Cheese, Chalk and Plenty of Pork – Part 02 of 10
by Lin Dale

Synopsis: When Greta meets Gavin at her rich father’s second wedding, she immediately falls in love. But, just like cheese and chalk, he is a beautiful, slim young man and she is heavily obese; she needs to find some way to stop him wandering off. Her father’s new wife has problems facing up to her role as a Lady, so she decides to involve Gavin in a project with certain challenges.

Author’s Note: This story is complete and in ten parts which will be released at approximately daily intervals. It contains items such as crossdressing, non-explicit sex between adults and language typical of that between English adults. If you feel this may offend you, then please do not read.

Part 2 – Beware Gretas Bearing Gifts

When his phone next rang, it was his mother to tell him the bar would stop serving lunch in a few minutes time and did he want any?

“Is it that time?” he asked. Normally, he woke quite early. Still, after last night… “I’ll be right down,” he said. He was ravenously hungry and didn’t want to miss lunch. Rather than spending time searching out clean underwear, he simply kept on his pyjama bottoms and pulled jeans over the top. A tee shirt, socks and shoes completed his dress, and he was racing down to the restaurant to catch the tail end of lunch.

***

“That must have been some steamy session,” his mom said as he sat down at her table.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he blustered.

“Gavin,” she said, “don’t treat me like an idiot. It was obvious when we were in the bar, she was gagging to get you to bed, which is why I made myself scarce. Is she coming down to lunch or has she loved you and left you?”

“Did you want to order lunch, sir?” The waiter passed him the menu and he quickly chose.

When the waiter had left, Gavin said, “She had to get back to her house as she’s going to France tomorrow and needs to prepare. But she wants me to go up there when she returns which is a bit embarrassing as I don’t really want it to turn into something permanent.” Under his pyjamas, his crutch felt incredibly cramped. He dropped his right hand to his lap and tried to free it.

“You must have been cavorting with her for about eighteen hours. Surely you must have something in common. Or did you discuss the weather all that time?”

“She’s a nymphomaniac, mum,” he said. He still couldn’t free his cock from the pyjamas.

“Isn’t that every man’s dream?”

Gavin waved his left hand in a so-so manner. “OK, the sex was fantastic, but it takes more than being good in bed to make two people compatible.” He gave his trapped cock another yank through his pyjamas.

His mum smiled. “On what topics of conversation did you find her lacking?”

He shrugged. “Mum, you saw her. She’s so fat.” He gave a bit of a wriggle as well as a yank.

“She obviously didn’t repel you that much in bed, and for heaven’s sake, go to the toilet and sort yourself out.”

“Yes, Mum.”

He went to the toilet, went inside a cubicle dropped his trousers and then his pyjamas and stared down at his genitals.

Except that he’d changed sex. Instead of his cock and balls, he stared at a vagina between his legs.

“Aaagh!” he yelled.

***

“Gavin. What on earth was that shouting all about. Do you need to see a doctor? Do you think Greta has VD?”

“No, mum, it’s nothing like that.”

Then what?”

“It’s a bit embarrassing.”

“Has she painted your balls dayglow yellow in indelible ink?”

“Mum! This is really embarrassing. But yes, I suppose it’s something like that.”

“I know,” his mum said, “she’s locked you in one of those chastity belts, hasn’t she?”

“Yes,” he said. “She has. But Mum, how do you know about such things?”

“I did the same to your dad, once, when he seemed to be getting too close to some girl in his office. Good for Greta. I take it that means you’ll be seeing more of her?”

“Yes,” Gavin said. “I suppose it does.”

“That’s nice, dear. Just think, if you did go on to marry her, you’d have a very rich father-in-law!”

“Mu-um! That’s obscene.”

“I trust you’re talking about your potential father-in-law rather than Greta, since you cavorted in bed with her for so long.”

“Sorry, Mum. You’re right.”

“That’s better. Anyway, I’ve been dying to tell you my news about the punch up last night.”

“Punch up?”

“Almost. You know that Chelle’s mum and dad, Tom and Petra, run that pub with lots of B&B rooms? It seems that it hasn’t been doing too well, recently. They’re in debts up to their eyebrows and they were hoping that their new son-in-law, that is the stinkingly rich, Lord Carver, would throw in a bit of cash. Apparently, he’s had someone take a look at the business and he told them last night that it would be throwing good money after bad. The best thing they could do was to sell it off and try to come out of it solvent. They’d get more money on unemployment benefit than they’ll ever get from that business.”

“Not the best way to start a relationship with your parents-in-law,” Gavin said.

“But a very quick way to end it. It got very heated and Carver said some really nasty and horrible things, which I think everyone found extremely offensive. But Chelle backed him up and she told her parents she would never speak to them again. Tom and Petra left in a huff, as did almost every member of the family, and the bride and groom left shortly after. It certainly put a damper on the festivities.”

“Sounds like I had a more enjoyable evening than you,” Gavin said.

“Yes,” his mother said, grinning at him. “But it’s now the morning after the night before, and guess who’s smiling now?”

***

When he got back to his room, he went to the website which the QR code on the label had led him to.

Welcome to your new Munt, was the message which greeted him, and underneath: Say Goodbye to your penis. You now have a Male Cunt.

“Oh, shit,” Gavin muttered. I must be able to get this thing off.” He read on.

Your Munt is a highly secure chastity device, reinforced with carbon fibre. If you do attempt to cut your way out, you are advised to have a surgical team ready to sew back on any of your bits which are accidentally removed. The lock has no keyhole which can be picked, but has strongly encrypted Bluetooth security. You will need the Munt App on a smartphone to open it. This can be downloaded free of charge from your App Store. You will also need the password which may be up to 32 characters long. After entering an incorrect password, the delay before entering a new password is initially set at one minute. That time will be doubled after every failed attempt. To save you the effort of calculating, this will mean a delay of 17 hours after your tenth failed attempt. No doubt you’ll be relieved to know that after your sixteenth attempt, the total delay will be capped at one month between attempts.

It was time to ring Greta.

“Hi, this is Greta on my number for special people,” the answer message said. “If that’s Gavin, I’ll be back from France on Friday. I know you said you wouldn’t be available next weekend or maybe the one after, but send me a text when you are and we can arrange for you to come up and see me as soon as. I’m really looking forward to it. Bye, lover.”

“Oh, shit!” Gavin thought.

He sent her a text: I can’t wait to meet up with you again. I’ve cancelled those other things I had planned and could meet you on Friday when you return. Let me know where and I’ll be there. XX. Gavin.

Then he waited for a hopefully speedy response.

The first two days were unbearable. After that it got worse. He’d had to telephone his casual girlfriend and tell her he wasn’t able to see her for a while. She accused him of having sex with someone at the wedding, and said she never wanted to see him again. A very sexy cashier at the supermarket where he worked and whom he’d been trying to date for ages, rang to tell him she’d split up with her boyfriend and would he go round for a little TLC (which they both knew meant TLF). Then, there was the unbelievably attractive customer at the supermarket who said her husband was working nights and would he give her a little ‘companionship’?

By Wednesday, it was clear Greta wasn’t going to text him until she was back in England. A little research revealed that the Carver estate was in Northumberland, which would take him a day to reach. He decided to take some pre-emptive action, book a room at an inn close to the estate for a few days from Thursday evening. Then, he would be on hand when she told him to come round. He only hoped she wasn’t stopping off in London to meet up with him, but he guessed she’d be anxious to get her pigs home.

Gavin’s boss refused him leave, especially as he didn’t know when he’d be back, so Gavin had to leave his job. It hadn’t been much, but it was something. His mum wouldn’t lend him the car so it meant taking the coach and then a series of local buses. He would have to set out early in the morning to get there before midnight. But of course, all these things were insignificant compared to the worst of his problems: he simply had to masturbate, or better still, have sex with someone soon or he would die.

He got to the inn at about nine-thirty on the Thursday evening, and was totally exhausted. He had a quick meal in the bar, where an attractive older woman started chatting to him and he reckoned that if he said the right things, he could share her bed. A-a-g-h!

The next day was the Friday when Greta would be returning from France, but there was still no reply to his text he’d sent almost a week ago. He sent another: I simply can’t wait to meet up with you, so I’ve decided to come up to Carver Hall. I’m staying at The Fox & Hounds nearby. Call or text me as soon as you can, and we can meet up.

He decided to have a look at Carver Hall, which was about a mile’s walk to Carver Hall, and when he got there, he simply found a pair of locked gates. There was no reply to his ringing the bell. Fortunately, he’d taken the precaution of writing a short letter and putting it in an envelope, so he posted it into the letterbox, and hoped that even if Greta didn’t check her mobile, she would check the post. It poured down with rain on the way back to the inn, and he arrived back soaked to the skin.

Cheese, Chalk and Plenty of Pork – Part 03 of 10
by Lin Dale

Synopsis: When Greta meets Gavin at her rich father’s second wedding, she immediately falls in love. But, just like cheese and chalk, he is a beautiful, slim young man and she is heavily obese; she needs to find some way to stop him wandering off. Her father’s new wife has problems facing up to her role as a Lady, so she decides to involve Gavin in a project with certain challenges.

Author’s Note: This story is complete and in ten parts which will be released at approximately daily intervals. It contains items such as crossdressing, non-explicit sex between adults and language typical of that between English adults. If you feel this may offend you, then please do not read.

Part 3 – In which Gavin is Really in the Mire

The text came just before midday on that Friday morning: Hi Gavin. It’s marvellous to hear from you. Glad you could make it after all. I’m now back in Blighty, but it’s going to take hours to reach home. Shall we meet up sometime tomorrow?

Blighty! He’d never heard anyone actually use that term for Britain before, except in some elderly children’s books his grandmother had lent him as a child.

He texted back: I can’t wait until tomorrow. I must see you as soon as you get here.

