LADY ANN'S FOLLY: Chapter Ten - Part Two

With the ordeal of breakfast complete, Nellie made her way back up to Lady Harriet’s bedroom, feeling deeply uncomfortable.

All she wanted to do was return to her own body and duties as a maid. It was unnatural for her to be moving around in somebody else’s shape and wearing their clothes. She hated being one of the gentry. It wasn’t right.

On the landing she passed Lottie, the maid she had shared a bed with, and went to speak to her normally, but before she could, Lottie curtseyed and said, “M’lady” and Nellie realised how stuck she was now.

She went into the bedroom and shut the door tightly, wishing the real Harriet would return and put her back where she was meant to be. But how could she? The real Harriet had changed into the Earl himself now! She was a man! It had become a horrible tangle that Nellie could see no easy way out of.

Lady Harriet, on the other hand, didn’t seem shaken at all by her experience. She had played the part of her father perfectly, acting exactly like the imperious old gentleman. If she had any reservations about becoming her own father it was impossible to detect them.

Nellie, meanwhile, felt totally at odds. She went to the mirror again and examined her reflection, disliking what she was seeing, even as she begrudgingly admitted that she was much more beautiful now. She hadn’t been ugly in her real body but there had been a plainness about her that wasn’t there at all no more. Now she was a beautiful titled lady. It didn’t feel right at all!

Though part of her had to admit that it was fun to put on this fabulous disguise and strut about the house as though she really owned the place.

She raised her chin and looked at herself some more, trying to pretend she really was Lady Harriet. Then she giggled. It was awfully funny.

Not as funny though as sitting at the breakfast table and seeing who had to be Earl Neville in her very own body and maid’s uniform come in and serve the food!

She couldn’t believe it was really so. She only had Harriet’s word for it, but she could see no other possibility. The Earl really was stuck in her body; forced to do her duties; and by the look of him, it seemed as though he was really doing them! As though he really were only a maid!

Nellie laughed out loud, gazing into her new eyes in the mirror and finding, in the humour, a little more comfort in this strange face looking back at her.

She was Lady Harriet for now. Harriet was the Earl and the Earl was her; nothing but a lowly servant.

It was funny but nice to realise that he was lower down than she was now. She wondered what it might be like to ring the bell and call for him; to give him instructions... But she was far too frightened to try anything of that nature. She couldn’t trust herself not to give the game away, and if the Earl ever found out that she had abetted in this steeplechase then when he got back to his real body he would punish her severely. That was a terrifying prospect!

She wished she didn’t have to stay like this but for now she did. She sat down on the bed and put her hands in her lap. The best thing she could do was stay out of people’s way. It sounded like she was going to have to attend the family picnic but she hoped to keep her profile while she was there as low as she could.

CLEANER: Chapter Two - Part Eight

THE ORIGINAL DAHLIA

I didn’t enjoy my walk.

There was little to see that far inland and the area wasn’t set up for tourists. It was just a lot of arid inhospitable wasteland and scrappy housing and heat. Terrible heat. And the shine had been taken off this experience for me by the abruptness of the hotel manager and, truth be told, the rude awakening I'd gotten from the surprise twist my life had taken. It made me slightly irritable. I kept thinking that if I had been the one to choose the route I was now taking; becoming an actual cleaner here; then I would have been able to enjoy it more. Having it foisted on me was... Well. It was like I really had no choice in the matter.

On the way back to my third-rate hotel I thought that through. That was what I had wanted really: to not have the power of my former role. I shouldn’t gripe. Melissa was simply allowing me to live out my fantasy. Yes, she was taking it farther than I had asked her to; farther than I’d expected; but it was still in line with my wishes, however unexpected it was.

As I approached the hotel I saw that the outside tables were laid for dinner. My stomach rumbled but I knew that I wasn’t permitted to eat with them or until they had finished. I wandered in feeling sorry for myself, gazing enviously across at the diners.

The manager appeared from the direction of the kitchens as I headed for the back staircase looking harried. “There you are! I’ve been looking for you. Get back here now. You’re supposed to be helping.”

“What?”

He grabbed my arm and urged me toward the back of the hotel. “Hurry. You will help to serve.”

“But I thought I was the cleaner.”

“Yes. Cleaner. But you help with meal as well. Hurry.”

He ran me back into the kitchen and shoved an apron into my hands. I was still bewildered by all this but I found myself carrying topped up plates of food out to the buffet tables for the guests to eat.

Back and forth I went as I was barked at by the manager and the skinny cook to move more quickly. It was hot and exhausting and sort of degrading. Because I thought this kind of job was beneath me? Was I so snobbish to think myself superior to the hoi polloi? Or was it just the mistreatment I was getting?

Either way I didn’t like it. It was too much of a thump down to that level. At home, within my own house, I had been able to take things slow and savour it as my own choice. This was the opposite of that; foisted into an unpleasant situation with unpleasant people treating me unpleasantly.

I kept telling myself this was what I wanted, but was it? Really?

The pace thankfully slowed as the evening went on and eight o’clock approached. I was left to hang around more as the guests finished their meals and went to the bar. Then it was cleaning up that I was roped into, clearing the tables and returning the food plates back to the kitchen. There were other staff members doing that as well and it wasn’t long before the skinny cook nodded toward the leftover food dishes and told me to help myself.

My stomach was moaning now and I greedily did as instructed, filling the widest plate I could find and carrying it through to the windowless staff room where a bare plastic table and plastic chairs waited. No one else was in there and I sat and tucked in.

The food was a tad cold and a tad dry but there was plenty of it and it was delicious. I chomped through three quarters of the plate without thinking about it but then I started to contemplate my intention to put weight on. If I ate like this every day then I surely would do so, and quickly. But what if I went further? What if I had a second plate? Or a third? What if I had a fourth?

I’d heard stories about fat people who ate so much that their appetites grew to match it, demanding more and more sustenance and bloating their forms even further. Here in this environment, without anyone I knew to judge me, I could do that if I wanted to. Who was to know? Who could stop me? Who would care?

