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This was inspired by a story of Cheryl Lynn's, and is my take on her idea of the kindly granny figure who's not what she seems. Mannequin. By Trish. When my wife Pam and I came back to the UK after a decade working in the pressure cooker environment of Silicone Valley the quiet village of Budleigh Hill looked like perfect antidote to the stresses she had been under. It had been Pam's career that took us to the States when she was head hunted by Lockheed Martin Advance Project straight after she got her doctorate. Unlike me who would have quite happily spent my life teaching kids basic science, Pam was highly ambitious and fiercely driven to succeed, and I was just the lucky bastard she fell in love with. As Pam blazed her way up the scientific ziggurat inside Lockheed Martins Silicone Valley and Palmdale design labs making her name, and our fortune, I occupied my time teaching part-time at a British School for ex-pats kids, and doing voluntary work. I was not exactly a house husband for a decade but I was not far off it. Then one day after reaching the pinnacle of success in her field she just came home one evening and told me. "Mitch, it's time we went home. If I carry on like this I'll lose myself and turn into one of the sad corporate suits who used to be a good scientist." "To do what Pam?" "Take a long holiday, and have a year off," she said, "Maybe do some teaching I don't know, but I do know I want to go home!" Six months later we saw the house in Budleigh Hill and it looked perfect. After the frenetic pace of life in California the idea of living in the quiet tranquillity of a chocolate box cover English village was like stepping into a different world and I think we both let out a deep sigh of relief when the contract was signed. In the States I don't think I ever actually knew the names of any of our neighbours, while in Budleigh less than an hour after we moved in, one of our new neighbour's was at our door with a home-made cake to welcome us to the village. "Hullo, I'm Jean Gregg," she said introducing herself, adding, "It will be so nice to have some more neighbours living up on the hill," she had a very nice smile and captivating eyes as she added, "It's such a pity these day that most of the houses up here are second homes." "Hi, I'm Pam, and this is my husband Mitch," Pam said inviting her in. "Sorry about the mess but we're still trying to unpack." "Oh don't worry dear," Jean said, "I completely understand." Jean was in her late 40's, a short slightly plump woman who wore her greying hair pulled back in a loose bun that had a pencil sticking out of the side. Her round friendly face was dominated by red lips and a pair of wire framed glasses, perched somewhat lopsidedly on her nose. We did not get much unpacking done during the next few hours as Jean chattered away, and managed to extract everything about how we came to be living on the Hill without ever asking a direct question. It was quite odd really. Pam who usually took forever to warm to people, took to Jean instantly, and even more strangely was how she devoured the cake we had been given as a welcoming gift. Having struggled with her weight for much of her early life Pam was normally almost fanatical about watching her weight and sticking to her diet. Not that I blame her for indulging because it was wonderful cake, and I had a couple of slices myself, which was equally odd as I don't have a sweet tooth. "You'll soon meet Betty and Katie next door. I think they're back tomorrow. They are," Jean said with a twinkling smile. "A couple, but nice girls all the same. Then we have Dr Parbold, Gerry who lives just past me. He's such a nice chap lost his wife last year to cancer," and she was off again telling us all about the history and foibles of our neighbours. In fact she did not shut up until she noticed that all the cake had been eaten, "Oh lordly!" she said with a charmingly embarrassed blush on her face, "I've done it again, and kept you from getting moved in by gassing the afternoon away." "Oh don't worry Jean," Pam said. "After the last few months its been really nice to just sit down and not think about the move, or anything else come to that." "Well you must let me make it up to you. Would you like to pop over for a bite to eat later?" she chuckled and her twinkling smile was out in full force again. "I'm sure I can rustle up some dinner and save you cooking on your first night." "Oh my that would be wonderful!" Pam gushed. "We'd love to." "Pop over any time between seven and half past my dear," Jean said, "You can miss the house as it's the one almost opposite on the left, with the cat flap." "What a nice lady," Pam said when Jean finally left. "I knew moving here was going to be a good for us." She grinned at me and said, "Well, we best get cracking, you go and unpack our things and sort the bedroom and bathroom, while I'll do the kitchen, and get stuck into down here." I was rather surprised but how energised she seemed because after three slices of Jean's cake I was feeling rather sluggish and lethargic. Once I got going it was not so bad, and I rather enjoyed pottering about the bedroom making the bed and starting to arrange our things. Pat however was like a mini tornado downstairs where I could hear her singing along to something on the radio and banging about as empty packing boxes flew out into the garden. "Can I get you anything else my dear?" Jean asked as she served coffee after stuffing us with a delicious pork dish and home-made apple pie washed down with a few bottles of Elderflower wine, which our host told us came from our widower neighbour. "I'd love another slice of that cake if you have any Jean?" Pam said sounding a little giggly from the wine. "Certainly dear, and you Mish?" Jean said with her eyes twinkling with satisfaction about how well received her meal was. "He'll have one to!" Pam chuckled, letting out a little burp. "Ops!" she giggled. "My apologies." "No need dear, it's a sign of a good meal in many cultures," Jean said patting her hand with casual familiarity. At that moment there was a knock on the back door as it opened, and a deep male voice said, "Jean? Only my me," As a