Socialite - Maid Anew

Laurence was just grabbing his work bag when the doorbell of his house rang. Already late, he marched to the door, opening it with more force than he anticipated. Waiting patiently on the other side of it was a young woman, dressed in a traditional maid’s outfit in immaculate black and white. Next to her was a small suitcase. She smiled sweetly at him.

“Good morning, sir. You are Laurence?” the woman said, her voice softly accented.

“Yeah?” Laurence responded. “Listen, I’ve got to go to work, I don’t have time for a sales pitch.”

“I can assure you, sir, that I’m not here to sell you anything”, she said, chuckling softly. “Quite the opposite, in fact.”

“Well, what is it then?” Laurence asked, frustrated.

“Sadly, I have come to inform you about the passing of your great aunt Rose. She was my previous employer and requested in her final days that I speak with any extant family in the area”, the woman continued. Laurence had vague memories of an old aunt who lived out in the country. It was a family legend that she had made her fortune and lived a life of luxury, far away from the rigours of the working day. Laurence had only met her a handful of times, but she had always been kind and welcoming, despite the massive difference in wealth between them.

“Well, thanks for letting me know, I guess”, Laurence said, trying to push past the woman and finally start his commute, but the maid stood firm.

“That is not all, sir. There is the matter of my contract.”

“Your contract?”

“My employment was not tied to your late great aunt, but instead I am bound to your family. Her will stipulated that I am to seek out the first family member I can find and present myself to them to continue my contract.”

“I don’t need a maid”, Laurence said gruffly. In truth, he knew the house behind him was a state and after coming back from work in the evening he barely had time to cook himself meals, let alone clean.

“My contract has all been paid for in advance, sir. Please, I’ll be no bother”, she pleaded. “I understand your hesitation – I wouldn’t welcome a stranger into my home either. But I can assure you I am a close friend of your family and have been for several years now.”

The woman reached into a pocket on her suitcase, producing a bundle of papers. Laurence looked through it with all the time he could manage. There were numerous photos of his great aunt and the maid together, alongside a copy of the will where Laurence could read the late Rose’s instructions, confirming that the woman’s story was accurate.

“Fine. You can stay for today, but I’m about to go into work. We can work out what to do later”, Laurence said, letting the woman in. “What’s your name again?” he asked.

“Annette, sir. I’m honoured to be at your service”, she said, bowing.

“Well, have a good day I guess”, Laurence said, getting into his car and leaving Annette in his home. He didn’t have time in the morning to suddenly deal with being an employer, as well as worrying about his own work. He hoped that by the evening he could find another relative for Annette to stay with, or at least work out a way to end her contract so he wouldn’t have to deal with the whole situation. As he pulled away from the house, he could see her through the kitchen window, already tidying away his crockery from dinner the night before. Driving to work, Laurence considered that perhaps having someone to help out around the house wasn’t such a bad idea after all?

“Hello sir!” Annette said as Laurence came home that evening. “You have perfect timing – I am just about to serve dinner”, the woman said, deftly lighting a candle and placing it on the table.

“Oh, thanks”, Laurence said, unused to the comfort of someone else cooking for him. As he dumped his work bag, he tried to think back to the last time he had had a proper meal that wasn’t just a ready meal, hurled into the microwave. The rich smells of cooked food wafted over him, and the man soon sat down to eat. Annette had prepared a delicious meal – filet steak, perfectly cooked and seasoned, alongside a handful of asparagus with thick butter oozing over the top. He knew he didn’t have this food sat in his fridge, so he hoped that Annette’s pay covered luxurious food purchases like this. She continued working in the kitchen, quietly tidying while Laurence ate.

“How was work today?” Annette asked, loading the dishwasher.

“Boring”, Laurence confessed between mouthfuls. “It’s just office work – half the time I’m trying to look busy, the other half I’m trying to keep myself from being overwhelmed”.

“That is a shame, sir. Have you not thought about developing your career? Perhaps, progressing further into the company so that you can take on more interesting responsibilities?” Laurence scoffed at her suggestion.

“No, I’m happy where I am, believe me. And it’s not like my boss would take any notice of me – he barely knows my name”, Laurence said.

