, not to be treated unjustly as though I was scum.

As the morning wore on, Maxine spent less time working and more time on her phone. I was expected to keep going through. If I slowed or stopped for a rest then she was straight in there with a barbed comment.

I was sweating. I’d never worked as hard in my life. It was awful.

I started to fantasise about getting off work and going to see Melissa as she’d suggested. This really wasn’t what I signed up for. It wasn’t what I wanted. I hadn’t decided fully but I was seriously considering calling the whole thing off, or at least altering the set-up so I could do as I’d imagined: hang around her hotel, maybe fetching her drinks and such; just some low key tasks like that. This fully immersive horror story was too much.

But I also fantasised about my lunch. It was going to be another all-you-can-eat buffet and my stomach made audible gargles in anticipation. I couldn’t help smiling when I thought about tucking in… and of the effect that would have on my shape. I couldn’t wait to start seeing the results of my overeating on my figure. I would never have expected to feel this way but I really craved being fat now; really wanted to see my inflated torso, my chubby arms and legs, my round face.

“I don’t know what you’re smirking about,” said Maxine, seeing me. “Your work’s still shoddy.”

I put my head down and carried on.

But it wasn’t too long before we got to break for lunch.

Again I was ordered to help putting the food out and I did what I was told. Maxine wasn’t in sight. She obviously didn’t have to lower herself to that level. I took plate after plate out to the serving area and then went back for more.

The skinny cook was working, his face red and sweating. “How are you settling in?” he said.

I shrugged, nervous, and tried to smile. “Okay, I guess.”

He winked as I carried the next two plates out, leaving me feeling uncomfortable and confused.

As I finished serving I was told by the housekeeper that I would continue cleaning the rooms until two thirty and would then get some time off. It was like being told about my prison release date. I was incredibly relieved to see a light at the end of the tunnel.

It was time for me to eat and I filled up my big plate with different sorts of meat, rice, roast potatoes and coleslaw that was dripping with mayonnaise. Maxine and her coven of bitchy cleaners were in the windowless staff room, smoking and playing cards. I sat away from them and watched them sullenly as I tucked into my food.

All I had to do was to get through to two thirty and then I could get out of there.

I was going to catch the bus to Melissa’s hotel and confront her; tell her I wasn’t happy here; that I wanted to change the set-up. Either I wanted to create an easier life for myself or I was going to call the whole thing off. I didn’t like having so little control.

I went on eating though. My urge to get out of this situation wasn’t quite strong enough to stop me doing that.

I even fantasised about doing away with the whole Melissa swap as such and just staying on holiday with her, both of us getting fatter and fatter until we were both roly-poly ladies, lumbering around the tourist sites like identical twins.

That was a lovely idea and I found myself sniggering to myself to imagine it.

Two fat ladies just enjoying ourselves.

Becoming a cleaner had been an interesting experience but it was becoming clear that it really wasn’t a lifestyle I would want to get stuck in.






Tuesday 21 April 2015

LADY ANN'S FOLLY: Chapter Eleven - Part Four

Mavis’s trip with Burt to York races had been the limit of her travels up until this week and what she was seeing now was dizzying. First the bustling metropolis of Birmingham and now this growing rural town, Nockton.  

The carriage carried her and Lord Hurley through the streets of Nockton , rocking gently as Gladys and the driver sat on top. It was a luxurious coach, far more ostentatious than the one owned by Lord Neville at Griply Hall. Mavis was starting to see how much higher above even the Neville’s the Hurley family sat.  

The streets of Nockton were busy with people and everywhere she looked she saw new houses being built. The town seemed to be thriving under Richard’s guidance and she smiled smugly to think that she had netted this man; that if she got her way she would become his wife.  

She kept having to remind herself that she was Lady Ann now. The transformation from one woman to another wasn’t as profound as some of the other transformations that had taken place and at times she forgot herself. It was most alarming to recall her new identity.  

But she was Lady Ann now. This was her life. She didn’t have to pinch herself awake. This was real!  

