Annie And Her Granny - Chapter 7 free porn video

Annie and her Granny By Susannah Donim Chapter 7 - Dolly Returns Can Steve finally return to normal? The Friday morning was bright and sunny and Dolly the maid was again required to serve Ingrid, Fred and Annie morning coffee on the terrace behind the house. I pottered about laying out cups and saucers and plates on the wrought-iron picnic table, pouring coffee, and handing round pastries - all as slowly as possible so that I could be party to the conversation without sitting down as though I were with my equals. When she spoke to George, my mother had asked him if Harriet intended to cancel the Treacher investigation now that none of us were playing in the Trials. He said they'd had a big row about the money she was spending, but that as far as he knew, she was as determined as ever to prove that something strange was going on with Dolly, despite Treacher's complete failure to come up with any evidence. Apparently even the detective had suggested to her that she was wasting her money. "So I suppose we have to go ahead with Operation Get-Steve-Back, as planned," said Annie. "Hoo-fucking-ray," I muttered, wiping my coffee-stained fingers on my apron. My mother looked at me sharply. I smiled sweetly and attempted a mock- curtsey. "They've decided to discharge Granny on Monday morning," continued Annie. "So your accident should be late this afternoon," suggested Fred, "so that it's Visiting Time when we get to the hospital." A thought struck him. "We have a wheelchair somewhere, don't we?" "Good idea," said my mother. "Say she has a fall in the kitchen..." "Or something falls on her," said Annie. "I can bring the big van round to the front, which presumably he'll be watching," Mum continued. "You can wheel her out, looking appropriately concerned. We'll put her in the back and I'll drive us all to the hospital. I'll stop by the front entrance, then you two can take fake Dolly to the real Dolly's room while I'm moving the van to the visitor's car park." "No doubt Treacher will follow us," said Fred to me, "so you'll have to stay in the wheelchair till we get you inside." "They know me well at Reception now," said Annie, "and I know my way around, so we can go straight through to Granny's room before Treacher can get in. When I was there yesterday, I warned them to be on the lookout for unwanted visitors as you suggested, so they shouldn't answer any of his questions or let him in to see her." "He may still manage to bluff his way past Reception," said my mother, "but by the time he gets to Dolly's room, he'll find her already in bed and you two with her. I'll join you as soon as I can." "And what about me?" I asked. "I've packed a bag with full instructions," my mother said. "You can jump out of the wheelchair and dive into the first Ladies toilets you pass. You change, put all of Dolly's clothes back in the bag, and stroll back out to Reception. When you get there, call a taxi, and come back here. Report to Vera and she'll remove all your prostheses." "We'll take your stick and the wheelchair with us and leave them with Granny," said Annie. "I'll pick up any of your things you've left at the house back here with me tomorrow." "There's just my toothbrush and a couple of books, I think. The rest of my personal stuff is in my - that is Dolly's - cubby hole in the kitchen. Oh wait, I finished the cardigan. It's on the sideboard in the sitting room." I smiled. "It's a present from your Granny." "How kind!" she said. "And good to know that my boyfriend can do all our knitting and sewing from now on." "Good, I think that's everything," said my mother. "Any questions, anybody?" "When do you think we can disable the bugs?" I asked Fred. "I know we won't have to pretend I'm Dolly anymore after this, but we'll still have to be careful what we say." "I'm working on that," said Fred. "I've got a friend who's a security expert. He's agreed to come down with state-of-the-art sweeping equipment to make sure there are no more sophisticated devices anywhere. Regarding the three we know about, he reckons from my description they're a cheap type that tend to fail after a couple of weeks anyway when their batteries die, but they can always be disabled by exposing them to a strong magnet. If we do that to all three over an extended period - say a week or so - Treacher will probably think they just failed of their own accord." "Even if he's suspicious, he surely won't care enough to do anything about it," said my mother. "He won't have got any useful information from them, and Harriet is bound to pull the plug soon." I collected the coffee things and went back to the kitchen. I had just one more working day as Dolly, the elderly maid! * * * We started Operation Get-Steve-Back at about a quarter past five. We had no clients staying overnight and all the catering staff had left, so we had the kitchen to ourselves. We plugged in a radio and turned up the volume, just in case there were any bugs there we didn't know about. "Soft voices, now," my mother whispered, handing me a large overnight bag. I slipped my mobile out of my apron pocket and into the bag. My mother looked dubious. "I'll need my phone, won't I? If only to call a cab." "Well, make sure it's on 'Silent'," she said. "We don't need it ringing at a sensitive moment." I complied, then signalled I was ready. Fred nodded, then took a pile of large pans and casserole dishes down off a shelf and threw them violently at the tiled floor. The metallic clatter reverberated around the room. I screamed and groaned theatrically, feeling very silly as there was probably no one listening. I suggested we cover some part of me with tomato ketchup so I could look like a bloody mess when they wheeled me out, but Annie and my mother vetoed that idea. "There's no need to ruin Dolly's uniform," my mother whispered. "We're assuming you got a bang on the head, and we're taking you to hospital in case you have a fracture or concussion. No blood involved." "You little drama queen!" chuckled Annie. She untied my apron for me and helped me settle in the wheelchair with the overnight bag in my lap. She covered my legs with a rug, took my maid's cap off, and gave me an empty ice pack to hold to my forehead. I rested my head on the back of the chair, and closed my eyes. "I think we're ready," said my mother. "I'll go and get the van. Meet you out front," Fred pushed the wheelchair through the hall and out of the front door. Annie followed close behind him, wringing her hands and trying to look scared and apprehensive. I feigned semi-consciousness as they transferred me to the back of the van. Fred folded the wheelchair and pushed it and my stick in after me. He got in the back and sat beside me, while Annie climbed into the front passenger seat. My mother drove as fast as she dared to the hospital. It was a tricky balance. She needed to make it look as though it was an emergency, but she didn't want to lose Treacher - this time we actually needed him to see where we were going - and of course she couldn't afford to attract the attention of any traffic cops. I couldn't see what was going on from the back, but Annie had opened the little communications window and was giving