New! Intermission

By Carrie P & Priscilla Gay Bouffant

Introduction
     For some time now, I have adored the writing of Carrie P. I was so moved and entranced by this absolutely lovely short story she wrote, entitled, Intermission. So, I contacted her and she gave me permission, to continue it, with a few simple requests from her. I first want to say that only this first chapter, titled The Clinic was written by her. I have even made a few changes to it. The rest is mine. I hope I have done justice to this. 

Thank you Carrie, thank you Annabelle, and thank you readers. 

Kisses, 

Priscilla Gay Bouffant.

Chapter I: The Clinic

As the nurse completed her client’s final treatment she gave him words of encouragement.
“Oh do stop crying young man. You are shortly to become a housemaid to one of the most gracious and elegant ladies. You should be grateful. Life as a domestic servant in Miss Dreadlock’s household will be a most rewarding encounter.”
“But....I....”he blubbered. His body was still adjusting to the hormones and his mind had been in a fog from the first day he had entered the facility. He was able to understand everything that had been done to him but due to the medication was unable to physically resist.
“If you don’t stop with your constant whining I will have to report you to the Matron. And you know what that will incur.” The nurse said abruptly and brought her hand down sharply on the cheeks of his now plump and womanly behind. Then she added, conjecturally, “Perhaps we need to inject a tad more estrogen to level out your mood. It appears you are entering your, time of the month, portion of your moon cycle.”
The threat worked and he stopped immediately.
“That’s better, your new mistress will not be as lenient if you keep acting like a silly girl.” She said before returning to her theme. “Now as I was saying it is a beautiful house, you will have a nice room and Miss Deadlock always ensures her maids are dressed in the most stylish uniforms.
The boy buried his head in the pillow, stifled his tears and tried to arrange the two full and fleshy mounds of his new breasts underneath him.  Not for the first time he cursed his stupidity for getting himself into this dreadful situation.
Life as a domestic servant, he repeated to himself as he forced back the tears a..... Uniformed housemaid.
“Lily have you got his foundation wear and lingerie ready.” the nurse asked the female servant girl who was standing nearby “Miss Deadlock’s car will be here shortly to take him.”
“Yes Nurse.” the maid replied as she laid down a small stack of neatly folded clothing on the table next to the treatment couch. “Miss Deadlock’s secretary sent the list yesterday. He is to wear a white high-waist, girdle, the one with the satin panels, a long line bra, an oyster colored silk slip, tan stockings and three inch black patent court shoes.”
 “A long-line bra?” The young man gasped.
  “Of course you’ll have to wear a bra my dear. And yes, it will be quite uncomfortable at first. But it will be nowhere nearly as uncomfortable as the high waist girdle your Mistress has insisted we stuff you into. Once you are wearing that, you will know what women have to endure to have a pleasing figure to attract a handsome man. For me it will be absolutely delightful to watch a male struggle mightily to wiggle into such a controlling and restrictive garment,” the nurse added, mockingly.
“And his uniform?” the nurse asked.
“It’s the morning uniform Nurse.” the maid answered “light grey uniform dress with a traditional white apron and cap. Miss Deadlock has his other uniforms waiting for him.”
“What beautiful lingerie for a housemaid.” the nurse said as she held up the delicate slip. “I do hope you appreciate what a lucky young man you are to have such a kind and considerate mistress.”
He felt his stomach lurch as the maid held up the satin paneled girdle. He sobbed and whimpered.
 “Enough of that….Girl! It is futile at this point to be upset. After a week or two of wearing your Mistresses’ required livery, you will be quite adjusted to being her uniformed housemaid. You won’t be the first sissy we’ve feminized here at the clinic. Not the last either, I should hope. Most all of them learn to enjoy the life of a housemaid. Some are even promoted to a parlor maid, or even a fancy boudoir maid.” A boudoir maid is a perfectly elegant position for even the most fastidious sissy,” smiled the teasing nurse.
  He was still in a daze as the female chauffeur ushered him down the steps of the facility and towards a gleaming silver Daimler.