As the carriage trundled on, Richard pointed out various landmarks: an old abbey on a hill that rose up from the houses around; the ravine that gave his ancestral home its name; certain areas that he had earmarked for development. He seemed happier and more at ease here in his home town; less withdrawn and stuck-up. Mavis could almost find him personable, though really his greatest virtue by far was his wealth.  

The carriage slowed as the road steepened. Crackshaw was on the ridgeline to the south of town and the last part of the climb was particularly steep. It took a while to get up there but when they did the view was spectacular down across the town and to the opposite hillside. Mavis wanted to thrust her head out of the little window and take a gander at the view as best she could but she was aware she needed to remain decorous. An unnatural part of her urged her to remain so which she resented. She sensed that it was another aspect of the original Ann’s character, trying to control her. She didn’t want to be decorous. She wanted to do whatever she bloody well wanted.  

She did manage to get a glimpse ahead to see the high walls of Crackshaw and the tall gates. It was built to keep unwanted visitors out and it was a delight to know that not only was she welcome there but one day she would be the owner of this grand establishment.  

The coach passed through the magnificent gates and circled a huge fountain at the front of the house. There were grand trees and banks of flowers and the house itself was incredible. It seemed to have hundreds of windows and it dwarfed Griply Hall five or ten times over. There was a magnificent pillared entrance and an archway leading into an extensive inner courtyard that Mavis couldn't fully see.  

This was how the rich really lived. It was so clear now, from the contrast, just how backward and provincial the Neville family were compared to the Hurleys. Mavis was so glad she had landed on her feet so successfully.  

The coach pulled up at the main entrance and obviously eager, Richard opened the door and climbed out, offering his hand to Mavis to join him. "I can't wait for you to meet my mother," he said.  

Mavis wasn't as eager for that meeting as Richard was. The tales she'd already heard about the woman didn't incite enthusiasm, but it was an inevitable and necessary trial, and this woman hadn't met the likes of her before. She was no lady. She had all the gumption of a barny barmaid born and bred. She could stand up to anybody. She took Richard's hand and let herself be helped from the coach.  

The front door of the house opened and over a dozen servants appeared. They lined up at attention to receive the visitors. Richard didn't pay them any heed. He looked round at the house and garden happily. Mavis had never seen him so pleased and happy.  

Then from the front doorway emerged a regal elderly woman. She was very thin and drawn but was dressed in the most expensive-looking clothes Mavis had ever seen in her life. The dress looked cripplingly tight but was clearly worth more than the entire Dog & Pony back home.  

"Mother!" cried Richard. "It's so good to see you."  


She cracked an icy smile. "Richard. You look well dear. Come here and let me see you properly."  

He went to her exuberantly and she offered her cheek, showing far more reserve than he did. He kissed her then backed away and looked in Mavis's direction.  

"Mother," he began formerly, "allow me to introduce Lady Ann Neville. Ann, this is my mother, the Duchess Lillian Hurley."  

Lillian regarded Mavis coldly showing absolutely no welcome or warmth. She said nothing.  

"Er, It's a pleasure ta meet ya," said Mavis, wincing on the inside at the cracks in her accent. Clearly it would be better to keep her mouth shut as much as possible until she had mastered the posh way of speaking.  

Still Lillian made no reply. Mavis stood wavering, unsure of herself. Richard gestured for her to approach up the steps and nervously, she did so.  

Mavis stopped in front of the old lady, unsure what to say or do. Lillian scrutinised her and then reached forward and turned her face by the chin one way and then the other, checking her as she might an animal.  

"You are a very beautiful young woman," she said at last. "My son has chosen well. And your family is of... reasonably good stock."  

Mavis frowned, taking this as an insult, even though it wasn't really her family.  

Lillian looked at Richard, closing Mavis off from her attention as though she were inconsequential. "I approve Richard dear, though clearly there is much work to be done with her before she proves... adequate."  

Richard gave a curt bow and took his mother's arm. They both turned their back on Mavis and walked in through the front door. Mavis looked after them feeling put out and patronised, but she looked about herself and regarded the magnificent house. Surely some irritation was worth it to take control of this wealth.  

