Rolewell Place Chapter One: Mommys Boudoir

 (A start of a collaboration with Evie of http://eviehyde.blogspot.com/)




The Jones family had always moved around a lot. Eliot Jones, the father, had a job for an international firm that often required relocating and as a result his son, daughter and wife often had to up-sticks and come with him.

The family had become used to moving on. Shelly the daughter had become quite a loner as a result - though she had already successfully landed herself a boyfriend in the town in which they were living. Her brother was a different story…


Vincent Jones was a shy and introverted young boy, which meant that the family's constant moving has led him unable to form any lasting friendships. He was a nice boy, but quiet and withdrawn, so he usually ended up ignored at schools, except for bullies who saw him as an eager target.


Eliot and Francine Jones worried about their two children, and hoped that their new home might be more of a permanent fixture for the family. It was a beautiful house in a leafy respectable suburb. Eliot’s job paid well and he had been able to afford a fully furnished home - Rolewell place. The house had been mothballed after the previous owner died - but that meant all the needed furnishings and items were in place - dust sheets covering many of the surfaces. The house felt like it was waiting to come back to life - it needed a family to live in it.


Eliot had visited the house prior to purchase and had satisfied himself that it was tastefully decorated and furnished, but it almost felt as if he were visiting it for the first time as he entered with his family and they began to spread out and explore the premises. Tugging dust-sheets off in order to free the objects below Eliot and Francine worked methodically from the living room upwards. Shelly and Vincent drifted off, exploring beyond their parents' supervision and trying to shirk as much work as possible.


Sighing mournfully Vincent drifted through the house, his feet carrying him to the rather grandiose staircase and up them to the floor above. The house was pretty impressive - but his mood was already sad. He guessed he should feel gratitude that he was going to live in such a beautiful place - but the prospect of starting his life over again in a new town filled him with dread.

What was the point in trying to be positive and making a new home, when his father would probably have them all move again soon? It wasn’t fair - he wanted to belong to somewhere. He wanted to be noticed, to have some sort of power and say in his life. He was sick of other people making the decisions for him - why couldn’t he be the one in charge for once?

Vincent came to a beautiful white door and pushed it open. It slid effortlessly over creamy white carpet, thick and plush. The room inside was gorgeous - great creamy white drapes gathered at a window overlooking the garden with an iron wrought balcony outside. There was a great four poster bed, with silk and satin sheets and an ornate golden wrought mirror above it. This complimented a matching full length mirror on one wall, next to an elaborately carven double-length wardrobe. A Japanese inspired dressing screen sat in the corner, a large white and gold trunk behind it.


Plush foot-stools and a beautiful white chair, almost like a throne, lay tastefully arranged by the window where the light would shine through. A vanity table was pushed up against the wall. Beautiful golden candlesticks, vases and works of art littered the room. Walking through the room, Vincent could smell an erotic, perfumed scent filling the air as he pushed open another door that opened onto a sumptuous bathroom fit for a Queen. Gold taps shone as if they had been freshly polished, and there was a full length white ceramic bathtub one could imagine some princess luxuriating in.


It was luxurious, it was beautiful, it was sumptuous.


But what was it doing in his new house?


Vincent wandered back into the boudoir… the name slipping easily into his mind. The room was definitely ultra-feminine in it’s arrangement - the previous owner must have been some sort of beautiful lady who enjoyed luxury and comfort.


Intrigued, he walked over to the wardrobe and turned a gold handle. Like everything else in the room it was master-crafted and the door slid open almost soundlessly. To his surprise, the wardrobe was full - completely full - of female clothing. Stepping back, he turned and slid open a dresser drawer. It too was full - black lace and sheer nylon neatly stored and ready to be selected.


Vincent was confused. His Dad had told him the house was furnished, but he hadn’t expected to find clothes still here. As he wandered round the room, he began to realise that it was still fully equipped with other items too. There were pots and tubes of makeup on the vanity table, luxurious soaps and creams in the bathroom and rows of boots and shoes neatly arranged in cubby holes behind a sliding panel.


Walking behind the dressing screen, to investigate the trunk, Vincent undid the clasps on the large white wooden box and pulled it open. His hand went to his mouth and he gasped at what was inside. The lid was netted and it was crammed full of hand-cuff’s, butt-plugs, dildos, strap-on’s and other sex toys. The main section of the trunk was in compartments and these were full of latex and leather items… thigh length boots, latex corsets, black opera gloves and the like. There was also some strange sort of swing contraption with locking bolts and Vincent gulped as he noticed anchor points in the ceiling, obviously designed to take the weight.