“Are you sure? I’m sure you’re far more capable than you let on, sir”, Annette said, smiling politely. “Perhaps, if I may, could I make some suggestions to help?”

“Some suggestions? What do you mean?”

“I’ve taken the liberty to tidy your home today, sir. I don’t mean to be rude, but it was in quite the state.”

Laurence quickly scanned around the room. He hadn’t properly noticed it until now, but Annette had made the house spotless. The piles of rubbish that he had procrastinated tidying were gone, the piles of paperwork sorted, and the surfaces all polished to a shining gleam.

“You did all of this today?” Laurence asked.

“Yes, sir”.

“That’s impressive! Thanks, Annette”, Laurence said, the maid bowing her head in polite acknowledgement.

“You are very kind, thank you. Your late great aunt hired only the best! I also had a look at your wardrobe if that’s okay.”

“Why?” Laurence questioned, thinking on the piles of old clothes that he had been keeping ‘just in case’ or the clothing that he had long since grown out of, vainly clung onto in the hope that he would miraculously fit them again.

“I am to do your laundry, as well as cleaning”, Annette said, pointing one small hand towards the washing machine which slowly rumbled in the distance. “For your great aunt, I was her personal seamstress, but I’m sure I could adapt my skills to tailoring. Fabric is fabric, after all.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that I can help update your wardrobe, sir. Maybe I could make a few suggestions here and there?”

“I guess that would be helpful”, Laurence said, finishing his dinner. In a second, Annette had cleared the plate away.

“My goal is to make your life as easy as possible. I want to see you succeed. Let me take care of you, and perhaps you’ll find your working situation improved, yes? I’ll manage your diet, your looks, and you can focus on the finer things in life.”

Laurence considered her proposition. He understood now why his great aunt had found it so easy to live in luxury if she had someone like Annette at hand to do all the menial chores. As her services were effectively free, he had nothing to lose.

“Sure”, Laurence said. “That sounds good to me.” Annette smiled broadly, and Laurence could tell there was a wave of excitement in her that she was only barely masking through her professionalism. “You can set yourself up in the spare room”, he said. Annette bowed politely, taking her suitcase to the empty bedroom and beginning to unpack.

The next day, Laurence was staring idly at the TV. He could hear Annette working behind him, quietly dusting every surface in his living room. He didn’t know how she could work so hard. She seemed to wake up before Laurence, perfectly ironing and choosing his clothes for the day and preparing him breakfast, then stayed up long after he had gone to bed, cleaning and tidying things that had undoubtedly already been covered. She was meticulous and uncomplaining. Laurence briefly thought that if he even had a fraction of her work ethic, he might have found himself getting promoted some time, rather than being passed over time and time again.

“Excuse me, sir”, Annette said, appearing at his side with a napkin. “I’ve just noticed some crumbs on your cheek, may I get them?”

“Yeah, sure”, Laurence said, leaning towards her and still not taking his eyes off of the TV. Usually, he would have felt guilty for spending his evenings relaxing, but with Annette in his home it had instantly removed the weight of the chores from his mind. Relaxing wasn’t a guilty experience; it was something to look forward to and be savoured. Annette softly wiped at his cheeks with the napkin.

“There!” she said, satisfied. Looking down at the napkin, the maid noticed that Laurence’s stubble had come off smoothly, leaving his jawline smooth and hairless.

“All the crumbs gone?” Laurence asked.

“Absolutely”, Annette said, lying. “If I may say, sir, you are looking a little tired. Was work taxing today?”

“Yeah. Same old, same old”.

“I am sorry to hear that. Why don’t you take a shower? I’ve bought some new products you might like to try. Afterwards, perhaps I can give you a massage? It should help relieve that tension before you go to bed”, Annette said, smiling sweetly.

“That sounds like a plan!” Laurence said enthusiastically. He hadn’t considered it properly before, but now that Annette mentioned it, he was feeling achy. A shower and a massage would be the perfect chance to relax. He went upstairs, jumping in the shower. He noticed that Annette had cleaned this room as perfectly as all the others. The once yellow stained tiles were now a sparkling white, and the whole bathroom seemed brighter and more relaxing. Annette had thrown away his usual hair and body products, replacing them with a plethora of colourful bottles, the names of them all in a language he didn’t fully understand. He at least recognised the English words ‘body’ on one of them, and ‘hair’ in another. He lathered his hair with what he hoped was shampoo. As he rubbed it in, Laurence was certain that his hair was feeling thicker and healthier already. He usually kept it fairly short but was able to grab a few inches with his fingers, massaging and squeezing the shampoo into his strands and scalp. His hair tingled, and as each strand connected with his head it gave him a short, pleasurable buzz. Rinsing it away, Laurence rans his fingers through it, marvelling at how smooth and soft it felt. Was this what it felt like to use higher quality products, rather than whatever he could afford? Pouring a handful of the bodywash into his palms, Laurence set to work covering his body. It smelled divine, sweet perfumes mixing with the steam of the shower to clear his airways. The flowery scent wasn’t Laurence’s usually preferred fragrance, but he found that it was growing on him with every breath he took. Rubbing the wash against his skin, he noticed a slightly gritty texture to it, as if it was an exfoliating scrub. The more he rubbed, the better it felt, and soon Laurence was covered in the thick lather. Washing away the product, Laurence could feel how his skin was far softer than before. He hadn’t realised that his skin had been so dry and cracked earlier, but now he couldn’t help but smile as his arms felt smooth and sensitive beneath his touch. Unbeknownst to Laurence, his body hair was slowly swirling down around the plug hole. As he had scrubbed, the wash had painlessly plucked away his hairs, leaving his chest, arms, and legs all perfectly smooth, as if freshly waxed. Around his manhood, he was only left with a small patch of hair at the base of his shaft. The rest had disappeared, vanishing into the waters that swirled around his feet.

Laurence quickly dried, surprising himself with how much rougher the towel felt on his skin now that it was smoother. Stepping out of the shower, he could see that Annette had already laid out a towel on his bed for him to lay on for his massage.

“How was your shower?” she asked, curious.

“Really good! Where did you get those washes from? They’re incredible!” Laurence said, running his hand over his arm once more.

“Oh those?” Annette said innocently. “I get them imported – I’m glad you like them!”

She gestured to the bed. “Are you ready for your massage?”

“Do you need me to get out of this towel?”

“I’m afraid so, sir”, Annette said, politely. “Though you’re not to worry – I’ve been cleaning your underwear so there’s little you could do that would faze me. I promise not to look”, she said, motioning to the bed and turning away. A little embarrassed, Laurence dropped the towel, lying face down on the bed. Annette’s gentle voice came in his ear. “Just relax, sir. And please trust me. I know what I’m doing.”

Laurence found her words almost hypnotic. He released tension he didn’t know that he had, his jaw unclenching and his shoulders relaxing. Annette’s hands, small but surprisingly strong, began to rub at his exposed back. “This may hurt a little sir, at least at first. But I promise you’ll feel better afterwards.”

The maid began to work, her deft fingertips pressing into Laurence’s shoulders, massaging deeply to remove knots in his muscles. After a while, Laurence felt a small twinge of pain, soon submerged beneath a feeling of looseness in his shoulders. Annette wasn’t wrong, he thought. She really did know what she was doing. Slowly, Annette moved and sculpted his shoulders, squeezing them closer together. His torso looked daintier and far less masculine without his broad shoulders topping them. Her hands wandered lower, compressing his sides. Some of the weight that Laurence had gained in recent years was fading, sculpted and smoothed away by her gentle touch. Lower still, her hands began to rub at his hips. Though it felt strange to have someone touching his waist, Laurence let the oddity subside, remembering Annette’s words. With another tiny spot of pain, Laurence’s hips spread wider. It felt as though pressure had been relieved, and he let out a soft sigh.

“I told you it would feel better”, Annette said, satisfied. “I’ll let you get yourself sorted for bed. Do let me know if you need anything.”

“Thanks, Annette”, Laurence said, slowly rising from the bed as the maid left the room.

“You’re welcome, sir. My pleasure”, she said as she went back to her own quarters.

Eventually, Laurence went over to the bathroom to brush his teeth before bed. As he brushed, he stared at his body. It was now almost hairless and with a hint of curviness, with thin shoulders and wider hips. But, as much as Laurence tried to spot the changes, his mind wouldn’t let him. He was certain that something had changed but was unsure specifically as to what. Spitting out his toothpaste, he looked at himself once more. He felt more flexible and sprier already. Whether it was due to Annette changing his diet, him having more time to relax, or the fantastic massage, Laurence wasn’t sure. All he knew was that he trusted Annette’s judgement and hoped that this would only be the start of further improvements.

The next morning, while Laurence was squeezing into his work trousers, he heard a terrible ripping sound as he pulled them up to his waist. Feeling down at his crotch, his fingers went through to his underwear. They had torn along the seam. He took them off, frustrated, and looked through his wardrobe for an alternative. Annette’s quiet voice came through his bedroom door.

“Sir, is everything okay?” she asked, bright and cheerful despite how early in the day it was.

“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just my trousers have ripped”, Laurence said, annoyed. It wasn’t as though he had outgrown them. If anything, he felt thinner than usual.

“Let me see! I might be able to mend them”, Annette said, opening the door. Despite being in his underwear, Laurence wasn’t feeling too embarrassed. After his massage from Annette the night before, he was finding it more comfortable to be around her with less clothes on. He handed over the trousers, and soon Annette was examining the fabric intensely, running a finger along the offending seam with a quiet tutting noise.

“These are poorly made. A good pair of trousers shouldn’t tear like this”, Annette said. “I’ll have to refresh your wardrobe sooner than I thought! You are not to worry though – I’m sure I’ll be able to fix these! Just a moment, sir”, she said, taking the trousers downstairs. Even despite the disruption to his morning routine, Laurence knew he would be on time at work. With the fuss of breakfast handled by Annette, he was finding it easier to wake up ready for the day. Soon, he could hear the whirring of a sewing machine, and Annette returned, handing him back his clothes.

“What are these?” Laurence asked, holding what he thought were his trousers up against him. The fabric was still the same, but Annette had skilfully stitched the two legs together into one solid bit of fabric, creating and turning up a hem. It was now a smart pencil skirt.

“It is a skirt, sir. The tear was quite bad, so I had to make do”, she said.

“Couldn’t you have just repaired them? I can’t really wear this to work”, Laurence said, holding up the skirt once more. It looked as though it would come to just below his knees.

“On the contrary, sir, I think the skirt would suit you perfectly. It’s very modern. Just try it on and see!” Annette said, smiling convincingly. Trusting her judgement, Laurence slipped them on. The odd feeling of wearing women’s clothing disappeared as soon as he looked in the mirror. Annette was right. The skirt was perfect – slick and professional, yet still showing off his best features. “I noticed that you have already started to lose weight!” Annette said, gesturing to his body as he took a few slow steps around his room, becoming used to the feeling of his soft legs touching inside the fabric. “But some weight is building around your rear and thighs. This is perfectly normal and nothing to worry about”, Annette said assuredly. Laurence believed her. He felt strangely confident wearing the skirt. Soon, he finished the rest of his morning rituals and headed out to the office, uncaring what people thought of his new fashion.

Over the following weeks, Annette and Laurence fell into a routine. Laurence slowly found more and more time for leisure each evening as Annette took over more of the household duties, and gradually she tweaked and adjusted his wardrobe. At first, the loss of the familiar shirts and shoes was painful, but when he saw what Annette had replaced them with, he was delighted. Dress shirts were restitched into blouses and more trousers were turned into skirts. Annette had even managed to repurpose an old suit Laurence had never gotten around to wearing into a smart dress, perfect for the office. The smart shoes he had worn until the soles thinned were thrown out. In their place were heels of various heights, and each day Laurence was feeling more capable of walking in them. Laurence’s underwear, old tatty pairs of boxers and briefs that were desperate to be thrown away were disposed of, and Annette wasted no time in buying sets of soft, silky panties for Laurence to wear instead.

Each morning before reaching work, the hesitation had surged as he considered whether he was wearing the right thing. But, as soon as Laurence was at his desk he was showered by compliments and his confidence grew. He knew that the clothing felt odd, and a part of him yearned for his older familiar clothes, but each new item that Annette presented him with sparked a small burst of joy in him. Her words of encouragement were what drove him, with the lingering promise that by trusting her judgement he would live a more relaxed life always at the back of his mind.

Laurence could feel that his body was changing as he ate more of Annette’s delicious, healthy food. He was losing both weight and bulk, but each time he looked in the mirror he found that he welcomed the alterations. His new clothes fit better than ever. Laurence noticed that Annette had even adjusted his more casual clothes. His t-shirts were now crop tops, and at the back of the wardrobe, where Annette must have hoped he didn’t look, Laurence found several long, elegant dresses. Secretly, he had tried them on, finding the feeling of the soft flowing fabric against his skin intoxicating. He longed for his body to fit the clothes more and more, and hoped that by putting his trust in Annette, she might make this small dream a reality.

On their weekends together, Annette had begun instructing Laurence in some new skills, reminding him that it was all necessary to getting ahead in life. At first, the myriad methods of applying makeup to his face felt strange, but soon it became part of his routine. Annette would come to his room in the morning and help him choose an outfit, then would sit with him as they did his makeup, together. Gradually, the maid began to assist with Laurence’s hair, too, brushing it straight and untangled each morning. Each day, Laurence could feel it growing longer. At first, it had tickled at his neck, but now the feeling of his long hair, made thicker and bouncier by Annette’s special products, was a familiar feeling on his back.

One lazy Sunday, Annette was painting Laurence’s nails while he relaxed in front of the television. The tiny brushing on his nails had felt strange, but with Annette’s skill and care, his nails were left healthy and shining. As she brushed another layer of bright red gloss over his nails, Annette looked up at him.

“So, I have been in your service now for a month, sir. How have you found it?” she asked, continuing her work without pause. Laurence took a sip from his drink, naturally prepared by Annette.

“I’ve got to say, you really do make my life easier”, Laurence said with a smile. “I can understand now why you worked for my great aunt for so long. This is an easy life to get used to.”

“I’m so glad you say that, sir”, Annette said dutifully. “You’re a privilege to work for. I’m pleased to see how well you’ve taken my suggestions.” Laurence extended his other foot for Annette to begin painting his nails there.

“Although, there’s still more I think we could do. What if I told you that there’s a way you could never work again?”

“That would be a dream!” Laurence said, brushing his long hair instinctively behind him. Once, he had believed in the value of hard work, but now that his every need was catered to by Annette, he wanted for nothing. Work was becoming not a means to an end, but an unnecessary chore. He had tasted the high life and wanted more. Over the days, Laurence had gradually surrendered more and more of his life over to Annette. He barely answered his phone anymore, with everything going through her first. He knew still that he was her employer and truly in control, but the relinquishing of his responsibilities was just another burden removed from his life, allowing him to focus on truly relaxing.

“Perhaps we’ll reach that someday”, Annette mused, finishing off Laurence’s last nail.

That night, Laurence heard his bedroom door open, followed by Annette’s quiet footsteps.

“Annette?” he said, still half-dreaming.

“Yes, sir. You asked for a massage tonight, remember?” she said, her voice no more than a whisper.

“I did?” Laurence asked. He couldn’t truly remember asking Annette for a massage but imagined he had simply forgotten it amongst all the other requests he had made of her.

“You did. Please, just try and go back to sleep. This is just like a dream…” she said, her voice gentle beside him. Laurence found her voice impossible to refuse. He sunk back down into slumber, walking the line between awake and sleep. He could sense Annette in the room beside him, but it felt as though he was somewhere else. He could hear the woman rubbing something into her palms as she slathered her hands in a thick, sweet-smelling cream. Her precise fingers rubbed at his face, his features in a pleasant, resting smile.

Annette began to sculpt at Laurence’s face as though it was clay. His nose was squeezed smaller and thinner, the tip of it upturning slightly. His cheekbones were painlessly shifted higher, and his jaw made sharper by Annette’s massaging fingertips. With broad strokes across his forehead, Annette smoothed out the lines that had grown from the stresses of work. His eyebrows were refined with a single touch, becoming powerful dark lines. Gently, she rubbed the paste into his lips, where instinctively he licked at them. They grew thicker and puffier, pouting out from his serene, feminine features. Softly, Laurence moaned in his sleep, his voice now far higher and womanly. Annette smiled, looking at his new face in the darkness. But, there was still much more to do.

Her hands travelled down further, pulling the covers away from Laurence. Spreading another handful of cream between her palms, Annette rubbed them into Laurence’s nipples. The sleeping man cooed softly as they began to grow. Beneath them, fat was building, as if stored away in his body for this very moment. Tenderly, Annette kneaded two breasts out of Laurence’s chest. They were round and perky, the nipples growing hard as the tingling cream played across them. Annette stood back from her creation, as if admiring a painting from further away than the artist’s finely detailed eye intended. Laurence’s body was now almost fully transformed into that of a young, beautiful woman. Only one part of his old self remained.

Pulling the covers back further, Annette saw Laurence’s manhood already erect at the pleasurable touch of the maid. She smiled, covering her hand with more of the cream. Slowly, she gripped at Laurence’s shaft. The man moaned dreamily as she began to pump, her grip tight. She knew that for Laurence, this would seem nothing more than a pleasurable, half remembered dream. Beneath her fingers, she could feel the cream doing its work. Though still solid, Laurence’s penis began to shrink down. With her other hand, Annette rubbed at his balls, themselves also reducing in size. Slowly, the flesh was being reformed. A slit emerged in Laurence’s groin, and Annette gently pushed his testicles up through the opening. Inside, womanly organs were blossoming. By now, Laurence’s penis was little more than a knub, being gripped softly between Annette’s fingers. Slowly, it found its place, becoming a clitoris.

Annette stood back and cleaned her fingers, looking over her handiwork. There was nothing of Laurence’s body left. The maid pulled the covers up, tucking the sleeping woman in.

“Goodnight, Laura”, she said as she closed the door with a smug smile on her face. The figure in the bed rolled over, smiling at the beautiful dream they had just had.

Laura woke up blearily the next morning. Slowly, her eyes focused on the clock beside her bed. She registered the time, and then a wave of panic overcame her. It was almost midday. How had she slept through her alarm? She threw herself out of bed, terrified of being any later for work. Annette’s voice came from just beyond her door, as if the maid had been waiting just outside.

“Is everything all right, my lady?” she asked.

“Why didn’t you wake me?” Laura called out. For a second her voice sounded strange to her ears, then the feeling passed. “I’m late for work!”

“Work?” Annette said slowly, letting herself into her room. The maid handed her mistress a dressing gown which the woman gratefully accepted, slipping it on. “Whatever do you mean? You’ve not worked for years, my lady”, Annette said sweetly.

Laura stood stunned for a moment. She was certain that she had an office to go to and meetings to attend. Her life was ruled by the workplace, the monotony of her employment and the dull life it led to. But Annette’s slow, measured speech was forcing herself to stop her frantic thoughts and consider what was actually going on.

“I don’t have a job?” she asked, confused.

“No, my lady. Unless you consider your social life a job, which you’ve often told me it is!” the maid responded, laughing. Slowly, Laura laughed along. She sat down on the bed.

“Shall I get you something to drink?” Annette asked. “I think you’ve had a bad dream.”

“A bad dream. That’s all it was”, Laura said to herself, the thoughts of her old life fading away. New memories had formed in their place, more real than ever. “A coffee would be fantastic, thank you”, she said to Annette.

“Why don’t you choose what dress you’d like to wear to tonight’s function?” the maid asked, pointing at several hanging up in the wardrobe.

“The function?” Laura asked, the thoughts slowly forming in her waking mind.

“Yes, the function! You’ve been telling me about it for weeks now!” Annette said, feigning surprise that her mistress didn’t remember. “Perhaps I should make that coffee a double, I think you really need waking up!” she said, dutifully heading down to the kitchen.

“Just a bad dream”, Laura repeated, reassuring herself. The young woman stood up, holding a black dress against her as she looked at the full-length mirror in the corner. She could already picture how she would look in it, with its dropped shoulders and teasing slit in the skirt. She could almost hear her heels clicking against the polished floor of a ballroom and the eyes of the rich and powerful turning to her. It was that look that she craved – to be wanted, to be admired. Laura knew that she could achieve anything that she desired. As she looked deep into the eyes of the gorgeous woman staring back at her, she knew that she wouldn’t change this luxurious life for the world.

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