And really, how bad could Lillian be? 












Sunday 19 April 2015

CLEANER II: Chapter Three - Part Five

MELISSA

The personal trainer, Ambrus, leaned back in the seat opposite me and gave me a speculative look. “What you need to decide before we start making you thinner is exactly what you want to achieve.”

“I...”

“Don’t be hasty,” he said, raising his hand. “These are important matters and I want you to be sure you’ve thought this through properly. I see people come here every year, men and women, who half some half-hearted desire to lose weight. They are feeling guilty about all the food and wine and think the odd hour here and there of exercise will make it all okay.” He shook his head, smiling. “Are you one of those people?”

My cheeks coloured a little. It all sounded so serious and he was applying a certain amount of pressure. “No. I’m not one of those.”

“Then tell me.” He relaxed, leaning against the arm of his chair. “What do you want to achieve here. I’m told you are staying here at the hotel long term.”

“Yes. For at least a couple of months,” I said. “Which gives me a good long time to get started on losing weight.”

“How much weight do you hope to lose?” he asked.

I thought about the question, picturing Dahlia, then I looked at him very earnestly and said, “All of it.”

He laughed. “Ambitious eh?”

“Yes. Really. I want to be thin.”

He was still chuckling.

“Can you help me or not?” The question was blunt enough to knock the humour from his lips.

He gave me another one of those speculative looks and I actually got the impression that I had impressed him. He might even have been goading me to see how I would react. Despite the spark of irritation I’d felt I found myself warming to him.

“I can help you achieve what you want if you are prepared to put the time and effort in,” he said. “Losing weight is simple. It requires the determined application of concentrated effort. If you put the discipline in then you will achieve results. How great those results are will be proportional to how much discipline. If you plan to do a bit of exercise here and there and then spend your evenings getting drunk and eating large then I am here to tell you that you will be wasting your time. Yes, you won’t put on as much weight as you might otherwise have done but you’re unlikely to lose any.”

“That’s fine,” I replied, feeling an icy determination start to form. This had been a good idea. This was what I needed. This guy was going to challenge me and keep on challenging me. I think I liked it. I am determined. I do want to lose a lot of weight.”

“All of it,” he said, smiling wryly.

“Yes,” I replied, equally bluntly. “All of it. Is that possible?”

“Anything is possible if enough time and, er... money is available.”

“I want to do it quickly,” I said.

“How quickly?”

“As quickly as possible. And money is no object.”

He frowned, trying, I guessed, to work out exactly how serious I was and what my expectations were. My guess was that people didn’t come to this kind of resort to enter a high level fitness regime. He must have been trying to decide if I was for real.

“I suppose, if you were serious about it...”

“I am.”

“... then it would be possible to work to a strict regime of diet and exercise. We could get you shaping up quite quickly if you remain committed.”

“I’ve been thinking about liposuction,” I said. “What if I combined the exercise and dieting with that to enhance the results. Money really is no object. I want to get somewhere quickly.”

He seemed doubtful and possibly suspicious. I was being intense but I was also clearly honest and driven, maybe even potentially obsessional.

“Let me ask you a question,” he said. He paused, trying to find the best words to frame it. His English was outstanding but it wasn’t perfect. “What is your motivation? What makes you think that you can be as driven as you are suggesting. You are telling me you want to make your life about getting to the shape you want to be. What are you going to hold in your mind to make that happen. When I’m shouting at you and making you work harder than you ever have before, what will you picture in your mind to keep yourself going?”

I put the last piece of fruit in my mouth off my bowl and looked out over the pool, trying to find the answer to that. It came to me quickly and as it entered my mind I smiled grimly.

In the lounge at Summertop, Dahlia’s mansion back home in Nockton Vale, on the high wall was a bigger than life portrait of Dahlia. She was at the height of her modelling career and she looked slim and beautiful in a way that had always been impossibly out of my reach. Picturing it evoked a flash of all the bitterness and envy I had felt all the years I’d worked for her. It filled my mind with anger and... yes, hatred. I hadn’t realised until now. It hadn’t been clear to me just how much I hated her.

