LADY ANN'S DISGRACE: Chapter One - Part One

Lord Howard Neville had always been, to his mind, a fairly perfect specimen of manhood. As the Earl of Griply, a wealthy, titled gentleman, he had possessed all the attributes he could have wished. At fifty seven years of age, this towering well-built man had crafted a life and persona for himself that satisfied every aspiration he had. He was over six feet tall with a proud jutting chin and a stern brow, a thick, silver handlebar moustache and a bald head. With his irascible egocentric character, he dominated every situation he found himself in, perfectly secure in his position and his power, his physicality and, most of all, his masculinity.

But when he opened his eyes from sleep and realised he was still trapped in the cellar of his home, he remembered again how utterly all these qualities had been stripped away.

He wasn’t the lord of the manor anymore. He wasn’t even a man. He was a pitiful wench; a serving girl; the lowly maid-of-all-work. He was still Nellie Barrow.

He raised his skinny arms and hands up where he could see them and moaned. There was almost no light coming from the steep and narrow stair leading up to the house and precious little coming from the tiny windows at the top of the walls at ground level, dirty and obscured as they were by foliage. The arms seemed so weak, so unlike the steely limbs he should have been seeing. The fingers were so tiny.

He felt his body: the thin legs inside the dress (dress!) he had been forced to wear, the round tummy, the oddly shaped breasts. Touching the maid uniform he was trapped in made him want to weep but the idea of that was just as horrifying. He covered his face in his hands and muttered, “Why me? Oh Lor’, why me?”

But even that chilled him further. He could hear the difference in the way he talked now. Even his dialect was being stripped from him. Straight from sleep, without any kind of forethought, his choice of words, the simpering lower class inflexion: they were those of the common maid he had been turned into. Gone were his brash, confident tones and hard well-bred consonants and the weak ignorant sounds stripped him even further of his confidence.

He recalled the terrible events of the previous day: the humiliation of waking up to find himself transformed into the body of one of his own housemaids; being forced to act out the part as though he truly belonged in it despite all his efforts to stand up to the higher servants who were now his “superiors.” And the worst: finally confronting the imposter who had taken his place as the Earl and learning just how complete his doppelganger’s disguise was as he faced the full ire and retribution he would have meted out himself for such impertinence.

He couldn’t believe that this could have happened to him, with still no clue as to how. He couldn’t believe that the fake Earl had been so real. He couldn’t believe the butler, Powell, had made him spend the night down here in the cellar. But more than anything else, he couldn’t believe that he had stayed here, trapped and punished like a snivelling simpleton, even though the door hadn’t been locked. He could have left at any time in the night but he had been too afraid. He had gone on following their terrible ruling out of fear.

Why hadn’t he left in the night? Why hadn’t he gone back to at least his maid’s room in the attic? Why hadn’t he gone up to the first floor and demanded the imposter Earl get out of his bed and give him his life back?

But the answer was obvious.

He was afraid? He wasn’t himself. He wasn’t acting like himself. All that confidence and surety that he could solve any problem for himself had been stripped from him. He wasn’t Lord Howard Neville – not at the moment. He was only Nellie Barrow. And Nellie Barrow couldn’t risk the enmity of the butler, and most certainly not the Earl. Nellie Barrow wouldn’t dare confront anyone, let alone a powerful aristocratic man. Nellie Barrow would be too petrified to go against a direct order to remain in the cellar.

“I’m Nellie Barrow now,” he whimpered forlornly. “I’m Nellie Barrow and there ain’t two ways about it.”

There was a scrape and a rattle from the top of the cellar steps. Howard flinched back into the folds of his maid’s uniform, terribly worried as the door up there opened a crack then pushed open fully. More light spilled down the tatty wooden steps but he couldn’t see who was there. He was terrified it would be the fake Earl but instead the voice of the butler came down, lanced with chill authority.

“Nellie, get yourself up these steps now before I have a mind to lock you down there for good.”

Howard jerked up to his feet and hastened to follow his instructions, rushing up the narrow staircase. Powell stood at the apex glaring down at him and he wilted still further under those merciless eyes.

“Well?” snapped Powell. “What have you got to say for yourself girl?”

Howard stammered. This was the moment when he could stand up for himself; try to explain the truth of this magical exchange or at least attempt to rebuild some of his pride and self confidence. Instead he said, “I’m so sorry Mr Powell. I done wrong. I shouldn’t’a talked to the Earl. I should have done as I was told.”

Powell glared coldly and Howard wilted further.

“I’m so sorry sir. I’m sorry. I should have known my place,” he said, hating himself for saying those things but truly unable to do any different.

