With a sigh, Angelique rolled over on her back. Still wide awake, she gazed up at the ceiling. Thinking back to that day when she'd come to Spelstorm Manor, and had unwittingly transformed herself into a Victorian-era maid, she recalled what Rogers had told her.
---
The man explained that his name was Rogers and then stated, "You must be my replacement."
"There must be some mistake," Aaron had whispered in reply, still agog by how feminine he sounded, but also how he felt when he looked at the man, who he realised was dressed like a butler, as well as the fact that Rogers still had not said anything about the fact that he was looking at a man in drag.
"There is no mistake," Rogers affirmed and with a nod, he explained, "You answered the call, and here you are, ready to begin your duties. But, before that, there is somethings you must know, including about your contract."
"Contract? What contract? I never signed anything," Aaron replied.
A huff of agitation from Rogers and he explained, "You accepted the contract when you put on the clothes you now wear. This contract stipulates that you take up duties required to Master Spelstorm and the Manor for such a time as you either complete those duties over a course of five-hundred years, Spelstorm Manor time, another comes to replace you, or that you bring about the change to nineteen individuals who, like you, and me before you, come to Spelstorm uninvited. As you shall soon find out, you are now a maid of Spelstorm Manor. The master, when he arrives in a day or two, outside time, will tell you what is expected of you, as it is unlikely you shall figure them out. In addition, you must learn to comport yourself properly, which means you must learn how to be a twenty-two year old woman who is in service to another."
Overwhelmed by what he'd been told, Aaron stared stunned at Rogers before he finally stated, "I am not a woman, nor am I twenty-two. I'm a man, and my age is twenty-seven. Also, I do not know how delusional you are, yet willing to guess extremally, but people don't live five hundred years. There is no way I can ever fulfill any contract."
"Yes, well, that it always the belief," Rogers sniffed and about to demand what part of what he said was what someone else believed, Aaron never got the chance, as the butler continued. "You shall find, after some time, you have stopped aging. You may believe you have. But as of right now, you are twenty-two. Thus, if you are worried about not being able to fulfill your contract because of age, do not worry. There is also a high chance that one of the other clauses shall come into play before 500 years has passed."
Angered, and confused, by what he was hearing, Aaron turned away and gazed into the mirror. Seeing someone dressed in a maid's outfit looking back at him, he couldn't help thinking that his face did look rounder, like a girl's, and that his hair, which was tied up in a tight bun atop his head, was longer, and black. In addition, if he didn't know any better, he would swear that his chest was bigger, that it pushed outward in what he could only describe as a pair of boobs. Taking off the cap, he shook out his hair, which went down his back, and after a moment's thought, tossed it on the nearby bed, and then began to undress, tossing the other garments onto the bed as well as he removed them, finding as he did that they were easier to take off compared to how difficult some had been to put on.
Naked, he stared into the mirror at his reflection, then looked down at the C cup swell and erect pink nipples that dominated his chest. Glancing back at the mirror, Aaron found himself forced to admit that, somehow, he'd been turned into a woman as he stared at the pubic hair that covered his groin, and that there was no trace of his male genitalia. Still looking into the reflective device, he glanced over at his shoulder at Rogers, who had turned away, and whipping about, Aaron demand, "How? How did this happen?"
With his back to him, Rogers explained, "I do not know. In my time of service, I never found out. I just know that, like you, I was transformed. But my change was that from a female cat who had come in looking for shelter, and had fallen asleep in a pair of men's slacks."
Unable to accept what he'd had been told, Aaron snapped, "Bullshit. I think there is something you are not telling me," and before he could stop himself, Aaron marched across the room and forced Rogers to turn to face him, telling him as he did, "Look at me."
Aware for the first time the sultry tone his voice had, and that he was now about five foot four, seven inches shorter than the butler, Aaron, tried to think of what he should say next. His eyes drifting down, he almost giggled at the sight of the bulge in the man's pants, even as Rogers told him, "I do not think this is a wise course. There are forces at work within the manner, forces I do not pretend to comprehend to know how they work, that can have, shall we say, odd, often unintended, outcomes."