Nobody.

I finished off that first big plate and then I went back for more. I filled a second plate with juicy meats and chips and mashed potato and mayonnaise. Back to the staff room I went and again I devoured it, working my way down. By the end of that much I was stuffed. I sat rubbing my full belly, thinking how enjoyable it was to cut loose so wildly. It was a shame I couldn’t have even more.

But on a whim I slipped up the corridor to the staff toilet and relieved myself. After that I went back and got my plate; took it through to the kitchen; filled it up with another helping. I was straining at the waist but the loo break had freed up some space.

Feeling guilty and oddly light-headed I carried my food back into the staff room and sat down, shovelling more and more into my mouth until my cheeks were puffed out with greed.

I thought about my cleaning duties starting first thing in the morning.

Then I focused back on my food and went on devouring it.

LADY ANN'S FOLLY: Chapter Ten - Part One

Woe for the Countess

Countess Elizabeth Neville was growing increasingly infuriated at her nephew Reggie: specifically the way he ate at the breakfast table.

The chubby little six year old was sweet enough and she was sure he was well-meaning, but he simply hadn’t been treated with anywhere near enough discipline in his short life and the results of that were clear. Elizabeth and her husband had brought Ann and Harriet up with severe correction and had done an excellent job as a result. Both daughters were level-headed, happy with their place in the world and kind to others.

Reggie, and to a lesser extent his sister Felicity, were relatively ignorant; always playing noisily and chattering when they ought to keep silent. Perhaps she had forgotten what having small children was like but Elizabeth felt sure that these two cherubs should be better behaved. Reggie, in particular, was irritating because of his lisp, which Elizabeth was sure could be easily eliminated with proper elocution lessons. He spoke with a mouthful of spittle at all times and though the initial impression this gave was of adorable sweetness, it wore thin very quickly.

“Really Reggie,” she said. “Can’t you eat more quietly? I’ve never heard such a racket coming from the mouth of a child before.”

The smartly dressed young boy lowered his head and looked up at her through his fringe, pouting. “Shorry auntie,” he said.

“You can say sorry as often as you like but if you meant it you would be more careful.”

“Listen to Aunt Elizabeth,” said Patrick, frowning heavily at the boy. “I won’t have you embarrassing me, is that clear?”

“Yesh father. I’m shorry.”

Elizabeth shook her head and raised her eyebrows at her husband at the other end of the table. The man who appeared to be Howard had been watching their exchange with interest and he gave her a wink in return, smiling. Elizabeth didn’t notice the undercurrent of mirth in the middle-aged man’s features, nor did she suspect the complicated series of bodily exchanges that had gone on unnoticed around her. She returned to her conversation with Geraldine about their plans for the lunchtime picnic, doing her best to ignore Reggie as he went back to eating noisily, oblivious to the chomping noises coming from his open mouth.

Hattie meanwhile continued to enjoy her conversation with Patrick as soon as her mother’s interjection was forgotten, but she kept her eyes on the little boy, wondering the best way to play her next trick.

She had noticed that her appetite was healthier now she was a man and despite her initial consternation at the size of her breakfast she had devoured it all soundly and felt, if anything, that she could gladly eat more if it were presented to her. It was funny and a surprisingly gratifying experience after a life of pecking daintily at food. With all the talk of the upcoming picnic she was already looking forward to tucking in heartily.

The breakfast started to wind down and the ladies rose as the servants came in to clear the table. Hattie looked out for her father in his new servile role but was disappointed not to see him.

She loitered behind, allowing Uncle Patrick to go ahead talking to his daughter, moving closer to little Reggie. Nellie hung back too, looking unsure of herself.

“Why don’t you go up to your room Harriet,” said Hattie. “You’ll be called when it’s time for the picnic.” She didn’t know what was stranger; talking to herself or hearing the words come in such a good impersonation of her father’s speaking voice.

Nellie looked doubtful but she nodded and left, following her instructions.

The servants cleared the first batch of breakfast items and then Hattie was left alone with Reggie. She took the seat beside the boy and leaned on the table. Reggie looked up at her fearfully and Hattie knew why. The Earl had little patience for small children and she’d witnessed him chastising the boy almost as many times as her mother did. The difference was that the Earl was a terrifying individual, easily capable of throwing his actual physical weight around. Nevertheless, she smiled at the boy, conscious of the curling of her thick moustache around her mouth.

“It must be very annoying for you to be told off so much Reggie,” she said, trying to sound kind.

Reggie didn’t know what to say to that and was extremely intimidated by the entire situation. He said nothing and didn’t even nod.

“A boy like you who does his best to be good deserves more respect, wouldn’t you say?”

Still no response. The six year old looked almost ready to cry.

“I bet you wish you were the one in charge sometimes, eh?” asked Hattie. “Wouldn’t it be grand if you could be the one to tell other people off; even your Aunt Elizabeth. Am I right?” She nodded and gave him a nudge and Reggie managed a little grin at the idea.

“What would you say if I told you I know a way that we could make that happen?” asked Hattie. “A way to temporarily let you get your own back. Would you like that?”

Reggie hesitated then gave a noncommittal shrug of his shoulders.

“I think you would,” said Hattie, “and I’m going to let you in on a secret if you promise not to tell anyone. Do you promise?”

Reggie nodded solemnly.

“Can I trust you young man?” asked Hattie.

“Yesh shir,” replied Reggie.

Hattie smiled, smugly relishing what was to come. “Good boy,” she said. “Then all you have to do is listen very carefully.” She lifted the pendant box out of her pocket and flipped open the lid. “Take this and go through to the drawing room. In a short while I will come in with your Aunt Elizabeth. Until then you mustn’t show anyone else this necklace. Do you understand?”

Reggie pouted a little then nodded. “Yesh.”

“Good boy,” said Hattie. “When I come in with your aunt I will talk to her for a little while and then I will give you a signal. When I give you that signal I would like you to take a certain action. Is that clear?”

