Our story starts with a shock. It concerns a well respected fiction site that features stories of tg/ ts, which was hit by a erstwhile visitor repeatedly for a long time and finally ended one day recently with this: "You dapper wannabebes are disgusting fools wasting time posting silly crapola on (Name Of Site) and until you wise up, I’m gonna PUKE AD NAUSEAM some more!" Already, she had caused as much trouble to the volunteers, administrators and regular visitors at the site as it was possible for one kid to do, and they had enough! With this in minds, it was decided that she be banned, and all her posts to the site be deleted and refused. That’s where this story starts.

 

A Reflection on Mischief

by Solon Plorry

 

The troublemaker, whose name was Hortense, tried many times to get back on (name of site). She had wiles, and used them! Unfortunately for her, she had become such a standout problem maker that her style had become well known and recognized immediately. So the poor thing was left out of what must have been her favorite hangout, as she had been a constant bother on the site. She loved to abuse the writers, and spared no insults doing so. She was a visitor to a couple other sites too, where an anything goes atmosphere prevailed, but it wasn’t the same. (Name of site) was many things, but it was mostly a serious fiction site that posted real stories from real aspiring writers, and allowed them to critique each others work. So Hortense wasn’t very happy, and although she was still raising hell wherever she went, it wasn’t as satisfying to her apparently.

Obviously, the best way to get back on (name of site.) was to use a different name, and post reasonably properly for awhile until she built up some credit with the new persona and name. But the people at (name of site) who knew her ways thought that Hortense was simply too impatient and bad to be nice, even for the little while that it took to establish herself as a bona fide contributer and not the troublesome little bitch she was known as. It was hoped this impatience worked against her scheming to re-establish herself on the site. As someone said, she was always ‘turning over the tables’ the running away laughing to herself! What she got out of her antics, it would take a psychologists to explain, maybe even a psychiatrist, but she never seemed to be far away from (name of site) day or night, so she clearly had derived some pleasure from her fucking around. This gives some indication of how difficult being banned from (N.O.S) must have been for Hortense, and how ardently she would have desired to get back on it!

After a couple weeks brooding on the other sites mentioned, which were basically troublemaker friendly, Hortense decided she needed to write a story so she could at least sneak onto the (N.O.S). Her story was as one would expect, and there we see some possible explanation for why Hortense was the way she was. She was a terrible writer. Her stories were slapped together without much skill, and her characters were wooden and the plots impractical at best. Still, under the gun of necessity, Hortense wrote a story. She called it "WiggleWorms Got Lost in Transit!"...

Here is the story.

 

WiggleWorms Got Lost In Transit

I was freaked out so bad, it was amazing. Only wiggleWorms get this freaked out! A WiggleWorm is a changed form of the Aglaber people, from way out in space near the moon! They always try to get citizens on earth, mostly america, to be like them, but no one wants to! Who wants to be a WiggleWorm? Nobody that’s all. So when it nearly happened to me, I was TOTALLY FUCKING FREAKED OUT and I mean really! What happened was that a WiggleWorm was coming to earth like america too, because there was a guy who said "yeah ok" and that was that! Dumb eh? So this guy, he needed to dress like a lady, because everybody knows WiggleWorms only go into ladies. He stole all his mothers clothes (the guy, not the WiggleWorm) and got dressed up nice like a girl. While he was going along the road, she even got seduced and stuff, by another one. After that, she took a streetcar to the place people go when they have appointments (I heard, but that may be just a lie...who knows?) Anyway, there she was, and it was raining hard! Everybody had umbrellas and looked cool, but not her, so everybody looked at her and laughed their heads off! All except ONE GUY! He went over to her and said ‘here’s where Aglaber people go all the time, and he showed me. But the map was torn! So I got lost going to this place! Was it ever weird, I bet you don’t believe it! Believe ME iT WAS WEIRD as just really fucking weird! But I came back, and I was dressed up again, this time in hotpants and a nice beret, like Monica Lewisky always wears. That why I got trapped. The WiggleWorm came across through the ‘WEIRDOHOLEINSPACE’ and got inside. We called this magician, he was a CHEYENNE INDIAN and knew what to do. Thanks for that! Believe me, I was a big fucking mess until then! Now I’m going home, because that’s what you must do when the sun goes down or the spell gets too hard to break (and you are a FuCkInG WiGgLEWoRm)!! Like forever!