“Have you learned your lesson?” asked Powell.

“Yes sir. Certainly. I have,” stammered Howard, eager to please him; to be allowed egress from the cold dankness and be given a chance to remain in Griply Hall long enough to find some way to change back to being himself,

“Then get upstairs and make yourself presentable,” snapped Powell, “and be quick about it. There are chores to be done and the family will be awake soon.”

“Yes sir. Thank you sir,” gushed Howard, rushing past him and heading for the servant’s staircase. “I’m sorry sir. I won’t let you down.”

But inside his throbbing head, Howard knew he had let himself down. He was losing track of everything that made him who he was. If he wasn’t careful he was going to end up living the life of this maid willingly and subserviently.

CLEANER II: Chapter Five - Part Twelve

DAHLIA

I should have told the cook to go and fuck himself. But I didn’t.

I sat in my shabby little cluttered and despoiled hotel room and slowly drank myself into a stupor, waiting for his knock to come. The main light had stopped working a long time previous. Only one light was lit, a lamp that lay on its side on the floor beside the bed. It projected my gargantuan shadow up the wall and ceiling so that it blocked most of the room in blackness.

The feelings folding over and over on top of themselves inside of me were familiar but I couldn’t have named them. It seemed like tears were close by, trying to seep up to my eye ducts, aching to weep down my face as I gaped in horror at what I had done to myself.

I looked in the mirror, my right hand splayed across my face, only one eye visible between my first and second fingers through the pebble lens. With my features covered there wasn’t a jot of my true form visible; not the slightest clue as to who I really was under all this fat.

Who I was...

But who was I now? Surely not Dahlia at all anymore. I didn’t know if I’d truly become Melissa but I surely wasn’t that beauty.

The way the cook had spoken to me. The way I had let him speak.

“Do you want to fuck later?”

I put my hands on my round knees and stared into and through my face, trying to witness the woman inside; understand how she had changed; whether she was as insane as she seemed to be.

“I’m insane,” I murmured. “I have to be to be doing this.”

But doing that scared me; it truly did. Because it was her voice I spoke in... naturally. Maybe it was the greater resonance this mass provided or the pressure on my windpipe from the weight of the fat – I didn’t know – but I sounded exactly like Melissa without even trying. It was my voice now; just as she sounded like me.

“Oh God,” I muttered, setting my forehead against my palms.

I sat up straight and looked at myself again then stood up.

I felt the folds of fat around my middle. I raised one hand up to the opposite shoulder then felt the ripple of flab down the back of it. I pressed both upper arms forward so that it boosted the hanging breasts there out. I gripped my hips, uncomprehending of how far that had bloated. It was like this was a suit of clothes that I could quite literally had slipped my svelte former body inside of. It felt like I could still take it off and go back to being her right now.

Was I as fat as Melissa started at already? Was I the same size as that lumbering heifer of a woman? Surely I was a hair’s breadth from there. Maybe even bigger.

A thump clattered against the door to my room and I yelped.

I knew who it was but I didn’t call out or go to answer it. Not right away.

Then I did. I shambled over and opened up.

The corridor was clear. No not clear. Another thump came from the far end and I saw the door rock closed that led to the upper floor, where the cook’s room was.

He couldn’t even be bothered to wait. I meant so little to him.

I looked back into my dismal room.

The summer season was almost over. This had never been meant to go on as long as it had. Surely it had to end at some point; in some way. I couldn’t go on like this forever and even “Dahlia’s” bank account couldn’t sustain her hotel bill indefinitely.

I slid my hands up under my glasses and rubbed my eyes.

I knew I had to end this. I knew I had to. I should ring Melissa now. I should go there; demand she begin the process of changing back.

My fat body was thick and warm around me. It felt heavy but it also felt... safe.

I craved a relief from it but I also couldn’t bear the idea of that. I didn’t want this to end until... well... until it had to. Until I had truly become her. When I finally achieved the exact same shape that she had had. When I was as fat as her.

The cook would be waiting. The longer he waited, the more irritated her would be; the worse he would treat me. I should scurry up there immediately; try and placate him. He was going to be stinking drunk and he could get very nasty when he was like that.

But I also knew I shouldn’t go up there. I shouldn’t debase myself like this. I was worth more than any of the people in this rattrap fleapit.

I had to go to Melissa now and demand we swap back.

But. Instead. I picked up my key and closed the door of my room with me outside. I started walking toward the foot of the cook’s stairs; not quickly – I liked it when he got angry – I liked the way it made me feel when he pinched my wrists and pinned me against the wall; when he hissed at me and told me how worthless I was. I didn’t want to hurry. I wanted him to treat me like that.