tall rather good-looking man a few years younger than Jean walked in and started to ask. "Could I trouble you for," before seeing us and adding, "Oh I say, I am sorry old stick, I did not know you had guests?" "Gerry!" Jean said with a smile. "Don't talk rubbish, come on in and pull up a pew. These are our new neighbours. Meet Pammy and Mish, they've just moved into The Oakwood's over the road." "Hello," he said holding out his hand. "I'm Gerry Parbold, pleased to meet you, formerly the local sawbones until the university in town tempted me away with a General Practice professorship, after my wife died." "I've been invited to do a little guest lecturing at the university," Pam said with a smile. "It was one of the reasons why we moved here." "Anything I might be interested in Pammy?" Gerry asked, "I often attend guest lectures to keep up with the keen young minds I'm teaching." "I depends on if you enjoy complex mathematical problem solving," Pam giggled. "If, and it is an if, I say yes to the invite, they university have asked me to teach a course on signal processing speeds and decryption techniques." "And what might that be?" "Have you ever wondered how you ATM talks to the bank's computer?" Pam asked, "Or the space station sends its data to Earth?" "Not really no," he said. "Well to use the cash point as an example. You do a transaction at the ATM, which codes the transaction data, transmits that down a line to the main computer which decodes and registers the transaction, then encodes and transmits confirmation," Pam said warming to the subject. "Back to the ATM, which the reverses the encryption tells you it's done and gives you the cash. My lectures will be about developments in that area. Encrypted computer to computer communications." "Is that what you do Pammy?" "Well I did until last month," she said, "I was the head of Coms development for Lockheed Martin Advanced projects but," she giggled. "I can't talk about that." Once again Pam was behaving very oddly. Normally she is very reserved, and because of her old job, very security conscious about mentioning where she worked around strangers, but I put it down to the wine making her very giggly, and felt it was really nice to see her letting her hair down for a change. "That's done it, she'll be wittering about computer communications code for the next half hour or so." I giggled to Jean, and offered, "Can I help with the washing up." "Oh you don't have to do that dear, I don't mind," Jean said giving me her twinkling smile. "But if you'd like to clear the table it would be a help. I'll pop another pot of coffee on because once Gerry gets gassing, he's another one who does tend to go on." Jean had a lovely kitchen, with shelves full of herbs, spices, syrups and drying flowers. "Wow I love your kitchen," I said following her in. "All these herbs and spices make it smell lovely." "I'm a bit of a hedgerow hunter," Jean chuckled as she started to make a coffee tray up. "I picked up the interest from my late husband who was a chemist and herbalist, and I like to use them in my cooking, baking and my hangover cures." Jean smiled at me when I started to fill the sink after bringing in the remaining plates in from the dining room. "I can tell from how you do that dear that your wife has got quite the domestic in her life?" "Someone had to be," I said with a fond smile as I looked back through the doorway at Pam sat explaining something. "And with the hours and stress Pam was under working in the States, it only seemed fair that I took over the domestic chores since my teaching qualifications were not recognised in mainstream US education." Jean was very easy to talk to and I happily chatted about why I did not bother with doing the course to transfer by British qualifications before Jean asked, "Will you pass me a couple of side plates dear? I'll pop a slice or two of cake out for them with the coffee." I could not help letting out a silly giggle as the sunlight sparkled off her glasses in my eyes, and I felt a strange rush of attraction to Jean, who was a very interesting and incredibly captivating woman. "They are in the cupboard. The one with the washing up pinafore hanging on it sweetie," she said, placing a coffee pot just so on the tray. I did not think it at all strange after I handed her the plates to take the large white pinafore apron from the cupboard door. Slipping it over my head I tied it behind my back as I turned to the sink and carried on washing up. Jean smiled and nodded with a pleased look in her eyes as she set the cake filled plates on the coffee tray, telling me. "Back in a tick sweetheart and then we'll have a coffee and nice natter as you finish washing up." It did not occur to me that Jean just sat at the kitchen table sipping coffee, chattering away in her gorgeous voice as I cleaned up after dinner. Finally when the kitchen was sparking clean I finally joined her at the table for another slice of her excellent cake and a coffee. I could have listened to her all evening I felt a shiver of delight course through me when Jean said, "I can see you making an excellent domestic maid, or even a wife for some lucky gentleman one day Mish." "I think Pam might have something to say about that Jean," I giggled, unable to take my eyes off her bewitchingly expressive face. "Who knows darling," Jean laughed with her eyes sparkling with humour. "I might steal you from her myself and keep you as my maid!" "I should be so lucky," I jokingly teased back. Jean chuckled, looking over my shoulder at Pam and Gerry's animated conversation through the doorway. There was a faint smile of satisfaction on her face as she nodded to herself and said in a light- hearted tone looking directly at me with a tempting smile on her face. "Oh you never know my darling, sometimes the most unlikely of things can come true." I chuckled and felt a blush on my cheeks when I realised that she was an astonishingly attractive woman. Next morning Pam and I both had hangovers. Gerry's elderflower wine might have been delicious but it had a kick like a mule. "Oww," I moaned with a thumping headache as I rolled out bed. Pam sleepily said from under the duvet. "Jean warned us babe about Gerry's wine being