END OF STORY by Ms Vanity

 

As you can see, the story has a charm about it that many maybe find delightful. What the story is about can only be guessed at though, because it really is just a bunch of slapped together observations. No one would accuse Ms Vanity of over editing her work. However, the story was written with one intention in mind: to allow Hortense back on (N.O.S). And it was acceptable for that. Modern young people indeed maybe read more into Hortense’s story then us oldsters; and good for them if they do. The object of Hortense’s labors weren’t to entertain however. It was to get her back in the door, where her plans can only be guessed at. Because it turns out, Hortense outsmarted herself!

Far away, in another town in another state in another country neighborhood was a writer who was also a dedicated Fictionmania fan. Her name was Ms Vanity. She also wrote stories for FM, but unlike Hortense, she had never posted her stories, because she was very shy. Ms Vanity spent most of her days on the computer, and had no interest in the greater world. She visited several sites daily but Fictionmania was one of her favorites. Like Hortense, she took the world represented by FM very serious, but unlike Hortense, she only posted there once. That was when she read a story that she fell in love with, and shyly, she drafted up a small review for the story, as she had seen done so often. She read all the stories, and all the reviews. This particular story was overlooked mostly, however. No one else had commented on it.

So Ms Vanity decided for the first time to post a review, in which she gently encouraged the story’s writer and urged her to write more. Such a nice state of affairs would have ended there, and indeed would have ended this story here, or rather removed its raison d’etre altogether had that been the end of it. Unfortunately, another critic stumbled onto the sweet story at the same time, and was in fact just then busily drafting up her opinions of it, and they were not nice! If you said "it’s probably Hortense!’ you are of course correct! Hortense! She had read the story, and precisely because it was very well done and in general life affirming, it stuck in her craw, or something. She was preparing a particularly vitriolic review of it, and just prior to posting, she went back to see if there was anything that escaped her notice in the story. That was moments after Ms Vanity posted her review! So if the story stimulated Hortense’s devilishness , it can be imagined what effect the nice review of the story had! Hortense quickly angrily added some spicy insults and brutal teases to the rest of her review, with plenty of comments about the first reviewer, Ms Vanity. When it was nice and awful, Hortense posted the diatribe before running off to swimming practice or wherever she went that day.

Later, an unsuspecting Ms Vanity went back to the story, hoping for more reviews., to encourage the author. Instead, to her horror, she was mocked and subject to relentless insults, along with the abuse heaped on the story! Ms Vanity was a misnomer: she in fact had no vanity at all, and she was hurt by Hortense’s furious assault, which was actually fairly routine for Hortense. In addition, she thought she possibly deserved the umbrage, and that was a terrible thing to think, but worse she thought she had attracted the cruel ridiculing onto the story itself, and one thing was certain. The writer disappeared forever from Fictionmana, leaving the poor story orphaned. Ms Vanity therefore had never posted anything again, Although she continued to write. At the time Hortense was being banned from FM, in fact, she had just written a story that, sadly, she would never post! Her shyness was simply too deep..

So it was a remarkable confluence that when Hortense chose a name for her new presence on FM, she chose the name of a girl whom she had (unknowingly) badly dissaffected by her vexatious actions. Still it’s doubtful that had she known what she had done it would have given her pause anyway; Hortense would gladly run anyone down in her pursuit of mischief, and if the person was a shy one, that was even better! Hortense had a mean streak in her, which just gives her later comeuppance a judicious quality!