The little boy nodded.

“Perfect,” said Hattie. “Now listen carefully...”

CLEANER: Chapter Two - Part Seven

THE ORIGINAL MELISSA

I spent most of the afternoon relishing the wealth and privilege I now possessed, lounging by the pool in an expensive swimsuit I bought in the hotel shop.

It was wonderful to say the least. I had never been any further abroad than France and that had been on a particularly dull and wet school trip. Robert had never had the money nor inclination to finance something in a hot country and we could never in a million years have managed such a lavish hotel as this.

The drinks were complimentary and I got a mite tipsy, reading another purchase from the hotel shop: a racy little book about a gypsy falling in love with a wealthy merchant, only to find he was really only another gypsy in disguise. I couldn’t stop smiling.

When I got very hot I went for a dip in the pool. I wasn’t a great swimmer - my body wasn’t especially buoyant – but I managed to get across and back before I got out. That was enough for one day. I knew it was possible to pull all sorts of muscles if one went too far.

I also knew an excuse when I saw it and I grumbled to myself as I returned to my recliner because I had given myself the mission to do better; to get slim; and I was determined not to allow my normal proclivities limit that. This was the new me now – I was a new Dahlia – and one of the qualities I was going to possess wholeheartedly was an uncompromising resolve to achieve my ends.

I lay there for ten more minutes, thinking about the notice board I’d seen in reception advertising personal trainers, then I gathered my things and went inside.

I checked the poster and then went to the receptionist.

“Hi. I’d like to hire a personal trainer to work with me while I’m staying here,” I said.

The receptionist tried to maintain her demeanour but I caught the smirk that slid quickly on and off her lips. I narrowed my eyes, my initial impulse goading me to demand an apology, but I managed to retain my decorum.

She gave me some more details and took my information, telling me she’d set one up for the next morning. We agreed on a time and I walked away, feeling as though I’d made a terrible mistake.

It was fine. I could always drop out if I didn’t like it and what if he really could work some magic?

I imagined a scenario where I got bullied and harassed all day, every day, by the trainer but where I quickly showed results and in no time had a beautiful athletic body.

It would be so wonderful to do that and maybe, just maybe, it was possible. It was unlikely, surely, but it was like buying a lottery ticket. You know the chances are miniscule but that doesn't stop you hoping and dreaming.

I returned to my sun lounger but I felt better now; more virtuous. It was true that procrastinating only leads to self-imposed pressure and stress. Getting things done was the real path to lasting happiness.

I got settled and thought about Dahlia, giggling to myself about the trick I’d played on her. It had been expensive to convince the hotel to take her on as a cleaner without meeting her first when I’d found and responded to their advertisement, but money greases all sorts of wheels if there’s enough of it. Once it was explained to them that she had previous experience and they understood just what I was willing to pay so they would give her a chance, fleshing out the details was simple and very enjoyable.

Had they told her right away when she got there or had she sauntered round thinking she was a guest? Had she had her rude awakening yet? It was hilarious to imagine all the possibilities.

Just wait until she learned what it was like to work a real job – not pretending anymore but stuck in it all day long; at least twice the length of time she had played at it back in Nockton Vale.

Of course there was a risk she’d hate it and coming crying to me to swap back, but I had a feeling she was a big enough glutton for punishment to want to push through with it regardless. Maybe she was angry with herself for screwing up her modelling career. Maybe she hated herself for her brother’s death. Whatever it was I could see a vein of self-destruction in her; a desire to pay penance for some real or imagined act on her part.

Maybe when this was all done with she would have worked that guilt, whatever it was, out of her system and go on being a happier person. But she was going to be a fat happier person if I had my way. When this ended and we swapped back, the very least I wanted to get out of it was a fit slim body and to be able to laugh at the ruin she’d made of hers.

LADY ANN'S FOLLY: Chapter Nine - Part Ten

A few minutes earlier, when Hattie led Nellie into the breakfast room, she saw her Uncle Patrick and Aunt Geraldine already seated along with her mother and the two children.

Beside her, the maid in her body looked starkly nervous but Hattie didn’t feel anything of the kind. She felt confident and energised. “Good morning Patrick,” she said, imitating her father’s voice very well. “Ladies.” She nodded to Geraldine and her mother, tickled by the fact that she no longer was one of the ladies. “Why don’t you sit down Harriet,” she said to Nellie, nudging her in the direction of the empty seat on the flank of the table.

“Ah Howard,” said Patrick. “Finally another man to talk to. I was about ready to go back to bed having to listen to this women nattering on.”

Elizabeth and Geraldine made a show of scowling at his remarks but with good humour. Hattie grinned, relishing not only the admittance to the hitherto restricted area of masculine conversation, but the immediate acceptance from her uncle in her new identity as his equal. The youngest daughter was never the most prominent position in a family. It was wonderful to leap up to a higher position of recognition.

She took her father’s seat at the head of the table, keeping an eye on Nellie as she did so. The former maid sat quietly and kept her mouth shut which was probably for the best. As she got settled, Elizabeth, Hattie’s mother, gave her big manly hand a brief squeeze. Again, the new kind of physical contact left her feeling rather uncomfortable but there was nothing to be done about it.

“What… rot have these ladies been wittering on about then Patrick?” she asked with a smirk, loving to play the part she had taken on.

“This awful picnic they have planned,” said Patrick.

“A tedious affair to be certain, replied Hattie with a chuckle.

“Howard, really,” said Elizabeth. “The picnic will be lovely, overlooking the lake at Beggar's Nook.  Geraldine and I have planned it to perfection. It will go off seamlessly.”

“I’m sure you’re right… dear,” replied Hattie. “It will be divine, I’m sure. But Patrick’s right. I didn’t come here to bother with such trivialities. Patrick, tell me more about the mine.” Harriet had no real interest in such dull business matters but it was so hilarious to be taken seriously in the guise of her father.