too smooth for its strength," Adding sleepily as she settled back. "Fetch me a coffee, and I think I remembered to bring home a bottle of Jean's home-brew hangover cure," she yawned, and added, "If I did, we'll have a slug because my head is thumping and she said it works wonders on wine hangovers." The cure worked, my god did it work, but it did leave me feeling pretty spaced out once it chased the hangover away. Pam how ever seemed unaffected by either the wine or the hangover cure, and was once again buzzing with energy, as she set to putting the house to rights. I was stacking the last of the flattened packing boxes in the back of our car, when Jean waved and called across the road. "Morning Mish." "Morning M... Jean," I said almost calling her Miss Jean for some reason. "Are you going to the tip?" she asked looking very 'local,' with her hair in rollers covered loosely by headscarf and an apron tied round her full waist. "Pam is in a wee while," I smiled. "I'm still feeling a little tender." "I'm not surprised given how much of Gerry's wine you had dear," she laughed. "Two glasses and I'm feeling giddy." "It sure had a kick," I giggled, again struck by how good-looking she was. Standing in her gateway with her arms folded under her matronly chest above her apron as we spoke over the lane she reminded me of the older women who dominated the northern town where I grew up. They always stood on their doorsteps and gossiped over the street at each other, and if Jean had a cigarette hanging from her lips she could have passed for one of them. Smiling she strolled over the road smiling at me. "My you have pretty eyes Mish," Jean said gazing deeply into them. Her eyes were like captivating whirlpools and magnified by her glasses I could have quite willingly let myself drown in them as she said in almost a hypnotic whisper. "My, my you are a pretty one Missy my darling," Before pulling her eyes from mine saying in her normal tone. "Now where were we? Oh yes do you think Pammy would mind dropping an old kettle of mine and a few odds and ends in the recycling? I keep meaning to do it myself, but it slips my mind, and if the girls aren't back by lunch time perhaps I can impose on you to help me for an hour or two later dear?" "Can't see why not, we've got the space," I said still mentally transfixed by her eyes. "Space for what?" Pam asked walking up behind me and calling. "Morning Jean." "An old kettle and some recycling of Jean's she keeps forgetting," I said in a weirdly distracted tone unable to take my eyes off Miss Jean. "Sure," Pam chuckled. "After last night dinner I'd be willing to drive her to the moon and back, because that pork was delicious." "Anything planned for today Pammy?" Jean asked walking over the road to pick up a recycling box. "Rubbish dump run and then Gerry asked if I could look at his computer as it's not working properly," Pam said in a disgustingly alert and cheerful tone. "Yourself?" "Nothing really dear. Since the weather forecast is a little inclement for this afternoon, I'll probably see if I can get a dress I cut the patterns for yesterday afternoon assembled," she smiled. "If I pull my finger out I might even get it finished, assuming Betty and Katie get back from their Proud event thing early enough. I'll need one of them to slip it on and act as my mannequin for an hour or two while I pin the skirt hem straight, and tack everything together before I do the final sew up." "Is that what you do?" Pam asked taking the box. "Dressmaking?" "Sort of dear, I used to be a psychotherapist working with disturbed personalities, and my dressmaking was just a hobby that grew into a little business making vintage clothes. At first for lovely Gerry's car club chums, and these days I get a significant number of commissions from nineteenth and twentieth century historical re-enactment groups," Jean said, with her eyes sparkling in the mid morning sun. Jean chuckled gazing into Pam's eyes as she said, "I think Gerry's taken a shine to you my dear. He's not been very talkative with women since Beverly passed, and he's such a lovely man don't you think?" "I enjoyed his company last night," Pam said smiling at her. "And his wine." "Did you used my hangover cure?" "Yes, my you should sell that, I've never had one that worked as well," Pam said with a smile. "Excellent!" she said, adding. "Gerry such a charming man and he's been awfully lonely lately. It will do him good to get out," Jean told her. "Because he is such a lovely man." "He is indeed," Pam said, smiling at Jean with a strange slightly glazed look in her eyes as she added, "He's such a lovely man." "Yes he is," Jean said. "So enjoy yourself dear." "Oh I'm sure we will," Pam said, with a faint smile of anticipation on her face. "And if you're really stuck for a mannequin after last nights feast I'm sure Mitch would be more than willing to help." "I was just asking him dear, because it would be great help if he doesn't mind wearing a dress for a few hours," she said smiling at her. "While you're out with Gerry, who's such a lovely and devilishly handsome man." "Of course he would," Pam said with a happy giggle. "It will keep him occupied while I'm cheering up Gerry who seems such a lovely man, and I have to say a devilishly handsome one to boot." "Can I offer you a spot of morning tea, before you get off?" Jean asked, "It's the least I can do for dropping my rubbish off and giving me your husband as my dress mannequin." "I'd love to, but the tip shuts in an hour and I said I'd be at Gerry's early," Pam said opening the car door adding. "But I'm sure Mitch would love to join you," With a happy, "Cheerio," Pam gave me a quick kiss and drove away. "Shall we pop over to my place dear?" Jean said. "And have a bit of a chin wag over a spot of tea, and then get on with the dressmaking?" "I'd love to Mi.. Jean," I said, shaking my head as I almost called her Miss Jean again. Having been completely crazy about Pam since the day we met it was odd that I did not feel any guilt about the stirring in my pants as my penis responded to the attraction I felt for my new neighbour. "Come along then darling," Jean said, and I eagerly followed her sexy full-figured swishing buttocks as she led