 

Part Two

The story Ms Vanity had written and never posted was a complex and involved tale. It was about this old mansion on a hill above a village. The villagers learn that there’s an old man who discovers he owns the hill mansion and is visiting for the first time. They fear he will see (one ballroom wall is a ancient survey map) that all the surrounding farms and homes belong to the mansion estate, and at best they will owe him a fortune for back rent, and at worst they will be chased away. In despair, they consult a magician, who can only perform one magical trick: change boys into girls. However, many years earlier, the rich man had a son, who got married in defiance of the father and became estranged. While returning from across the ocean, their ship sank. The magician, who’s also a seer, tells the villagers that the couple had had a child, the old man’s grandson. The old man hoped the boy, who would now be a youth, had survived, and would gladly bequeath his fortune to him! So the villagers send the mansion’s caretaker’s son, transformed into a girl, to act as the maid when the old man moves in. She’s to keeps hidden the wall map and steals items from the feeble old man, much of which he doesn’t realize he has, and that can be used to identify a boy as his grandson. Just before the magic spell wears off, the ‘maid’ supposedly runs away with a villager acting as her lover, and then the young man returns next day to claim the inheritence from an overjoyed grandfather.

At least thats the way the story is supposed to go. It is a fairy tale type story, and was quite nicely done. But as Ms Vanity had a vivid imagination, she threw a few complications into the works. Not the least was that the magician talked a big show, but could actually no more transform a boy into a girl then a dog into a coat! Too late the villagers find this out! But they still needed a girl to act as maid, so the caretaker youth took hurried instruction from the village women on crossdressing and acting femme! This is where Hortense enters our story, and where it gets interesting.

After Hortense posted "WiggleWorms Got Lost in Transit’ to Fictionmana, she sat back and enjoyed her success. Far away, the real Ms Vanity read the story, and possibly she even liked it, though that isn’t important. The important thing was that Ms Vanity was upset at the hijacking of her name! In fact, she was so upset and angry she wept in rage! Her name, which as noted was the very opposite of her personality, nevertheless protected her by strengthening her self image, and this kept her sane. Now it was taken, by some lout whose story really wasn’t anything anyone could not have written in ten or fifteen minutes. So the anger and pain of the lost soul in her lonely hovel which she shared with her computer would have touched any heart that witnessed it; and incredibly, one did! That was Fedorlinion, a god from Mount Olympus, distant cousin of Pyyyrd, who was related to the awesome Zeus, it was said. Fedorlinion was an admirer of tgirls, and he also often visited Fictionmania (although not with a computer!) He had immediately recognized what was going on with the two ‘Ms Vanitys.’ and was moved to act. The non Hortense Ms Vanity had no idea who Fedorlinion was, but when she looked up from weeping, late that night. she wasn’t remotely frightened by him. Fedorlinion looked anything but what you’d think a god looked like. He was short, and given to sweatshirts and striped pajama pants. He had a cold of all things, and sniffled and sneezed like a hitch hiker. He also chewed gum, and loved blowing huge bubbles that sometime exploded, wrapping up his head with the gossamer result! Not a heavyweight, as far as gods go, but he was perfectly suited to Ms Vanity, who, remember, was a very shy girl!

So Fedorlinion held Ms Vanity’s hand, pooh poohing away her tears, and told her about Hortense. Not all the gritty details, but the fact Hortense was a scamp, a troublemaker and quite entertaining mostly to devils. Ms Vanity listened with growing anger towards Hortense, whose misconduct was briefly described. Fedorlinion then suggested that the time had arrived for young lady Ms Behavior to harvest some of the fruits of her mischief making! But Ms Vanity had to overcome her shyness in order for this to happen. She must immediately, right then, go on Fictionmania and POST HER STORY! When Hortense, aka Ms Vanity, showed up, she would get pulled in, and become the ‘maid’ character in the story. It was up to Ms Vanity!

Shortly after that, Ms Vanity posted her story "The Boy in Maid’s Clothing."