us a running commentary. As we had feared, Treacher must have found a vantage point in the woods beside the driveway, because for most of the twenty-minute journey he was just a few cars behind us. So we had been right to be cautious when we were outside. He had found somewhere to watch us from. We pulled into the hospital and my mother parked the van in a Disabled space close to the front entrance. Fred opened the back doors and got the wheelchair out. He and Annie got me settled in it again, with the overnight bag and the rug, while my mother moved the van to the main car park. As she pulled away I noticed the blue Fiesta pulling in at the main gate. When we were safely inside I slipped the ice pack under the rug and sat up straight, trying to look bright and alert, but the fact that I was in a wheelchair still attracted the attention of an efficient-looking nurse at Reception. I hoped the rug concealed enough of me that no one would notice my maroon dress was actually a maid's uniform. "Is she all right?" the nurse asked, rushing over. "She's fine," said Annie. "I've just brought her to visit her sister, my grandmother." "Oh it's you, Miss Rogers," said one of the girls on Reception. "It's fine, Betty. So Dolly has lots of visitors today, does she? That's nice." "Yes, thanks, Dawn," said Annie. "My friend, Mrs Jones, is right behind us. You remember her?" Dawn nodded. "She's parking the car." Fred had pushed me as far as the Fire Door through which were the patients' private rooms. As she reached us, Annie called back. "But I think that horrid lawyer fellow I warned you about might have followed us in," she said to the Reception team. "Can you please make sure he doesn't find his way to Dolly's room? And it is absolutely not OK to tell him anything about her illness!" "That's fine, Miss Rogers," said the girl she had called Dawn. "I'll get one of our security guys up here just in case." They would comply with Annie's instructions. This was a private hospital. They knew we could take our business elsewhere. There was a Ladies toilet just through the Fire Door. No one was in sight, so Fred stopped and I jumped out of the wheelchair with an agility belying my apparent years. I left the icepack and the rug on the seat and dived into the bathroom. Annie and Fred hurried on to Dolly's room. The Ladies was empty, which wasn't surprising. It was still early for visitors and all the patients' rooms had their own en suites. I quickly locked myself in the Disabled cubicle, as it had more room to move. By now I was adept at getting my uniform on and off. The zip down the back of my dress was no impediment these days, so I was soon standing there in just my bra, knickers and tights. By now I was quite used to seeing Dolly's body where mine should be. I barely noticed my wrinkly arms and legs and droopy breasts and buttocks. I lowered the toilet seat and put the overnight bag down to see what delights my mother had provided. I found a pink handbag first, containing a pair of sunglasses, various cosmetics, a hairbrush, about fifty pounds in cash, and a short typed note with instructions on how to do my make-up. She had obviously forgotten I was a near expert there, having had to make myself up as four different women in my time. I reached in the bag for my new clothes. As long as they were significantly different from anything Dolly had, they would be fine. I extracted a shocking pink blouse and a garish yellow trouser suit with a red rose pattern. Dolly wouldn't be seen dead in any of this lot, so I suppose they were exactly what was needed. I was just afraid I would attract too much attention in this grotesque outfit. I put everything on over my existing underwear and tights. A perfect fit, as I expected; Vera and my mother knew their business. But my God, my bum looked big in these pants! No wonder Dolly preferred skirts. At the bottom of the bag was a pair of gold high-heeled sandals and a long blonde wig, carefully packed so as not to lose its shape. I changed into the sandals and put my plain shoes and maid's uniform back in the bag. As Dolly, the highest heels I'd worn were for Ballroom sessions, and they were only two inches. The sandals were three and a half. I tried a few steps around the cubicle and was glad I had practised out of sight. I would have to walk with care. And a swagger. And my huge bum would be swinging from side to side, practically out of control. I would need to use the mirror over the basin outside to do my make-up but I had to change my wig before leaving the cubicle. Off came the grey - hopefully for the last time - and on went the brassy blonde. I adjusted it as best I could without a mirror, then I picked up my handbag and the overnight bag and stepped outside. My appearance in the bathroom mirror was quite a shock. I quickly got out the hairbrush and gave my new wig a good brushing. There was a small can of hair spray among the cosmetics and I used most of its contents to get my new long blonde tresses under control. Finally I set about my make-up. I examined what my mother had given me: bright scarlet lipstick, mascara, purple eyeshadow, blush. Dolly never wore anything like them. I scanned the instructions. There was little there I didn't know already; the essence of the message was 'more is better'. I set about the task, as directed. When I had finished, I looked like a faded Hollywood starlet, pretending to want to pass unrecognised in the street, but actually calling everyone's attention to her. The dark glasses were the finishing touch. My face was still Dolly's, but the combination of blonde locks framing my face, gaudy make-up, and dark glasses completely obscured her features. I also looked like a crumbling sixty rather than seventy-six. This could work! I stepped outside the Ladies, my handbag over my shoulder and the overnight bag in my left hand. I walked - sashayed - back towards Reception, trying to look as if I owned the place, and making my walk as different as possible from Dolly's walking-stick-supported limp. When I got there the first person I saw was Treacher arguing with the girls on Reception. My mother must have beaten him in and got to Dolly's room while I was still in the Ladies. "I'm sorry, sir," Dawn was saying, "we're not allowed to give out any information regarding patients." He was still arguing when I strutted past them and sat down in the waiting area off to the side. He barely glanced in my direction. I got my phone out of my handbag and opened the Uber app. I arranged a ride home and reached for a women's magazine while I waited. I could hear Treacher still arguing with Dawn. A hulking security guard appeared from somewhere and was making his way toward the desk. "Can't you at least tell me if she's here and being looked after?" Treacher persisted. "I'm afraid not," she said firmly. "All patient information is strictly confidential." "Ah, so she is here!" he with a triumphant note. Well he knew that anyway. He had seen her - me - going in. "I can neither confirm nor deny that," Dawn said, sounding like a politician. "I repeat, all patient information is strictly confidential." Yep, a career in politics definitely beckoned for that young lady. I struggled to keep myself