me into her home. After we settled in her kitchen with a pot of tea and a slice of her lovely cake, Jean asked, "So tell me sweetie how did you end up in the United States of all places?" I know I was chatting about Pam job and living in America for a while, and then things got a little hazy. I guess tiredness from travel shock, then all rushing round getting our shipped items to our new house followed by last nights excesses started to catch up with me and with a couple of slices of her super cake in my stomach I was feeling rather dozy. Being a dressmakers mannequin was kind of fun even though all I did stand for a long time on a turn table as she pinned and marked the black dress she was making into place on my body then loosely tacked it all together. It all felt rather nice to be honest, and I did not mind when Jean suggested I kept it on while we had a late lunch so she could see if it hung right in normal use. "You really must lose all the hair dear if you're going to mannequin for me, its such a distraction for me seeing that nastiness everywhere when I'm assessing a frock," Jean said as I wolfed down another slice of her cake after a decidedly calorie heavy lunch. "Sure, I love to," I said hoovering up the crumbs. On the walls of her kitchen were many photographs including one of a younger Dr. Parbold, and a woman who had to have been his late wife. She was a nice looking woman who looked a little like Pam, only she was blonde and much fuller figured, with glasses and long curly hair. "Is that Dr Parbold's late wife?" I asked collecting our plates and cups, before I slipped the pinafore apron over my dress and filled the sink. "In the photograph?" Jean said with that twinkle in her eye as she told me. "Yes that's Beverly Anne dear. I think it's pretty much the last one of them before she was diagnosed. Such a shame, because she was a lovely girl, a secretary you know. She was good at her job but not the sharpest knife in the box by any means, but a girl does not need to be that sharp when she has a chap like Gerry to provide for her." "My word your hands are rather red and dry," Jean said after I was back on the turn table. "You really must get into the habit of wearing Marigolds when you wash up, or you'll ruin your skin." She smiled up at me and I was again entranced by how the light reflected of her glasses as she said, "I'll give you one of my special herbal creams to use on your skin, especially if you fancy using a cream to get rid of the hair so you can be my regular dress making mannequin from now on," she smiled. "Because I really could use your help, and I'll even teach you to dressmaking yourself if you want?" she giggled looking in my eyes. "You could be my apprentice, and my mannequin." I don't know what it was about the word 'mannequin' but every time she said it I felt an almost sexual shiver of pleasure run up my spine that left me tingling with satisfaction. "That's really good you Miss Jean I'd like that." I feeling delighted that I could help her and learn to make frocks like her. "Hi love," Pam said bounding though the door not long after I got home just after seven. "How was your day?" "Great, thanks, Miss Jean's such good company," I said looking up from the dressmaking magazine Jean had lent me. "Did you fix Dr Parbold's computer?" She did not bat and eyelid when I called Jean, Miss Jean. Giving me a smile she swept her hands behind her legs as if she was wearing a skirt as she sat beside me with an almost giddy sigh of satisfaction. "Gerry he's such a lovely man, and his computer was an easy fix sweetie. It was just a little conflict in the what's it that talks to the printer dodah," Pam said with a big smile on her face. "Did you know he's got this collection of super vintage cars? He took me out for a spin to the coast and back in his 1930's Triumph roadster. It was wonderful!" she grinned into space. "Such a rush to feel the wind on my face, and oh my, the throb of that engine as he whizzed down all these narrow lanes," she giggled girlishly. "He's taking me to a vintage car rally next week-end, which will be fabby!" Strangely I did not think it odd that my fiercely ambitious workaholic wife of ten years was gushing like a teenager as she babbled on about what a nice guy Dr Parbold was. Neither did I find it strange that I felt compelled to call him Dr Parbold and yet she called him Gerry. Perhaps the strangest thing of all was not feeling any resentment what so ever about my wife spending most of the day with him, or that she was going to a vintage car club event with him the following weekend. "I didn't think you'd mind me going to St Ives for the weekend with him sweetie. Especially as Gerry mentioned that Jean would want her mannequin all next weekend to make the new outfits he's ordered for us to wear at the big summer car club rally at the end of this month," Pam said in a voice brimming with excitement. "Of course I don't mind," I said feeling a thrill of delight about spending the whole weekend with Jean, and asked jumping to my feet. "Have you eaten? I can get you something with your tea M... Pam." "Just tea sweetie, Gerry and I grabbed a bar meal on the way home," Pam said, "Why?" "Oh Miss Jean gave me some of the wonderful casserole she made for our dinner in case you had not eaten," I said. "I'm fine thanks sugar, but if that's some of her cake I saw when I came in I'd not say no to a slice or two of that sweetheart." With Pam ensconced in front of the television with a few slice of cake, watching Top Gear of all things, I went for a bath. Normally I did not bother with baths but Miss Jean said baths are so much better and had given me these crystals to put in the water after I had used the hair- cream and they smelt delightful." "Mmm, you smell nice," Pam said when she finally joined me in bed and not much later we were both deeply asleep. Oddly neither of us noticed that we were wearing rather frumpy and unsexy nightdresses. The next few days vanished in a flash. Most mornings Pam left with Doctor Parbold for work at the University. I knew from when I started teaching that she had a lot of planning and preparation to do before her course of six lectures. With Pam tied up finding her feet