Uncle Patrick launched into a description of the current dealings at Blacklake mine and she nodded, making comment when it seemed appropriate. As she did so she reflected on how perfectly this was all going. Nobody suspected a thing regarding her or Nellie. She had pulled off her plan thus far with complete success. As far as the family knew she really was her father.

Realising that made Hattie relax still further, feeling more comfortable in her manly body and clothes. The combination of her family’s acceptance and what she herself could see and feel suddenly gave her a real sense of identifying with the role she was playing. Instead of seeing herself as a young woman in disguise, she clicked across into seeing herself the way she actually looked – as a middle-aged man; as the owner of this house and ultimate authority. As that realisation came to her a light buzzing came from the base of her skull but she didn’t particularly notice.

Movement caught her eye as a servant appeared in the doorway carrying some breakfast things. Hattie looked at the girl but it took her a moment to recognise her and realise the full significance.

It was the maid, Nellie. Or rather, it was her father, the Earl, trapped in Nellie’s body.

The girl stared at her, no doubt looking for faults in her characterisation, and she stared back at the girl. It was almost impossible to believe that her father  really resided inside that slight frame, behind those frightened eyes. She hadn’t known how he would react waking up in the body of a maid, but the perfect occurrence was clearly happening. He was serving breakfast. He was following his orders; doing his duty as a maid. It was just too ideal.

Hattie could see the doubt in this new maid’s eyes. Her father didn’t see an imposter when she looked at her. He was confused because Hattie looked like the real thing. With a smidgeon of a smirk, she decided that what was required now was the reinforcement of that doubt. She wanted her father to question if he had ever been a man; to really feel that his only hope was to live as though he really were just a simple maidservant.

Doing her best to impersonate her father’s exact turn of phrase and demeanour, Hattie’s lifted her voice and imperiously said, “Well don’t just stand there you idiot girl. Serve out the breakfast. I’m famished!”

The girl jumped, almost dropping the plates, and hurried forward to follow the orders. Hattie caught the laughter in her mouth before it could spill out.

“Maid’s aren’t what they used to be,” she said loudly, directing her conversation at the adults. “Look at this silly girl. If she doesn’t buck her ideas up she’ll be out of this house and working the fields – and that’s if she’s lucky!”

Her former father gave her a brief panic-stricken look and hurried to work faster. He didn’t say anything. He was clearly too terrified.

“Well go on then girl,” snapped Hattie, revelling in her role as the Earl. “Bring the rest of the things in. We’re waiting!”

The girl went to the door and glanced back fearfully again, then she bobbed a curtsy and in a perfect Yorkshire said, “Yes m’lord. It won’t be a moment.” Then she disappeared in a flurry of skirt.

Hattie gaped after her then looked at Nellie who returned her gaze with astonishment.

This really was going splendidly. Everything was falling into place. Her father was acting just like a real maid and no one could detect her or Nellie’s true identities. All that was needed now was to complete her dastardly plan and ensure her mother got the comeuppance she deserved. After that she could finally feel that they’d got the judgement they deserved for the awful way they’d treated her.

CLEANER II: Chapter Two - Part Six

THE ORIGINAL DAHLIA

“You start tomorrow,” said the hotel manager. “In morning. 7am.”

“Tomorrow?” This was my fantasy… sort of… but I’d expected something of a holiday really.

“You will start outside around pool area then clean corridors inside. Then you will start on rooms.”

This was bewildering. On my extensive travels I’d seen hundreds of cleaning staff going about their business but I’d barely noticed them. Was I really going to allow myself to become one of them?

“Come,” said the manager. He led me to a set of cupboards in the staff area of the hotel and eyed my figure then removed a plastic-packed outfit in pale blue and white. “Here. Uniform. For you. Be dressed and ready here in the morning. The housekeeper will tell you what to do.”

“Uh, okay,” I said.

The manager went to leave.

“And I’m not to go outside?” I asked.

“Not at the front. No. At back.” He pointed toward the dirty little courtyard again.

“What about eating?” I asked. I was getting hungry already. “Should I eat with the other… with the guests, or…?”

“No,” he snapped as though I were being an idiot. “You will eat after each meal finished. In staff room. Eight o’clock tonight.”

“Eight o’clock?” That was hours away.

The manager walked off without another word and I stood looking after him, unsure what I should do now. Obviously the plans I’d had to enjoy the weather and rest weren’t going to work out.

With nothing better to do and feeling hemmed in by these sudden limitations I went back up to my room. On the way I passed a family of four English tourists who had been out by the pool when I got dressed down. When they saw me they twittered away at my misfortune and I blushed a bright red.

It was dingy and depressing in my room. I sat on the bed with my arms round my knees, playing back what had happened in my mind’s eye, feeling the discomfort and humiliation again. It had been horrible and embarrassing but also…

“Hmmm.”

I manoeuvred on the bed, lowering my legs and spreading them slightly, then I scootched up the mattress and lay on my back, my eyes closed. I pictured myself again outside with my new brunette hairstyle and round glasses, my ordinary figure and dowdy swimming costume. I pictured the hotel manager coming angrily up to me again and telling me I had no right to be out there; saw the tourists watching the scene and smirking at the indignity. And I started to smile, biting my lower lip; started to feel a glow down inside me that I, Dahlia, wasn’t good enough anymore to use even this shabby hotel’s swimming pool. The poorest tourist was well above me on the social pecking order now when once I’d been like a princess.

When it had happened I’d felt a spike of anger toward Melissa – Dahlia now – for setting me up like this and not telling me, but now I suddenly felt really grateful. I would have fannyed around for a long time before I got to organising something like this. She had really taken my dark dream in hand and turned it into a darker reality. I had imagined spending the time abroad being a sort of servant to her, running around fetching drinks and such. This was much better. It was going to be far more immersive – and being separated from her, at least for now, would mean that everyone I interacted with would only know me as this person I now was. Melissa.

I sighed happily and settled deeper into the bed.

When I was done I cleaned myself up and went downstairs; found my way out to the little courtyard. It was just as claustrophobic and noisy as it had been before but was also an unpleasantly hot suntrap.