from chuckling - or applauding. Treacher gave up and left. When I was sure he wouldn't see me, I went to the window to watch him going back to his car. He was soon out of sight. I waited a minute or two but there was no sign of the blue Fiesta leaving the car park. I texted Annie to say that my new disguise was fine; that Treacher had been here but hadn't recognised me; but that she, Fred and my mother should be careful when they leave, as he might follow them instead. The girls on Reception were clearly a bit puzzled as to who I might be, but I was minding my own business and didn't seem to need anything from them, so they didn't bother me. My Uber arrived after about ten minutes. The driver came into the Reception area and called loudly for Steve. I'd forgotten that the account was in my real name. I hurriedly gathered up my things and wiggled my way over to him. I noticed Dawn looking puzzled. "It's Stephanie really, of course," I said, in the voice I had cultivated when I had been my mother. For some reason the girls didn't look any less puzzled. * * * The journey home was uneventful. No blue Fiesta. I rushed up to Vera's office as soon as I got back. She was still there although it was after half past six. "Wow, look at you, Dolly!" she said when she saw me. "I love the new image. You look twenty years younger!" "I'm not Dolly," I said, going along with the gag. "I'm Stephanie, her little sister, but I'd rather be Steve again, if you don't mind a little overtime." She laughed. "I knew I had one more customer tonight. You're the only reason I'm still here. Let's get that ridiculous wig off you first." I sat down in her client chair and she removed my long blonde locks and the wig cap. My own hair underneath them was wild and unkempt and needed a wash. Then she moved on to removing the abdominal section of my prosthesis. That was straightforward as it wasn't glued on. She gave me a pair of paper knickers to keep me decent while she began work on the chest piece. This required her to work her solvent under its edges - the neck, the sleeves, and the waist. Then she peeled off as much as had come free. This hurt a little because stubble had grown on my arms and chest after the original waxing. Vera then worked a little more solvent under the new edges, and peeled again, and so on, until eventually I was able to get the whole thing off me. That was quite a relief; there had been moments when I thought I was going to be stuck in it forever. "That was easier than it might have been," she said, handing me one of our famous pink dressing gowns, "because you've been in it for more than three weeks, so you've lost the top layer of skin and the adhesive has come away with it." She picked up the prosthesis pieces and put them in a large cardboard box. "I hope you're going to burn those," I said, with some passion. "Er... actually, no. Your mother has asked me to put them in storage." "What on earth for?" "Just in case she ever needs you to be Dolly again." "Never going to happen!" "She said you'd say that, so I'm supposed to tell you that if it does ever happen, and you've made me destroy these, she'll make you pay for their replacements." I snorted. She laughed. "Don't worry. I'm sure you'll never see them again. I'll do the face and neck pieces next." This required more work with the solvent, but the pieces were much smaller, so they came away more easily. She added them all to the box. Finally she gave me some stuff that smelt like paint-stripper to get rid of the latex strips and make-up for the 'old lady hands' Sharon had given me. I went over to her washbasin and washed my hands several times. They gradually began to look like those of a young man again, but I was afraid I would never get rid of the smell of turpentine. "Ta daa!" she announced. "Welcome back, Steve Jones!" I could have kissed her. In fact now she'd got all my wrinkly prosthetics off and was rubbing me down with soothing lotion, I did kiss her. I checked my appearance in the mirror in front of the chair. My face was red and sore from the solvent and losing the top layer of skin. The rest of my body wasn't much better. "Thanks for staying late," I said. "I'm really grateful." "That's OK. I knew you'd be keen to get back to being Steve." She cupped my chin and opened my mouth with her other hand. "There's a little more to do yet, I'm afraid. We need to get rid of the yellow paint on your teeth. You have to brush with this toothpaste. It's another kind of solvent, so try not to swallow any. It's not poisonous or anything, but it will probably upset your tummy if you swallow too much." She passed me a new toothbrush. I dipped it into the solvent and started scrubbing. "You need to be really thorough," she said. "Make sure you spread the cream everywhere and brush it well in." I scrubbed and scrubbed. At first, I couldn't see any difference but gradually the yellow stain started to fade. Vera handed me a glass of water and a small plastic bowl to spit into. "Here, you need to rinse your mouth out every minute or so." Eventually she stopped me and examined the results of my labours. "Not bad," she said. "That's probably as good as you can do for the moment. The solvent is doing its work. The last of the paint will soon fade and your teeth will gradually go back to their original pearly-white." She turned back to her desk and picked up a sharp-looking instrument which looked like the tooth scraper dentists use for removing plaque. "I just need to get rid of the black shading on your front teeth and gums. It's a thin plastic film, rather than paint, and it's probably ready to come off anyway. I would have had to replace it soon if you were going to stay as Dolly any longer." She bent over me to scrape my teeth. I hate going to the dentist at the best of times but I was so desperate to be me again, I made no protest (apart from a little whimper, which I hoped she didn't hear). * * * So my time as Annie's Granny came to an end. We were both delighted that Dolly had recovered and that Steve could return to a normal life. Treacher had kept watch at the hospital throughout the weekend until Dolly was discharged on Monday morning. Annie and I picked her up and took her back to her house and Treacher followed us. Annie warned her to be careful what she said in case the house was bugged after all. Fred's security expert came down that afternoon with his state-of-the-art bug detector. It took him two hours in our building and half an hour at Dolly's (posing as the gas man) to declare both premises bug-free. So the ones Fred had found were the only ones Treacher had planted. That was both a relief and an annoyance - we hadn't needed to be so careful what we said all the time. For the next few days Annie divided her downtime between our flat (more precisely my bedroom) and her grandmother's house, as the old lady still needed looking after. After her operation her doctor counselled against returning to work at Transformations, for several weeks at least, so she was mostly housebound. Treacher watched for two or three more days, but by the end of the week his little car had gone and didn't return. Annie was delighted with the cardigan I had knitted and wore it all the time, even