She replied: How sweet. I’ll give you a call when I turn off the A1. Speak later. Bye

Sweet! he thought. He felt anything but sweet. At the same time, no matter how angry he felt at the way Greta had imprisoned his cock, he had to play things softly, softly. Otherwise, she might throw away the key and he’d be stuck in it forever!

So, when she stopped her Land Rover and trailer in front of the inn at around seven that evening, he was all sweetness and light.

“It’s fantastic to see you again,” he said, kissing her on the cheek and giving her a hug. His hug may have been rather brief since he immediately realised that her clothing had a nasty smell about it.

“Oh, dear,” she said, seeing his flinch, and adding with a grin, “I fear I may rather smell of pig shit.” She grinned some more. “Still, if we’re going to continue seeing each other, you’ll have to get used to it. Indeed, I’m rather hoping you’re going to help me muck out their sty.”

That romantic comment would certainly have killed the hope of any kind of relationship that Gavin might want, but he kept his smile in place as he stared at her dumpy figure encased in a scruffy overall which gave her more the appearance of a Michelin man than the kind of female with whom he would want to have sex. “I’m not really any good at that sort of thing, but after our fantastic night together last weekend, I’ve been dying to see you again.”

“Jump in,” she said, sweeping a load of debris off the passenger seat into the footwell. “I think as soon as you see my two beauties, you’ll find them entrancing.”

“I’ve already seen them,” Gavin pointed out, as he got into the seat, “and I do.”

She gave him a hearty punch on his shoulder which really hurt. “Not my tits, you idiot. I mean my Large Blacks. I have Claude and Clarissa in the box behind. They are absolutely beautiful.”

“Right,” he said, adding, as she drove off, “I thought Carver Hall was down that road that we’ve just passed.”

“That’s the front entrance,” Greta said. “It’s best to go into the back entrance. You’ll get used to it, assuming you’ll be around for a while.”

“Right,” Gavin repeated. He certainly wasn’t keen on any talk about using the back entrance and he intended to be around for as long as it took to get his Munt off. He might even get back to the inn in time to meet up with that woman he’d met the previous evening and explore his cock’s new found freedom.

They drove into the rear of the estate through gates which seemed to be permanently left open and then turned off the main track to arrive at a small, elderly building with an open end, through which large pigs were wondering around in the mud. It all looked extremely unpleasant.

“What is this place?” Gavin asked.

“It’s an old crofter’s cottage,” she said. “When we moved in, it was derelict and falling down. When I decided I wanted to keep a few pigs, Daddy had it all renovated, so the area you can see is the pig sty and around the other end is the cottage, itself. It’s got a nice little bedroom, there, quite handy if I need to spend the night with my beasts, or perhaps other type of beast, as well.

“Right,” he said.

“I’ve had a lot of trouble with the tailgate on the trailer,” she said. “I’m going to need you to help me open it.”

He looked at the mud outside the Land Rover and was on the point of refusing, but then realised that he wasn’t going to get his munt unlocked if he didn’t cross the mud, first. He opened his door, gingerly stepped down into the mud and immediately fell flat on his face!

***

“That was so funny,” Greta chortled thirty minutes later. “You should have brought some wellies with you, or at least, proper walking boots. You have no grip at all in those stupid trainers.”

Those stupid trainers had cost him a fortune just two weeks ago and now were ruined. However, after he’d picked himself up and squelched around to the rear of the trailer, he’d managed to prise open the sticking tailgate and they watched the two monsters which Greta called her Large Blacks trundle over towards the others.

“Aren’t they beautiful,” Greta murmured.

“Absolutely,” Gavin responded. “Erm, is there a shower in the cottage?”

“Of course,” she said. “We can shower together, and then slip into the bedroom, if you fancy a romantic liaison. What do you think?”

Now she was talking. “You bet,” he said.

She led the way inside the building. There was a large shower, clearly designed for several muddy bodies at a time, and after Gavin had showered himself down, he turned to Greta, who was now naked and flaunting her plump body at him.

“Can you take this off?” he said, gesticulating at his munt.

“You’re not being very romantic, are you?” Greta said.

The words took his breath away. She had arrived smelling of pig shit, she’d forced him into falling flat in the mud and then he’d had to help her with the pigs. He’d finally got rid of the mud and was on the point of being released from his imprisonment, and she accused him of not being romantic. The instant before he opened his mouth to shout at her, the saying flashed through his mind: When you have them by the balls, their hearts and minds will follow. All he said was, “How do you mean?”

“You arrive out of the blue, having previously said you were far too busy a person to visit me for a few weekends. I thought at least you’d have some flowers for me when I arrived, or preferably chocolates – I do like chocolates. Then you have the effrontery to turn up your nose because of the smell associated with my job. You make a great big fuss over falling in the mud, which was down to your own stupidity. I’ve been standing here stark naked for the last five minutes, posing to show my body in its best light, whilst you’ve totally ignored me, and now, all you can think of is getting that thing off so you can have a quick shag.”

She turned her back on him and he could see her welling up, inside. “So that’s what I mean.”

“Greta, I’m so sorry.” He could rapidly see his penal sentence – or should that have been penis sentence – being significantly increased. “Please forgive me, but I’ve been really upset this last week. I was a little surprised when I woke up to find you’d left this on me, but I can see it was just a joke.”

“Of course, it wasn’t a joke,” she said, and the tears started to flow. “I could see you wanted a bit of pash, last week, and I thought why not? Then you said all those nice things about me and finally said you loved me. I really believed you. And you are simply so beautiful, I knew that there’d be dozens of women trying to tempt you and I know how men can’t resist a temptress. That’s why I put the munt on you.”

She broke into full blown tears and Gavin took her in his arms and made soothing noises as he calmed her down, then he nibbled her ear, a little, and kissed her on the lips. Then his lips slowly progressed further and lower, and lower.

Cheese, Chalk and Plenty of Pork – Part 04 of 10
by Lin Dale

Synopsis: When Greta meets Gavin at her rich father’s second wedding, she immediately falls in love. But, just like cheese and chalk, he is a beautiful, slim young man and she is heavily obese; she needs to find some way to stop him wandering off. Her father’s new wife has problems facing up to her role as a Lady, so she decides to involve Gavin in a project with certain challenges.

Author’s Note: This story is complete and in ten parts which will be released at approximately daily intervals. It contains items such as crossdressing, non-explicit sex between adults and language typical of that between English adults. If you feel this may offend you, then please do not read.

Part 4 – In which Gavin is Released, but Shocked

It took almost an hour of excruciating agony before Gavin thought they might be at the point where the munt was coming off. He’d kissed her, stroked her and squeezed her and applied his mouth to parts which should never come within a mile of his mouth. She’d had two very nice orgasms, and now they were on the hard bed in the crofter’s cottage and she was lying astride him, and gradually edging down his body towards the point where something should be sticking up towards her groin.

“I suppose you’re ready by now to have your munt opened to reveal that pretty little cock between your legs.”

Under other circumstances, he might have argued she should have used the term monster, but hell, he hadn’t seen it for a week. It might have reduced in size, or not even work properly. All he said was, “Yes please, my lover.”

Greta had sat up, astride his thighs. He tried to sit up to see what was happening but her arm shot out and a large hand pushed his chest back and pinned him to the bed. “This is my call,” she said.

“Right.”

She reached for her phone on the bedside table and fiddled with it for what seemed like ages. “Damn” she said. “I can’t remember the password.”

Seeing Gavin’s face, she shrieked with laughter. “That was so funny, seeing your face when I pretended I’d forgotten it. But don’t worry. If I do make a mistake typing it in, I only have to wait a minute then I can try it again.”

“Er,” Gavin said.

“Yes?”

“Well, I made a few attempts to guess the password. It took eight hours to reset, last time.”

“What a gas!” Greta was delighted. “It means that if I make one error when keying in this password, you’ll be in it until tomorrow afternoon.” She shrieked with laughter.

“And if I make another mistake then, it’ll be midnight on Sunday before I can make the next attempt. I expect you were hoping to be on the overnight coach to London, by then.” Another shriek of laughter.

“Never mind. You can always come back next weekend. It’s almost worth deliberately getting it wrong.” Then she pressed a button on her phone and Gavin heard a whining sound between his legs. “There. He’s all free now. Let’s take a look at him, shall we?”

Gavin made another attempt to sit up but her arm shot out again to catch him in the chest. In any case, with her weight across his thighs, there was no way he could attempt to do a runner. He’d just have to bide his time.

“I see now what they mean by blue balls. Wow! You look really in need of a good woman to give you a little service.”

She was moving her body up his, until her groin was level with his and she could peer into his eyes as she kissed him on the lips. He thought the weight of her body on his chest might crack a few of his ribs. But suddenly, it didn’t matter whether his body was crushed to nothing, for heaven was hovering against another part of his anatomy.

“Aah,” was all he could mutter.

“Do you like that, Gavin?”

“Uuh,” was all he could add, as that particular part was entering the gates of heaven.

“Gavin. You do love me, don’t you?” He was barely inside the gates and everything had paused.

“What?” He tried to give a little thrust, but with her weight on top there was no chance.

“I said, you do love me, don’t you?”

“Yes, of course.” He gave a bigger thrust, but still no change.

“Then say it.

“Say it?” He thrust as hard as he could and, as Greta changed her position, his cock slipped out.

“Yes. Tell me that you love me.”

“I love you,” he said.

She reached behind her to find his cock and place it against her pussy. “Say it louder,” she said.

“I Love You,” he said.

“Louder,” and his cock penetrated her slightly.

“I LOVE YOU!”

“Again.” His cock was right inside her now and he was in heaven.

I LOVE YOU! – I LOVE YOU! – OH GOD! OH GOD! OH GOD!”

***

It was some time later.