A skinny Greek man; a member of the cooking staff by the look of him; was leaning against the wall smoking a hand-rolled cigarette. He gave me a brief up and down look that made me feel deeply uncomfortable then flashed his eyes and offered a grin. Safe in my anonymity, it hadn’t occurred to me that I would have to contend with men in this new guise and the surprise of it put me off guard. I gave a curt smile back and looked away. He was far below my league – my former league – skinny and worn with curly black hair and a chipped front tooth. It was another reminder of how different I looked already.

It was remarkable; the difference the hair, glasses and clothes made, added to the weight I’d put on, which wasn’t that much. It was colouring my new self-image in more and more moment by moment.

I sat uncomfortably for a couple of minutes on a small plastic chair. The man showed no impulse to leave, starting up a second cigarette when he finished the first. He offered me one. I smiled and shook my head. I’d smoked a little in my earlier years but thought it was a stupid habit now that I’d stopped.

After a while, feeling out of place, I went inside and walked out of the front of the hotel. I needed to eat and I couldn’t get anything there. I decided to walk the streets until I found a shop of some kind. I needed something in my stomach.

This day hadn’t turned out how I had expected it to. Was it better?

I wasn’t sure yet.

I thought maybe it was.

A NEW YOU: VOLUME 2 IS NOW AVAILABLE!!!!!

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Volume 2 of A New You! 

What Does it Say on the Back? 


"GENIUS! GENIUS! GENIUS! I loved it!"

In the pretty vale of Nockton, sinister forces are at work that can strip you of your very identity and press you into a new one. All it can take to summon the dark power of the Golden Gloom is a careless wish. Sometimes not even that.

Six dark tales of transformation follow the stories of five women and one man as they are changed beyond recognition. Journey with them as they are thrust into new lives that are both chilling and at the same time strangely tantalising.

Enter Nockton Vale once more but know that you will never leave unchanged.

"CAPTIVATING"


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LADY ANN'S FOLLY: Chapter Nine - Part Nine

Lord Howard Neville was still so staggered by the inexplicable quality of his situation that he could do little but go along with it with a dazed expression on his face.

He wasn’t a man anymore! He was a woman! And not only a woman: a maid! One of his own maids!

On his knees in the dining room, he was building a fire. He’d already cleaned out the grate, following the instructions of the butler! But what else could he do? Everything that made him who he was; gave him the confidence to exert his authority; had been stripped away, most noticeably his physical stature. He was terrified of being hurt by the overbearing butler.

He worked has quickly as he could, but the panic that was on him made him fumble. He wasn’t used to his thin fingers and weak arms. Everything was so hard! But what else could he do? He couldn’t refuse to do it. He knew the likely result of that. He had to play along long enough to find out why this was happening.

The only thing he could think of was that this was a punishment for his behaviour. He had shouted at the maid he had become the day before. This had to be some kind of curse that she had levied on him to get her own back. She was obviously a witch. The only logical answer was that she had stolen his body and he had to confront her and make her switch them back.

To get to his real body he had to stay in the house. To stay in the house he had to go on pretending to be this maid! It was terrible!

Finally, he got the spark to take on the kindling and blew to increase the flame. Starting a fire was much harder than he thought it would be. He’d seen it done many times by servants over the years, never imagining he would end up being a servant himself.

It made him want to scream in fury and rage.

He got up, hating the long dress and apron he was wearing, and worst of all: the frilly cap. He regarded his womanly body despondently and trudged back through to the kitchen to get his next instructions.

“Ah, Nellie. There you are!” said the cook grumpily. “Get over here and help me and pick those feet up or Mister Powell will be having another word with you.”

Howard hurried over, feeling anxious and hating that he did. He had never been so out of control in his life!

The cook made him assist her with the breakfast. Him: a titled lord, reduced to pitiful women’s work! It was degrading! He had no idea what to do and the doughty woman was horribly patronising, barking orders as though he were an imbecile. He wanted to tell her she couldn’t speak to him like that, but whenever he said anything his new female voice was so reedy. It had no power behind it and he knew how preposterous it would sound if he started shouting back. He was barely more than a child. He had no authority at all. As the breakfast came together, all he could do was stick out and then hope to appeal to the pretender who had presumably taken his place.

“Well don’t just stand there girl!” snapped Powell as he entered the kitchen. “Make yourself useful. Start bringing the breakfast things through. The family are waiting.”

The family. He should have been through there waiting with them! He shouldn’t have to be serving instead!

“Nellie!” snapped Powell. “Now girl!”

“Beggin yer pardon sir,” replied Howard, rushing to pick up some of the breakfast things; then he froze rigid, realising what he’d said, and the lowborn, yokel accent he’d said it with.

Good God no, he thought. Up to now, he’d barely spoken, hating the sound of his voice but he hadn’t had a peasant accent – he was sure of that. And he would never have chosen to use such a phrase. Never!

“Nellie!” shouted Powell.

“Sorry sir,” stammered Howard, rushing past the old man with the plates, relieved that there was no sign then of the Yorkshire brogue.

He went along the back corridor toward the dining room feeling increasingly anxious, especially when he heard the chatter coming from inside there. He could hear the jocular voice of his brother, Patrick, and sister-in-law Geraldine. He hated the idea of coming face to face with them looking like this; being so diminished in front of them. His only solace was that they wouldn’t know him. And that was nothing compared to his wife and daughter seeing him as nothing but a servant girl.

He hated this. He hated it so much.

Then Howard got to the doorway and he stood there carrying the breakfast things with a look of numb shock across his homely features. For sitting at the head of the table was the imposter, just as he’d hoped and feared. This Earl looked exactly like he was meant to. Exactly like. But worse, nothing untoward was visible. His posture was clean and crisp. His expression fit his patriarchal features. Nobody here seemed to have any objection to his presence; to be able to detect the slightest flaw in his diabolical disguise.