“So you’re the new maid.” she laughed contemptuously as she looked at the mortified young man dressed in the maid’s uniform, “Madam said she was acquiring a new male servant but I didn’t think it would be as a housemaid.”
The youth blushed furiously and could not meet her eyes, he fingered his apron nervously as she circled him her eyes scanning every inch of him.
“Embarrassed eh?” she sneered “I think you should be, here I am – a girl wearing trousers and you a .... Well I was going to say a man but there can’t be very many males wearing a dress or should I say a maid’s uniform. But then again looking at your figure. I suppose you’re not much of a male now anyway.”
He desperately wanted to explain that this was all a dreadful mistake but could not find his voice.
 The chauffeur moved a little closer, he froze as she lifted his uniform at the knee to reveal his silk slip, and she laid her hand on his thigh and fingered the girdle’s suspender strap.
“Not exactly what a man would wear, now is it?” she snorted derisively as she moved her hand over the satin slip caressing his inner thigh. “It is very pretty though and you do have a nice figure for a boy although that’s probably because of your tight girdle. You are wearing a girdle aren’t you?”
Unable to respond through a combination of fear and shame he could only nod and continued to fix his eyes on the ground.
“Cat got your tongue?” she taunted him but there was no reply. “Not surprised, the idea of becoming a domestic servant and having to wear a maid’s uniform would be so demeaning  .....And I’m a real girl.”
This only served to deepen his shame and he wanted to run but his legs would not move and besides he knew there was nowhere to run to.
“I suppose you know there’s a name for boys like you?” She sniggered “You’re what we like to call a .......” but before she had a chance to finish the sentence the nurse from the facility appeared with an envelope and had a brief conversation with the chauffeur.
“Get in.” The chauffeur said in a businesslike tone as she held the back door open. “Madam wants to see you as soon as possible.”
The young man was relieved that this dreadful conversation was now at an end and as he climbed inside the roomy interior of the car, he was grateful that there was a sliding glass panel between the front and back so there would not be a resumption of the chauffeur’s taunting. Throughout the short journey he tried to reflect on the sheer stupidity of his actions which had resulted in this bizarre situation but was constantly distracted by the unfamiliar pinching of bra straps and the constrictive nature of the girdle he had been forced to wear.
As the car pulled up outside the imposing townhouse he felt his stomach tighten, something he could not blame on the girdle. The last time he entered this house he strode up the steps with all the self-confidence that a young man of his background invariably possessed. Now he would be entering through the servants entrance dressed as a housemaid.
“Madam says you are to wait here in the hall until she rings for you. She is in the library.” the chauffeur said as she showed him into the large reception hall and pointed to the library door, he almost jumped as she slyly stroked his derriere and quietly added, “I’m sure I’ll be seeing more of you. I think I’m beginning to take a liking to feminized males. See you around…. Sissy!” Mocked the laughing chauffer.
It wasn’t long before the tinny sound of a servants bell rang. He swallowed hard and looked down at his uniform and without even thinking he straightened his apron, his heart raced as he knocked on the door.
“Ah there you are!” the voice of Miss Deadlock rang out, he almost stuck to the floor as he noticed two other women standing next to her, her sharp voice rang out from across the room “Don’t dawdle boy, come here.”
“So this is the young man?” the older of the two women said as he timidly made his way to the table they were standing at.
“Very impressive. He does look quite feminine. Those breasts are so lifelike.” The younger woman said as her eyes inspected every inch of the youth standing in front of them. “May I?”
“Of course. And the reason they are lifelike is because they really are.” Miss Deadlock said in self-satisfied tone as the woman stepped forward and squeezed his left breast.
He had done this to many servant girls without asking and never once considered what the effects of his action caused. Now he knew. He burned with shame as he felt her hand clasp his new and fleshy bosom.