though it had turned out shapeless, with an uneven splodgy pattern unrecognisable as roses, and with irregular buttons, two of which fell off in the first week. I kept offering to repair it, but she said she loved it just the way it was. I didn't have as much time to spend with Annie as we would have wanted, as I had to be back at college for the beginning of Full Term. I had only just been restored to myself in time. I would be away from home - and Annie - for eight weeks. After that dramatic summer together, it would be hard for both of us. Still, there was nothing to stop us meeting up at weekends, either in Cambridge or at home. We also kept in touch using WhatsApp and Skype. We were both glad that the flames of our relationship were burning ever stronger, despite our separation. Annie was concerned that I would meet somebody new in the sexually-charged atmosphere of the university social scene. And I did meet several girls at the computer laboratories, at parties, and at sporting events, but none of them was a patch on Annie. So we both went back to our respective grinds. I got stuck into my third- year curriculum. Meanwhile at home Transformations was busier than ever. Annie started conducting the first meetings with clients, to lighten my mother's load. The only sad event of that Autumn was that Dolly decided she had to retire. She had recovered well from her very serious operation. Many of her previous symptoms like dizziness and shortness of breath had all but disappeared, but she had to admit that she was no longer up to the physical demands of her job. So my mother needed to find a replacement. Because of the growth of the business, and of our clients' continuing need for anonymity, she decided Dolly's replacement really needed to be 'one of us'. So she set about recruiting a housekeeper who could take charge of our catering and accommodation staff, and whom she could trust with our innermost secrets - no easy task. I made a suggestion but she dismissed it out of hand, at least at first ... * * * Very few undergraduates are allowed to keep cars in Cambridge, so at the end of term Annie brought my Yaris over to Cambridge to collect me and my luggage. I drove us back while she gave me all the news from home. "The new housekeeper started this week," she said, with a smile and a sly sideways look at me. "I think you'll be pleased. You'll like her." Did that mean my mother had accepted my suggestion after all? But Annie was in a teasing mood and refused to elaborate. "Oh and we're going to a Christmas Fancy Dress party next week." I groaned. "No, no, it'll be fun. I've already got our costumes picked out. They're panto themed." "I'm not going to a party as Mother-bleeding-Goose!" I said. "I don't want to get dragged up again. I always seem to get stuck that way for weeks." "Don't worry," she said smoothly. "You're not going as the Dame, I promise. I'm going as Cinderella. You're my Prince Charming." "Oh well, that's all right then." I didn't think it through, did I? * * * Was it really only six months ago that I last arrived home from college and piled my belongings (suitcases, dirty washing, books and laptop) inside by the service lift? The feeling of d?j? vu was tempered by the only significant difference between the two occasions: Annie. Otherwise it was much the same. We took my stuff upstairs then went back down to the staff room where afternoon tea was in progress. The woman in the maroon maid's dress pouring drinks and handing out slices of fruit cake was not Dolly. I didn't recognise her at first because the fake-looking ginger hair was now a tidy bun of pepper-and-salt brown, tinged with grey. Hearing us enter, she turned and smiled. It was Rita Johnson, my father. My mother had taken up my suggestion. "I understand I have you to thank for getting me this job?" he said, handing us cups of tea. "We needed someone who could run all our catering and accommodation, and who we could trust to keep all our secrets," I said. "It was the obvious solution. To be honest, I didn't think she would go for it; or if she did, that you wouldn't take it." "Well, I was very surprised when she contacted me, but delighted." His face fell. "I've been alone a long time." He looked a little embarrassed. "Anyway, it's great to see you as you at last, and happy." He smiled at Annie. "Is Mum making you... welcome?" I asked, not quite sure how to ask the question I really wanted to ask. "My employer, Mrs McLaughlin, has been very kind," he said carefully. "She has even allocated me one of the little bedsits in the accommodation wing - temporarily, until I've found somewhere to live, locally." "I see," I said. "I thought she might have..." "I'm working on it," he said, taking my meaning, all too well. "Actually, I might have an idea about that," said Annie, who had missed the subtext of the conversation. "Granny and I have a spare room if you're interested. We could let you have it cheap, if you'd be willing to help me look after her." "That would be wonderful!" His eyes lit up. "I'd love to. How is Dolly now?" Annie launched into a description of her grandmother's state of health, but at that moment my mother came in and drew me aside. "I don't want you getting the wrong idea about this," she said. "Him - I mean her - coming on board now is just convenient for both of us." "Well, it's been a 'marriage of convenience' for you both for a while now, hasn't it?" "Very funny. My point is she's the company's housekeeper, Mrs Rita Johnson, and nothing more." Maybe. But they loved each other once. Anyway I looked forward to getting to know my father at last. * * * I wasn't pleased when I found out what Annie had planned for the Fancy Dress Party. It was being given in London by a friend from her University Theatre course. "Now I don't want you to get angry..." she began. "Thank you for the warning," I interrupted. "Those are words which give me advance notice that you're about to ask me something for which I will be fully justified in losing my temper." "Yes, maybe that wasn't the most sensible way to broach the subject," she said. "Anyhoo, the guys and gals on my course have held a Fancy Dress party just before Christmas every year since we were all freshers. We didn't see why graduating this summer and all going our separate ways should change that. In fact, all the more reason to get together. We can catch up, swap stories, maybe even help each other out, career-wise." "Not angry yet," I said. "Don't worry; it's coming." She grinned ruefully. "The past couple of years the Fancy Dress has become a little... competitive, shall we say?" "I can feel my hackles rising..." "So this year I want to do something really spectacular." "Well, I can see that if you do it properly the Cinderella and Prince Charming costumes give you a lot of scope," I said, naively. "I mean, they could be really ornate..." "Oh yes, they certainly will be that," she grinned. "But I'm not talking about the Disney Cinderella; I'm going for a panto version." She paused, bracing herself for the explosion. "What's the difference?" I asked, baffled. She sighed. "In pantos Prince Charming is the Principal Boy." "Well, yes, I imagine he is. I suppose Buttons is a bigger part