Then the doppelganger spotted Howard standing there in the doorway and looked him directly in the eye. They were locked eyeball to eyeball for several long seconds as Howard felt the strength falter in his legs, then this sham Earl raised his chin and opened his mouth and in a plum voice that sounded exactly as it should he said, “Well don’t just stand there you idiot girl. Serve out the breakfast. I’m famished!”

Howard’s face fell but he jerked to do so, his mind reeling, for his theory couldn’t be right. No simple-minded maid could have assumed his likeness so perfectly in such a short time; mastered his well-bred accent. It was impossible.

And that realisation was truly horrifying, because it meant he had been wrong, surely.

That really did seem to be Howard Neville at the end of the table. But if that was Howard Neville then who was he?

 

CLEANER II: Chapter Two - Part Five

THE ORIGINAL DAHLIA

I didn’t have a robe or anything and I didn’t think it would matter so I decided to walk down to the pool just in my swimsuit with a towel in hand.

When I left the room though, even though no one was around on the dim and narrow back corridor my room was, I felt instantly embarrassed. It was that gaze into the mirror that had done it, cementing my self-image in place.

That had been the first time since the haircut and name exchange that I had had real non-pressure time by myself examining the way I looked now and it had really drilled into me the visible differences.

This was exactly what I’d fantasised about – not being a gorgeous model anymore; just being an ordinary woman – but the reality of that was so unexpected. I hadn’t realised how fundamental that picture in my head had been of how I looked and how intrinsically joined it was to my sense of identity; or how jarring it would feel to step away from that identity. I was actually feeling a cloud of anxiety building high enough to make me want to go back inside my room; maybe even contact the new Dahlia and call all this off right away before it went far enough along that I actually had to live like this and be seen by other people.

But I got a hold of myself; figuratively grabbing my brain in two hands and giving it a shake. I could deal with anxiety. I’d had to in my life as a catwalk model. The way to do it was to recognise that yes, my lower brain was having an anxiety attack and then reflect with my higher brain what I wanted to do about that.

This was what I had wanted. I wasn’t going to wimp out at every little detail as it went on. I was committed now. See it through: that was what I was going to do.

I went downstairs. Even though this was generally a dive, there were clearly nicer sections of the hotel than I was staying in. I could almost have been angry at Melissa— ... Dahlia for booking me into the worst of the worst but she was just granting my wish. I giggled. She was kind of like my fairy godmother actually.

Reception was unmanned. I passed it and went out into the heat. The temperature was so high that the paving slabs burned my feet unless I crossed them very quickly.

The tiles beside the pool weren’t such potent conductors so were fine and I found a recliner and laid my towel on it. There were maybe a dozen people around the pool. As a newcomer, I could see them checking me out. In the past the reactions would have been striking and notable. Now the only way they were notable was by their minimalism. I’d expected people to smirk at my dowdy costume and more curvy figure but, I guessed, to them I wasn’t Dahlia the supermodel brought low, I was just one of a billion average women; not noteworthy in any way.

I felt slightly down about that until my higher brain reminded me of my purpose here and then I got a little shiver of pleasure to wallow in my normalcy. It was nice actually. Nobody was staring for the first time in my life. It was kind of great.

I decided to take a little dip and walked over to the edge of the pool but as I dipped my toe in the proprietor of the hotel, who had emerged from the front door, started getting agitated and hurrying across.

He was a harried little man and he seemed awfully flustered. I examined my environment, trying to figure out why and noticed belatedly that nobody else was in the pool. It must have been restricted at certain times for cleaning for something.

I smiled and started to apologise when he came up to me but he cut me off quite rudely.

“Not allowed,” he said. He pointed to the pool and to the sun lounger where my towel lay. “Not here. You aren’t allowed here.”

“What do you mean?”

The other tourists were watching our exchange with interest.

“This swimming pool is for guests,” he said.

“But I’m—”

“You are staff. Staff are not allowed in pool.”

I frowned, confused. “Wait, what?”

“You are staff,” he said, becoming more and more agitated. “Staff are not allowed out here; only guests of hotel.”

“But I’m a—”

And then the penny dropped.

I remembered the smirk on the new Dahlia’s face as her taxi drove away and it hit me why my room had been so awful; why my corridor was narrow and grim at the back of the hotel.

The hotel manager was still yabbering on but I was noticing the people staring at me now; seeing how I was treated; seeing how I wasn’t allowed to enjoy the facilities that they could because... because I was only a member of staff. I was beneath them. My cheeks coloured darkly.

The manager gestured for me to come and I hurriedly picked up my towel as he herded me back toward the hotel, still repeating over and over that I wasn’t allowed to use the pool. He pressed me to the back of the hotel near the kitchens and there pushed back a door onto a small cluttered yard with a wire fence and a small wooden bench. There were cigarette butts littering the floor and noisy machinery units blaring away. There was nothing nice to look at, only the side of an old decrepit van with graffiti down its side.

“Here,” said the manager. “If you want to relax, you can come out here. Not at front of hotel. Not in pool.”

I looked forlornly about at this awful little courtyard feeling lonely, embarrassed and beaten down by his verbal attack.

The new Dahlia must had organised this position for me – I had no idea how without an interview – and now I was stuck with it. It was almost funny but I was still too shocked and shaken to be anything but forlorn.

Then I realised there was still something crucial I didn’t know and so I turned to the man and said, “What job? What job am I supposed to be doing?”

But of course I knew already. Of course I knew.

He looked back at with a face like thunder and said, “Cleaner.”

LADY ANN'S FOLLY: Chapter Nine - Part Eight

Nellie saw who she thought was the Earl approaching along the landing and almost screamed in fright. Her eyes lit up with fear and Hattie smirked inside to see it, trying to make her walk as proud and manly as possible and finding it surprisingly easy.

“Good morning Harriet,” she said, pointing her consonants more than she normally would. “Did you sleep well?”