From his groin, Aaron felt a warmth that seemed to go between his legs, down his thighs, up into his abdomen, and into his chest. Not able to explain why he felt so, nor why he felt a tingy, needful sensation from his genitals, a feeling that seemed to travel up into his body, Aaron stared at the butler. He at first wanted the man to offer more of explanation than he'd given. But as he stared at Rogers, and realised that he couldn't be any older than mid to late twenties, Aaron found himself doing something he never would have expected as he pulled the man closer, stood on tiptoes to kiss him, whilst he ran a hand over the front of the butler's slacks, running one finger up and down the man's erect penis.
Both shuddered and Rogers tried to say something, and instead leaned down to kiss Aaron. As he returned the kiss, he listened as the butler asked, "What did you say your name was?" as he started to lead them to the bed.
"Aaron," the journalist answered as he allowed himself to be laid down.
"Whilst in servive to the Manor and the master, you shall be known as Angelique," Rogers told him and at first, Aaron wanted to deny this.
Instead he reached down and began to under the man's trousers as Rogers removed his coat and shirt, and kicked off his shoes. Soon the man was as naked as Aaron, who was only midly troubled that he'd started to think of himself as Angelique, and rolling over, Rogers pulled the naked young woman atop him.
Only a little trouble, yet clearly enjoying the sensation of the man's erect member rubbing the area between her legs, which only made what she realised to be arousal more so, Angelique gasped when Rogers grasped her breasts and began to tease her nipples. Leaning down to now only press the flesh into the man's palm, but also to start to kiss him, she stopped long enough to ask, "What will happen if I get pregnant," to which Rogers moaned, "For some reason, you cannot. It's not that you are infertile. But something about the mansion prevents it. If you want to know more, you'll have to ask the master," as he started to thrust upward into Angelique, who gasped when she felt, and found she enjoyed, the sensation of an erect man pushing into her slick folds.
---
Another sigh escaped Angelique and still troubled by what she'd had done, even though Mike hadn't been the first she had had a hand in transforming, but actually the second, the maid sat up and dangled her feet over the edge of the bed. Looking at her room, the room she had rogered Rogers in three years ago, she tried not to dwell on it, as she knew there would be others. "Unless I get a replacement before that," she thought, which she didn't actually believe would happen any time soon. Brutus had been brought on by Master Spelstorm to attend Angela whist the girl was in residance, and the people she'd seen come uninvited into Spelstorm Manor never seemed attracted to any of the empty servants quarters.
The closest had been the teenage boy, "Mike," she reminded herself, though she couldn't recalled if he had told her his name or that mansion had provided it. And even he hadn't been attracted to either the butler's or maid's room, something she could sense when he'd wandered upstairs.
"What's done is done," she muttered in what she hoped sounded like a tone of finality as she stared at nothing in particular. "My past is just that, the past. I can no longer go back to being Aaron. And Mike can no longer go back to the teenage boy he'd been," and trying to put these matters out of her mind, though she did briefly wonder about the others, Angelique lay back down. Turning over on her side, her negligee riding up to expose her bush, she smiled as she thought how, at one time, and some time after she and Rogers had done it, it would have bothered her to have any part of her female anatomy exposed. But now, now she wasn't worried. A small part of her did miss being a guy, whilst who she'd become didn't mind being female, even if she bled once a month, had to pee sitting down, dress in woman's clothes, would be female when her contract was up, and do and behave in any number of ways a woman did. She even relished the looks guys gave her, all too aware of when Mike had been checking her out when she fetched the clothes to transform him.
Comforted by these thoughts, the negligee she had on, the softness of her bed and the sheets, she shut her eyes. Within moments, she was asleep, her thougths already turned to the duties she would have to do over the next couple days to prepare the mansion for Master Spelstorm's arrival.