but..." "Oh for Heaven's sake! The Principal Boy in any panto is played by a girl!" The explosion arrived, a little late but no less violent for having been delayed. * * * Needless to say, my mother, Vera and Sharon were more than happy to help prepare me for the party. Vera gave me another all-over waxing the day before. It was nearly three months since the last one and I hadn't missed it at all. While she was rubbing me down with soothing lotion, my mother came in wheeling a trolley with the familiar hideous lumps of fake flesh on it. "I've made her figure as slim as possible while still concealing the male musculature underneath," she said. She was talking to Annie who was just behind her. Neither of them seemed the slightest bit concerned at the naked male prone on Vera's table. "There's no need for any facial prostheses, of course," she went on, "because Steven's face is so... androgynous." "So this is what Milly would look like four years after her first appearance?" said Annie. "Not quite," said my mother. "Sixteen-year-old Steven made a totally believable thirteen-year-old schoolgirl then." Annie looked surprised - and amused. "He was a late developer," my mother added by way of explanation, or maybe she just liked embarrassing me. Yep, that was it. "Anyway, I doubt that he would get away with being a seventeen-year-old girl now. Mid-twenties, I would guess, but let's see, shall we?" Annie turned to me. "I'll call you Milly anyway, shall I?" I grunted acquiescence; like it made any difference. Vera turned me on my back and started slapping adhesive on my bare, hairless chest. "One thing I don't understand," I said. "If we pretend I'm a girl throughout, why would anyone be impressed at my costume? I mean, I know it will be very beautiful and everything but..." "...but it will only be special if people know you're a man," Annie finished. "They'll find that out at the big reveal at midnight. We always do that. Everyone whips off their wigs, masks, hats or whatever, and there's a vote for the best effort. Judging by your previous attempts at female impersonation, you'll win easily." "Hang on! I don't want everyone there to think..." "Think what?" she said tersely. "That Steve Jones is a cross-dresser? You don't know anyone on my course, do you?" "Well... no." "So all they know is that I persuaded an unnamed male friend to be a guinea pig for my make-up and costuming skills." "Well... OK," I said, still uncomfortable with the whole idea, but slightly mollified. "So I'll carry on calling you Milly after the 'reveal'," Annie said. "Or would you prefer 'Stephanie'?" "Can you keep still now, please, Milly?" said Vera. "I'm sticking your breasts on, and I don't want you to be lop-sided." I suppose I should have been grateful that the usual 'abdominal prosthesis', lush with curvy padding, was of the type that allowed access to my male equipment, albeit only after some discomfort and outside help. At least Annie was familiar with the process. And I would have to get used to wearing feminine underwear again. * * * The point of a Principal Boy in panto is that everyone should know she's really a girl, in the same way that everyone must know the Dame is a man. So my costume was a frilly white blouse, a gold silk tunic, a frilled stock (which should cover my Adam's Apple), a red brocade frock coat with wide gold lapels, fishnet tights, and high-heeled boots, which proved a bit of a devil to get into. I would wear black spandex panties underneath. In theory they would be concealed by the tunic and coat, but in practice they were all too visible whenever I sat down or bent over. Still, no worse than what women tennis players expose every time they play. I would be wearing full ladies' stage make-up and a bright auburn wig. The finishing touch would be a smart black tricorn hat with gold braid. Despite her earlier claims, Annie's outfit was the classic 'Disney Princess' version of Cinderella in a beautiful pale blue. It consisted of a satin bodice with a sequin-embellished panel and a mesh overlay; puff sleeves; an organza split peplum; and an organza skirt accented with glitter, with a petticoat containing several layers of stiff, fine Tulle netting to create fullness. When we tried on our costumes my mother insisted on taking several photographs. The whole session felt a little like prom night. Despite my lack of enthusiasm for having to undergo yet another female transformation, it was impossible not to be excited in these gorgeous outfits. A little frightened of the high-heeled boots, I practised my girly swagger and thigh-slapping, a panto tradition for the Principal Boy. "These costumes are amazing!" I said. Vera and my mother agreed vigorously. "How on earth did you find the time to make them?" "I didn't," she said. "I got MyOwnCouture.com to make the basic clothes. I just had to embellish them. I chatted with Daisy, their MD, when I had them make your Garden Party dress. She told me they made the Dame's costumes for their local amateur panto last Christmas, and that gave me the idea." She turned to Ingrid. "Daisy's one of our clients, isn't she?" My mother was inscrutable. "That's OK, I know you're not supposed to tell me." I remembered there were photographs of a Transformations customer called Daisy in the bank safety deposit box and Annie had seen them. If she was really a man, she was very convincing - and very pregnant - in the pictures. I was amazed, yet again, at what our processes could do. "Since your prostheses are stuck on, you'll have to stay as Milly until we get back here on Sunday morning," said Annie, as we were taking our costumes off. "We won't be able to wear this lot on the train to London, of course, so we'll have to travel up in ordinary clothes and change when we get there. We'll have to find something nice for you to wear for the journey." "Way ahead of you," said Vera. "You can keep that bra on, Milly. Here are the matching panties. Don't worry - all your underwear is new." Sighing, I carefully unrolled the fishnet tights, dropped the spandex knickers, and stepped into the ordinary pair Vera was proffering. I stopped and examined myself in her mirror. "Yes, Milly has definitely put on weight since she was a thirteen-year-old schoolgirl," said my mother, unsympathetically. "I've had to give her a much bigger bust." "But that's only because her alter ego is a big, strong man now, with broader shoulders and a muscly torso," said Vera, kindly. "Well, I don't know about 'big'," my mother said, "or strong, come to that." "Well my boobs certainly feel bigger than before," I said. Vera gave me an unopened packet of tights. By now I was well-practised in putting them on without laddering them. Then Annie, Vera and I went down to the wardrobe room. I tried on half a dozen dresses. Both of them banned trousers. "Not with your plump rear end," they said. I pretended to pose like a lingerie model. By now I was quite used to the women in my life padding me up to borderline obesity and then laughing at me for being overweight. That didn't mean I liked it though. We eventually settled on a sleeveless chiffon midi dress with a blue and white floral pattern and a sharkbite hem. It was gathered at the neckline, front and