I wanted to be that slim. I wanted to be that beautiful. I wanted to do anything I could to hurl her into the life I had led, to encourage her to be every bit as fat as I was, and I wanted to take the shape she had had.

I wanted this more than I’d ever wanted anything. I wanted to beat her. I wanted to humiliate her. I wanted to posses everything she had and leave her with the pitiful things I had had.

I looked at Ambrus. He looked back at me.  

“I have my picture,” I said.

“What is it?” he asked.

I smiled. “My little secret. But you can believe me when I tell you that it will give me all the motivation I need to go all the way on this.”





Friday 17 April 2015

LADY ANN'S FOLLY: Catch Up & Chapter Eleven - Part Three

We haven't seen Lady Ann for a little while, what with my illness. Considering there's a lot going on at the moment, let's take a moment to catch up with who is now who...

The original Lady Ann and Burt swapped places, leaving Ann as a stable hand and Burt as a right cultured lady.

Ann then swapped places with Mavis, Burt's slutty tavern wench girlfriend.

Ann is trapped as Mavis while Mavis (as Ann) has gone to Nockton Vale with Richard Hurley.

Meanwhile, Hattie, Ann's sister, has hatched a plot to get revenge on several people in her family.

She has become her father, Howard, the Earl.

The Earl is trapped in the body of Nellie, a common lady's maid.

Elizabeth, Howard's wife has become Reggie, a little boy and Reggie has become Elizabeth.

The original maid, Nellie has taken on the role of Hattie.

Confused?

You will be. You ain't seen nothing yet!




Elizabeth continued to feel mortified as the picnic things were set up. Every adult towered over her, servants and family, and though there was some loose deference from the servants, really she was looked down on by all.

She had to run one way and then the other, trying to avoid the long legs of the quickly moving adults. It was bewildering. She still couldn’t fully grasp what had happened to her. Could it really be true that she had been transformed into a child? And not just a child – a boy! And not just any boy! She had long seen Reggie as something of an irritation with very few redeeming qualities – someone to put up with while she was spending time with her brother and sister-in-laws. To find herself in the body of someone she thought so little of was simply awful.

She stumbled under the feet of one of the cook and the grumpy lady huffed noisily, struggling not to drop her tray of food.

“Really Reggie,” said Geraldine, her new mother. “Come away from the route everyone is using.”

Elizabeth flushed and did as she was told, hating the fact that she could be told what to do as well as the fact her limited perspective had not warned her to do so herself. She hated being a child but at least she had her own mind. How much worse it would have been if she had taken on the real Reggie’s ways instead of her own.

The boy in question was over by the water’s edge pretending to be her and the sight of him in her body and clothes was infuriating. Elizabeth wanted to march straight over there and denounce him. She would have done if Howard hadn’t suggested she play along for now. She was greatly frustrated by that. She didn’t understand her husband’s reasoning but she had to trust it. Surely he had a plan to return her to her rightful form. In time he would reveal that plan and effect the change. Somehow...

“Reggie; go and play dear,” said Geraldine.

Elizabeth’s face fell. “No thank you. I don’t want to.”

“It wasn’t a suggestion boy,” grumbled Patrick. “Get away and stay out of mischief. We’ll call you when the food is ready to eat.”

Elizabeth couldn’t imagine anything worse than having to run around like a child. Instead she loitered while Felicity ran ahead with a large ball.

“Reggie!”

She jumped with alarm. Patrick was glaring at her.

“What did I say to you?” he said.

Elizabeth quaked to look up at his stormy face. “That I, uh... That I should go and play.”

“So what are you doing standing there you ignorant little twerp then?”

“Sorry father,” she said, hating having to use that term. She hurried away toward Felicity, anxious to put as much distance as she could between her and her new father. She’d always been fond of Patrick but he was a terror for this new diminished perspective.

“Hurry up Reggie,” called Felicity, holding the ball ready to throw. “We won’t have time to play.”

Elizabeth scowled at being told what to do by the little girl. “I’m coming,” she complained.