“Yes very nice.” she said smiling as she looked him in the eye.
He jumped and let out a squeal as he felt his buttocks being held in a strong grip.
“And his behind is so ...well rounded.” The older woman said as her hand grabbed the fleshy cheeks before gently caressing them.
“Yes the clinic has done a wonderful job. They always do. That’s what I’ve been told by every female that has sent an impetuous male to be fixed, by the center. Of course, once he is trained properly he will make a wonderful servant.” Miss Deadlock said and she turned her attention to the young man once more. “These ladies are my attorneys and have drawn up the necessary documents that were stipulated under our .....Our... ahem...arrangement. After one year you will have fulfilled your obligations and will be free to leave providing of course you do not accumulate too many penalties for misdemeanors.”
The young man’s head was spinning. Through the fog inside his brain he urgently tried to recall the events that had led to this outlandish state of affairs. Fragments danced in front of his eyes and although he could not piece everything together he vaguely recalled his foolhardy behavior was responsible for the state he now found himself in.
What did I do? Were there police involved? He asked himself in an anguished and increasingly desperate internal voice.
 “Sign here.” the older woman said sharply thrusting a pen into his hands and arousing him from his thoughts.
He looked at the woman blankly and then turned to Miss Deadlock. His hesitancy was immediately noticed by the younger woman.
“Perhaps you would like Miss Deadlock to process this through the formal channels?” She said, her pale blue eyes fixing him with a steely stare, “and I suspect you know what that will entail.”
He suddenly had a horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach. He didn’t know what that would entail but he instinctively knew it would not be pleasant. Without replying he signed the document.
“A very wise decision young man.” the older woman said and handed the pen to Miss Deadlock who with a flourish of her slender wrist added her signature.
“I...what does....”he babbled.
“You are now the indentured maidservant to Miss Deadlock.” Said the younger woman as she sealed the document. “You will be employed as her maid for one year after which you will be free to leave. Unless of course you fail in your obligations to your mistress. A certain amount of demerits, will result in additional days added to your indenture. It is all in the agreement. You will receive a copy as soon as our firm legally processes the document.”
“You are a very lucky young man.” the older woman said “only for the kindness of your mistress, you would have been in a great deal of trouble. She has invested a great deal of time and effort in you and I sincerely hope you will repay her with obedience and loyalty – the hallmarks of a grateful servant girl.”
 A year as......... a maidservant. The words thundered inside his head.
“Oh by the way have you chosen a suitable name for him?” the older woman asked Miss Deadlock.
“Not yet.” Miss Deadlock answered “for the moment I will just call him, or I speculate, I should say her... Girl, until I decide on an appropriate name, perhaps we can discuss it over tea.”
“An excellent idea.” the younger woman said before turning to the young man. “You heard your mistress ...girl.”
As the uniformed young man made his way to the door he heard one of the women say, “I really did not believe he would accept his fate as easily as that. I honestly thought a man would have baulked at the idea of a year as an indentured maidservant.”
“You would be surprised the effect of wearing a dress has on even the most assertive of males,” Miss Deadlock replied as she smoothed her skirt before adding, “And of course a maid’s uniform is even more emasculating and ensures his subjugation from the moment he puts it on. Add to that, figure training, breast augmentation, hormone therapy, makeup, hair coloring and a permanent wave, and voila! A submissive, delightful, obedient, sissy!”
As he reached the door the young man looked at the three women and felt a surge of anger rise inside him but just as he opened his mouth Miss Deadlock snapped in an authoritative voice, “What are you loitering for girl? Run along and fetch our tea.”
Underneath his grey uniform his fully fashioned stockinged knees went weak and his voice faltered as he answered,
“Yes Madam.”