in academia I spent my days in a blizzard of cleaning as I tried to get our new house feeling like home. Well that was the plan because my cleaning was regularly interrupted by Miss Jean, either to help as her mannequin, or for our daily extended gossips over morning coffee's and afternoon tea's. I really liked Miss Jean, and the more time I spent with her the more attractive she got until she was even in my dreams, and her voice was like magic to my ears. I really do think I've ever met a woman as gorgeous as she was. I spent many hours in her company, and she was full of advice about how I could become more appealing to Pam. Most evenings she'd pop over to see Pam, it was usually while I was washing up or in the bath, and Pam always had a wonderful look on her face when she left. It was even better on the Wednesday night because Pam got home early and walked in while Miss Jean was telling me about how she got her ears pierced when she was a girl. Catching the end of our conversation Pam commented that she never got hers done. "It doesn't hurt," Miss Jean said. "I think all girls deserve pierced ears." "I don't like needles," Pam admitted. "It's why I never bothered." "Honestly Pammy that's a ridiculous reason to deny yourself the pleasure of wearing pretty earrings for your man," Miss Jean said firmly. "How about I prove to you that it does not hurt, by doing Missy's ears first, and you can see how painless it is." Pam looked a little dubious, but nodded. "Alright, if Mit, Mish doesn't mind." Jean smiled at her and said, "Of course Missy won't mind. He's got such pretty lobes that I think are just crying out for a couple of piercings in each." Smiling at us with her eyes twinkling with delight she said, "Come along dears we'll pop over to my house and I'll have you both pierced up in a jiffy." She did as well and just as Pam was getting up from having her ears pierced. Dr Parbold walked in with a casual knock, and said, "Hullo everyone, I was just looking for Pam, ah there you are darling... Oh my they look pretty," he complemented. "You suit earrings my sweet," he chuckled. "I've got a touch of the subcontinent in my family, and I've always felt you'd look even lovelier with a nose one as well darling?" Pam giggled and gushed, "Do you think so Gerry?" "Oh for sure, perhaps Jean can show you how pretty one looks on Mish?" he suggested. Which was how I also ended up with simple diamond in the side of my left nostril, before Pam had her right done with a matching piercing. As Miss Jean was popping the stud in Pam's nostril, Doctor Parbold said, "I say Mish, you don't mind if I borrow your wife this evening do you? I've been given a couple of tickets to see a play in town that I'd like to see, and there is nothing worse than attending the theatre on ones own." I could see in Pam's face that she wanted to go, as she gingerly touched the stud in her nose, and said, "Of course Doctor, I know Pam would love to join you." "Oh jolly good," he boomed cheerfully. "Pammy was telling me the other day that you were feeling a little colic since you got back from the States?" "I have yes, not so much a colic as general lethargy doctor," I told him. "It's probably your body craving all the additives our American cousins adulterate their food with," he said doctorishly. "Take one each of these every lunchtime until the bottles are empty and you've weaned yourself off the additives," he popped a couple of bottles of pills on the counter by the kitchen door. "One white pill directly before you luncheon and one pink after." "Don't worry Gerry," Jean said, "I'll make sure Missy takes them on time daily." "Jolly good we don't want him coming down with anything," he grinned at Pam and said, "Shall we be off Pammy my love? Oh and we might stay over at the flat in town, I fancy a beer or two, what do you think darling?" "I do fancy a drink Gerry," Pam said looking at him with a smile of anticipation on her lips. "So I think we should sweetheart." "Is that alright Missy?" he said to me. "Of course Doctor, I'll keep Miss Jean company," I said with a smile. "He'll be safe with me Pammy," Jean said with a smile. "I'll treat him just like he was my own beloved husband." I did not notice how Dr Parbold's arm slipped possessively over my wife's backside and gave it a spank in away that would have got my head bitten off in the past saying. "Come along my love we're going to be late." "Just us then sweetheart," Jean said with a pleased smile as they walked out. "Mmm, yes Miss," I said feeling a rush of pleasure that made my cock tingle and stiffen noticeably in my pants. "Missy!" Jean gasped looking at my pants. "I'll have none of that!" I blushed brightly. "I can't help it Miss, you just do it to me." "Well I cured my husband of the same ailment and I can cure you just as easily!" she snapped, making me feel awful for disappointing her. "Come with me this instant." Clearly angry with me Miss Jean led me by the hand to her bedroom, and said with her eyes on fire behind her glasses. "I cured my late husband of a similar problem Missy, and now I will cure you in the same way!" Waving a stern finger at my pants, she ordered. "Trousers and panties, in fact everything off this instant." The cure was a metal tube and cuff, which after spanking my cock soft she unceremoniously fastened on to me. "Right Missy now we know there will be no more of those disgusting displays under my roof!" I stood there shamefaced before her as she ran a finger over my now smooth hairless skin whispering. "Perfect," before she sat on her bed saying. "I think you owe me an apology Missy," as she hiked up her skirt. I gasped as her hairy pussy came into view and she said, "Now this is for your own good, Missy so get your face down here and earn my forgiveness like a good girl!" I felt ashamed of myself for disappointing her, and eagerly obeyed. I obviously pleased her because when she was satisfied with my apology Mistress forgave me. She had a delighted smile on her gorgeous face as she looked down on me and said, "What a good girl you are Melissa." "However, since that disgusting display earlier proved I cannot trust you to control that thing, I think I'm going to have to make sure you can't fiddle