There was time to swap back. There was plenty of time. And I did want this to go on. Just to the end of the summer; another week or so. When I had finally become an identical twin to Melissa then finally we would call it a day.

Then, and only then, would we begin the long process of regaining our true shapes.

I reached the foot of the stairs and hesitated, smiling to myself. In my nether regions I was getting wet and hot. I was thinking about what the cook said to me before he went out, about how much fatter and uglier I was now, even than the bloated sow I used to be when we got together – about how much my cleaning work made me stink.

I hesitated a while long, letting that feeling build, then I made my way up and knocked on his door.

LADY ANN'S DISGRACE: The Story So Far

Well as you can see, I'm determined to get back to my three day regular postings and that means the new Lady Ann novel will be starting again (sorry for the delay there).

Before we jump in, here's a bit of an overview of what has gone on before. Hopefully it will remind long term readers about what they've read and give new readers a chance to jump on.

Lady Ann's Holiday is still available on Amazon and Lady Ann's Folly will be released as soon as I can edit and expand it.

Enjoy...

What has Gone on Before

Being the story in brief that is more intricately told in the novels Lady Ann’s Holiday and Lady Ann’s Folly.

Lady Ann’s Holiday

In the spring of 1908, in the Yorkshire village of Griply, Lady Ann Neville, eldest daughter of the Earl, Lord Howard Neville and his wife Elizabeth, found herself being forced to visit London to be paired up with yet another unsuitable suitor. Ann didn’t want to go but as fortune would have it, she obtained the means to avoid the trip when she happened upon a pendant with the mystical power to switch two people’s bodies.

Ann made the dubious decision to trade places with Burt Harper, the dim-witted stable hand who tended her horse. Burt was sent off to London in her place feeling very bewildered and Ann remained in Yorkshire with a note giving her two weeks holiday from Burt’s job and plenty of money to spend.

Burt had long been in love with Ann from afar and he willingly went on with the charade, doing his best to fit in and pretend to be the real Ann. This came easier than he had expected as the pendant continued to work its magic long after the swap. Burt took on more and more of Ann’s ways and mode of speech until there was little to distinguish him from the original lady. He, or rather she, even started thinking of herself as Ann.

Meanwhile in the country, Ann found herself in the opposite position. The more that time passed, the more she found herself acting like a Yorkshire clod. Her accent became base and lowborn and even her intelligence and education slipped away. Soon she had lost all her refinement, carousing with the other peasants and frittering her money away. Her self-image began to shift as well until she, or rather he, saw himself as a lower class oike and identified fully as being Burt.

The new Ann in London met the man the original Ann had been intended for, but rather than pushing him away, this new Ann found herself falling in love. When the original planned two weeks were up, the new Ann decided to extend her stay in the capital so that she could pursue this new courtship, despite feeling guilty about trapping the former Ann in her place.

And in Yorkshire, the new Burt really was trapped. He was forced to work as a stable hand, shovelling dung and grooming the horses as well as numerous other pitiful labouring tasks. Worse, his personality continued to shift and he became fawning and obsequious to his betters, rushing round eager to please them. He even started taking on memories of his new life and, in desperation at his predicament, even started fantasising that he might remain that way – such was the hopelessness of his position.

In desperation, Burt made a gambit to retrieve the pendant from Ann’s bedroom, but was caught in the act by Hattie, Ann’s sister. Exposed, Burt was dragged down to the village square by the Earl and flogged then thrown in gaol. He was put on trial and put at risk of many years imprisonment.

In London, the new Ann’s courtship ended with a proposal of marriage and Ann eagerly accepted. Lord Richard Hurley, her suitor, seemed the ideal husband, but almost immediately he showed signs of being cold and distant now that he had obtained her promise.

Burt’s trial began with dire portents of Burt’s future, but at the last minute, the Earl decided to have him released on advice, via telephone, from the new Ann who was soon to return home. This required a substantial bribe to the magistrate, but though Howard Neville achieved his goal and Burt’s release, it got him in trouble.

Chastised by a local MP and very embarrassed, Howard laid the blame at Hattie’s door, chastising her severely. She, after all, was the one who had accused Burt in the first place. Howard made his daughter’s life miserable, leaving her fuming and wishing she could get back at him.

With Burt released, he gratefully accepted the return to his life as a servant. Even that was better than prison. When Ann returned finally it was in doubt whether he would even accept a return to his former life. Both Ann and Burt deliberated over whether to swap back. Ann had grown accustomed to being a titled lady and Burt was so obsequious now he was willing to do anything to ingratiate himself with his beautiful mistress.