back, and had an elastic waist and a matching self-tie belt - just right for a girl with a disproportionately broad mid-section (like me). I was a little concerned that my manly arms might give me away, but they wouldn't be on show for long. I would be wearing a ladies' overcoat for the journey to London and my Principal Boy blouse had long sleeves. "We don't have a great range of shoes in your size, I'm afraid," said Vera, "but these should go well with that dress." She was offering me a pair of white pumps with a one-inch heel. Given that I would be spending the evening in boots with a three-inch heel, I was very happy with that choice. I also took a mid-length soft shell parka with a faux fur hood, hopefully sufficient for the early December weather, a colourful silk scarf to conceal my masculine neck, and a black suede handbag. Milly was equipped for her weekend. "I hope you appreciate all this," I muttered to Annie, as we made our way up to the flat with all my new clothes. I felt a little additional grumbling was necessary, lest she begin to think I actually enjoyed all this crossdressing. That would be an easy mistake for her to make, given that this was the third time she had seen me in female disguise. "Of course I do," she said, stepping in for a hug. I felt our boobs mashing together. "But I hope you'll enjoy yourself too. It'll be great fun fooling everyone, won't it?" "Maybe," I said unconvinced. "What do we win, by the way?" "Oh there's no prize - just bragging rights and the admiration of my peers." Great! All this trouble and potential humiliation, and not even a tangible reward. * * * Annie had studied at a specialist Arts College, one of London University's smaller institutions. It only offered courses in Theatre, Film, Music, Dance, Fine Arts and Art History. The Theatre faculty didn't try to compete with the best-known Drama Schools like RADA, LAMDA and Webber Douglas, but focused on what might be called the theatrical support services, such as stagecraft and studio work - 'green screen' special effects, film editing, sound mixing, etc. Obviously wardrobe and make-up were part of that and those were Annie's specialties. By a mutually beneficial arrangement the college provided short individual modules to students from the bigger schools, on the principle that only a tiny fraction of drama students would ever make a decent living as actors, but if they were absolutely determined on a life in show business, they might find a niche backstage with the right training. However the college's Theatre faculty admitted only thirty full-time degree course undergraduates each year. As a result, everyone knew everyone and they formed a tight-knit group, supporting each other through the travails of student life in the capital. It probably helped that there were twice as many girls as boys - less testosterone-fuelled competition. Annie drove us to the station on Saturday afternoon, Milly having no licence. On the train to Kings Cross we drew no more attention than was normal for two not unattractive young women - certainly not the kind of attention we would have received if one of us had been detected as a man in drag. So I had to admit my androgyny and accept that another of my mother's transformations was an unqualified success. Our costumes were neatly folded in small wheeled suitcases. These were no impediment on the Tube and the journey to the venue was uneventful. The party was to be in the college's Student Union premises. We arrived about an hour and a half early, which gave us plenty of time to get ready. We entered through a large multi-purpose hall where a small group were hanging decorations. A boy was up a rickety-looking stepladder reaching out precariously to tie one end of a banner to a window catchment, while several girls were giving him contradictory directions from the safety of ground level. Annie clearly knew most of the group and went over to say hello. I followed dutifully behind. She introduced me to them all as 'my friend, Milly', but I was too busy watching the boy up the ladder to catch their names. I briefly wondered if I should be volunteering to help with the more hazardous aspects of the decorating, but (a) I was supposed to be a girl tonight; (b) I was scarcely dressed for climbing ladders; and (c) I had no particular skills to offer in this context anyway. The women's locker room was in a corridor off the hall. There were already a few girls in there in a state of undress. Annie continued with the introductions, watching me slyly to see if I was suffering any adverse reactions from seeing her friends in the semi-nude. But this wasn't my first rodeo; that is, I had been in women's locker rooms before, so I managed to stay in control. The sight of their bare boobs and buttocks impaired my ability to remember any of their names though. I looked around to see if we had any serious rivals in the prizeless Fancy Dress competition. Inevitably there was a girl dressed as Vampira, all heavy Goth make-up and indecently low-cut black dress, and another as Ariel, the Little Mermaid, her torso naked except for two large seashells, and her legs encased in a green fish tail. I wondered how she expected to dance in that. Annie seemed to know both girls well and was immediately engulfed in one of those boisterous conversations that only women seemed to have, where everyone was talking at the same time but somehow were all taking in everything that everyone else was saying. I think it's a female super- power which has evolved to keep men out of any serious conversation. While my love was thus occupied, I made my way over to a quiet corner and claimed some space. I opened my suitcase on a bench and started taking out the components of my costume. I took off my parka and hung it and my silk scarf in a nearby locker. I remembered how to unzip my own dress unassisted and it soon joined the coat on a hanger. I was now standing in a women's changing room in bra, panties, tights and pumps, surrounded by actual women in a similar state. How did my life turn out like this? I picked up my black costume knickers and sat down on a bench to take off my pumps and tights. I threw them in the locker and paused to take a good look around. No one seemed to be watching me. I fervently hoped that my various prostheses were up to close-quarters inspection if someone did glance in my direction. I turned my back to the room and dropped my white everyday panties. I was now completely naked except for my bra. My big round feminine buttocks were exposed to the room. I quickly stepped into the Principal Boy spandex. The roof didn't fall in. There was no outcry. I reached for my gorgeous black Micro Diamond fishnet tights. I would have to be especially careful putting these on; a ladder would be a disaster. Coincidentally, at that very moment, there was a loud crash from the hall down the corridor. A ladder disaster of a different kind? I managed to keep control of my tights, which was all that mattered to me. I stood up to smooth and straighten my leggings. I was now attracting some attention. Well, let them stare. I didn't think my legs were anything to be ashamed of. I grabbed my boots and sat down again to put them on. Seeing me