with it until it's cured," she smiled at me adding as she handed me a thick heavy corselettet girdle. "This is for your own good darling, so slip that on and I'll fasten you up and then find you dress just like mine to wear. You'd like that wouldn't you my sweetie?" "Oh yes Miss Jean I gushed. "Good girl, I knew you would," she said, adding, "I've seen you lusting after my dresses, and now we're curing that little problem of yours, its only fair I reward you with a pretty frock just like mine, so you look just like me, ready for our girls night in." Miss Jean told me as she helped me dress she had seen how much I loved dressing like her so I knew it was true. My girdle was ever so tight and deliciously restrictive which was thrilling because I knew that Miss Jean was looking after me like she promised and rectifying my bad habits. In the end after really disappointing her we had a wonderful evening playing cards, and wearing one of her dresses, stockings and shoes felt so much more comfortable than my horrible old clothes. I did struggled with reading the cards at first but Miss Jean found me a pair of sparkling glasses just like hers and if I held my cards close to my eyes with my glasses I could read them. We had a lovely evening and before we went to bed I had to brush her lovely hair one hundred times before she showed me how to put her rollers in, and I wish it was as easy as she made it look. "Would you like hair like mine Missy?" Miss Jean asked as I brushed her hair. "Oh yes Miss Jean," I gushed. "You have lovely hair." I've always worn my hair longish, certainly longer than current male fashion and when Miss Jean was brushing out my hair she commented. "It's already longish, I think you should let it grow out darling, and this weekend I'll help you get it looking closer to mine, would you like that Melissa?" "Oh I would Miss," I said as her fingers started rolling my hair onto curlers just like hers. Next morning I spent all day wearing 'my' black dress and white apron over my girdle stockings and heels, taking care of all Miss Jean's housework so she could concentrate on the outfits Dr Parbold had ordered for himself and Pam. "Such a shame," Miss Jean said. "That you can't be my mannequin for Pammy darling, because I know how much you like being a mannequin." I told her I did, and then she said something's to me that my scatter brain forgets just now, but I'm sure if they were important they will come back to me when I need them. I was rather upset that I had to take my nice outfit off before I went home to make Pam her dinner, but Miss Jean said it will be more fun to surprise her with how pretty I am when she gets back from her weekend away with Doctor Parbold, and Miss Jean knows all about how I can please my wife. When Pam came home next day she looked lovely in a smart short skirted office suit but she was awfully hot and perspiring. I obviously disappointed her over something because she made me say sorry in the same way Miss Jean did, but she tasted thicker and more gooey so it was not as nice as apologising to my Mistress. "Thanks honey! I needed that," Pam said walking confidently naked to the shower, calling. "Have my dinner on the table in fifteen minutes," There was a large plaster on her buttock which I meant to ask her about but by the time she came out of the shower I had forgotten all about it. Pam was telling me all about the play and how she had to help Doctor Parbold in his office all day, as he did not have time to type a his letters, and reports, so she asked if he would like her to type them for him. "It was so much fun sitting at a desk by his office door I might do that for him instead of lecturing, which seems awful boring hard work," she giggled, and added, "I really like working and being with Gerry, he's such a lovely man." We must have both been busy because straight after dinner we went to bed, and slept like logs. Next morning I woke up to find Pam was already up before me. Normally I usually woke up well before her but today I had slept until almost eleven o'clock! As I followed the scent of coffee into the kitchen. I walked in still sleepily wearing my nightdress to find Miss Jean and Miss Pamela sat at the table. Miss Pamela looked amazing! She was wearing this fitted cotton mid calf length v necked purple dress with a puffy white sleeves and collar tied in a bow. Her hair normally dark, but now it was blonde, and she had got it done in an intricately curled style that perfectly matched her heavy 1930's style makeup, and her look took my breath away. "Oh my Miss Pamela you look lovely," I gushed. "So you think so?" her fingers were now tipped with long red nails that matched her lips as she fanned herself adding. "I'd hate to disappoint my lovely Gerry. He told me we can pick up lots of points for wearing the correct vintage look." "I'm sure he'll be delighted Miss Pamela," I said. As she looked at me she had a silly slightly glazed eyes look on her face as she said with a smile at me. "Jean was just asking if she could have you from now on as full-time her dressmaking mannequin darling, I said you'd delighted to be with her from now on as a thank you from me for all her help getting me ready this morning for my lovely Gerry," she smiled at me with a don't you dare show me look in her eyes. "Won't you sweetie?" "Of course, Miss Pamela, you know how much I love helping my Mistress Jean," I said, pouring myself a cup of coffee and helping myself to a lovely looking breakfast pastry. "Then its agreed Missy. Now I know you'll be safely living with your Mistress Jean, I will be able to really enjoy the Vintage car show with my lovely Gerry in St Ives," she said with excited smile. "And I want you to be very good and obey your Mistress Jean in every way from now on Missy, because she's given me a some gorgeous of 1930's dresses with all the period correct under pinnings for me to wear for my lovely Gerry this weekend." "Of course I will Miss Pamela," I said, "I love helping my Mistress with her dresses." I blushed. "I love my Mistress." "It will be fun Missy," Jean said with a chuckle of anticipation. "We can spend our days dressmaking and have many more girls nights in together just like we did