Here’s what happened. Hortense was all over Fictionmania, reading stories, reviews and shrieking with LUST for what she thought of it all! She wrote realms of commentary, giggled and fell off her chair laughing at insults and putdowns she’s made up for whatever crossed her path. But, as she wasn’t known as Hortense, she was forced to savour her handiwork alone, because she’d get bounced the minute FM realized who she was. So it was in this spirit she discovered some girl, with the same name as she had, posted a story. With a click of her mouse, she brought up the story...And suddenly, Hortense found herself in a place, with no walls, no floor, no sky, no nothing. Stunned, she put her hand over her mouth, widened her eyes and looking about, she shrieked! In the distance, she saw something, and in terror, heart fluttering, she ran towards it, as it at least was something! Running as fast as she could, she saw that the solid feature in the featureless world she inexplicably found herself in was a ordinary door, wooden, with a knob and a frame. Racing up to it, without thinking she grabbed the doorknob and bolted through the opening.

Here’s Ms Vanity’s story (revised with commentary)

 

The Boy in Maid’s Clothing

The maid tumbled after tripping on a pile of junk. The Berdonne mansion hadn’t been lived in for many years, outside of the caretaker, who with his son, lived in the small servant’s quarters in the basement of the main wing. Celeste jumped up, looking around in wonder. She was wearing the prim and proper uniform of a maid, with a starched white apron over the blue short sleeve dress.She had a maid’s cap on her head, and she was really a twenty year old boy!

From far off, she heard papa yelling for her. Celeste ran to the staircase, yelling "I’m coming Papa!" then flying down the stairs, jumping up and sitting on the handrail to hurtle down and around the spiral staircase, going "wheeee!" before leaping off just before the bottom. Face flushed, she sauntered down the hallway before joining papa in the kitchen ante room.

Papa was with Mister Stout, the mayor of Pretty Village. Mayor Stout looked worried, as he looked at his friend Omer’s youthful ‘niece.’ Old Berdonne’s man was due to arrive the next day, and the village’s fate rested in the hands of the son, Russell. The kid looked exactly like a maid, with long brown hair swept behind her earringed ears. "Yes papa?" ‘She’ said, in dulcet tones that were uncannily girlish! "You look marvellous" the mayor said, suddenly hopeful and winking at Omer, who ignored it. "We’ve covered the map carving, and now the ...maid must get the rest of the place ready under the watchful eye of this Ruben guy...I wish we knew more about him!" Russell’s (or Celeste’s) father said. "All them major domos are the same" the mayor replied confidently.

Celeste suddenly felt she was in a dream...then realized that she was not Russell Omer, and didn’t want to be a maid in this strange place, but something physically pulled her forward, as the story unfolded! Celeste knew who she was, and what she was doing. She was Jed Omer’s boy, but she was playacting his niece, in order to be maid at Berdonne mansion until old Berdonne came in a month’s time. Tomorrow the owner’s major domo arrived, to oversee the preparation of the mansion for old Berdonne, who family seat this was, though it had been abandoned during one of the wars generations ago. The villagers had kept up the mansion, partly in respect but mostly in fear. Berdonne mansion was the center of an estate that included everything for five miles surrounding it. In the two hundred plus years that the family neglected their family seat, people had began using the land until all except for the hill the mansion sat atop had been taken over. Now old Berdonne had learned about the existence of his family’s ancient estate, and he was coming to reclaim it! Fortunately, all the old records had been lost, during the turmoils, and outside of an ancient wall carving, which clearly showed the extent of the grounds, no other evidence existed.

Celeste reassured the two nervous men. She would obey and satisfy Mr. Ruben. The mansion was a mess, but starting at the top floor, she would make it spotless. She also would be able to access Mr Berdonne’s effects, which Ruben planned to bring with him for the old man. These included several trunks of things belonging to Mr Berdonne’s only son, who drowned long ago in a shipwreck which was later salvaged. Old Berdonne had never checked the trunks of clothes and personal items returned to him, because of heartbreak. So not only would Celeste be the maid, when the time came, she would supposedly run away and elope so Russell in turn could show up with enough proof to convince old Berdonne that his grandchild had survived! If the scheme was successful, the threat to all the hapless victims of the legal quagmire they found themselves in could be put away forever!