He wasn’t certain whether he’d awoken, or simply regained consciousness after having his rib cage crushed, but Greta had shifted slightly. She was now obscenely snoring on his left shoulder. He could feel a little dribble descending over his chest. This, he realised, was his chance to abscond. He realised he’d missed meeting up with that woman in the inn, but hell, there were millions more beautiful women around; particularly if you classed beauty as anyone only twice as attractive as Greta.

He slid a hand down to his groin and felt around. He wasn’t quite sure what had happened down there. The munt was still in place but it was open at the front allowing his cock and balls to emerge. There was clearly no way he was going to work out how to get the thing off in the pitch black so he’d have to sort that out later. In the meantime, escape was the priority.

Gradually, he slid to one side and let Greta slip the other way, ensuring her snoring continued unabated. Then he could get out of bed and stand up. It was incredibly dark. In the middle of a country park, there were no street lights, shop signs or ads. It was simply black.

But he’d had a chance to take a good look around earlier on. He knew his rinsed out clothes were hanging by the shower. If he could grab those, he could do his runner.

He silently left the bedroom and was nearly at the shower when the munt loudly beeped.

What the… It beeped again. Shit, Greta was stirring. He frantically grabbed for his clothes as it beeped once more.

“Gavin,” Greta called out. “You need to close the munt, otherwise you’ll get an electric…”

“A-a-a-a-g-h!” Gavin screamed as his balls exploded in agony, causing him to drop to the floor and roll, curled up in pain.

“…shock,” Greta ended her sentence, switching on a light and moving over to him. “Poor darling, I should have told you to close the munt before coming to the toilet, otherwise you’d get a little electric shock. It’s a security feature to prevent blokes running off as soon as the munt is opened.”

She put her hands down to where his own hands were cupping his balls, and gently prised them away, just as the munt beeped again.

“We need to close the munt now, otherwise it will give you another electric shock, but this will be a much more painful one.”

“More painful?” Gavin muttered, unable to comprehend any pain worse than what he had just endured.

“That’s right, darling,” she said as she carefully pushed his prick and balls inwards to his groin. Then something closed over them and he heard a click.

“There,” she said. “They’re all nice and safe now. There’ll be no more nasty electric shocks for you, tonight. Come back to bed and we can snuggle a little. That’ll be fun, although I’m afraid your pretty cock isn’t going to be involved in that.”

She pulled him to his feet and back towards the bed. He meekly followed.

***

“Why did I get that shock when I was simply going to the toilet?” he asked, a bit later.

“As I said,” she repeated, her smile following their recent activity stretching from ear to ear, “it’s a simple security feature to prevent men running off as soon as the munt is opened. If it’s unlocked and detects it’s being moved away from the phone, it beeps before giving a tiny electric shock; if the munt is left open for another minute, it gives quite a big shock, and if it’s still left open, it gives what it calls the ball breaker, although it’s supposed to be medically safe. That’s what they say, anyway. I’m surprised you didn’t read about it. It was all in the instructions on their website.”

Gavin had to admit that he’d only read the stuff about how to unlock the device, rather than the intricacies of what happened after it was unlocked. As for the idea that he had received a ‘tiny’ electric shock and that there were two other levels which were considerably worse, he found terrifying. He’d certainly make certain that never happened again

“It’ll teach you to read the instructions, then, won’t it?” she unsympathetically said. “Unless you want to stay and help me attend to my Large Blacks, then I suggest you piss off now. My father and his new bride should be back with us this afternoon. Come over for dinner and meet them.”

It wasn’t so much a question, more a command. When you have them by the balls, their hearts and minds will follow. “OK,” he said. “What time?”

“Seven-thirty for eight. By the way, it’s Victorian dress for dinner tonight. One of Daddy’s little idiosyncrasies. I’ll have a suitable suit sent over to the inn this afternoon.”

“Thanks,” he said.

“Incidentally,” she added, “after that little shock you had just now, the munt won’t function unless the battery is recharged, so it can give you more shocks, if you’re silly enough to wander off again. You’ll need to recharge it to allow me to unlock it.” She tossed him a disc with a connector on it. “It’s an inductive charger. Slip it into your pants between your legs and plug it into a USB socket. Leave it there for a few hours until it gives a few tiny beeps.”

“Right,” he said.

Cheese, Chalk and Plenty of Pork – Part 05 of 10
by Lin Dale

Synopsis: When Greta meets Gavin at her rich father’s second wedding, she immediately falls in love. But, just like cheese and chalk, he is a beautiful, slim young man and she is heavily obese; she needs to find some way to stop him wandering off. Her father’s new wife has problems facing up to her role as a Lady, so she decides to involve Gavin in a project with certain challenges.

Author’s Note: This story is complete and in ten parts which will be released at approximately daily intervals. It contains items such as crossdressing, non-explicit sex between adults and language typical of that between English adults. If you feel this may offend you, then please do not read.

Part 5 – No Briefs on the Legal Brief

It was around six am when he arrived back at the Fox and Hounds, and he was amazed to see the rather pleasant middle-aged woman he’d chatted with over dinner on Thursday clutching a briefcase and getting into a taxi.

“You’re making an early start,” he said.

She gave him a lovely smile. “Part of my job,” she said. “I’ll be back for lunch. I wonder, would you mind eating together? Only there’s this guy staying here who’s always trying to hit on me. Say one o’clock?”

He’d said the words, “That sounds great,” before he remembered that he was still firmly in chastity. Still, she was middle-aged, it was only a lunch invite and she only wanted him to put off some pushy guy.

“It’s a date then,” she said, as she slammed the taxi door shut and it set off.

In spite of his predicament, he couldn’t help smiling at his new date.

***

They hadn’t actually exchanged names on their previous brief encounter, so as he approached her table in the restaurant he said, “Hi, I’m Gavin.” He noticed the smarmy guy watching them from a nearby table.

He’d spent most of the morning catching up on his sleep whilst also recharging his munt, but he felt great, now, apart from his cock being caged. Even that didn’t feel so bad after the servicing it’d had earlier that day.

“I’m Clarissa,” she said, and then, observing his sudden smile, added, “I know, it’s a stupid name.”

“Oh no,” he hastened to say, “I’m certainly not laughing at your name which I think is delightful, but it’s that I met another Clarissa last night who was about as different from you as you can possibly get. She weighed three hundred kilos and enjoyed rolling in mud.”

“Three hundred kilos!” She wrinkled her nose in a rather appealing way. “Rolling in mud… Oh, you’re talking about those pigs at Carver Hall, aren’t you? Are you looking after those?”

“Not intentionally,” he said, “but it’s a long story. Tell me, where were you off to, so early in the morning?”

She told him she was a solicitor giving legal aid to asylum seekers at a nearby immigration detention centre. A number of women had just arrived who’d been taken into custody by the police after being discovered in a raid on sex traffickers.

Gavin was full of admiration for her role and they talked about the trials and tribulations over the whole meal. It was as the meal was coming to an end that he had a sudden thought. “Do you give advice to people other than asylum seekers?”

She looked cautious, well used to being tapped for information about all kinds of legal issues. “Is it an immigration issue?”

“No, but you could say it was about false imprisonment.”

She considered his reply and then said, “OK, you’ve wetted my appetite. Why not come back to my room and we can discuss it over a coffee.”

Discussion over coffee, Gavin muted, was unfortunately the only thing they would be doing.

***

Once they were in Clarissa’s room and she had made some coffees with the primitive arrangements essential to most hotel rooms, Gavin briefly, but accurately, told his tale of events on meeting Greta, both the previous week and more recently, leaving out the unnecessary sexual details. Clarissa carefully listened without making any comments until the end, when she said, “Essentially, I assume you want advice on two things: first, is Greta’s action illegal; secondly, if not illegal, is there any redress you can take in law to regain control of your cock.”

“I guess so,” Gavin said. “I just really don’t know where to go from here. She’s OK as a person but I’m certainly not sexually attracted to her. So what do you think?”

“Firstly, she may not be the classic idea of a beautiful woman as portrayed by the media but you are certainly sexually attracted to her. If you were not, then none of this would have happened. Secondly, is it legal? I think on that first occasion you saying words which could be mistaken for ‘I love you’ meant that she reasonably felt she was in a relationship with you. And once she’d opened the munt, yesterday, you should have said, ‘I don’t want to continue in a relationship. I’m leaving,’ rather than telling her, over and over, that you loved her.”

“But there was this electric shock thing. I couldn’t leave like you’re suggesting.”

“But you didn’t know that at that time. In fact, you repeatedly told Greta that you loved her in order to have sex with her. So what she’s done is certainly not illegal so far. As for whether you could take out an injunction to force her to remove it, it’s more difficult. We have to consider Lord Carver.”

“What about him?”

“He is an extremely wealthy man. She will tell him that you have lied to her, his innocent daughter, in order to abuse her. He can afford the very best of barristers who know how to use every trick in the book. Eventually, this case could be brought to court, but it could take months, if not years, and it would cost you, plenty.”

“Right.”

“So, my advice is to keep well away from legal redress. You have two choices: one is to tell her you want to end the affair and hope she will treat you decently by unlocking you. Or you could behave like a normal, obnoxious guy: belch, fart, get drunk and watch football on TV. Simply wait until she gets fed up with you.”

She grinned at him. “Caught between the whale and the deep blue sea. I hope you don’t mind my curiosity, but could I see your munt. It sounds absolutely fascinating.”

Gavin was taken rather by surprise. He’d imagined that once Clarissa knew he was not sexually available, she’d lose interest. Instead, she wanted to see this horrible thing. Still, it wasn’t as if his genitals were on display. He stood up and slowly lowered his trousers and underpants.

“Wow! That is fascinating.” She reached out to brush the pubic hair covering the device, which was barely discernible from his own pubes. “You could never tell that you don’t have a vagina...” She slipped a finger along the crack. “…until, of course, you try to enter it. What’s it like wearing it?”

“Well, how do you think it is? I’m continually trying to get erect and it’s painfully prevented.”

“But it really is so lifelike. Compare it with mine, for example.” She stood up, undid a button on the waistband of her skirt, unzipped it and it fell to the ground, revealing she had a suspender belt and stockings, but no panties. She took his hand and put it on her vagina. “Feel the difference.”

He did.

***

It was as he was about to leave, several hours later, having given Clarissa considerable pleasure and received none for himself, that she added something to their previous conversation. “Of course, one of the options you might consider is to lay back and think of England, and accept whatever Greta wants you to do, which might include marriage.”

“My mother was talking about marriage, as well. I told her not to be ridiculous.”

“You’re an attractive and healthy looking male. She is the daughter of a very, very rich man, but on this point, you need to be careful.”

“I do.”

“Hmm. The point is that whatever wealth Greta might have inherited a week ago, will now be invalidated by his marriage. Unless a new will is made, his new wife – your cousin – will inherit the lot.”

“Surely,” Gavin said, “he’ll make some provision for Greta. He’ll make a new will.”

“Will he?”

“Of course.”

“You might like to reconsider that after you’ve met him.”

Clarissa would not be drawn any further and Gavin returned to his room, where the apparel for his dinner invitation awaited him.

Cheese, Chalk and Plenty of Pork – Part 06 of 10
by Lin Dale

Synopsis: When Greta meets Gavin at her rich father’s second wedding, she immediately falls in love. But, just like cheese and chalk, he is a beautiful, slim young man and she is heavily obese; she needs to find some way to stop him wandering off. Her father’s new wife has problems facing up to her role as a Lady, so she decides to involve Gavin in a project with certain challenges.

Author’s Note: This story is complete and in ten parts which will be released at approximately daily intervals. It contains items such as crossdressing, non-explicit sex between adults and language typical of that between English adults. If you feel this may offend you, then please do not read.

Part 6 – Gavin has to Make a Deal

“I don’t think I know you, do I?” the portly Lord Rupert Carver said as Gavin entered his drawing room.

“That’s not surprising,” he replied. “I’m Gavin Smythe. My mother and I attended your wedding last week but you would hardly have noticed us on that day.”

Gavin held out his hand for Lord Carver to shake, which he automatically did, enveloping Gavin’s hand in his own sweaty palm. As he released his hand, Lord Carver still looked mystified about his identity so Gavin clarified. “I’m Chelle’s cousin.”

Carver’s face changed to one of anger. “Since I am Lord Carver,” he said, “it is polite to address my wife as Lady Carver. As a member of the family, it just might be acceptable for you to address her as Lady Michelle, but it is incredibly rude to use a nickname.”

“That’s put you in your place,” Greta said to Gavin. She turned to Carver. “Daddy, Gavin doesn’t know about these things but I’m sure he’ll quickly learn.”

Bloody, hell, Gavin thought. His new cousin-by-marriage was only a minor, non-hereditary Baron, hardly a member of the Royal Family. All the same, he had to talk his way out of the munt so he smiled back at Greta. “I’m sure I will,” he said, trying not to grit his teeth.

“Have a sherry,” said Greta.

“Thank you,” Gavin said.

“it’s a wonderful country house you have here,” Gavin said to Lord Carver.

Carver’s mood changed in an instant. “Cheap to buy but cost me a fortune to renovate,” he said, clearly pleased the subject had been brought up. “I bought it with my retirement lump sum.”

Seeing the unasked question on Gavin’s face at the size of such a lump sum, he added, “I was in stocks and shares. Amassed a reasonable amount during my career, mostly based upon instinct.” He gave a self-satisfied smirk, obviously meant to be modest but it actually made him look even more pompous than ever.

“But I could see the world was changing,” he continued. “Nowadays, it’s all computer prediction – but even in my day, the writing was on the wall. So, I decided to sell up and get out whilst the going was good. But instinct still kicked in. After I’d sold all my own stock, I temporarily reused the capital to back a massive deal selling short. It was just before the stock market crash and it turned my few millions into several hundred. Certainly, enough to get this place going.”

Nice though it was, if Gavin had hundreds of millions of pounds, he wouldn’t have bought a house like a mausoleum, creaking with Victoriana. Never before had he worn a dinner jacket for dinner at someone’s house, let alone an uncomfortable Victorian dinner jacket.

Tonight, Greta was heavily corseted in her evening dress, which actually gave some shape to her enormous body.

Just then, a maid entered wearing a black dress with white apron – apparel Gavin had only seen on the TV – to tell them that dinner was served.

***

“I don’t think we’ve met,” Carver said to Gavin, as he sat down in the chair next to him.

Gavin stared at him, suspecting some kind of joke. “I’m sorry?”

Carver looked angry again. “Well, sir, you have sat down at my dining table without introducing yourself.”

“This is Gavin Smythe, Lady Michelle’s cousin,” Greta interjected, as Gavin was coming to the realisation that Rupert was suffering dementia. “Sorry, I should have introduced you earlier.”

“Should think so to,” Rupert said, with a grump. “Nice to meet you, young man. Tell me, what do you do for a living?”

“I’m one of those who’ve become unemployed because of the Covid, so now I work in a…”

“Damn bad show,” Rupert said. “I was in stocks and shares, myself, you know. But I could see the world was changing and I decided to retire. Made quite a bit of money when I did so…” And off he went on the only subject he could remember.

***

The meal was not as dreadful as Gavin anticipated, once Chelle had joined them and they chatted over old times. Indeed, he had never seen the usually sullen Chelle in such a vivacious mood, but he guessed she was still practising her role as Lady of the Manor, in which she clearly revelled. She spoke of the Garden Party she was organising, and how she’d been invited to become Honorary Lady of the local hunt.

“How’s your side-saddle training going?” Greta broke in, explaining to Gavin, “To be Honorary Lady, she has to ride side-saddle.”

“Oh, it’s coming along quite well,” Chelle said casting an anxious glance at Carver, clearly worried he might pick up on the point. “As Honorary Lady, I’ll be the person to greet the Queen when she visits the County in six months’ time.”

“Fortunately, not on horseback,” Greta impishly said. “But in order to become Honorary Lady and thus greet the Queen, she does have to ride side-saddle in the next three hunts. We’re all looking forward to it.” She turned to Gavin. “Don’t you ride a little?” She already knew the answer as they had briefly chatted between rounds of sex the previous week.

“We lived in the country before moving to London,” Gavin said. “I used to ride quite a lot.

“But not side-saddle,” he added to Chelle, “so I’m afraid I can’t help you there.”

“It’s no problem,” Chelle said, and then rapidly changed the subject to the forthcoming Garden Party.

***

It was some time later that Carver suddenly got up from his chair and walked out.

“You’ll get used to Daddy,” Greta said to Gavin. “He’s probably gone to the toilet. He may be back – if he remembers. Otherwise, we may not see him until tomorrow morning.”

“He looks quite young to be so… vague,” Gavin said.

“He’s sixty-one,” she said. “Early onset Alzheimer’s.” She shrugged. “It’s a bit hopeless.”

Gavin nodded. He could understand that, but mentally he was deducting his cousin’s twenty-eight years from that of Carver’s sixty-one. “How long has he been like this?”

“His memory has been bad for years,” Greta said, “and gradually getting worse. I tried to warn Michelle about it but she thought I was simply trying to put her off marrying Dad.”

“Which you were,” Chelle said. “He was nothing like this even a few months ago when we first met.”

Greta simply sniffed.

Which was when Clarissa’s comment earlier hit Gavin between the eyes. Carver had remarried so all previous wills were null and void. Gavin had suggested that he could make a new will but Clarissa had put doubt on that, and as Gavin thought back to the only readings of the will he had ever observed – on TV – he remembered one of the first lines of the will read ‘…being of sound mind…’ Carver was suffering dementia and whilst he had remarried, he would certainly not be able to make a new will. Therefore, on Carver’s death, the whole of this estate would be inherited by his cousin, Chelle. Greta, his daughter would get absolutely nothing. In particular, Greta would have nowhere to keep her precious pigs. Whilst he had not been over enamoured with Greta as a person, he could recognise the terrible loss this would be for her.

“I was thinking,” Greta interrupted his thoughts, “that with Gavin’s current riding abilities, he could probably learn to ride side-saddle quite quickly.”

“But it’s surely one of those sexist things, isn’t it?” Gavin said. “Women only ride side-saddle because they can do so whilst wearing a skirt.”

“Doesn’t mean to say that a man can’t ride side-saddle, though, does it?” Greta asked.

“Er, no, I suppose not,” Gavin replied.

“Where’s this conversation going?” Chelle asked, which was exactly what Gavin was wondering.

“Michelle,” Greta said, “you must surely have noticed over the years that Gavin is about the same height as you, he has a not dissimilar build, he has a similar face, and he can even copy your voice.”

“He couldn’t look like me,” Chelle said.

“Wearing a Victorian Hunting dress, boots, bonnet, gloves? All you’d see would be a face and maybe hear the occasional comment.”

“Er, hang on,” Gavin said.

“It would be a set-up,” Chelle said. “You’d expose me as a fraud in order to cause me maximum embarrassment.”

“Not if there was something in it for me,” Greta said.

“Like what?”

“Look, girls…” Gavin started to say, but both of them immediately interrupted.

“Shut up!”

“When you eventually inherit and sell off the estate, I get to keep the crofter’s cottage where my Large Blacks are kept. A few years ago, we sold off the stables and now it’s running as an independent stable, so it’s not as if it hasn’t been done before. We could do the same for the area around the cottage. It might slightly reduce the value of the estate, but not significantly.”

“And in return,” Chelle said, “Gavin pretends to be me, riding side-saddle at the next few hunts?”

“Look, this is crazy,” Gavin said. “I can’t…”

“Shut up,” Greta repeated

“But clearly, Gavin isn’t going to agree to it,” Chelle pointed out.

“It might take a week or two to persuade him,” Greta said, “but I’m sure that in time he’ll come round to it. Won’t you darling?” She smiled directly at Gavin and he knew exactly what she was threatening. No sex until he agreed.

“Maybe,” he said.

“There,” Greta said. “Do we have a working proposal on the table?

“But Chelle has huge boobs,” Gavin pointed out the obvious.

“They do marvels with silicone, nowadays,” Greta said, adding rather bitchily, “Don’t they Michelle?”

“She has a narrow waist.”

“Victorian ladies had a solution for that,” Greta said with a nasty grin.

“I don’t know,” he muttered.

“It’ll work fine,” Greta said. “Of course, it means you’ll have to spend the next few weeks here, which means we’ll be together, and you’ll have to give up your job where you live. I’m sure Michelle would compensate you for loss of income.” In fact, Gavin had already told Greta that he’d lost his job, but they both looked to Chelle for her response.

“I suppose so,” she affirmed, “but in return, you’d both have to sign a confidentiality contract.”

“That’s fine,” Greta said.

“I’m not so sure,” Gavin said, deciding he might get something out of it. “How much will you pay me?”

“£5,000 for the first month,” Chelle said. “I’ll give you another £5,000 when I become Honorary Lady.” The price staggered him, but then he guessed that she had so much money now, it had become almost valueless. He agreed and said he would ring his mother to tell her he was staying up here for the time being.

“After that,” Greta said, staring at Gavin, “it doesn’t look like Daddy is going to reappear. I fancy an early night. Don’t you?”

Gavin admitted that he did, and the two left Chelle chatting with the maid.

***

“I’m sorry if you think I’ve dropped you in it,” Greta said some time later. “But you don’t understand, I’m desperate that I’m going to lose a place to keep my Large Blacks when Daddy dies and Michelle inherits everything.”

“I can understand that,” he admitted. “But it all sounds a crazy idea. Do you really think I can get away with pretending to be Chelle?”

“Your imitation voice is superb,” Greta said. “Your body is going to be almost unseen beneath layers of Victorian clothes. “Your face is pretty good and I reckon a bit of Michelle’s makeup skills should cover it. As for you learning to ride side-saddle – well, that’s a female skill so probably, as a male, you won’t be able to do it very well.”

“I can, too,” he hotly retorted.

She giggled. “Were you saying that you can two, as in twice? Because so far this evening, you’ve only done it once!”

Cheese, Chalk and Plenty of Pork – Part 07 of 10
by Lin Dale

Synopsis: When Greta meets Gavin at her rich father’s second wedding, she immediately falls in love. But, just like cheese and chalk, he is a beautiful, slim young man and she is heavily obese; she needs to find some way to stop him wandering off. Her father’s new wife has problems facing up to her role as a Lady, so she decides to involve Gavin in a project with certain challenges.

Author’s Note: This story is complete and in ten parts which will be released at approximately daily intervals. It contains items such as crossdressing, non-explicit sex between adults and language typical of that between English adults. If you feel this may offend you, then please do not read.

Part 7 – Goodbye Gavin, Hello Michelle

Early Sunday morning, Greta took him out of the main house and back to the crofter’s cottage.

“Daddy never comes around here,” she said, “so this is where we’re going to keep you whilst we’re getting you ready for the scam.”

“But surely,” he’d said. “Your father will find it very strange that I briefly appeared for dinner last night and then totally disappeared.”

Greta shook her head. “I’m afraid he won’t even remember you, let alone notice you’re missing. No, better that he doesn’t see you again and maybe notice similarity to Michelle. Michelle should be over in a few minutes to start transforming you.”

Chelle was. “Firstly,” she said, “you need to take a shower and then we’ll put hair removal cream on your legs.”

“But I’ll be wearing a long skirt and boots,” Gavin protested. “No one’s going to see my bare legs.”

“Eventually, yes. But in the meantime, you have to take lessons at the stable. You need to look just like me at that stage, otherwise, at the hunt, the stable girls will recognise you, rather than me. And you need to understand that in order to behave like a woman, you have to feel like a woman. A woman cannot behave like a woman with hairy legs. And you’d better show me this munt that Greta’s been talking about.”

Gavin gave Greta a look of embarrassment that she should tell her.

“She has to know,” Greta said. “It will also give her reassurance that you aren’t going to do a runner say, just before the hunt.”

Reluctantly, Gavin slipped off the dressing gown he’d been wearing and stood naked before her.

“Hmm,” Chelle said, “that’s quite good, but it’s not the full works, is it?”

That was the very moment when Gavin’s phone rang. It was the landlord at the Fox and Hounds, wanting to know if he wanted to keep on his room for another day. When Gavin told him he did not, he was told he needed to clear the room as there was another guest arriving. He explained his plight to Greta, but Chelle leapt in

“I’m going to the village later. Tell him I’ll pop in and get your things.”

Barely had he conveyed the message to the landlord, when she added, “You don’t have a vagina.”

Gavin hurriedly disconnected the call. “Well of course I don’t have a vagina,” he said. “I haven’t got a hole in the appropriate place.”

“Well, actually…” Greta said, and then stopped.

“Actually, what?” Chelle asked.

“Actually, the company that makes the munt – a male cunt – also make a Y-gina – that’s a vagina for someone with a Y-chromosome – in other words, a male.”

“That’s impossible,” Gavin said.

“You’d better purchase one,” Chelle said. “We’ll see how it works.”

“But I’m only pretending to be a female horse rider,” Gavin protested. “I’m not going to have sex with a man.”

“It comes back to what I said earlier,” Chelle pointed out. “If you recognise that any man can leap on you at any time and stick his cock into you, it makes you behave differently.”

“Christ,” Gavin said, adding, “I suppose you’re right.”

“Of course, I’m right,” Chelle said. “And whilst we’re about it, I think we need you to get used to your new name. From now on, Greta and I are going to refer to you as Michelle. In order to avoid confusion, Greta will call me the nickname you and most others use, Chelle. In front of Rupert, she will call me Lady Michelle, as he expects. Is that all clear?”

Greta and Gavin – now Michelle – both nodded.

“So, Michelle, into the shower then we’ll put on some hair remover.”

***

After he’d been dehaired, she made him stand in front of the mirror in the bedroom. Without any shame, she slipped out of her clothes until she was in bra and panties, and stood next to him.

“I guess you really aren’t too bad a match,” she agreed. “This might work. You’ll find a bra in that bag over there. Put it on.”

Greta helped him put it on and fastened it behind his back.

“We’ll need to get some decent silicone inserts,” Chelle said. “In the meantime, we can pad you out with rolled up tights. And we need to find some way of padding out your hips.”

“I’ve been looking on the internet,” Greta said. “There are padded panties made just for this kind of need.” She held out her phone so that Chelle and Michelle could see.

“They look good,” Chelle said, taking her phone from her and flicking the screen, “and look they have the equivalent in breast forms.”

“Isn’t this all over the top?” Michelle asked.

“Rubbish, it’s got to look good,” Chelle snapped.

“And we don’t want anything to slip when you’re galloping with the hunt,” Greta added.

Michelle groaned. He was in for a hard time, he realised, in all the worst ways, but not the pleasant.

***

Two days later, he had to admit that he now bore an uncanny resemblance to Chelle. The boob and hip garments gave him the figure, a wig the hair and Chelle had done a fantastic job on his makeup, adding a couple of silicone pads to his cheeks, the main discernible difference between them. He was still learning about applying makeup, having particular problems with the eyes. Both Greta and Chelle favoured him having permanent eye makeup but he obviously wasn’t keen on that.

But the worst indignity had been the previous evening as he and Greta were preparing for bed. They were both naked and Michelle was trying to get Greta in the mood to unlock him, when she said, “Your new Y-gina came today.”

“What?” A dread swept through him.

“You remember. It’s your more realistic replacement for your munt.”

“But everyone thinks this looks totally realistic, well until you come to feel it, of course.”

“Everyone?” Greta looked puzzled. “Surely, only Michelle and I have seen it and I don’t think she even felt it.”

“Well, I felt it,” Michelle said, trying not to appear guilty about his time with Clarissa, innocent though it was from his viewpoint. “And no one else is going to, so I don’t see why that’s a problem.”

“How do you know?”

“Know what?”

“How do you know that no one else is going to feel it. You know what Michelle is like. How do you think she got offered the role of Honorary Lady?”

“I presumed that your father had lined some pockets,” he said.

“Well, he’s obviously done that but most society women in the county would die for that role so I suspect that plenty of others would do the same. No, I would guess that she’s promised the Master of the Hunt a little rumpy-pumpy if she becomes Honorary Lady. You have to be prepared for that.”

“I’m not going to have sex with…”

“I meant you have to be prepared to deal with it,” Greta firmly said. “If you haven’t even got a vagina you’ll react differently. Lie on the bed and let’s take off the old and on with the new.”

“I’m really not certain about this,” he said.

“Well, I am,” Greta said. “Unless your cock goes back inside the Y-gina, don’t even think that it might ever emerge from that munt, today, tomorrow or next week. Tell me, how many weeks do you want to remain stubborn?”

When you have them by the balls, etc. Michelle got onto the bed and lay flat.

Greta swung her fat leg over his hips and straddled him, with her fat bum pointing at his face and her feet pinning his arms to the bed. He was totally helpless.

She fiddled with her phone, unlocked the munt, fiddled with it some more and then was removing the thing from around his balls for the first time in a week and a half.

“This one is not too dissimilar,” Greta said, slipping something else around his balls, “except it has to have your vagina inserted here.”

As she spoke, he felt something entering a place where, in the past, only shit had been ejected. “Stop! You can’t do that,” he protested.

“It’s necessary,” she said, “and yes I can.”