on Wednesday." Outside there was an impatient toot of a horn. "Ops that's my lovely Gerry early," Pam said picking up her case and a handbag. Setting a period correct hat with a hair net on her head she gave me a kiss on the cheek and click clacked out wearing a pair of high heels. Deep inside my brain I knew something was wrong Pam never wore heels. In the fifteen years since we met at college she had always claimed that the high heel shoe was a form of footwear imposed on women by the patriarchy to control them. The sight of her walking away from me with a feminine wiggle in her gait, from the straight ? length skirt and heels just did not compute and it was triggering unintelligible alarms in my brain. Just as I felt something was on the tip of my tongue, Jean gave me a thin smile and said, "Eat another pastry Missy, you're still hungry." Her words immediately reminded me of my hunger and distracted from my internal turmoil, it settled back into my subconscious mind. Even though it was no longer clamouring at the front of my mind I still had this feeling that everything was wrong, even though I knew it was all perfectly normal, Pam was with Dr. Parbold, and I was with Miss Jean. There were only three of the pastry's left and I did not want to be rude, so I politely offered her them before I finished the plate off. "Do you want one them Miss?" "No dear, you finish them all, you need a little meat on your bones as you're still far to skinny for my tastes," she said with a smile as I happily ate the remaining pastry's. Finally sated I picked up all the breakfast cup and plates and put them in the dishwasher. Jean was watching me with a pleased smile as she absently removed a nail-file from her manicure kit and took a burr off the side of her nail commenting. "Pammy and Gerry make such a nice couple don't you think Missy dear?" "Yes Miss," I said looking at the light in her glasses. "They do." "Did you like her nails?" Jean asked, "I did them like Beverly wore hers, ten millimetre acrylic false nails similar to these I wear. Except we working girls can only really get away with five millimetre nails," she smiled. "Anything longer than that and girls fingers are useless for anything other than displaying that a man keeps her, and marking his back when making babies," she tapped the box of nails on the table. "These are just long enough to be really feminine but still short enough not to hinder working for a living." "Are they really that difficult to wear Miss?" "These aren't, but am used to them," Jean said. "Why do you want me to do your nails as well?" "They do look pretty?" I said with a giggle. Jean chuckled and said, "Give me your hand dear." It took about twenty minutes for Jean to fix ten long glossy red nails to my hand and I gushed excitedly fanning them dry when she said, "Happy now Missy?" "Oh yes Miss," I gushed giggling with glee as she said in a firm tone. "I think you really should be getting dressed don't you Missy. You have your chores to do at home and I have dresses to finish," she smiled. "And talking of dresses I have your favourite outfit in my bag would you like to wear it dear?" "Yes Miss," I giggled. "I can't wait." "Good girl then let's get you dressed." Suddenly a concept reared up from my subconscious I was not sure what it was but I suddenly knew something was very wrong. I started to open my mouth to say something and Miss Jean chortled. "Mannequin!" I felt myself stop. It was like my body was abruptly divorced from my brain. Jean cackled an evil little laugh and said, "Trying to wake up are we Mitchel? Well since you're here let me tell you where we're up to." Instead of the kindly middle-aged woman I thought I knew sat the same person, but instead of the friendly neighbour she now radiated an aura of malicious glee. "I could not believe my luck when you two moved in over the road. Pam was perfect! Just the sort of girl Gerry Parbold needed in his life, and then we had you. Just what I needed to replace my late husband," she chuckled malevolently. "I tattooed you pretty wife's arse with Parbold's on her buttock the day after I tattooed, 'Jean Gregg's girl' on yours!" I tried to make myself move, I wanted to strangle her, but it was like my body no longer obeyed me. "She not your wife any more she's Gerry's, and you belong to me now Melissa. Your mine, mind, body and soul, and perhaps one day I'll let you'll become this aware again, and then you'll understand just how futile your resistance to becoming Missy the maid truly was," she cackled and said, "Now tell me your full name?" Even though I tried to say Mitchel Hunter, what actually came out was. "My name is Melissa, Melissa Hilda Gregg, but everyone calls me Missy, Mistress." "Do you have another name Missy?" "Another name Mistress, why would I need another name?" I heard myself say in a decidedly effeminate tone of voice. Jean chuckled evilly. "You don't Missy, I was just checking," she smiled at me and said, "As for that smart intelligent girl who used to live over the road, Missy?" "Yes Mistress, Miss Pamela," I heard myself say in that effeminate tone. "Did you know she's just got engaged to Dr Parbold? She ever so excited about planning their wedding because she can't wait to become, Mrs. Parbold." She giggled as she informed me. "You've already signed the divorce papers," she snorted loving twisting the knife. "And the name changes. You did it the day after you moved in. You've agreed to a no contest divorce on the grounds of unreconcilable differences because Pamela can't live with a transsexual," she cackled. "Like you, and the special dispensation rules mean it will be final in six weeks." I managed to fight the block in my mind and whispered in my own voice. "Why are you doing this?" "Because I can, and Gerry needed a wife, while I needed a new housemaid after my useless husband had a bloody coronary," she chuckled. "Not that Gerry will ever know how I gave him his fianc?e, they'll both soon believe that they met when she was temping as his secretary," she smirked nastily at me. "You probably have not noticed and I'm sure the future Mrs Parbold hasn't, but she is getting dumber. I'd say she's lost at least 20 points of IQ already, and she'll drop