That night, Celeste went to bed with unformed thoughts still present in the back of her mind. At times, she remembered her old life, as a mischief making cross dressing youth who loved attention...so clearly she wanted to poop in somebody’s shoes! Then, without any jarring at all she thought about the next day, and the challenge being a maid in a huge mess of a household presented. Strangely enough, she adored her ‘father’ and shared her fellow locals fear of being dispossessed by law! Hortense was a shallow person, who laughed at serious issues and mocked moral questions, because she didn’t understand them. But in the character of Berdonne’s mansion’s maid, she dismissed any idea that plotting to prevent the rightful owner of the Berdonne estate from discovering the truth of the matter was wrong. They had no choice but to mislead the old man, who after all had no heirs except the children of a second cousin, who, rumour had it, played golf!

The next day, several wagons arrived with Mister Ruben. He was a tall, pale man with shoulder length white hair and a bald dome. He was very formal, never smiling. He oversaw the emptying of the wagons by hired men, and inspected the master’s rooms. He took an apartment for himself on the floor above the master’s. But until the cleaning was finished, he would be staying at the Inn outside of Pretty Village. Celeste and her father never stopped working from the time Ruben showed up. It was while slaving away at the job that Celeste was most aware of being Hortense! Needless to say, Hortense had never done back breaking work before in her life! Neither had Celeste ( Russell) for that matter. But it was vital that Ruben saw that the maid was up to scratch or else Ruben would get rid of her and bring in a work tested maid from one of Berdonne’s other properties! So by six every morning, drums of hot water were ready by the stove, and with mops and pails and lye soap Celeste was hard at work, hauling pails of clean water up to the top floor, then hauling pails of dirty water back down. It was relentless work, and an excellent introduction to the work world for Ms Hortense!

She hated it! It was while scrubbing years of accumulated grime from bannisters, or scraping mildew from the mansion’s thousands of windows that Celeste mostly felt like Hortense. If she could, she would smash the windows and empty her chamber pot on the top of the staircase to watch the effluent run down the stairs, and stink the place up as a bonus, but she couldn’t, because she was trapped in the story! When she finally dragged her ass to bed, after sixteen hours of grinding labour, everything was stiff!

 

Part three

Ruben was a long time servant. He judged people harshly, especially the lower classes. The old mansion needed plenty of work, but it had been well built and the locals had maintained it ok though it appeared they had used the grand ballroom to store hay! ‘Just like that type’ Ruben grumbled. After a few days, he saw that things were going very well, and Master Berdonne would be very cozy when he moved in. Mr Berdonne had lived a life of work and service, and had accumulated a respectable fortune independently of his inherited wealth, but the old gentleman had neglected his personal life for too long. He had married once, to a lady who died giving Berdonne an heir. The tragedy had been too cruel to Berdonne, so he never remarried. His son had grown into a strapping robust young man, the apple of old Berdonne’s eye, until suddenly the boy became infatuated with a commoner! The affair had created a terrible rift, and finally the son married the woman and went to live in a foreign country. Later Berdonne relented, and begged his son to return, especially when he found out the young couple had a child! Unfortunately, tragedy again struck, and their ship broke up on the coast of a lawless country; Berdonne’s heart was broken anew! That was twenty years earlier, and Ruben had just entered the Berdonne service, so he remembered the tragedy well.

It was Ruben who, with an escort, went to the scene and recovered what he could of the young family. The parents were definitely lost, but no trace of the infant son. Several passengers had survived the catastrophe, including the woman who helped care for the boy. That the woman had been in the vicinity for days after the disaster was supported by witnesses whom Ruben’s men questioned, but where she went was a mystery. Some of the witnesses claimed the woman had a baby boy with her, and had been interested in the wreck. When she finally left, she had taken a chest full of things saved from the wreckage. So old Berdonne remained convinced his grandson survived, although nothing more had been heard! Now he was returning to Berdonne mansion, to live out his days in the place the Berdonne family had started.