struggling, Annie finally excused herself from the catch-up conversation with her friends and came over to help. "Wow! You have great legs, Milly darling, especially in fishnets," she said, levering my right foot into its imitation-leather prison for the evening. "Great legs for a girl, you mean? I'm not sure that would be a compliment for a man." "For a boy, or a girl," she smiled. "You're a bit of both tonight, aren't you?" "I haven't come across many men wearing fishnet tights." "And yet here you are. So sexy!" She turned her attention to my left boot. "You'll need to be careful tonight, by the way. A couple of the girls here are fully 'out of the closet', and your legs may be hard for them to resist." "Well, you need to make sure they know I'm taken. You'll just have to pretend you've changed sides since leaving college, won't you?" She chuckled. "Okay, I can do that. I promise not to leave my sweetie on her own this evening." "See that you don't! Or I may not be here at midnight for the big reveal." "Okay, okay, consider me warned." She had finished with my left boot. I put on my blouse and started doing up the little ivory buttons. She put her suitcase beside mine and opened it. A great froth of pale blue bubbled out. She saw me looking at it and read - or misread - my mind. "You know, it did occur to me that I could have come as Prince Charming and you could have been Cinderella. You would have gone along with that, wouldn't you?" "Maybe next year," I said, making light of her unsubtle implication. I reached for my tunic, shrugged it on, and buttoned it up. It was tight, and the darts did nothing to conceal my substantial bust, but at least my knickers were covered as long as I was standing up. I would have to cross my legs female-style whenever I sat down. I tied my frilly stock round my neck. I turned to Annie to ask her for help with my hair and make-up. She had already put on her chemise and was stepping into a gorgeous pair of frilly blue pantaloons over her knee-highs. "No problem, sweetie," she said, "but you'll have to fasten my corset first." "Delighted," I said, looking forward to getting a tiny bit of revenge for all the stupid underclothes I'd had to wear that summer. In the end I took pity on her and didn't pull the bodice's cords too tight. I was now playing lady's maid again, and I'd probably have to help her out of it all later as well. Something to look forward to. The dress was next. First I held her hoop skirt steady so that she could clamber inside; then I helped her lower her Tulle petticoat down over it; then the organza skirt; and finally the peplum top. "You're going to boil in this lot, babe," I said. "We all have to suffer for our art," she said, struggling to line up her various undergarments. "Huh! Tell me about it," I muttered. "Protesting too much again, aren't we?" she said. "C'mon, help me with my shoes. I can't even see my feet and I can't bend in this corset." She sat down on the bench, the hoop making her skirts stick up in the air, exposing her frilly drawers. I heard cheers and catcalls from behind me across the room. I quickly shoved her feet in her silver sandals and fastened the straps. We had thought about doing glass slippers but dismissed the idea as impractical. We sat down together at the mirrors to do our make-up. With little freedom of movement Annie had to sit bolt upright, the many layers of petticoat and dress pouring down to the floor, the hoop raising them up in front and behind. "I wonder how women sat down in those days," I said. "They probably didn't at dances," she said. "I imagine they swooned a lot though." She reached in her handbag for a hairbrush and started on my wig. When she finished, she took some black ribbon and tied a low ponytail of the kind that dashing young men wore in the eighteenth century. I began on my make- up under her instructions. When she declared herself satisfied, it looked way over the top to me. "This is a bit much, isn't it?" I said. "It's supposed to be," she said. "It's stage make-up, and you're the Principal Boy. Your eyes and lips have to really pop." She winked. "And you'll still be practically invisible next to me!" Right! I would do everything I could to upstage her. Get ready for a really flamboyant Prince Charming. I put on my brocade jacket and arranged my hat on top of my wig. I admired myself in the mirror. The complete costume looked amazing. But when Annie had finished her own make-up, and arranged her long blonde hair in the famous Disney Cinderella updo with the blue headband, I realised no one was going to upstage my gorgeous girlfriend tonight, least of all me. * * * It was a great party. The Student Union bar was open, well-stocked and well-manned. There were external caterers who served an excellent hot buffet. There was dancing. Two boys came to break us up and Annie obliged with a mischievous smile at me. She obviously knew them both well from her student days. She insisted on swapping partners after a couple of dances, which was a relief, as the first boy was starting to get a little grabby. I still had to put up with a slow dance with the second boy, but Annie made sure it didn't go beyond that. "Didn't you feel Peter's hands on your bum?" she asked, a little crossly, when we were briefly alone. "Well, I had an inkling," I said, "but there's a lot of padding back there, so I didn't actually feel anything till it was too late." "Well you've obviously given him ideas. He and Brian are watching us closely." "Let's give them something to watch then, shall we?" Bridge Over Troubled Water started up - another slow dance opportunity. The boys were making their way over to us, but I grabbed Annie and dragged her out to the middle of the dance floor. She made sure I felt her hand on my bum this time and I reciprocated. As the song drew to a close, I dipped her and kissed her long and hard. When we came up for air, the boys had vanished. Lots of people came up to congratulate Annie on our costumes. A girl called Wendy, who was dressed as Cleopatra, said she wasn't at all surprised. "You come up with something amazing every year," she said. "I loved your Marie Antoinette last Christmas." I gathered that Annie had been the stand-out star of the wardrobe course, with an amazing eye for fashion and an encyclopaedic knowledge of historic costume. I asked her about that. "Well, you can't always get authentic materials nowadays," she explained, "and you wouldn't want to use what was available in medieval times, say. Their clothes were heavy; and dull by modern standards, unless you use very rare and expensive dyes. We usually have to take short cuts to keep costs down, but it's easy to get historic costumes completely wrong if you don't know what you're doing." Wendy was nodding throughout this. She turned her attention to me. "Oh, I'm sorry," said Annie, "I didn't introduce you, did I? This is Milly, my Prince Charming." I smiled and gave her an elaborate, and very theatrical bow. "Milly's a terrible ham," Annie added. "She's your 'plus one', is she?" he said. "I never realised you were gay." "What are you talking about?" Annie laughed. "My Prince is a very handsome man!" "Yeah - as if!" Wendy smiled. "Well, whatever humps