“Greta. Greta. Please, it feels uncomfortable.”

She lifted herself off him. “But it’s not painful, is it?”

He had to admit it was not.

“What do you think of it?”

He looked downwards. It looked just the same as the munt, but he knew that, as he slipped a finger along his slit and found the entrance to what undoubtedly felt like a vagina.

“It’s in the wrong place,” he protested.

“You’re obviously more an expert than me on the variety of vaginas,” Greta said, “but my understanding is there is a wide variability in them, including their placement.”

To be honest, he wasn’t certain about that, certainly not enough to argue about.

“But how am I going to have a shit?” he asked.

Greta’s face broke into a massive grin. “That’s the really clever bit. There’s simply a sheath up your back passage with a kind of a semi-rigid spine to keep it in place. When a penis goes up the vagina, it’s inside the sheath. But when there’s no penis in there, the nasty stuff pushes the sheath to one side and can come down. The only thing you have to do is to release a hidden catch which allows the entrance to fold back and you can then poo as normal. When you’ve finished, you shut the door and hey presto, you have a vagina again, all ready for action. Are you ready to try it out?”

“I don’t need to shit at the moment.”

“Firstly, gentle ladies, as you are meant to be, would never say shit. If they have to refer to it at all, they would say poo or something similar. Secondly, I wasn’t asking whether you wanted to try out that part of it. I was suggesting we try out the other.”

“I really don’t want a vibrator or anything like that going up, thank you very much.”

“I know,” Greta said. “They can be quite artificial, can’t they? Not to worry, though as I got this...” She turned her back on him as she bent over to a drawer, “I bought a strap-on thingy along with your Y-gina.” She turned to face him, something horrific protruding from her groin.

“Oh, my God! No! No! NO!”

But she’d grabbed his wrist, pinned him to the bed and was lifting her thigh across him.

“Greta. You can’t do this.”

“Oh darling, of course I can. What’s good for the goose is good for the gander, or should that be the other way round? Because after I’ve had my way with you, we can unlock you and you can then do the same to me. How can you object to that?”

In this position, he surmised, he certainly didn’t have a leg to stand on, whereas Greta now had three.

Cheese, Chalk and Plenty of Pork – Part 08 of 10
by Lin Dale

Synopsis: When Greta meets Gavin at her rich father’s second wedding, she immediately falls in love. But, just like cheese and chalk, he is a beautiful, slim young man and she is heavily obese; she needs to find some way to stop him wandering off. Her father’s new wife has problems facing up to her role as a Lady, so she decides to involve Gavin in a project with certain challenges.

Author’s Note: This story is complete and in ten parts which will be released at approximately daily intervals. It contains items such as crossdressing, non-explicit sex between adults and language typical of that between English adults. If you feel this may offend you, then please do not read.

Part 8 – In which Gavin Gets to Ride Side-Saddle

As Michelle looked back on that previous evening, he was uncertain about everything. His upbringing told him that it was very wrong but it had certainly been an experience outside anything he could have imagined and which, if he was honest, he’d enjoyed. It had actually been fun putting himself in the role of the female being screwed by a male. Greta had instructed him on how to behave when on the receiving end of a penis, and how to fake an orgasm. Hell! The things women had to do! What fun!

But he hadn’t time to think of last night. Greta would be here at any moment with Chelle just before his first lesson in riding side-saddle was due to begin at the stables. They’d agreed that, in order that Chelle was not found to be in two places at the same time, she would come to the crofter’s cottage and stay there whilst Michelle went on the riding lesson. When he returned to the cottage, she would then go back to the house. They could do the same when he was going on the hunt.

It all worked out quite well. Chelle arrived dressed in jodhpurs and matching jacket, with sexy leather riding boots. She promptly removed them all, revealing underwear far sexier than the plain stuff that Michelle was wearing. Neither he nor Greta commented, and he put on the clothes that she had just taken off whilst she put on a flimsy house gown. His makeup had already been done, so within a few minutes, Greta and Chelle exited the house and walked to the stables, except, of course, it was not the real Chelle but Michelle wearing her clothes.

“Did you notice her underwear?” Greta hissed as soon as they had left the cottage.

“Was it anything special?” Michelle replied, trying to appear nonchalant.

“Don’t be stupid. I saw your eyes goggling over her. She was obviously trying to pull you. I mean, who would wear stockings and suspenders beneath jodhpurs?”

It was a question that Michelle had also been wondering, but Chelle knew that he was locked up and Greta had the key.

“I guess she’s just trying to tease me,” he suggested.

“But why would she do that?” Greta asked. “She needs to keep you onside. Did you see that negligee she put on? It’ll be no good for standing about in the crofter’s cottage, which is cold at the best of times.”

“Like I say, she’s trying to frustrate me,” he said. “I’m not certain why but knowing her, it’s probably just for the hell of it.”

It was a relatively short walk to the stables since they were right next to the entrance which they’d come through just four days before. Sandra, the owner of the stables, was being assisted by a couple of teenage girls, Olivia and Chloe, all of whom Michelle would loved to have got to know without the restrictions of his Y-gina, but knew that such thoughts were simply frustrating. Instead, he focussed upon being a willing and competent student in the art of riding side-saddle.

It was good to get back in the saddle, even if in such an unusual way, and he quickly picked up the basic skills. Sandra was particularly pleased with her new student, and expressed surprise that it had taken Chelle so long to come to the stables, when she obviously enjoyed it so much. She told him they would practice jumping on their next lesson, which he really looked forward to.

Two hours later, he and Greta walked back to the crofter’s cottage, where Chelle awaited them. She was in one of her brighter moods, and she delighted with the success of Michelle’s lesson. Michelle was secretly hoping that she had somehow discovered the key to his Y-gina and would send Greta away on some pretext so she could shag him, but nothing like that occurred. Within a few minutes, they had reversed their clothing and Greta and Chelle walked back to the house, with Greta promising she would be back later to attend to his needs.

***
It was the following day that Chelle reminded them that the next hunt meeting was in only two weeks’ time and they had to prepare.

“I think the first side-saddle lesson went really well,” Michelle responded, "and I’ve got four more lessons booked before then. What else do we need to do?”

Chelle looked at him in amazement. “You have to ride in Victorian dress, of course. We have to dress you.”

He’d forgotten all about that. “Oh. Oh, yes. I suppose you do. Is it difficult?”

Chelle sighed with exasperation. “No female would say such a thing. If you were simply dressing for a modern-day occasion, you’d be thinking about it now. You have to dress as a Victorian riding lady.”

“Does that mean what I think it means?” Michelle asked.

“Which is?”

“A…” He plucked up courage. “A corset?”

“Abso-bloody-lutely,” Greta butted in. “And they are absolute-bloody-murder.”

“They’re not murder,” Chelle corrected. “They are simply figure enhancing. And a riding corset has a lot more flexibility than a conventional corset to the period, so there’s definitely nothing to worry about.”

Michelle looked unconvinced.

“I’ll bring some clobber over this afternoon, and we can get started,” she said with rather a wicked smile.

***
She brought a suitcase full of stuff so Greta drove her to the crofter’s cottage in her Land Rover.

“I don’t want clothes for a week,” Gavin protested. “It’s only a single use.”

“Victorian ladies had huge trunks for their apparel,” Chelle said. “They also had lady’s maids, whereas you’re going to have to get used to putting on this gear by yourself. Have you taken a shower, as I asked? We want to avoid having to wash this lot too often if we can.”

Gavin confirmed he’d had a shower so he was told to strip off and put on his padded pants and breasts. When they had been delivered, Greta had carefully cut an opening in the groin so his Y-gina could show through. It also conveniently meant he could have a wee without pulling them down.

“Right,” Chelle said. “Let’s start with drawers and chemise.”

Although he’d heard the word drawers used before, he never realised where the term came from until he saw the garment Chelle produced from her suitcase. It was essentially two cotton tubes of material, with a wide hem around the tops. A lace was threaded through part of the hems of the two tubes. He had to pull the tubes up his legs, and then tie the lace in a bow around his waist. The two tubes were normally drawn together, like drawing curtains, at the waist and groin. Should he need to go to the toilet, he could simply draw the top of the tubes apart and squat down. It also meant, Greta pointed out, that should a man want to shag the woman, he could simply draw the two halves apart and do so. No inconvenient need to pull down panties.

Next came the stockings with ribbon garters which again had to be tied with a bow, followed by the garment he had been dreading.

“For heaven’s sake,” Chelle said. “It’s only a garment.”

“A garment of torture,” Greta added.

“No, it’s not,” Chelle said. “A corset is simply a device to make you look more shapely. Now, come here, Michelle, and let’s put it on you.”

Reluctantly, he did so, and as Chelle started to draw in the laces, he was pleasantly surprised that not only was it not painful, but it made a startling difference to his waistline.

“Wow!” he said, as he admired himself in the mirror.

“Exactly,” Chelle said. “Now, the trousers.”

“Trousers!” Michelle was surprised. “I thought I’d be wearing a skirt. Surely, Victorian women didn’t wear trousers.”

“For riding,” Chelle said, “they’d be wearing trousers beneath their skirt. Can you imaging trying to grip the pommel of your saddle only wearing stockings?”

It was a valid point and Michelle pulled them up her legs and fastened them. Afterwards, he put on the boots and spent ages buttoning them up.

Then, it was time for the blouse, with many, many buttons each of which he had to fiddle with, followed by the voluminous skirt, which he stepped into. There was a bodice with intricate military style braiding and, again, many buttons which were even more fiddly than the blouse. A cleverly designed modern safety helmet disguised as a top hat completed his dressing.

“Wow, Michelle,” Greta said. “You look absolutely brill.”

“Victorian ladies,” Michelle said, in Chelle’s shrill voice, “may be described as charming, distinguished or even respectable. They are certainly not brill.”