“Catch!” Felicity threw the ball and Elizabeth made a half-hearted attempt to catch it. It sailed past her, bouncing, and she was forced to give lacklustre chase.

“Daddy!” cried Felicity. “Reggie isn’t playing properly!”

“Put your back into it boy!” snapped Patrick.

Elizabeth hurried to go after the ball, frightened she’d have another smack if she didn’t. She picked it up, surprised how heavy it was, and threw it in Felicity’s general direction. It bounced weakly and didn’t make it all the way there. Elizabeth regarded it forlornly but Felicity was growing agitated.

“Daddy!” she called. “Tell Reggie to stop being silly. He can throw much better than that!”

“Reggie!”

Elizabeth jumped with fright and looked back at Patrick. “Yes father?”

“You’ve been moping about all morning and I’m sick of it. You’re this close to going over my knee. Now stop being a baby and play properly with your sister.”

She bobbed her head anxiously. “Yes sir.”

Felicity picked up the ball and threw it her way. Elizabeth frantically reached for it; missed and then chased after it as fast as she could, desperate to avoid another telling off. She grabbed it and looked round to see if she was going to get shouted at. Felicity was sighing testily but no one else was watching anymore.

She squinted at Felicity and concentrated as hard as she could, then threw the ball that way. This time went a bit better but still wasn’t perfect. It went wide and Felicity was forced to run and grab it.

“That was pathetic Reggie,” she snapped.

Elizabeth caught the frown of disapproval coming from Patrick.

I wish I could throw as well as the real Reggie, she said to herself, eager to avoid this condemnation. She was starting to wish she had inherited his mind as well as his body so that she could at least avoid being told off. That wasn’t the case though. She hadn’t taken on Reggie’s ways in any way.





Thursday 16 April 2015

A New You Volume 3: Now AVAILABLE!!!!!!

Well, if you've felt starved for transformation stories during my long illness then never fear! A book containing seven of them is now available!

http://www.amazon.com/New-You-Dark-Tales-Transformation-ebook/dp/B00W6FSY7I/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&qid=1429170030&sr=8-3&keywords=emma+finn+new+you

What Does it Say on the Back? 

"INCREDIBLE"

What would you do if you came home and your wife told you she was planning to steal your body? What would you choose if an old woman offered you the chance for true love and it was only going to cost you decades of your life?

Would you be willing to bet your wealth and your fame if you were tired of life in the public eye… just for one day off from being a celebrity? And how might you feel if it all went horribly wrong?

Would you risk your own identity to give your son the chance to play at being a grown-up? Would you forgive your partner if they wished you lived a different life? And what would you do if you woke up one day to find out you had turned into the school fat girl?

Six more stories of body swaps and changes set within the dark streets of Nockton Vale. Six more explorations of the seedy side of transformation.

Six more chances to feel your body change and your mind alter, knowing there may never be a way back to being who you were.

"GRADE A FOR WRITING"

What's Exciting About It? 

A New You Volume III contains continuations to two classic stories of mine that have been requested more than any other.

Now, at last, you can read a cleaned up version of my first Fictionmania story, Turning Round, and see what happens next as our protagonists return to their home town!

And remember the end of Stuck? When the pebble gets left behind in the playground? Well we finally have a sequel that reveals what happens next. It doesn't follow the protagonist from the first story but does keep focus on that mischievous pebble and the people it affects next.

There's a classic short that has been cleaned up and rebranded somewhat and then we get quickly on with three more brand new stories that explore body swaps, age progression and gender identiy.

And you'll get to find out what happens next in Wishing Well!!!

And as if that wasn't enough, I'm presenting here for the first time a short work by a good friend of mine. It's a little transformation story that I'm hoping you might like called The Gift.

How Much Does it Cost? 

Unlike most transformation "books" on Amazon, this isn't a single twenty page short story, it's a mass of them, so hopefully you'll agree that $2.99 is a reasonable price. That's about £1.99 in old pence.

Where Can I Get It? 

As usual, the paperback version will take a few days to appear but you can get the eBook version in multiple formats from the following sites...



And to get it in pretty much any electronic format including PDF: