His face contorted with a frown of despair, the unfortunate young lad continued to stroke Lord Holmes’ thick cock with his new, delicate fingers. At the same time, he sucked on the Lord’s thumb and tried not to think about the way the man was eyeing up his heavy, swaying breasts.
‘What is your name, stable boy?’ asked the Lord, followed by a shallow grunt of satisfaction.
Is the Lord serious? Three years I have been under his employ and in that time he has not so much as learned my name?
‘Your name,’ the Lord snapped, unused to being kept waiting.
‘Cecil, your Lordship, Cecil Smith,’ he said, though he certainly did not look like a Cecil any longer.
Lord Holmes must have thought the same, for he smiled and said, ‘No, you are mistaken. Your name is Cecilia Silk, madam.’
A ripple of power surged through the stable boy’s mind, like the wrinkles a stone generates when dropped into a pond, and his brain was momentarily fuzzy. When clarity returned, the Lord asked for his name again and he replied without hesitation.
‘Cecilia, your Lordship.’
Lord Holmes smiled, but the woman’s frown deepened. It was a strange sensation having his memories played with in such a way. It felt as though his life had been written out into the pages of a book and somebody had gone through the entire story and replaced the name Cecil with Cecilia in every fragment of memory. The day he had met Lord Holmes’ stablemaster to whom he was apprenticed, he had introduced himself as Cecilia Silk; when his father had said goodbye the day he left to begin working on the Lord’s estate, he had said ‘Goodbye, Cecilia,’; even just now, when the Lord had asked his name the first time, he had replied, ‘Cecilia, your Lordship, Cecilia Silk.’
Still, there was the vague memory that a different name had been there before, like the ghost of a word not quite erased from the pages.
‘That’s better,’ crooned Lord Holmes, removing his thumb from her mouth and wiping it distastefully over her naked breast. ‘I must say, Lord Grayson’s Conversion Engine is most impressive. He gifted it to me, you see, and I did not for a moment believe it capable of the magnificent feats he described, but my word he has surpassed all expectations. You know, I confess I am glad you were an apprentice of such poor quality, otherwise God only knows how long it might have been before I had the chance to make use of Lord Grayson’s gift.’
Cecilia scowled but continued to caress the Lord’s shaft for fear of what the man might do should he stop. Turning away, he eyed the loathsome device set up a short distance away and felt his stomach turn.
It looked for all the world like a chair which had been attacked by a crazed blacksmith. Twisting around the wooden frame like bronze serpents strips of metal held the limbs of the subject in place, while overhead a tangled mass of copper piping sprawled across a silver helmet inscribed around the rim with dozens of strange symbols. Suspended at various heights and distances in the subject’s view were an assortment of lightbulbs. Connected to the apparatus was a tall cylinder, into which fed a confusion of pipes and wires, out the side of which jutted a hand crank to operate the whole thing.
In truth, he remembered little about the process. One moment he had had been locked into the device, a scrawny nineteen-year old apprentice in a stable boy’s dress, the next he was a thirty-something blonde woman with breasts so heavy they had torn clean through his shirt. Still reeling, he had obeyed the Lord’s order to stroke his cock, too terrified to resist.
How was this even possible? It made no sense. When the Lord had dragged him into the manor’s storage cellar he had expected a beating – the Lord’s horse had thrown a shoe fitted by the stable boy, throwing him off in the process. But instead of taking up his crop he had forced the lad into the chair and gone at the crank with a frenzied violence, reducing his subject’s world to a swirl of flashing lights and blurred colours.
Following Cecilia’s stare, Lord Holmes smirked. ‘I imagine you were unable to pay much attention to how the thing worked whilst you were restrained. It truly is the most remarkable device, a combination of the old world with the new. The inscriptions carved into the metal, I am told, are ancient faerie phrases used to induce the physical transformation. The bulbs are Edison’s work, of course, that marvellous American inventor, but they are used to replicate the hypnotic patterns of light used in the Far East to calm the mind and manipulate it. The hand-operated generator then amalgamates the power of science and sorcery to complete the thing: the cogs and shafts generate electrical power for the device, but they are themselves inscribed with mystical runes and oiled with an assortment of potions that imbue the current with supernatural properties. At the end of it, the one locked into the chair is transformed into a most beautiful, buxom woman, and their minds are reduced to a pliant, suggestible state for a short time thereafter. Speaking of which, I think it best I fulfil your punishment before your mind becomes impossible to mould.’
Panicking now, Cecilia let go of Lord Holmes’ cock and scrambled backwards. ‘Please, sir, no. I beg mercy for my mind. Good God, my Lord, spare me of your wrath.’
But Lord Holmes was already talking. Standing over her a cold smile spread across his features. ‘You are and always have been Cecilia Silk. If you ever come across your birth family, you will neither recognise nor recall any memories of time spent with them. You are my mistress and the personal maid to my dear wife. Your sole desire is to satisfy my needs and you will be unyieldingly respectful to me. Your life is mine to do with as I see fit, and you will thank me for any punishments I decide you deserve.’
This time there were no ripples in Cecilia’s mind. Instead, it was as though a tempest was tearing through her head, frothing waves crashing against the inside of her skull with such force she wondered if she might go quite mad.
Backed up against the chair in which she had been created, she writhed and twisted as though possessed. Piece by piece her mind was drained then filled, her entire personality reshaping to Lord Holmes’ will. Within seconds she was exactly the woman he had described and, coming to her senses once more, she rose to her knees and bowed her head respectfully.
‘Lord Holmes,’ she said reverently, ‘forgive my obscene dress.’
Leaning down he tweaked her exposed breasts before assisting her to her feet. ‘You are forgiven, Miss Silk, but you must make sure to dress more appropriately in future. Given that you are so thoroughly exposed, however, I feel the need to make use of the occasion.’
‘How can I serve you, my Lord?’
‘Well,’ he said with a cunning grin, ‘it would be quite uncivilised to fill you with child given you are frankly unworthy of carrying my offspring. Fortunately, you are more than just one hole, Miss Silk…’
Thanks for reading!
This is one of those little gems I loved writing and am super happy that it is finally out there. It is also one of those stories I think kind of benefits from lower quality images just due to the setting and the fact that it blends well with the vintage style of writing.
As a writer, one of my greatest pleasures is worldbuilding and explaining the lore of a setting, such that one of my personal turn-ons is knowing how a transformation-inducing item works. I feel that something like the chair in this piece is insanely hot purely because you know how it works and how it would break you as opposed to a magic transformation, for which the rules are often a little more blurry and there is often no hope of resisting. I think it’s to do with knowing there is a means of potentially escaping – Cecil getting away from Lord Holmes long enough for his mind to become impossible to mould, in this instance – which makes it all the more erotic when the character fails to escape and succumbs entirely to their fate.
As I’ve said before, I also like more grounded pieces, and even though this does use mumbo-jumbo science and shades of magic too, I think the vintage setting and the steampunk-style contraption give it that air of believability over just straight up magic or sci-fi tech.
This story also reminds me I actually have a plan for a Twitter series that focuses purely on vintage gifs. Vintage porn is a thing all its own and I love the idea of exploring that work in a thematic way. The basic premise is that people from the present are spliced into the bodies of people in the past through either freak natural time slips or deliberate time travel attempts gone wrong. Those who are spliced become insatiably horny in their new bodies and either they create a new timeline, or their sexual antics create something of a time loop that eventually leads to them being spliced in the first place. I don’t know when I’ll get around to it, but I do plan on getting there eventually. If you’re interested in seeing that premise explored sooner rather than later be sure to leave a comment on this piece letting me know.
Unfortunately I can’t provide any information about the model in this scene as I do not have any, but the video for the scene is linked below so you can check it out for yourself if you like.
Keep up to date with new releases by following me elsewhere:
Imgbox gallery: https://imgbox.com/g/JFXikwkMGV