Both women had to admit that Gavin had turned into a very presentable Lady Michelle.

Of course, afterwards, he had to take it all off, and hang it up in preparation for the hunt.

***

The next two weeks was much of the same. Michelle went for a few more side-saddle lessons at the stables dressed as Chelle, whilst Greta continued to abundantly provide his sexual needs, as both male and female. As time progressed, he realised he was becoming used to her rather plentiful flesh and cheerful smiles, and also her continual willingness to have sex whenever he wished.

Then, all too soon, it was time to go on the hunt, pretending to be Michelle not just to a couple of stable girls who had never spoken to the real Michelle, but to half the county who had known her as she and Carver had become an item, not to say, to her husband who had lived with her for a few months.

Michelle and Greta arrived in plenty of time. Getting dressed in his Victorian riding attire went smoothly, and then he was walking with Greta onto the stables in order to get mounted.

Cheese, Chalk and Plenty of Pork – Part 09 of 10
by Lin Dale

Synopsis: When Greta meets Gavin at her rich father’s second wedding, she immediately falls in love. But, just like cheese and chalk, he is a beautiful, slim young man and she is heavily obese; she needs to find some way to stop him wandering off. Her father’s new wife has problems facing up to her role as a Lady, so she decides to involve Gavin in a project with certain challenges.

Author’s Note: This story is complete and in ten parts which will be released at approximately daily intervals. It contains items such as crossdressing, non-explicit sex between adults and language typical of that between English adults. If you feel this may offend you, then please do not read.

Part 9 – The Game Changer

When the hunt ended, Michelle deliberately lagged behind Carver as they returned to the stables expecting that, after handing his horse over to Olivia and Chloe, Carver would completely forget about his wife and immediately retire to the house for a bath and a sleep.

It worked like a charm. Carver was nowhere to be seen when Michelle eventually arrived at the stables. He spent a few minutes chatting to the pretty young girls, then walked out of the stables and around the corner to the crofter’s cottage where Chelle should be waiting for him. She wasn’t.

“Where’s Chelle?” he asked Greta.

“How did it go?” Greta asked. “Were you outed, or did it work like a charm?”

He grinned at her. “It worked bloody fantastically,” he said. “Absolutely no one sussed me. I even got a load of catcalls and wolf whistles from a group of teenage boys. So, can you help me disrobe and get back to being normal again.”

“No,” Greta said.

He paused and looked at her. “No? What do you mean, no?”

“I’m afraid there’s been a change of plan. Chelle and I haven’t told you about this before, but I’m afraid that a while ago, she discovered a lump in her breast. On examination, they discovered the cancer had spread throughout her body. She only told me the day after you came to dinner that Saturday. I’m afraid that this morning, Chelle had a call from her consultant with the worst kind of news.”

“Oh,” Michelle said. “I’m sorry. Where is she? Does she want me to go and see her?”

“She’s gone away,” Greta said.

“Gone away? Where?”

“It’s a kind of a cross between a hospice and some quasi-religious faith healing order,” Greta said. “It’s called The Sanctuary. She didn’t tell me anything about it until today, but apparently, she’s been thinking about it for some time and had all the details ready. After she got today’s news, she rang them and arranged to go there immediately. A car came to collect her about an hour ago and she simply took off.”

“Without even telling your father,” Michelle said. “That’s a bit mean. He’s not that far gone that he won’t miss her terribly.”

“He won’t miss her,” Greta said, “because we both want you to substitute for her. Obviously, you’ll continue to be paid.”

“Continue as Michelle?” he gasped. “But for how long? And what happens when she dies?”

“I don’t know how long,” Greta said. “It could be just a few weeks or perhaps a few months. As for what happens when she dies, I think we have to suck it and see what condition Dad is in at the time.”

“It’s not as easy as that,” Michelle said. “I mean, it’s one thing to sit on a horse and hardly speak to anyone for a few hours. Quite another to live someone’s life for them on a semi-permanent basis. Your father is bound to out me, as will the staff, people in the village and any of your neighbours who might know her.”

“Chelle has hardly met anyone since she arrived,” Greta said, “and she had a bust up with her family whilst you and I were bonking after the wedding. If necessary, we can tell people that you are poorly. She’s only been to the village a few times. We have only one permanent employee, a Croatian cook, who stays in her kitchen and whose command of English is very patchy. Chelle has hardly spoken to her as I manage her. The waitress at the meal when you dined with us had been brought in specially, and she and the cleaners are all agency supplied and change quite frequently. Even if anyone does notice some changes, we can put it down to your illness.

“As for the money,” she continued, “you’ll obviously get all your food and keep. She’s only taken with her the clothes she’s dressed in, so you have access to all her possessions including her car, and in addition you can draw another five thousand a month in pocket money, which you’re free to do with as you like. How does that sound?”

“Only taken the clothes she’s wearing!” Michelle repeated. “That doesn’t sound like Chelle, or any other woman I know for that matter.”

“I told you it’s a religious order,” Greta said. “They all wear a sort of plain white vestment throughout the place.”

“That doesn’t sound at all like Chelle,” Michelle said.

“I know,” Greta said. “But I suspect that the thought of imminent death tends to change your ideas of what’s important and what’s not. My guess is that she’ll stick it for a few days and then she’ll be back here. So, my suggestion is that if you’re going to take up our offer, you immediately transfer the five thousand pounds you’ve just earned plus this next month’s five thousand into your own account. So, you’ll make ten thousand pounds for a few days’ work. What do you say?”

He paused. He’d been going to tell her to stick it, but the idea of transferring that much money into his vastly overdrawn bank account was very tempting. “I’ll do it,” he said.

“Great,” she said. “In which case, we’ll go immediately to your dressing room and get you showered and dressed ready for dinner.

***

There were just the three of them to dinner: Carver, Greta and Michelle. Carver never suspected a thing.

Over dinner, Carver talked about the stock market, and how he had made a large lump sum when he’d taken early retirement and Michelle kept smiling at him and trying to look interested. Then, at about nine-thirty, Carver had suddenly got up and walked out, as he’d done the previous Saturday, and he and Greta were left to themselves.

Once he was certain that Carver wasn’t going to return to the meal Michelle had something to ask.

“Greta, I’ve been wearing this Y-gina thing for ages. Now my position looks as though it’s becoming longer term, do you think you could take it off?”

She smiled at him. “No.”

“No? Why not?”

“Because you’re taking the part of Michelle and she has a vagina, not a penis. Therefore, you have to be the same.”

“But I can’t wear this for another few weeks. It might even be months.”

“Oh darling, of course you can. I’m looking after all your sexual needs, and I’m certainly not having you chatting up those girls down at the stable with a view to giving them a little of your attention. Now, I think we can repair to your dressing room and get you changed into your Victorian night attire.”

“Hang on,” Michelle said. “We haven’t even discussed sleeping arrangements. If you’re suggesting that I should sleep with your father, then you can think again.”

Greta smirked. “My father is over sixty with serious dementia. I understand that no sex has been attempted with Michelle since the wedding night. However, you will need to sleep in the same bed. That, as they say, goes with the job.”

“Well, I’m not sure about that,” Michelle said.

“You promised you’d do it earlier; you can’t let me down like this. What about Daddy? He’s going to be wondering where you are and starting to get distressed. As they say, it is part of the job.”

She smiled again. “Now, shall we go and find a beautiful nightdress for you to wear?”

***

There was no doubt, it was a Victorian style nightdress so beautiful it made Michelle feel a very pretty and lucky woman. The waist tied at the back, ensuring that the scoop neckline exposed his magnificent breasts to perfection, and the full-length skirt fell with wonderful lace frills pushing it out almost like a ballgown.

“The master bedroom is through that door,” Greta said, pointing at the door. “If you need the bathroom, it’s directly opposite this door. And don’t even try to sneak back in here when I’ve gone because I’m going to lock this door behind you. OK? So just go.” She accompanied her words by opening the door and giving him a good shove through it.

The room was in darkness as Michelle stepped in, and for a few moments he was blind. Then he could slowly make out a huge four-poster bed with a recumbent figure on the far side. Silently, he walked over to the bed, slid the bedclothes to one side and got into bed. The figure continued to sleep, giving light snores occasionally. Michelle relaxed and slid further down the bed. It had been a long day and he could feel his eyes closing.

***

“Michelle?” A large hand reached across his body and grasped his breast, immediately followed by another hand grabbing the other one.

Then it felt as though a ton of concrete was pushing him into the mattress as Carver pulled his body on top of him.

Er, no. I’m not feeling very well. Do you mind if we don’t make love tonight? was what Michelle had planned to say. But all that came out was, “Er...” before Carver’s weight landed on his chest and his lungs were flattened. Simultaneously, Carver’s fat lips descended onto his, covering his mouth and nose. Even if his lungs could have drawn in air, he couldn’t do so with his nose and mouth blocked. It felt like he was being pinned down by a walrus. A walrus that was worming its way between Michelle’s thighs.

Michelle’s one arm was trapped by his side but as he raised his other, Carver grabbed it and forced it above his head. For a second, Carver’s other hand was fumbling down below, then it felt as though a chainsaw was being used in a certain area. And again, and again and again.

As he felt himself losing consciousness, he knew he was totally fucked.

***

As she listened outside the bedroom door, Greta smiled with satisfaction. Her father had gone downhill since Michelle stopped sleeping with him, during their honeymoon, which Chelle had told her about. She knew total recovery from dementia was too much to hope for, but perhaps tonight might be the start of helping him unscramble his brains.

***

Some time later, Michelle came to. Carver was still lying on top of him but somehow his own body was finding a way to gasp tiny breaths of air. His last recollection was that the agony in his arse had ceased; he was seeing double blurred images of Carver’s face looking down at him saying, “I can see that was as good for you as it was for me.” Then nothing.

Carver was solidly asleep, but Michelle found he could slowly wriggle sideways, until he eventually flopped out of bed and fell on the floor. He found his way to the bathroom and closed the door behind him before putting on the light. The last thing he wanted to do was to awaken the walrus again.

He gave himself a careful look over and was amazed to see that he appeared to be relatively undamaged. A certain orifice was incredibly sore, but Greta’s previous training in that area meant it wasn’t as bad as it might have been. It was now obvious, of course, that she had been expecting this might happen and had been preparing him for it from the start.

The door suddenly opened and Carver came in.

“Sorry,” he said as he saw her there. “Got to take a piss.” He walked over to the toilet, lifted the seat, pulled his cock out of his pyjamas and proceeded to piss into the bowl.

“Wasn’t that fucking great,” he said. “And you passed out in ecstasy. In all my life, I’ve never before achieved that with a woman.”

Michelle thought of all the words he wanted to say, and instead said, “It was wonderful, wasn’t it? Only I’m a little sore down below so no more action for a while.” (Like in a hundred years, he wanted to add, but did not.)

“No problem, darling. You know, I’ve never said it before, but I’ve always fantasised about your luscious lips giving me a blow job.”

The very idea made Michelle want to vomit, but he said, “We’ll just have to see, darling.” After all, wasn’t anything better than a chainsaw up the arse?

***

Next morning, Greta was waiting for him in the dressing room, after he had showered. Fortunately, Carver was still sleeping soundly.

“Did you two enjoy a good night, last night?” The question was put as innocently as she could make it, but Michelle was immediately suspicious.

“Were you listening at the door?”

“Heavens, no,” Greta said, mentally crossing her fingers. “But I know that Dad was getting terribly frustrated at Michelle’s selfish behaviour in the bed chamber.”

“For your information, the brute almost killed me. Not only did his enormous weight prevent me breathing, but he also smothered me with his lips.”

“Oh, you poor darling,” Greta said. “But I’ll make it up to you ten times over as soon as you arrive at the crofter’s cottage. And you’d better find some scruffy clothes to wear because, after I’ve bonked your brains out, you’ll be helping me muck out the pigs.”

Cheese, Chalk and Plenty of Pork – Part 10 of 10
by Lin Dale

Synopsis: When Greta meets Gavin at her rich father’s second wedding, she immediately falls in love. But, just like cheese and chalk, he is a beautiful, slim young man and she is heavily obese; she needs to find some way to stop him wandering off. Her father’s new wife has problems facing up to her role as a Lady, so she decides to involve Gavin in a project with certain challenges.

Author’s Note: This story is complete and in ten parts which will be released at approximately daily intervals. It contains items such as crossdressing, non-explicit sex between adults and language typical of that between English adults. If you feel this may offend you, then please do not read.

Part 10 – Then Things Really Change!

It was a few months later that Greta told him, “I’m pregnant.”

Michelle gaped. “But you told me you were on the pill.”

“I didn’t actually say I was on the pill,” Greta corrected him. “I said there was no need to be worried about me getting pregnant. That’s because I want to get pregnant, and you have done it very nicely, thank you.”

“Does that mean you want to get married or… something?”

“How can you marry me?” Greta asked. “You, Michelle, are already married to my father. It would be bigamy if you married me.”

“Right,” he said, trying to get his head around his position. In spite of Greta’s prediction, the real Michelle had not returned from The Sanctuary; neither had The Sanctuary reported her to have died, so Michelle’s role had continued. At the beginning of each month, he, as Michelle, had written a cheque for five thousand pounds to Gavin, and had paid it into his account. He had serviced Lord Carver, fortunately at not too frequent intervals, and Lord Carver definitely seemed to be more alert as a result. And on a far more regular basis, Greta and he had great sex. And now she was pregnant.

“The point is,” Greta said, “that with my weight, I reckon I can probably go almost full term without being noticeably pregnant. So, I want you to pretend to be pregnant with Daddy’s child. When my bump starts to become noticeable, we’ll go away to some distant location where I can go to full term and give birth to a baby as beautiful as you. When we return, everyone will be told that our baby is that of you and Daddy.”

“But you’ll be the child’s mother. How can you give it to someone else?”

“I shall turn from housekeeper to nursemaid,” Greta said.

“Isn’t it all being rather dishonest,” Michelle queried.

“Firstly, you are a parent of the child, so the only deceit is that you are a man, not a woman, which is a part you’ve been playing for ages,” she said. “And over the years, many women have fooled their partners about the father of their babies. Dad will be totally chuffed. Hopefully, it will be a boy, in which case he will be over the moon. I was a bit of a disappointment to him, you see.”

Michelle pulled a face. “Your pregnancy isn’t accidental, is it? How long have you been planning it?”

She smiled at him. “I fell in love with you the moment I saw you at the wedding. That was when I decided I was going to have your babies. But I’m not stupid. I knew there was zero chance of having a permanent relationship – or even marriage – with you in the conventional way. So, it was just thinking through a way of developing the situation to achieve my objective. Michelle’s going away wasn’t part of my plan, but it opened up the possibilities wonderfully.”

“But what happens,” Michelle asked, “when she either turns up or dies, mid-term?”

“I’m afraid that Chelle is already dead.”

Michelle was indignant. “What! Why didn’t you tell me earlier? How long have you been keeping that a secret?”

She grimaced. “Since your very first hunt, when she so unexpectedly disappeared.”

“What! But what about The Sanctuary?”

She gave a tiny smile. “I made that up on the spur of the moment. She never went away.”

“You mean she died here, whilst me and your dad were out on the hunt?”

“It was an accident,” Greta told him. “And it wasn’t here, in the house. It was on the estate.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I’d better start at the beginning,” she said. “Firstly, you know how you and I were surprised at Chelle’s underwear, that first time you went for your riding lesson.”

“Yes, but what’s that got to do with it?”

“She’d asked a man to meet her in the cottage as soon as we left. I think her lover was staying at the Fox and Hounds, which is why she was so willing to pick up your things from there the day after you had dinner here. I guess that every time you went for your riding lesson, as well as during that first hunt, she was bonking him in the cottage.”

“Bloody hell!” He thought back to the smarmy man staying at the Fox and Hounds who Clarissa said had been hitting on her.

“The problem arose that day of the hunt when, shortly after mounting up at the stables, Daddy needed to go for a pee. As you know, it was incredibly busy at the stables, so he thought it would be better to go to the crofter’s cottage and pee there.”

“Oh!” Michelle said, understanding suddenly flooding through him. “He found them and murdered them.”

“No, Nothing as melodramatic as that. He told me later that as he approached the cottage, he thought he heard Michelle laughing, which was strange because he'd just watched you ride off in the opposite direction to the start of the hunt.”

She pulled a face. “Sure enough, Michelle was there, having sex with a man in the woods, au naturel, as it were. Dad was livid and rode his horse at the pair of them, intending just to break them up. But the horse reared, kicking out and knocked them both to the ground and Dad rode on to the hunt. As his temper calmed, he realised he might well have seriously hurt one or both of them, but then he got to the start of the hunt and saw you still on your horse. You couldn’t possibly be on the horse in front of him and back in the estate having been kicked to the ground. He thought he must have had some kind of terrible dream.”

“I remember,” Michelle said. “He looked at me really strangely and I thought I’d been rumbled. But then he said something like, ‘Oh! You’re here,’ as though that was weird. ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I thought you were right behind me.’ He shook his head and muttered something like, ‘Must be going mad.’ And that was it. I never realised.” His eyes narrowed. “Had he… killed them?”

“I never found out,” Greta said. “When I met Daddy in the stables at the end of the hunt, he was obviously disturbed and, unusually for him, he’d remembered much of what happened. I ran straight over to investigate but by that time, the Large Blacks were finishing off the last few bones.”

“You mean the pigs… The pigs ate them?”

“They’ll eat anything,” Greta said. “You mustn’t blame them.”

“Holy shit!” Michelle said. “So, the two of them may just have been unconscious…”

“There’s no point in dwelling over it. I knew you had probably already got back to the stables so I had to think up something on the spur of the moment. Which I did. Later on, I kept my ear to the ground in the village. The man she was with was known to be having an affair with someone. When he didn’t turn up that night, or ever again, it was simply assumed that he’d run off with them.”

She gave a little smile. “So, Michelle will not be returning to claim her place back here. Hence, you will become the pretend mother of our child. Any more questions?”

“You should have told the police. I have to ring them, now.”

“That would be bad for all kinds of reasons, not the least that they would put down my Large Blacks and they have done nothing wrong. There would also be a lot of stress for my father even though, in his condition, they’d never put him in prison.”

“And they’d probably prosecute you,” Michelle said, “for not reporting a death.”

“Death? What death?”

Michelle was puzzled. “Why the ones you’ve just told me about.”

“You must be imagining things, Michelle. “I haven’t told you about any deaths.”

“Even if you deny it, the police are bound to investigate if I report it. They will realise those two people have disappeared.”

“OK,” Greta said. “So, if you’re unconcerned about the mother of your baby going to prison, I’ll be forced to confess that I failed to report it. But don’t forget that you, too, will be prosecuted when I tell them how you were blackmailing us.”

“Blackmailing you?”

“We’ve had to give you five thousand pounds a month and allow you to dress as a woman in order for you not to expose us.”

“That’s not true,” Michelle exclaimed. “You’re making it up.”

“All I’m saying, my darling lover,” Greta smiled at him, “is that reporting the mother of your baby to the police would lead to all kinds of complications and none of us know exactly where it would all lead. No one tried to kill them; it’s not murder. In his state, there’s no way that Daddy could even be brought to trial for manslaughter. With my plan, you continue to receive a regular salary, Dad continues to enjoy being with his wife, and I continue to rear my Large Blacks.

“And,” she added, her smile broadening, “all three of us can give a loving home to our new baby.”