“Er, yes m’lor— Uh, yes. I did. Thank you.” She curtseyed and Hattie barely managed to stop herself laughing. As she came level with the girl who looked like her she was amazed to see how much taller she was; over a head higher than her real body. It was incredibly strange not only to see herself from the outside but also to be looking down at such an angle. Her perception wasn’t that she was a giant but that this girl before her was very small. It was a profound adjustment of perspective that made her feel both uncomfortable and excited.

“You look very nice this morning,” she said, continuing to ape her father’s voice as best she could.” Do you have any special plans?”

“Er... no,” replied Nellie, clearly getting herself into a flap.

“I thought you were going to be giving a speech to the county ladies today,” said Hattie, smirking to herself.

Nellie blanched , eyes and mouth becoming perfect circles, and finally Hattie couldn’t hold her laughter in any longer. She gave out a great belly laugh and pointed at the girl’s awestruck expression. She laughed and laughed as Nellie looked about ready to flee then as she calmed down she gave the girl a wink and in a conspiratorial whisper said, “Don’t worry Nellie. It’s me, Hattie. I used the pendant last night to swap places with my father.” She chuckled. “He’s trapped in your body at the moment, none the wiser about how it happened.”

Nellie continued to gape in shock and then very tentatively, said, “Lady Harriet? Is that really you?”

“It is,” replied Hattie. “But don’t give the game away whatever you do. For now, you’re Lady Harriet and I’m your father.”

“For how long miss – er, sir?”

“Call me father,” said Hattie, scowling and feeling just as uncomfortable herself at the idea of that. She still thought of herself as a young woman. Telling someone to refer to her as their father was dreadfully incongruent – especially if that person was herself. “It won’t be long; probably just until tonight. But think of it this way... you get a day off work and you get to experience life as one of your superiors for that time.”

Nellie frowned, clearly distressed. “But people will know I’m an imposter,” she said.

“Of course they won’t,” replied Hattie confidently. “Keep your mouth shut and let me do most of the talking. I’m in charge now and my authority is final.”

She thought about that for a moment and smiled, liking the sound of it. It was so gratifying to be the one in control for a change. She couldn’t wait to get downstairs and start playing the role in front of the rest of the family. And she really couldn’t wait to see how her father was managing as a maidservant. That was going to be a riot!

“Come on now,” she said, pointing the way and placing her wide hand on Nellie’s back, guiding her forward. The short woman started to move and Hattie reflected on how it felt to be so physically prominent. After a life of being one of the shortest people in any room it was actually quite pleasant, and the contrast to her normal body was the best thing about it.

She straightened her jacket and waistcoat and smoothed down her moustache then ran her hand back across her bald head. That series of actions; each one incompatible with her former shell; helped her to really set who she now was in her mind. The resultant effect on her self-confidence was great, lifting her up to a much higher level of assurance.

I’m in charge of everyone here, she said to herself. They are all subservient to my authority.

She strode after Nellie along the landing feeling extremely smug and very glad now that she went through with her plan. It was much more interesting and delightful than even she had expected.

 

COMING SOON: A NEW YOU 2!

You may be excited to learn that I will be releasing a follow up to my compilation of short transformation stories A New You this weekend.

Like volume one, this book contains six different tales of dark transformation that explore the sinister side of body swaps, age regression, weight gain, age progression and becoming a hippie.

It's all done and ready to go now and should be hitting Amazon first thing on Saturday morning.

I'll reveal more about the contents on the day of release but I think you'll find the contents interesting...

CLEANER: Chapter Two - Part Four

THE ORIGINAL MELISSA

I laughed as I drove away from dropping the new Melissa off at her hotel and went on giggling all the way to my hotel. She had no idea what I had planned and I only wished I could be there to see her face when she realised.

Oh yes, I certainly did. But I couldn’t have everything. Just almost everything.

It was incredible how empowered I felt now with our exchange today. When she’d started this swap idea I’d been sceptical, even scornful, but now it was like an addiction. I didn’t want it to stop. Ever. Something had clicked when we traded names and I just didn’t see myself the same way anymore. Nobody knew me here. I could reinvent myself any way I chose. Even the former Dahlia had been left behind in my dust.

The taxi pulled up outside my hotel and I paid the driver a handsome tip, just because I could. The Satine Palace was an incredible place. It had a great semi-circular driveway bordered by palms and a grand entrance. My bags were carried inside by a porter and the check-in was seamless and very respectful. Each activity underscored my new status as a woman of privilege and leisure.

I was famished but I wanted to see my room first.

I rode up in the lift and made my way long the corridor, bell boy hurrying behind. I didn’t have much luggage as yet – there were few Dahlia clothes that fit me – but I planned to rectify that soon enough. I had the money and the will to splurge out on an entire new wardrobe, and why not? It was my wealth now.

I laughed again and the bell boy looked confused. The tip I gave him stopped him worrying too hard about it though.

The suite was splendiferous; really magnificent. The furniture and decor were as opulent as Dahlia’s house back in Nockton Vale and the view was ten times better, looking out over the bay, rocky cliffs and hills to my right and a long stretch of beach off to the left. On the wide private balcony I could hear pool noises from round the corner of the hotel and below I could see more palm trees and rocks and a path down to the perfect beach that was dotted with big free-standing umbrella sunshades. I breathed in the warm sea air, smiling happily.

Had life ever been this good to me?

Of course not. My old life had been deplorable. She was welcome to it.

I didn’t bother to get settled in immediately. Lunch was still being served downstairs. I got changed into a wrap, bikini and sun hat then went down to see what was available.

The dining room had an incredible spread of food. Like at the new Melissa’s hotel it was an open buffet but obviously the standard was far, far higher than that would be.

I took a plate and eagerly began filling it, stuffing on every morsel of food that took my fancy. And so much did! There were local dishes; some of which defied description and looked frankly awful; but a lot of it was food I recognised and craved intensely. More I put on my plate, and more.

Then half way round I stopped and looked down at it and realised what I was doing; why I shouldn’t be doing it. I looked to the heavens and sighed heavily, resenting the situation terribly. But this was the price, I reminded myself; and it was barely a price. It was an opportunity. All my life I had been fat. This was my big chance now to change my ways.