A week after the rejuvenation had started, Ruben moved in. The sight of pretty Celeste working furiously to prepare the enormous number of rooms, halls, stairs and windows for his master impressed the hard taskmaster, especially when he happened upon her high up on a ladder, and got a good eyeful of Celeste’s skimpy underwear! At first, Ruben began taking his tea with the sweaty young worker. Then, his interest in Celeste growing, Ruben had a team of day maids brought in, to ‘help’ her and to give her time for the intense preparation attending to Master Berdonne would require. While the reduced work load was welcome, the increasing interest and personal demands of Mr Ruben for her services had some negative aspects. Not the least of these was Ruben’s habit of putting on white gloves and running a pristine finger along same handy surface. If even a tiny hint of dirt was discovered, he informed Celeste ‘This will not do, no sir miss!...not do!" Ruben produced a well marked foolscap sheet, and, pencil at the ready, asked Celeste if she preferred he mark down the infraction or would she suffer ten strokes, or ‘encouragings’ across the buttocks instead? Reluctantly, Celeste, who was a slightly confused young man to begin with, asked for the ‘encouragings!’ This was because when she was working hardest, or undergoing any unpleasantness, Celeste Russell felt little misery. The misery was felt mostly by Celeste Hortense, a different kettle of fish altogether! So it was Hortense who found herself bent over the back of an end chair, and it was she who experienced the ten lashes across her delicate buttocks! (This of course is commentary on Ms Vanity’s story)

Long before anyone heard about the real owner of the mansion, the village elders understood what the wall carving meant. It was a legal document, a land deed giving the land for as far as the eye could see from the belltower, about five miles, to the Berdonne ancestors. It had been carved in oak more then two hundred years before, and constituted one wall of the grand ballroom. A gifted village carpenter had carefully rebricked the joists and abutment, building a false wall in front of the map wall. Unless a skilled builder or carpenter examined the ordinary looking wall, it would pass as original and authentic.

The day maids were a big help to pretty Celeste. They quickly divided up the mansion, and with paramilitary precision, they cleaned it top to bottom, even scrubbing the chandeliers until they were dazzling. It took the onus off Celeste, giving the lazy girl plenty of time to indulge her vice. She took to sleeping in late, and spent most of her evenings attending to Ruben, whose demands became quite outrageous. He demanded she bathe immediately when she brought him his evening snack, as he found her "sweat soaked and odiferous!’ By chance, his bath was ready, so Celeste slipped behind the curtain, stripped and jumped in. Ruben was too much of a prude to look at her naked (thank god for that!) But he derived pleasure from just being nearby her when she disrobed. The curtain was a finely weaved sheet which gave Ruben a good look at her shadowed image as she readied and took her bath. Ruben’s end chair also became contoured to Celeste as she bent over it to receive her every other day’s thrashing for her multitude of infractions against ‘ladylike obedience.’ Celeste came to dread the thrashings, as her ass was still quite numb and tender from previous punishments. She greeted the news that she had earned a thrashing with tears and wails, enough to melt a hard heart.

When it came time to clean the rooms where the trunks containing young Master Berdonne’s effects were stored, Celeste had located the keys in Ruben’s ante room, clearly marked. When Ruben took a business trip shortly prior to the arrival date of his master, Celeste opened the trunks and, with the magician’s information as her guide, selected several items old Master Berdonne would associate with his son and, therefore, with the grandson. The items were thrown willy nilly in trunks at the time of the salvage operation, hectic due to the threat of pirates. They had never been itemized, listed or even positively identified as property of the young family members even when the trunks reached the safety of home. Old Berdonne had been too shattered by the loss to have this necessary job done, putting it off year after year. The passage of time should have healed his heart enough to look at what was left of his boy, but in fact the opposite happened! Old Berdonne was a hard man, ruthless in office and strictly practical. Possibly that was why, as he grew ancient, the losses he’d neglected for so long assumed enormity in his memory. He had, too late, learned how to cry.