your camel." And she wandered off to look for her Mark Antony. * * * On the stroke of midnight, the music stopped. A spotlight came on and started roaming the room, its operator presumably looking for the most interesting revelations. In accordance with Annie's instructions, I doffed my tricorn hat then reached up and tore off my wig revealing Steve's short brown hair. The spotlight shifted abruptly to me. I tried to stand tall and straight and manly. There were audible gasps around us, and the spotlight moved on. By popular acclaim Annie's costumes won the virtual awards for this year. I got the kind of puzzled looks I had been expecting. Cleopatra, Vampira and the Little Mermaid rushed up to congratulate Annie. "Bit cheeky to get changed in the Women's locker room though," said Vampira, with a twinkle in her eye. "Well it would have given the game away if I'd gone in the Men's," I countered. "Anyway I didn't look." "Liar!" she said, thrusting her half-exposed bosom in my face, to emphasise how difficult it would be for any red-blooded male to ignore it. I grinned. "So what's the deal with you two?" asked Wendy. "Is she - I mean, he - your actual boyfriend?" I was about to answer when Annie took my wig and put it back on my head, adjusting it until it was straight. "Yes, he is," she said. "But tonight he's Milly, my Principal Boy." "So are you transgender then?" asked Vampira. I was about to make a vehement denial, when Annie spoke for me. "We don't know yet. He's a work in progress." Words failed me. * * * At about two o'clock in the morning the party started to break up. We had booked a guest room in the Student Union building, as the last train home left Kings Cross at half-past midnight. We collected our street clothes from the lockers and made our way upstairs. "I really enjoy being with you when you're in female mode," Annie said as I was helping her get out of her elaborate costume. "After all you've been my girlfriend, my Granny, and my mother-in-law, and we've always had a great time, haven't we?" "Well, yes, we have," I admitted. "Though strictly speaking when I was Ingrid I wasn't your mother-in-law. For that we would have to be..." I ground to a halt and busied myself with the cords of her bodice. "Married, yes," she said. "Would that be such a bad thing?" "No, no, it would be amazing, but..." "Well when are you going to ask me then? Or should I put on that horrible Steve prosthesis and ask you?" "No, I'll do it," I said. "But are you sure? I mean, it was a great party and we're both pretty drunk. This may not be the best time to be talking of lifetime commitments." "Maybe not, but we'll never find out till you get on with it, will we?" "OK," I said. I took a deep breath and dropped to one knee, hoping my lovely fishnet tights would be OK on the coarse guest room carpet tiles. I cleared my throat, horribly nervous for some reason. "Will you marry me?" She giggled at my 'semi-recumbent posture', then she considered. What on earth was she thinking about? I mean, this was her idea, wasn't it? Or was she just teasing - again? "I need you to admit something first," she said eventually. "What?" "That you have actually enjoyed your various outings in female disguise." "What? Why?" "Because I've enjoyed them - a lot - and I'll want to keep on doing them. Transformation is my thing, and I'll want my husband to be in it with me, and even to be my wife some of the time." I didn't have to think about that for long. Even if I didn't enjoy female impersonation much, Annie would be worth it. "OK - deal." "Fine. That means you can be my mother-in-law-to-be sometime. By the way, where's my ring?" * * * Everyone back home was delighted at our news. Well, nearly everyone. "Are you sure about this?" said my mother. "You haven't known each other very long." We were having lunch at the flat. I was Steve again. Annie had gone home to check on Dolly and Rita. "More than six months now," I pointed out, "and we survived being separated for the whole of the Michaelmas Term. Anyway the wedding won't be until next June after I've graduated. If either of us gets cold feet, there's plenty of time to back out." My mother nodded, not convinced yet, but partially placated. "But that's not going to happen," I insisted. "Sometimes you just know, don't you?" Open mouth, insert foot. "I thought that was true once." She sighed. "You do, when you're young and stupid." "How are you and... Rita getting along, by the way?" Might as well keep digging, I suppose. "Fine," she said abruptly. She got up to collect the dishes. "I think she'll be a very effective housekeeper." "Not really what I meant..." But she had disappeared into the kitchen where she was scraping the remains of our lunch into the organic waste bin. The dishes clattered loudly as they fell into their slots in the dishwasher. I hadn't even finished my chips. * * * We were six for Christmas that year. My mother and me, Annie and Dolly, Fred and, somewhat to my surprise, Rita. My mother warned me not to read anything into it. "We wanted Annie and Dolly with us, didn't we? We could hardly leave Rita there all alone. It would be very mean, our grotesque personal circumstances notwithstanding." I thought 'grotesque' was a little harsh, but I didn't say anything. Besides I thought I had detected a little thawing between my parents. My father was definitely working hard to impress his long-estranged wife, despite getting little encouragement. However she did at least treat him as one of the family over Christmas. The three real ladies, Annie, Dolly, and my mother, and the honorary lady, Rita, took charge of the food preparation over the Festive Season, and did so brilliantly and more or less harmoniously. Fred and I managed the drinks, and made sure no one was ever dry. Some people get belligerent when under the influence, but I had long ago noticed that my stern mother tended to mellow out when she drank. By bedtime on Christmas night she was mellow as a newt, and was snoring softly, her head resting on Rita's plentiful bosom. (I wanted to enquire as to the status of said bust - it definitely looked too real now to be padding, or even a Transformations prosthesis.) The rest of us gave Rita encouraging smiles and crept away quietly to our respective bedrooms, leaving them to it, whatever 'it' might turn out to be. Anyway after that evening, their relationship seemed to be warmer, though my mother still swore that she would never sleep with Rita. Annie and I went up to London on New Year's Eve to a party with some of my Cambridge friends. It was a suitably rowdy gathering and we narrowly avoided being pulled into the fountain at Trafalgar Square (at -2?C). On New Year's Day we had lunch with Annie's friends from the Fancy Dress Party. They were fascinated to see what I looked like in 'real life', and I could tell that some of them were still convinced I was gay or transgender, or both. I found that a little tiresome but we made no attempt to convince them one way or the other. All too soon the Festive Season was over and Annie was driving me back to Cambridge for my penultimate term. I realised that time was marching on. In six months I would no longer be a student and would be a married man to boot!