at least the same again, before she's finished becoming Beverly, a pretty girl of average intelligence who was lucky to marry her medical doctor boss." She chuckled and ran her hand over my restrained cock. "And since pretty Pammy is losing her valuable intelligence, I need to be fair and take something equal value from you, and that my dear Melissa is this," she tugged on my caged cock. "I've decided that one day in near future you'll see a doctor who'll remove this useless lump of flesh and replace it with a nice juicy pussy," she let out a cackle of laughter. "A pussy that I'll see becomes a slackened hole first with my strap on, and once I've broken you in by getting you fucked with any man who wants to fuck you.. Once I've rebuilt you in my image you're going to be a slut for a while Melissa. There are lots of granny shaggers out there who are going to love fucking you as much as you'll crave letting them fuck you." Inside I raged at her and wanted to scream and shout my defiance but I was like her dressmakers mannequin and all I could do just stand there. She laughed at me and said in a cold tone. "That's it Missy fight me. I do love watching the struggle in your eyes fading as the reality slowly blooms that you can't resist becoming Missy the maid darling. You all try, my husband tried, he failed, Betty tried, she failed," she giggled. "Ah sweet Betty, she looked just like you when Brian tried to rear his head," her tone hardened. "Until I put him down, and he fought so much harder than you to cling onto himself, but he still lost and became the Betty I wanted," she snorted. "The deliciously sexy and feminine submissive partner in lesbian marriage. Not that Katie was a lesbian until I turned her into one of course. When they moved into their house, she was Brian's self-effacing dormouse of a wife, and I made her into what she is today, a strong confident butch woman who keeps her girl in her place." She must have read the horror in my face, because with a sadistic chuckle she told me. "Still for all that your soon to be ex-wife is going to be a lot dumber in the future she's getting other things in return, Gerry's thick, fat cock fucking her senseless in every hole for one," she snorted with amusement at that. "She fucking loves that Missy, and the pair of them have been fucking like rabbits since last Sunday. Plus of course she'll be living suitably feminine lifestyle from now on, one where her only concerns will be looking attractive for her husband, and taking care of the babies they are hoping to make from all the fucking they've been doing." "Once our new Beverly starts pumping babies out perhaps I let you babysit for them Missy, if of course you're not entertaining one of your many gentlemen friends!" Jean chuckled and then added, something I did not hear but it switched my sense of self off. She briefly let me have moments of lucidity over the next few year or so, but I don't know how long it was before she let me 'wake up' for any length of time again, but it was over a year. She did give me odd flashes of awareness to remind me of how hopeless my resistance was. I saw myself talking to doctors about my gender reassignment surgery, then sometime later lay on my back as a mask came over my face in an operating theatre. Then there were other odd moments of lucidity. I'd be naked stepping out of the bath and see my changing body, or serving Jean's guests dressed in my black and white maids uniform. Other times I would suddenly be aware of a sweaty man on top of my body. Abruptly aware of the feelings of intense sexual excitement as I heard myself screaming for more. These moments lasted longer but the feeling of having a man pumping their cock inside me overwhelmed any will power I had to resist, because I was lost in the all-consuming sensation of pleasure I felt as they spurted inside me. I never knew when these moments were or how they happened, because they were only ever just fleeting moments of isolated awareness. When Jean did finally let me wake up properly, I wanted to cry because sat there in Mistresses lounge was Pam. Only I could not think of her as Pam any more. It was like my mind rejected that name and although I dimly recalled our married life, I found I could only see her as Mrs. Parbold. The slim athletic figure in my hazy memory was now a full- figured blonde at least 30 pounds heavier that the Pam I knew. I was serving them tea, and she did not even acknowledge me as I placed her cup beside her. Her attention was totally fixed on gazing lovingly up at her husband as she suckled a pair of twins on her exposed breasts. "Melissa," Mistress was bouncing a toddler on her lap and after I served them she said, "Fetch Mrs. Parbold a towel dear to clean up after the little ones have fed, and see if there are any those toddler treats left for little Gerry, there's a good girl." "Yes Mistress," I heard myself say in a strangely tone that I knew both was and was not my voice, and then I turned to the kitchen and saw myself in the mirror. I felt a wave of horror run through me, I looked like Miss Jean's older fatter sister! I was thirty-five years old and my reflection looked at least twenty years older. My once light brown hair was darker and dull with grey streaks that stood out because of how I wore it pulled back in a neat bun behind my white head band. The three-quarter length maids uniform even with a tea apron and a firm control girdle did little to hide my belly, and inside the unyielding embrace of an 18 hour bra sat a pair of enormous breasts that crowned my chest. I both loved and hated them for jiggling in the bra under my uniform, I did not need to see it to know that my arse was now of equal size. Instead of the pale northern English lad of my memory the mirror showed me a fat grey haired fifty something housemaid wearing dated unflattering glasses. I wanted to cry as I curtseyed but all I did was smile unable to resist the compulsion to obey my sadistic mistress's orders. As I waddled away I could feel the void between my legs, and knew that the smirk on Mistress Jean's face said it all. She had won. As she prophetised I had become Missy the maid and nothing would change that now... The End. Trish 2019.