The magician the villagers had hired to assist them had been a big flop! After a huge buildup replete with warnings and cautions, he had failed to change Russell into maid Celeste when finally ordered to do so! The villagers were naturally furious, as the sweating magician tried spells, charms and a myriad of hocus pocus with increasing desperation, all to no avail. The only thing he made disappear was food, it was said, for he had a prodigious hunger. Fortunately, young Russell was an effeminate loner, very pretty and easily redressed as a passable woman. So it was with considerable nerve that the magician still claimed he had second sight; and it is a measure of the villager’s desperation that they believed that and accepted his offer to use it for them!

Celeste was looking for a hunting horn which Berdonne had given his son a lifetime earlier. It was a family heirloom, very ancient. She found it still half full of sand! She was also looking for a brass dagger, with the Berdonne crest carved into the handle. In the last of the six trunks, she found it, still in its rock hardened leather scabbard. The magician had said that there might also be a lock of yellow hair in a glass locket. Celeste found one, set in a ring of ivory. Despite an intensive search, aided by Jed Omer, they couldn’t find any other items the magician said might be there. It appeared that most of the stuff sitting in the trunks all those years had different owners! At least the lucky charm could be worn around the neck, so old Berdonne could see it

if anyone was to wear it. All in all, as Celeste and her papa locked everything away and cleaned up, it was a successful night. Their phony magician had second sight after all!

Finally, the big day arrived. Naturally, the arrival of such a noted personage as Master Berdonne brought out the gentry and common folk, to line the road to the mansion to greet him. The mansion was sparkling, its grounds cleaned and trimmed, flowers transplanted en mass in the front garden. Old Berdonne was about eighty, and if not for his melancholia he was still vigorous. With him came a staff of attendants. Ruben showed him around his estate. The mansion was a beehive of activity.

With the arrival of his master, and Berdonne’s gratitude for getting the place in such good shape, Ruben’s hours mirrored his boss. The old fellow retired early, arose late and napped often So Ruben had more time to dominate and humiliate Celeste! She was easily the most exotic ‘girl’ at the mansion, and her efforts to satisfy her master only increased his demands until Celeste was getting a good thrashing almost daily! This distressed Hortense, but having a stinging butt upset Russell too, so the girl was happy when the ‘suitor’ showed up, with flowers and his heart on his sleeve for Celeste. A couple days later, Celeste ran away with the boy, leaving a scrawled note saying she was in love!

Quickly, a team of village women were waiting, and they redid Celeste as a young man, with short blonde hair, thick eyebrows, and a proper deep voice and downy mustache. Dressed in dusty travelling clothes, and with the lock of his grandma’s hair in the locket hanging around his neck, he went to the mansion, carrying a pack on a stick.. He had a weathered map, and when the butler led him into his ‘grandfather’ the old guy was skeptical until he saw the locket! Russell also showed old Berdonne the dagger and the old hunting horn, mounted in a lovely case! It was enough! In an ecstacy of happiness, old Berdonne hugged Russell, giving him a grandfatherly kiss!

Ruben watched all this and was overjoyed to see his master’s melancholy lifted. The discovery that his grandson had been rescued by a woman who had raised him as her own until on her deathbed she told him the truth and gave him a map to get home was all the old man wanted to hear!

When ‘grandpa’ finally went to bed, Mr Ruben showed young mister Berdonne some of the recently hung paintings in the study. When the young master went to sit down, Ruben held a chair for him, a hard wooden chair instead of the cushioned one the young man had been sitting in. Russell couldn’t quite cover up the grimace on his face, being a real sissy! When Ruben gave him a glass of the finest brandy, he said "And Celeste, you will visit me later, won’t you dear; you have certainly earned your ten strokes today!"

The End of the Story by Ms Vanity

Actually, that isn’t the end of our story! Hortense was free the minute Celeste was no longer a character in the fable...but Ruben and ‘Celeste’ had a few months until Old Master Berdonne passed on..happily leaving his estate to the young man. And of course Ruben was around for a long time to keep the young fairy in line! FINI

 

 

 

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© 2002 by Solon Plorry. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, compilation design) may printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without express written consent of the copyright holder.