Backing away he brushed past the dressing screen… his vulnerable back towards the still open wardrobe where something was starting to stir…


Vincent was not looking where he was going as he backed away, his attention focusing on the deviant treasure trove he had uncovered. As such, he did not see the stiletto boot that had rolled out of the wardrobe. It had rolled perfectly right in his path, and as he turned around he stepped directly on it and lost his balance, causing him to trip and fall head first into the open wardrobe.


"Ah, bloody hell!" Vincent needed to get out of this room. It was now attacking him. Dazed, he stood back up from the wardrobe and felt something soft on his head. He reached and grabbed a pair of black silk panties. Instinctively he went to throw it away, but there was a smell there that made him hesitate.


"Huh" it smelled like… he sniffed it again… lilacs? It was pleasant and charming, almost relaxing. He sniffed again, this time getting a big whiff. He knew he was being perverted but the smell was intoxicating. He imagined the woman would have worn these silky panties. Someone elegant and stylish. The type of person who made sure they always had the most expensive and luxurious things.


'You could be elegant and stylish'


Vincent almost jumped out of his skin. He didn't know where that thought came from, but he knew that it did not come from him.


'Seriously, try it on.' This voice, this sinister, feminine voice inside his head, kept on insisting that he should wear the panties. The enticing scent of the panties had dulled the parts of Vincent’s brain that dealt with reason and he started to remove his clothes.


"Alright, it'll be a funny prank or something later." He said to himself, convincing himself with the logic of an illogical desire.


Once he was fully naked he grabbed the panties and gingerly slipped them on. He pulled them up to his crotch, the silk tingling against his dick.


"Ooh that feels nice." He exclaimed, rubbing himself down there. "Looks nice too." Vincent eyed himself in the mirror and saw that he did indeed look nice in the woman's panties. His front still looked distinctly male, but his rear had gained a slight feminine curve and bounce.


'Panties are usually a part of a pair' The voice whispered.


"Huh? What do you mean?" Vincent asked. “What’s going on here?”


'You want to look nice right? Then you need to get a bra. One that matches your panties.'


"Yes of course." Vincent realised. "There's no point in only wearing panties. I need the full set."


The panty wearing teenage boy searched through the dresser drawer, looking for the perfect bra to match.


"Booyah, there you are!" He exclaimed, lifting up a black lace bra. "Crap, I don't know how to put this thing on. I haven't even taken one off yet."


'Just follow my instructions.’ The voice guided Vincent into wearing the bra, slipping each arm through the straps and clasping it closed behind his back. The bra looked odd strapped to his chest. The ample cups empty. 'For now'


"I actually don't look too bad. It'll be so funny when the others see. Shelly's going to freak."


'We're not done yet.'


"Huh? Oh yeah. I can't just wear a bra and panties. I need to get a full set of fancy lady's underwear. Really freak out the fam." Back to the dresser draw, Vincent got out a pair of silk stockings and garters. Black of course. "This is gonna be awesome." After getting the garters on He rolled the stockings up his legs, the smooth silky fabric making his legs seem long and slender, the body hair disappearing as his lower body twisted in a curvy feminine shape.


Snapping the stockings to the garters, Vincent idly admired himself in the wardrobe mirror. His legs looked amazing now, the underwear accentuating their sleek elegance.


"I look…"


"Refined." The voice answered.


"Yeah… refined…"


"But you need more."


"I need more"


"You always need more"


"I should get a corset!" Vincent realised. Grabbing a black satin one from the dresser, he wrapped it around his waist and started tightening it up.


"Yes that's it. You want to look beautiful don't you?" The voice whispered.


"I want to look beautiful." Vincent repeated, pulling the corset rope. Tighter and tighter, the corset pushed his body inwards, fat from his belly migrating to other parts. To his hips, to his chest.


"Once they see me in this… they'll realise… everyone will realise…"


"That you are beautiful." The voice answered.


"That I am beautiful."


"That you are amazing."


"That I am amazing."


"That you are superior."


"That I am superior."


Vincent finished pulling in the corset, leaving him with a waspish waist and perfect hourglass body.


"They will see that I am superior to all of them."


Looking back in the mirror, he could see how his bra was now filled with two bountiful breasts, almost ready to burst from the lace cups. The fabric tingled as his now dime sized nipples gained a newfound sensitivity. Thanks to the rigid corset, he could only stand up straight, thrusting his heavy globes straight.


