Maid, Part 1 (Patreon)

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Summary: A woman is hexed by her employer and develops a small, growing udder. Contains: Female: udder development, breast expansion, possibly more.

-

“He’s a good man,” said Sue. “A medicine man. See what he can do for you.”

Sue had always taken care of Anna. But now that Anna was an adult, she needed to go out and find work. Sue was overwhelmed with the new group of children she had taken in at the village orphanage, and no longer had a place for Anna.

“Reach out to me if you ever need a thing,” said Sue, pulling Anna into a tight embrace.

Anna didn’t know whether Sue’s words were earnest, but she nodded into the hug, and with one final squeeze, Sue left her there, at the front gates of Arthur Wallace’s expansive property. He was the richest man in town.

Anna hesitated and rang the bell.

“What is your business?” a high voice demanded through the intercom not a moment later.

Anna drew a deep breath. “I’m looking for work,” she said firmly.

There was a long silence on the other end, so long that Anna assumed she had been rejected. Her breathing thinned and she was at a loss of what she would do next. Regardless, she stood straight, and turned to depart, when she heard the intercom crackle.

“Enter,” the voice ordered, and the gates creaked open.

-

Her job interview was with Mr. Wallace, himself.

“Do you have much experience?” he said curtly. He was a frigid man, even his clothing seemed stiff—pressed straight, formal, and immaculate. The line of his mouth was flattened into a permanent frown.

“No, but I’m willing to learn,” said Anna feebly.

Mr. Wallace eyed her. “My children will be coming to live with me soon. Young things.”

“I love kids,” Anna insisted, even if it wasn’t necessarily true. She had never considered her relationship to children outside of their ceaseless presence at the orphanage. She certainly knew how to take care of them.

Mr. Wallace was decidedly unimpressed. He just sat and frowned at her, as though willing her to disappear.

“Please.” Anna’s voice wavered. “I have nowhere else to go.”

Mr. Wallace’s frown deepened, were that even possible. “You will start tomorrow,” he said.

-

Anna stared at Mr. Wallace’s straight back as he gave her a tour of the property. It was said that he was only thirty or so. So young for such a severe demeanor.

The house was massive, and only a small fraction of the place. There was a small farm littered with potbelly pigs and alpacas, some hot springs, and an elaborate garden Anna hoped she would be able to explore on her own. Mr. Wallace showed Anna to her small room, which was in the servants hall. It had a small bed, a table, a lamp, and a little wardrobe in which she could put her few belongings.

“Be ready to start at seven,” Wallace said, and he stepped out. But he turned back to her, and with a wave of his hand, murmured something foreign and fluid that made her whole body go hot, her skin tingling.

It had been an incantation.

“W-what did you do?” said Anna, startled. She absently hugged her arms around herself. Mr. Wallace was not a known warlock.

“Just something to aid you in your employment here,” he responded lightly, and then he departed, without saying anything more.

Still burning with the sensation of whatever Mr. Wallace had done to her, Anna undressed and climbed into bed, but she found herself tossing and turning most of the night, her body sweaty and itchy, and so heated, she was panting. She got up several times during the night to splash her face with cool water in the small washroom adjoined to her quarters. By her third trip, it was early morning. She was groggy, and her pubic region was tender from her rubbing at it so much throughout the night. Anna slid her panties down to examine the irritated skin, and stared down at what she saw.

All of her pubic hair had bizarrely fallen off. All that remained was a pink rash that encompassed the whole area. She was rather stunned by the dramatic change, and was unsure of whether it was a result of Mr. Wallace’s hex or just some allergic reaction to her very new environment.

Regardless of which, she decided to be cautious. If this was Mr. Wallace’s doing, it was very improper. She would have to watch him closely for any more inappropriate behavior towards her. But if his little hex was the extent of his harassment, maybe she wouldn’t have to resign.

A knock on the door signaled the arrival of another servant, who hurried Anna to get washed up and dressed. Mr. Wallace had requested her presence.

When Anna put on her faded staff clothes—a loose cotton dress—and bounded down to the dining room, she was surprised that Mr. Wallace would insist that she join him for breakfast, when most of the other servants were at work in the kitchens.

Anna sat down in an uncomfortable silence, opposite Wallace at the expansive dining room table, as one of her new coworkers lowered a plate before her. It was loaded with eggs, bacon, sausage, and hotcakes, a serving for a full grown man, not a petite woman such as herself.

Anna ate small bites despite the uneasiness in her stomach. It was a heavy meal, and she was conscious of the indifferent way that Mr. Wallace watched her consume. He seemed displeased when she lowered her knife and fork after thirty minutes of nibbling.

“Is my food unsatisfactory to you, Miss Eaton?”

“No sir,” Anna responded quickly, but Mr. Wallace continued to appear dour. “It’s just that—” She barely caught herself from talking back to him, instead quieting her protestations and lifting her fork. She ate with vigor.

It took her another twenty minutes to get through the rest of the plate, which had been the bulk of the food she had been served. It had been too much for her. At the orphanage, she was usually lucky if she was allowed breakfast. The offerings were limited to small amounts of starches. A slice of bread. A cup of rice. She had never been exposed to so many sweet, salty, and greasy flavors. Her stomach hardly had the capacity for it. She finished up, her belly aching as she struggled against the desire to retch.

Mr. Wallace stood, neatly folding his napkin. “I hope you’re ready to work.”

“Oh yes, I am,” said Anna. She stood as well, then pressed her lips tightly as another wave of nausea flowed through her.

Mr. Wallace personally directed her in her cleaning duties, despite Anna’s assumption that the other servants would be guiding her from there. She was made to scrub down pots and pans, then mop the kitchen floors. She cleaned bathrooms to shining, and washed a heaping basket of laundry with just a bucket and some soap. She was even made to do some farm work, feeding animals, shoveling up droppings, and prying weeds from the ground. She rubbed at her tender pubic region as discreetly as she could, but most of the time her discomfort there was ignored in favor of her work duties, and it wasn’t unbearable, distracted as she was. By the time her shift was over, she was completely exhausted. She dragged herself to her quarters and collapsed to her bed, not opening her eyes again until the roosters started cawing and carrying on.

Anna shuffled into the washroom that morning, still disoriented from fatigue. She first washed her face, then stripped down, after which she paused and grimaced down at herself.

What on earth? she wondered as she stared at her pubic region, which was pinker than ever, and seemed to have…fattened slightly. She was a thin thing, and hardly ever put on weight, so to see it collect in such a bizarre location completely baffled her.

Allergies? she wondered again, stroking the area, flinching at how tender if felt. The pink skin had taken on an almost…rubbery feel to it, slick and smooth when it should have been soft and porous. It was all just so strange.

There was suddenly a banging on the bedroom door. “Get up, you!” a female voice called. “Can’t sleep all day like a lazy cow!”

It was one of the senior servants. “Coming!” Anna called back, before she went about washing herself and getting dressed as quickly as she could.

That morning, Anna aided with breakfast, and in consequence, was forced to see the heaps of butter that was plopped in the eggs, the mound of grease used to fry the bacon, the cups of oil poured into the mix for the hotcakes, the piles of sugar dumped into the syrup, and the disturbing composition of the sausages—mostly just animal fat. Even as someone who had spent most of her life malnourished, it disgusted her to a certain degree. She knew that this amount of excess fat and sugar couldn’t be good for anyone, and found herself wondering how Mr. Wallace managed to stay so fit.

Anna was just finishing up the hot cakes when, to her surprise (and dismay), she was again ordered to join Mr. Wallace for the meal.

She had thought that it had been a one-time thing. Perhaps it was routine that Mr. Wallace dine with the newest employees. But the fact that her presence was requested a second time dismantled this theory and made Anna increasingly wary of her employer’s intentions.

She sat silently through the meal, her head bowed, and did her best to force down the food. Her portions were even larger than they had been the previous day, and far less appealing, not from the aesthetics, but from the process of personally helping to cook it.

Mr. Wallace did not talk to her. He occupied himself with reading a paper and sipping his coffee. In fact, when Anna snuck glances at the man, she came to realize that he hadn’t touched his own meal. He simply left it to grow cold before him, eggs hardening, grease congealing.

Anna was halfway through her plate and truly struggling with discomfort and nausea. She took gulps from the large glass of milk beside her between each bite. It was still warm, and creamy, as though straight from the teat of a cow. A second glass of milk was provided for her before she had even finished the first, and Anna continued to drink, taking gulps with each bite. It made the endeavor possible.

Anna continually reminded herself, as her gut churned, that she was terribly skinny, and could do with a little fat in her diet anyhow.

By the time she finished, her belly was bloated and aching, belches and sick threatening to burst up her throat. Somehow she managed to keep it all down.

“You are dismissed,” said Wallace curtly.

Two maids bustled in and began to clear the dishes.

Anna heaved herself up, and though she only wanted to lie down, she went off to the kitchens to help with the cleanup.

-

The day proved different, in that the other servants supervised Anna, and she was relieved to be working more in the house than on the farm under the hot sun.

She favored kitchen duty, and easily got lost in her thoughts as she scrubbed away at every surface.

She only picked at the lunch and dinner served in the staff dining room, still full from breakfast. The exertions of cleaning also helped her work off some of her fullness.

By the time the day was over, she was again completely drained.

As she got undressed in her bedroom, she couldn’t help pushing her panties down, examining herself in the dim lighting of her room.

Her pubic region was still pink and slick-looking, and still slightly bloated—maybe even moreso than it had been that morning. She touched it tentatively, the tenderness making her shiver slightly. And she couldn’t help noticing the sensation of bumps on her skin, sort of like mosquito bites. Four in total. The continued development of the rash was concerning, and had she the means, she would have consulted a doctor. But she didn’t have the means, so all she could do was wait it out and hope it would pass.