In the end, after some conflict in which Burt professed his love for her, Burt and Ann reached an accord. The former Ann would remain a man and a commoner, ill-educated and dim, while the former Burt would hold onto the life of a cultured lady.

But Ann had been exposed to more of Richard’s coldness and she missed the promiscuity of her old life. As Lady Ann’s Holiday came to a close she was left questioning her decision and fantasising about a different switch – not to become Burt again, but to swap places with Mavis, Burt busty, bar-wench girlfriend. She didn’t want to stay that way forever but she longed to have her wicked way with the virile man and she had inherited the original Ann’s rather reckless behaviour.

Lady Ann’s Folly

With her reckless plan in mind, Lady Ann invited Mavis up to Griply Hall’s nearby holiday cottage. There, she persuaded the girl to a secret short-term trade. Ann became Mavis and spent a lovely couple of hours getting her pleasure from Burt who remained unaware of this new swap.

Things didn’t continue to go as smoothly though because Ann’s mischievous sister, Hattie, discovered Mavis in the holiday cottage and found out the truth. She allowed Mavis to take her sister’s place in the manor and when Ann returned she found herself trapped in the body of a common serving girl.

Richard planned to take his fiancée with him to Nockton Vale to meet his mother and, eager to make the most of her opportunity, Mavis pushed for a rapid departure. Ann tried to prevent the body thief from leaving on the train but was unable to. Mavis escaped in Lady Ann’s body, leaving the former Ann in hers and forced to take on the life of a humble barmaid.

The new Ann and former Mavis arrived in Nockton Vale in the East Midlands and set out to secure her new position, but Lillian, her future mother-in-law seems even colder than her son and more conniving. It seems that Mavis may have a challenge ahead of her if she wants to maintain any kind of power in her potential marriage to Lord Hurley.

Hattie had meanwhile taken possession of the magical pendant and she had plans of her own to take revenge on her parents. The Earl had blamed her for the debacle surrounding Burt’s trial and her mother had supported him. Hattie’s uncle’s family were visiting and they had just employed a new maid named Nellie. These events presented her with some ideas.

Hattie hatched a complicated plan and then set herself the task of carrying it out. By the time she was finished, her father, Howard, was trapped in the body of the new maid, Nellie. Elizabeth, his wife, was stuck as a four year old boy called Reggie, her nephew and son of the domineering Uncle Patrick. Nellie was temporarily using Hattie’s own body and Hattie had taken the place of her father.

Now a pitiful maid, Howard was forced to do his new duties. Hattie had made the body swap while he slept so he had no idea how it had happened. This left him questioning reality and wondering if he had really been a man before, especially as his voice and character started to become more like a servile wench. When he tried to challenge the new Earl, really his daughter in disguise, he was chastised severely and locked in the cellar.

Hattie’s plan had also made her mother be none the wiser to her true identity. Now stuck as a four year old boy, Elizabeth found herself being spanked whenever she tried to explain what had happened to her new parents. Like her former husband, she was forced to keep her head down and pretend that she really was Reggie, just to avoid being punished again!

While that was going on, Reggie had assumed her former place as lady of the manor, but his immaturity posed Hattie a problem and risked exposing her plan to everyone. To resolve this, Hattie made him write a hundred times that he was really the Countess and should behave appropriately. This caused the acceleration of the mental changes and helped him quickly assume many of the manure feminine qualities of the true Elizabeth.

Meanwhile in the stables, Burt was questioning his decision to remain a servant but he decided he had to make the best of it and his entire happiness hinged on his future with Mavis. He begins planning a wedding proposal but when conflict comes between them it makes him question even more the decision he has made in remaining a man.

At the centre of this ever more complicated tangle stands Hattie. She has achieved all her goals but in order to do that she has been forced to take on the identity of her father, the Lord Howard Neville, a man in his late fifties with a bald head and a thick silver moustache. She saw it only as a means to an end but in fact she has come to enjoy the sense of authority she has gained. Being a man is strange but becoming her father has allowed her to start seeing things as he would. The true Earl was a domineering misogynist and with the pendant’s mental changes ticking on, Hattie is seeing life more and more as he would, accepting the inferiority of women and seeing men as the more important sex. She still plans to change back into her own body in twenty four hours but it remains to be seen how much another full day as her father will affect her state of mind. Maybe she will take on his personality a little too much...