"I am so fucking beautiful." Vincent was falling in love with his new image, as twisted between male and female as it was. But he knew he wasn't done.


"I need to look proper. There's no point if I don't look proper." He headed back to the wardrobe and without hesitation grabbed what he knew would make the perfect outfit to show the family.


He laid them on the bed, then started with the first item. A black satin blouse. Slipping his arms through the sleeves, he could feel them change, losing boyish fat and gaining toned muscle. He worked on the buttons, and as he closed each one, starting from the bottom, his young boyish personality was getting locked away. Why did he care about such pointless things like video games and comic book movies. Those were for immature weaklings. And why did he never focus on the right things in life, like fashion and jewellery.


"And power."


The voice was right. Vincent had never played attention to ensuring he had power and respect in his life, always letting others pick on him or boss him around. Well that was going to change. From now on he was going to be the boss. In every situation he was going to be the boss.


He finished buttoning the satin blouse, leaving the top three buttons undone to show off his breasts. He grabbed the next part of the outfit, a long leather skirt.


Leather. Is there any fabric that speaks of power like leather, thought Vincent. Strong and resilient, once used by warriors as armour. This skirt was more than armour. It reached down below his ankles and clung tight to his waist. With the shirt tucked in, the already corseted Vincent felt even more constricted. But he liked that. The constriction made him feel like his was being formal, sacrificing comfort for beauty. It requires a certain discipline to make that sacrifice.


"Discipline." He said. "Respect through discipline." He zipped up the skirt from behind and imagined the bullies at school all following his commands through Discipline. "And how do we get Discipline? Through order and punishment." He remembered the items he saw in the trunk. The whips and paddles. The handcuffs. "Discipline through pain and bandage. Oh, they will serve me. They will all serve me"


The final piece was a long leather coat that reached down to his ankles. Once pulled on, Vincent buttoned the three buttons and thought of his family. First there was his Dad, a kind man just doing the best for his family. One button done. Or was he a weak fat bastard who had dragged his family across the country for some pathetic job. Next was his mum. A sweet woman who kept the family organised. Second button done. More like a lazy bitch who made him do all these chores that she could do herself. And then there was his dear sister Shelly. More adventurous and outgoing than him, he admired her for so easily moving on between all these different homes. Final button done. He in truth despised her for being such a selfish wannabe slut who needed someone to put her in her place. Remind her the importance of serving her betters.


Vincent's love for his family was gone, and a cruel smile appeared on his face. But he wasn't done. He and the voice knew he wasn't done.


After putting on a pair of knee high stiletto leather boots, the same boots that had tripped him earlier, Vincent went and sat down at the vanity. The mirror still showed his stupid boy head atop of his female body, but that was going to change. The voice instructed him to grab the hair brush with the ivory handle and began stroking his hair. Each stroke pushed his hair out longer and longer, turning each dull brown strand into nice shiny blond, eventually leaving him with long platinum hair down to the middle of his back.


The voice then guided him to the large assortment of make up, which he began to apply. Each touch of makeup altered his face. Plumbing his lips, widening his eyes, raising his cheekbones, till he had an entirely different face. A face of a woman, but still an immature face of a youth. Well if Vincent was going to administer discipline he was going to have to be mature. With makeup he added signs of aging to his face, wrinkles around the eyes and lips. The wrinkles absorbed into his body, aging him to the body of a woman in her early forties. Still extremely beautiful, but also mature and regal.


"I think we're ready for the final pieces." The voice said


"The jewellery." Vincent spoke, his voice now feminine and sultry. He grabbed the jewellery box, his jewellery box, and picked out the most expensive pieces. Pearl earrings, gold and diamond rings, and a platinum necklace that he draped around his neck. Finally, he selected a pair of stylish glasses that fitted perfectly on his elegant pert nose, his eyes shifted to require the prescriptive lens.


"We're so fucking beautiful." Vincent said to the voice.


"We are mesmerising my dear." The voice replied.


"We're…"


"We're…"


"Mistress Vanessa" And in one singular voice, Vincent became one with the presence of the boudoir. What followed was a moment of powerfully ecstasy as Vincent was fully overridden. His pathetic dick and balls were sucked up into his body and reformed into a fully functional vagina.


Mistress Vanessa let out a deep pleasant sigh. She was back, and the house had given her a lovely host. She slipped on her favourite pair of leather gloves and thought about what she was going to do about the other interlopers in her domain. Perhaps the house will find a use for them as well.




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