It was a lot of fun to focus on the fun I was having scoring one up on my former employer and setting her down a peg, but there was so much more to this than that. I wasn’t a diabolical villain, existing only to steal a life, even for a while. Deep down I was a fat sad woman who had been depressed for a very long time; who had hated myself – yes, hated myself – for a very long time.

Today was a gateway from the me of the past to the me of the future. Everything could change now. If I put the necessary will behind it. And it had to be now. I couldn’t think that I’d give myself a week off first. Today was the gateway. If I waited a week before starting on my diet then I knew I’d never really start it. Melissa; the old Melissa; was gone now. I was this new person who did have self control; who respected herself finally.

And yes, throwing mud in Dahlia’s eye added a lot of fun to the process, but this was about me. I didn’t really know how long this would go one for but if it did have an end in the relatively near future then I wanted to take away from it a new slimmer body. Maybe I’d never be as slim as she had been; that was impossible; but I could change my shape for the better. I was sure I could.

I left the overburdened plate where I was and went back to the beginning of the line to fetch a clean one, then I started again. This time I chose light items and I didn’t fill more than the inner circle of my plate.

That was better and I saw the huge swimming pool out there. Perhaps I’d go for a swim later. That was it; start the way I meant to go on. Dieting plus exercise: that was the way to go.

I smirked to myself, thinking about her, then I found a table overlooking the pool and settled down to my lunch.

LADY ANN'S FOLLY: Chapter Nine - Part Seven

The Countess finished dressing quickly and left Hattie alone in the bedroom.

She took the opportunity of sitting at the dressing table and looking at her new man’s face, focusing her attention on first one feature, then another; reaching up with her huge somewhat clumsy hands to touch and feel. It was undeniably her father’s face but seeing it from the inside was so different from seeing it externally. For one, her father’s spirit wasn’t animating the features and interacting with her. She had the chance to just stare and take it in. The face she normally saw was reversed in the mirror obviously but that didn’t have as much of an effect as she would have thought it would.

She turned her face to the left and right, examining her prominent nose and her bigger ears; the jagged cut of her chin. She picked up a comb and straightened what little silver hair she had around the bottom of her head, feeling it under her fingers then irresistibly going up to the smooth skin on top of her head; running her palm flat across it front to back over and over again, amazed by how authentic it felt, even though she could see the truth with her eyes. Seeing it was one thing though. Touching and feeling made it seem infinitely more real; especially the bald head and the moustache.

“I’m a middle-aged man,” she said breathlessly, and then in stronger tones: “I’m Lord Howard Neville.”

Hattie chuckled, still disconcerted. She closed her eyes and pictured her female reflection: dark curly hair, round pretty brown eyes, soft angular cheek bones and dewy skin. She opened them again and came face to face with who she was now instead, then she raised her chin and in her most imperious affected manner, said, “I’m Howard Neville by George! I own this house and all the land for miles around.”

She laughed out loud at that but felt an odd sensation at the back of her neck that distracted her momentarily until she discounted it.

She was still chuckling as she stood up but she noticed again how unfamiliar inside her mouth the chuckle was; how different from her normal giggle. She quieted herself and tried to do one of her normal giggles but it came out sounding odd and felt even stranger on her tongue.

She shook her head ruefully and went to the wardrobe to choose what she was going to wear. She picked out a three-piece suit, shirt and (after some deliberation) a tie.

Hattie had never worn such clothes – it was unheard of obviously – but she was keen to try. She felt a bit more comfortable in this body now than she had and was keen to experiment with as many aspects of manhood as she could in the limited time she had given herself.

She climbed out of her silk pyjamas, being careful not to look down. She still wasn’t ready to see her father’s penis dangling freely between her legs. Finding some underpants, she covered it up as quickly as she could then put on the shirt. The fabric felt stiff compared to the sheer delicate cloth she was used to. She put it on and then climbed into the trousers, laughing at how odd they felt encasing her legs so tightly. Her shirt required cufflinks that she had seen her father fit before. Still, it took her a while to work them out with her big fumbling man fingers.

Again, she’d watched her father tie his tie many a time but found the action herself most difficult. It took her four tries to get it passably right and she still wasn’t sure it was correct.

As the image of her father became truer in the looking glass, Hattie got an increasing sense of wrongness, but she persevered. It was just so disconcerting to look so much like her own father. Presumably because of her breeding, her own posture wasn’t far off her father’s. In a man’s body she seemed to be defaulting to a physical stance very close or even identical to his and at rest, her face too seemed the perfect simulacrum of his expression.

I’m still myself on the inside, she told herself, but looking at this reflection it was hard to believe it.

Hattie put on the matching waist coat and slipped her father’s pocket watch into the front, attaching the chain carefully, then she slipped on the jacket, completing the outfit but for the shoes. She tied them on; great big black boats that constrained her feet but gave her far greater stability than she’d ever known.

Now, looking in the mirror, she really did look exactly like the Earl. It was oddly far more immersive becoming a man than it had been to change into the maid for that brief time. She knew that the longer one spent in a new form, the more acclimatised they would become, and she had spent most of the night sleeping in this body. Perhaps some further changes had ticked on through the night, slotting her more fully into this new identity.

Hattie shivered, keen to get on with her plan as quickly as possible then get back to her own shape before anything untoward could happen. As far as she was concerned, becoming acclimatised was the last thing she wanted to happen.

Feeling somewhat self-conscious, but bolstered in confidence by the perfection of her disguise, Hattie went to the bedroom door and opened it. She hesitated for a moment then stepped out onto the landing. The railing ran round in a square above the hallway down below.

She thought no one was about but immediately saw that was an error. Coming out of her own bedroom door was... herself: the maid in her body.

Nellie froze, seeing her, and Hattie realised why. She of course had no idea who was really hiding behind her eyes. She smirked, drawn to making more of that than was strictly necessary, then she strode toward the young woman and hailed her.