Damn latch - continuation (Patreon)

Hi all! I was inspired by your reaction (likes) to this story and decided to write a sequel. I hope you like it ;)

https://www.patreon.com/posts/damn-latch-87723058

...

The Halloween party was ending and Mike was pleased with himself. He really shocked his wealthy parents when he decided to use this suit he bought online for a laugh. Although, of course, he had some doubts, the rebellious nature of the 17-year-old boy made him do it in spite of his parents, who were conservatively opposed to various kinds of transvestite things, and they also hated the French for one reason only they knew, which Mike did not understand

"Oh... that was certainly very funny... Where's the damn latch..."

Mike thought to himself, touching only smooth skin and surprisingly feeling these touches with his body, realizing that this was already somehow strange. But he noted a few minutes ago that apparently this suit was too tightly pressed to his skin, and that is why it seemed to him that

"Shit, what the hell?!"

Already starting to worry, Mike more and more felt the place where there was a lightning bolt to take off the suit. But I didn't find anything like it. Moreover, the touch of his long nails, which now seemed real to him, scratched his skin and he felt how much it hurt.

Deciding to go the other way, Mike sharply squeezed his long hair and tried to take off his fancy wig, but instead felt intense pain from trying to rip out his long hair, which somehow stuck, according to Mike, to his head

- Que diable! Ce n'est pas possible! (What the hell! It's impossible!)

Covering his mouth in surprise with his hand, Mike opened his eyes, not believing that he was now speaking French, although he no longer portrayed a French maid and

- Un, deux, trois... check... Je suis Francesca Marcel la bonne... non, non ! Ce n'est pas vrai! (One, two, three... check... I'm Francesca Marcel, maid... no, no! Not true!)

Concentrating and remembering the English words, Mike finally spoke in his feminine voice

- Je parle anglais... C'est ma langue maternelle...

But it still came out the same.

- Francesca! We need to clean everything in the house .... damn it! what are you doing here!

Maika's mother came in, not expecting to see her French housekeeper's naked tits, and at first she was a little stunned. But soon she took control

- Mere! C'est my! Francesca! Je veux dire, je suis ta gouvernante et tu n'es pas ma mere! (Mom! It's me! Francesca! I mean, I'm your housekeeper and you're not my mom!)

- God, I don't understand you! When will you learn English? CLEANING! CLEANING! and cover your boobs!

...

- Latch... latch...

Still in a thick French accent, Francesca repeated over and over, fastening her nylon stockings to her suspenders with special latches, twisting and wincing at the word every time, but repeating it like a mantra nonetheless.

Two weeks have already passed since Halloween, and she still harbored a hope inside herself that perhaps if she says this word more often, then the very latch from the lightning will suddenly appear on her body and she will finally be able to take off this female skin-suit .

All this time for her it was as if a strange dream came to life, which did not end, but only became weirder and weirder with each new day.

On the first day, she still harbored the hope that all this was her drunken delirium or some kind of hallucination, that someone had slipped some substances on her and therefore she could not take off this costume, and her employers and owners of the house were just angrily joking about her without recognizing her as her son, Mike.

However, after everything continued the next day, Francesca was already deeply thoughtful. She agreed to spend that strange first night in the maid's room, but was categorically against the continuation of this cirque, as she called it in her French way, understanding and denying the fact that she could hardly speak English now.

The very next day after Halloween, she found out that her employers never had a son at all, and she was here on a work visa and had some strange employment contract obliging her not only to be a housekeeper, but also to wear all these strange outfits, as if from some teenager's sexual fantasy about maids.

She hated more and more every day her large, constantly dangling breasts and her inability to tell anyone the truth. In addition, she perfectly understood her position that if she did not fulfill the terms of the contract, then she would be sent to France and she had to fulfill this humiliating role in order to stay in this house, in which she, like Mike, spent her whole life. She could not even cut her long hair and uncomfortable long nails, otherwise it would violate this contract, which obligated her to always be a "sexy French maid" ...

...

... These were really difficult weeks for Francesca, who every morning, waking up, looked in the mirror for several minutes, as if checking herself and her body without losing hope. but with each new day she realized that all this was useless.

The online store where Mike bought this outfit did not answer questions from Francesca, who with great difficulty speaking English with a very strong French accent tried to explain her problem over the phone, which she could not even formulate

"I am Francesca, a maid in an expensive house," she repeated every time to the operator, "I need help and get my life back, I never bought your costume ... no ... I am Francesca ..."

After some time, once again looking at her reflection, Francesca caught the strange thought that she was terribly fed up with all this. Slowly running her hands down her overly sensitive breasts, she stared at her reflection, seriously thinking that maybe she really should break this contract herself ...

It was already more desperation. Her employers and everyone around her were sure that they never had any son. But the worst thing is that they treated her just as badly. They really seemed to leave her a lot of work on purpose and joked some racist jokes about the French, half of which she did not even understand because of her poor knowledge of English.

And yesterday... yesterday something happened that made Francesca really start to think about going into the unknown... Donald, the owner of the house, whom she still considered her father, brazenly molested her and in the end she took up having sex with him ... She had noticed before that he somehow strangely looked at her and sometimes even touched her as if she were his mistress. And yesterday, during their conversation, she realized that it was so! Or rather, she tried to tell the truth as before, but instead she said something like "I'm your mistress and it's written in the contract", covering her mouth with her palm every time she said this nonsense, instead of what she wanted to say.

Of course, she still remembered her life as Mike's rich spoiled son and was well aware of the absurdity, stupidity and humiliation of her current position. And she wasn't about to give up so easily, but what happened yesterday...