Chapter II: The Townhouse

The boy minced and wiggled his way to the kitchen where the housekeeper looked him up and down. “Oh mercy! Look at you, dearie. The chauffer wasn’t jesting, even a little. From the tips of your toes, to the top of your platinum blonde, curly permed hair, you are a complete, girly-girl. Aren’t you lovey?”
The boy stood still, too humiliated to say a word.
“Well what is it you need?” The housekeeper asked.
 “Tea service for three ma’am,” the young man answered.
 “Right here girly. I’ve got it all set up for you. Well, I dare say they did a lovely job on you. I hope you realize to never get fresh with the Mistresses’ daughter again? She’s off at a convent, by the by. Well get going with the tea cart, and remember to curtsey,” added the head housekeeper.
 The two attorneys and Miss Deadlock, watched the new maid, carefully roll the tea service a respectful distance from them. Then they watched the sissified boy, curtsey and ask his Mistress how she’d like her tea.
“All three of us would like a half spoon of honey and a half spoon of cream, girl,” announced the Mistress.
 The boy served the tea properly curtseying before and after he served. “Now move the tea service away, girl. Stand in its place so we may view you and we’ll discuss an appropriate ‘nom de femme’. Lower your eyes, feet together, hands folded at your waist,” Miss Deadlock ordered.
 “Marilee. Suggestions?” Miss Deadlock asked the older woman.
   “Well. To me it seems you have invested quite a bit in your new girl. Uniforms, lingerie, foundation garments, breast and hip augmentation. Not to mention her hair and makeup. That’s just a lovely top curled, platinum blonde upsweep,” smiled Marilee.
    The young man’s ears felt like they were burning, he was blushing so feverishly, as he listened to a vivid description of his thorough feminization.
   “What I am trying to say is, she isn’t going to be a scullery or kitchen maid, with the cost of her clothing alone. So, I would personally stay away from a drudge-like name as Maggie, Berta, or Marge. If you know what I mean. It appears she will be more of a Parlor/Boudoir maidservant,” Marilee smiled.
   “Yes. This is true. Though, I do have outfits for her to scrub my toilet, tub and bathroom floor, as well as handwashing my panties and stockings. She’ll also polish my boots, shoes and high heels. Outside of that she’ll serve guests in this parlor as well as keep it clean,” smiled Miss Deadlock.
    “Additionally she’ll personally serve me my meals, in the dining room or my bed. As well as perform dressing, bathing and other bedroom services. She will tend to the cleaning and linen in my bedchamber as well as tend to my personal toilette. Even brushing my hair. Giselle? What ideas do you have?” Miss Deadlock asked as she turned to the younger female.
     “Well Camille, I believe what Marilee was getting at, is this. Your new maid should be given a nom de femme that embodies, femininity. Something not quite glamorous, but at least trendy or stylish. Something French! That’s it. French girls, French maids. What else could be more stylishly, and effeminately girlish?” Giselle asked.
       “Yes. I like that. What could be more French, feminine and better for a maid than something like Babette?” Come here girl. Look at me. From now on girl, we will call you Babette. Do you like that sissy? A sweet, girly, French-maid’s name like Babette,” smiled Camille Deadlock. The new boy maid was nearly in tears. He wasn’t certain he could speak, without sobbing terribly.
     “Speak to me girl. What is your new name and don’t you just love it? Now tell me, Babette,” ordered Camille Deadlock.
    Gathering all the courage he could put together, the male maid, ever so meekly stated, “My name is Babette ma’am. Yes, I find it to be a lovely name for a parlor maid, Lady Deadlock.” ‘Babette’ sobbed lightly, causing the ladies to smile among themselves.
    “Are you crying Babette? You look and sound like you are crying to me,” asked Lady Deadlock.
     “Camille. I think she’s so very thrilled with her new girly name, she’s crying tears of unbridled joy,” said Giselle, laughing.
     “Yes, Camille, that’s it. Tears of joy over having such a pretty, ultra-feminine name,” gushed Marilee.
     “Well, she had better not cry and ruin her makeup. I’d insist on spanking her for that. Little Missy, Babette, you must clear away the tea service. Than get yourself up the stairs to my bedchamber suite. I will thenshow you your new room from there. Be quick about it girl?” Ms. Deadlock ordered.
     “Yes Miss,” answered Babette.
     Babette was mostly thrilled to be leaving the presence of these three ladies, for the time being. She returned the cart to the kitchen area, and scurried to her Mistresses’ boudoir suite. She stopped and remained in the anteroom entrance to the suite and stared at her remarkably increasing feminine appearance.
     “Are you admiring the adorable picture of femininity you have become, Babette darling? It’s difficult to take your eyes off that lovely bosom of yours, isn’t it dearie? With such a slim waist and voluptuous hips, I’ll bet you’d get some catcalls and whistles if I paraded you downtown on the promenade, through the city, wouldn’t you?” Camille Deadlock sneered.
      “Come with me. I’ll show you your new quarters. I will be keeping you close by me. I need to keep a sharp eye on you. Especially when my daughter returns from her restoration undertaking at the convent I placed her in,” threatened Camille.
     “Of course I doubt she’ll be ever again intimidated by you. I suspect the Nuns at the convent have reduced her sexual appetite, but at the same time, strengthened her resolve to never, be trifled with by a scoundrel or a cad,” grinned Camille as she stared grimly at the frightened Babette.
      They were standing in Babette’s new bedroom, not far from the bath area, when Camille spun Babette to face her directly.
