"You lazy girl, get dressed. This house won't clean itself!" snapped the old woman holding your naked wrist.
"Girl?" you ask, but your voice is wrong. It's two octaves too high. You look down at the empty space between your thighs.
She shoves a maid's uniform into your hands, and exits in a huff.
You stare at your new reflection. It's you, but a female version of you. You touch the cold hard glass. There's no way back. You're cold. You put on the bloomers, and clothes as best you can, and head out the door to see how the world has changed.
You open the door and peek out. An old woman in a similar uniform, but with a full-length skirt steps out.
"You cannot go upstairs like that, lassie," she says with a thick Irish brogue. "Here let me help."
She pushes you back into the room. She adjusts your clothes, and then goes to work on your hair, and adds the little maid's hat.
She looks at you in the mirror, and sighs. She reaches over to the dressing table and grabs some makeup. She brushes powder on your cheeks, and adds a bit of rouge.
"But not too much," she says.
You can't help but notice that you do make a fairly attractive young lady.
She hands you and ostrich feather duster, and pushes you down the hall.
"No, not that way," as you start to head upstairs she says pointing to the down staircase.
"I thought you said I was needed upstairs?" you ask.
"Upstairs, downstairs. They need you to dust the parlour, dining hall, ballroom, and main hall. It's down the stairs, but it's upstairs from the servants." The woman laughs.
You nod and plunge down the steps like the guy you used to be. The old woman shakes her head, and mutters, "Gels these days."
You barrel straight into a tall young man in waistcoat and end up on top of him on an oriental rug.
"Oh, I'm so sorry, I didn't see you," you explain. Your eyes widen, you feel his bulge grow beneath you. You leap up, and pickup the duster. "The house won't dust itself."
You pass the woman in the velvet dress as you enter the ball room, and start dusting madly. The young man is just helping himself up off the floor.
"What was that about?" the woman in velvet demands of the young man.
"I just bumped into the new maid, and I went head over heels," he said with a laugh.
"Not again. You're not knocking up any more of my servant girls, Bradford!" she snaps.
Knocking up? Oh, crap. No. You dust like mad. You have to get back to your own time and place, and your own body. But how?