But that isn’t the development that threatens to change the course of this tale for everyone. It is the lowly Nellie, now in the body of Lady Hattie, who may prove to be a catalyst to new and shocking developments, for she seems determined to keep her new social position as a titled lady, and she knows where the pendant is hidden!

CLEANER II: Chapter Five - Part Eleven

MELISSA

The call to Tommy didn’t go through immediately. There was an extended delay of silence as my phone reached out across the curvature of the world and tried to find his.

I stood. I walked toward the balcony. The double doors were open. I could see sky and a sliver of horizon. I turned my back on it. The phone started to ring. I changed hands from one to the other. I sat down.

It rang on and on. Tommy didn’t pick up. Physical tension crept into my shoulders and down my arms. I changed hands on the phone again.

He picked up.

“Dahlia? Is that you?”

I held my breath. My lips opened and my tongue rolled forward ready. I said nothing.

“Dahlia? Hello? You there?”

I made a funnel with my lips. I couldn’t make myself reply. There wasn’t a chance he would believe I was her. This was all about to come crashing down around me. He would expose me for a fraud and both he and Katherine would charge over here to denounce my manipulations. They would find Dahlia and do everything they could to destroy me. They would convince her to sue me for ruining her life; for trying to steal it. I would be ruined. I’d end up just as fat as I ever was, penniless and alone; without even Robert to look after me. I would end up far worse than I had ever started.

“Yes,” I said. “It’s me.”

“Jesus,” said Tommy. “Thank God you’ve called at last, We’ve been worried as fuck. It was like you dropped off the face of the world. Where have you been?”

“I’ve been—” I stopped. My voice wasn’t like hers in the least. It was my old voice – my real voice. I cleared my throat. “I’ve er...” I cleared it again.

“Are you okay?” He paused and said the next words tentatively. “You don’t sound yourself.”

I swallowed, my throat tightening and drying. I had to end the call. This wasn’t going to work. I was going to ruin everything.

“Dahlia? You there?”

I closed my eyes. I had to get a hold of myself. I tried to reason with my chaotic mind; to draw it under control.

Breathe, I told myself. Breathe.

“Dahlia?”

“I’m here,” I said. “Sorry.”

The voice was perfect now; as good as I’d ever managed to do it. I sounded exactly like her. I smiled, a new confidence settling over me.

“I was just distracted for a minute. I’m fine now.”

“Where are you?” asked Tommy. “Katherine’s been trying to find you. She’s worried sick. What happened? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine Tommy,” I replied. “I’m much better now. I’m sorry I haven’t been in contact. I... needed some time to myself, to get my head straight. Everything just... got on top of me. That’s all. My... uh... My brother’s death. The pressure of going back to work. You know.”

Tommy went silent.

“I’m in Greece at the moment.”

“Greece? Where are you staying? I know Katherine will want to get in touch.”

“I’m... not quite ready for that yet,” I said.

“Oh, uh, okay.” Tommy was uncertain; treading lightly. He was aware of how screwed up the real Dahlia had been when she left the country and he had to have concluded how uncharacteristic it was for her to break all contact for several months with those closest to her. He must have been treading very carefully. “No problem. I understand. Do you want me to keep it quiet that you got in touch?”

I considered this. “Yes. For now. Is that okay?”

“Sure. No problem.”

He had accepted I was really her. There was no doubt. I got another swell of confidence that this crazy scheme really could succeed, even face to face.

“Will you be coming back to England sometime soon?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said. “It won’t be too long now. But not quite yet. I’m... Before I come back I’m getting a little work done... to my face.”

“What? You don’t need that. You’re beautiful as you are.”

“That’s nice of you to say Tommy, but it’s all booked in. I’m doing it. And that’s why I was calling.”

“Uh, what did you gave in mind?”

“I know I let you down before about my... my comeback... but there were things going on at the time, what with my brother’s—”

“Don’t worry about that. It’s all just water under the bridge. Seriously. Forget about it. It wasn’t a problem.”

I knew he was being kind; that it had been a problem; Dahlia had told me enough about her life for me to understand that.

“I want to thank you for everything you did,” I said, “and I want to ask you a big favour.”

“Anything sweetheart.”

“I want you to set it up again. I want you to organise another comeback for me.”

He hesitated. “Dahlia... sweetie... Are you sure you’re ready for that? After the last time?”

“I’m sure,” I said. “I’ve had a lot of time to get my head straight and think about what I want.”

I pictured the real Dahlia on a magazine cover looking like a beautiful princess. I pictured her walking the catwalk and acting on the big screen.

“I assure you Tommy. I want that life more than anything you can possibly imagine, and I’m willing to do anything to get it. You don’t have to worry about me.”