     “Look at me you simpering sissy-girl. I cannot wait to see you, kneeling, kissing my daughter’s high heels, begging her pardon. Possibly for your penance, you could polish her riding boots? Maybe you could then give her a foot bath and pedicure, while she chats with some girlfriends? Wouldn’t that be a courtly act on your part? Not exactly normal manly pursuits, are those?” Camille sneered.
     “About your possible accumulation of demerits. Those go this way; I decide on the amount of shortcomings you get. I’m also the judge of what type of offenses qualify. I also decide the matter of, how many you can rid from yourself through acceptable punishments. Doesn’t seem quite fair? I know. But life isn’t fair sometimes,” shrugged Camille.
     “You see this hassock at the foot of your bed? That is your personal spanking stool. You’ll lay over it for a paddling. I prefer the paddle for punishment. Now, I’m not going to come all the way upstairs, all of the time, just to paddle you. So there are several of these paddling stools strategically placed throughout the premises,” explained Camille.
     “In those cases, you may be paddled in front of other servants, visitors and family members. That will be fun. Won’t it Babette? Babette, turn around. I want to give you a little sample of the effectiveness of Paddling Therapy,” ordered Camille Deadlock, grasping Babette’s slender, dainty arms.
     Reaching to a millinery rack, Lady Deadlock grabbed an ample head scarf and proceeded to bind Babette’s arms and hands securely at the wrists. Lady Camille was amused at how little opposition her new maid was able to muster, to her being bound so snugly.
     “You don’t exactly have much virile strength, do you sweet thing? On your knees girl. Now, bend at the waist and place your torso flat against the top of the paddling stool. It’s best to bury your baby blue eyes into the hassock. Keep them closed to contemplate the consequences of your actions,” Camille smirked.
     “It’s always best not to tilt your head to the side as it might frighten you to see the paddle being swung through the air, towards your plump buttocks,” laughed Camille as she lifted the skirt of Babette’s daytime dress. Camille rubbed her hands over the smooth panels of Babette’s long line girdle. Babette would never admit that the handling of her buttocks by Lady Camille had caused a stirring in her loins.
    “Are you frightened, you bad girl? Think of it. An entire year of being at my leave and my beck and call. Not to mention my whims. Fifteen demerits earns you another day, added to your indenture. Just in case you wondered. Aren’t you going to ask me to spare you such an indignity as being paddled just for my amusement?” Camille asked facetiously.
    Babette indeed was frightened and couldn’t help herself. “Please Miss Camille. I’m so very sorry for all the trouble I have caused your family. Please don’t hurt me too much,” begged Babette, her tears flowing freely.
    “Oh my, how so ever girlishly sweet that was. Don’t fear. That sturdy lady’s girdle you’re wearing will soften the blows. It’s been ages since I really used my old University sorority paddle. It was given to me on the occasion of my ascension to sorority president. You can bet I warmed the buttocks of a number of terrified pledges and novitiates in my day, girly,” threatened Camille.
    “Now count each lovely stroke, and thank me for every swat, girl. If you miss one, I will add two more, for good measure,” added Camille.
     The oaken paddle “whooshed” through the air. Tiny holes had been recently drilled in the implement, by a nearby carpenter shop. It struck Babette, squarely on her dramatically plump, girlish butt. As told to do, Babette simpered out the words, “One! Oh thank you so very much Lady Camille!”
    Lady Camille struck Babette again. After Babette squealed out her next perfunctory count of the paddle stroke, Lady Camille asked her, forcefully, “Will you ever again as much as touch my daughter in an intimate manner, you sluttish, wench?”
     “Oh no Milady. I will never as much as think of Ms. Evelyn in any carnal manner. I will totally respect your family and worship the ground you and Ms. Evelyn walk on,” screeched out the humiliated and broken parlor maid.
     “Well said girl,” growled Lady Camille as she struck Babette’s buttocks with a third hard swat. After two more shuddering strokes of the paddle, Babette’s buttocks was on fire and tears were streaming down her face.
     “That will be enough for now girl. I think I’ve impressed upon you who is the Mistress in this household. In any event, you will stay in your current penitent position, until I decide you have contemplated the errors of your ways,” sniggered Camille.
     “You will be released by the First Subordinate to the Head Maid. You will then read over your assigned duties and requirements for the following weeks. At bedtime your colon will be cleansed and a butt plug will be inserted. It will assist in improving your feminine gait,” added Lady Camille.
     “Every morning for the foreseeable future you will be thoroughly milked by the first subordinate to the Head Maid. The Head Maid will also be in attendance, to observe and supervise. I intend to be certain that every drop of male nastiness is drained from your disgusting, being. I want to assure my daughter’s safety upon her return from the convent,” Lady Camille threatened.
     “Good day, Babette. Enjoy your time in contemplative meditation. Use it wisely,” smirked Lady Camille as she exited the room.
       Babette could only grimace, “Thank you for this opportunity to improve myself, Milady.”  
*********************************************************************************
To be continued in Part two
    Comments or questions?

      priscillagaybouffant@gmail.com