Chapter 1

Leonard adjusted his tie in the hallway mirror, glancing at the clock on the wall. It was a crisp autumn morning, and the sprawling estate felt emptier than usual. He needed help around the house---someone reliable, efficient, and discreet. He picked up the phone and dialed the number for Elite Domestic Services, the agency he'd used before.

"Good morning, Elite Domestic Services. How may I assist you?" a polished voice answered.

"This is Leonard Hargrove. I'd like to request a maid for an interview at my residence. Someone experienced, preferably with references from high-end households."

"Of course, Mr. Hargrove. We have several candidates available. We'll send over Miss Tantania this afternoon. She's one of our top recommendations---excellent track record in estate management and housekeeping."

"Perfect. Send her details via email. I'll expect her at 2 PM."

He hung up, satisfied. Leonard was a man of precision; he ran his consulting firm with the same meticulousness he applied to his personal life. A good maid would restore order to the chaos that had crept in lately.

By early afternoon, the doorbell chimed. Leonard opened the door to find a woman in her mid-thirties standing on the porch, dressed in a simple gray pantsuit, her dark hair pulled into a neat bun. She carried a leather portfolio under one arm.

"Mr. Hargrove? I'm Miss Tantania, from the agency."

"Come in, please. Let's sit in the study."

He led her to the wood-paneled room, where sunlight filtered through heavy curtains. They settled into armchairs across from each other, a small table between them holding a notepad and pen.

"So, Miss Tantania, tell me about your skills. What makes you suited for this position?"

She opened her portfolio, pulling out a resume. "I've been in domestic service for over ten years. My primary skills include deep cleaning, laundry management, meal preparation for up to eight people, and basic event coordination. I'm proficient in using eco-friendly cleaning products and have experience with antique furniture care, which I understand might be relevant here given the age of your estate."

Leonard nodded, jotting a note. "Impressive. Where have you worked before?"

"My most recent position was with the Vandenberg family in the city--- a five-bedroom penthouse. Before that, I served at the Elmwood Manor for three years, handling everything from daily upkeep to seasonal deep cleans. I also did a stint at a boutique hotel, which honed my skills in high-volume laundry and quick turnarounds."

"And what challenges have you faced in these roles?"

She paused thoughtfully. "One common challenge is balancing efficiency with attention to detail, especially in larger homes where time management is key. At Elmwood, we dealt with frequent guest turnovers, so I learned to prioritize tasks without compromising quality. Another is adapting to different household preferences---some clients prefer natural cleaners, others high-tech gadgets. I've always made it a point to customize my approach."

The interview flowed smoothly. Leonard asked about her availability (full-time, flexible hours), her familiarity with smart home systems (proficient with most brands), and even her approach to confidentiality (ironclad, with NDAs from past employers). Miss Tantania responded with poise, her answers concise and backed by examples. There was no small talk, no deviation from the professional--- just the facts, delivered with quiet confidence.

As the questions wrapped up, Leonard leaned back, seeming pleased. "Well, that covers the basics. One last thing: I'd like you to try on the uniform. It's standard here, and I want to ensure it fits properly before we proceed."

Miss Tantania blinked, caught off guard, but nodded. "Of course. Where can I change?"

"There's a dressing room just off the hall. The uniform is laid out inside."

She excused herself and entered the small, mirrored space. Hanging on a hook was the outfit: a black French maid minidress with ruffled white accents along the hem and bodice, a sweetheart neckline that dipped low, short puffed sleeves that barely covered the shoulders, paired with long black gloves, a sparkling diamond choker collar, and a pair of pink heels perched nearby. It was... striking. Undeniably sexy, in a way that made her stomach twist.

She held up the dress, noting how the skirt barely reached mid-thigh. This is too short, she thought, a frown creasing her brow. Way too short for bending over or climbing stairs. But curiosity---and perhaps a touch of professionalism---pushed her to try it on. Slipping out of her pantsuit, she stepped into the dress, zipping it up the back. It hugged her figure tightly; she'd need shapewear to smooth everything out properly, to make it wearable without constant adjustments.

Standing before the mirror, she assessed herself. The gloves added an elegant touch, the choker a bit of glamour, but the overall effect was more costume than uniform. She tested a few movements---reaching up as if dusting a shelf, bending to pick up an imaginary item. She could manage the job without exposing herself, technically, by being extra cautious. But the vibe? It was all wrong. This wasn't about housekeeping; it felt like something else entirely, something that set off alarm bells in her mind.

I'm skilled enough for better than this, she reminded herself, glancing at her resume on the nearby chair. Plenty of agencies, plenty of jobs that don't come with... whatever this is.

She quickly changed back into her pantsuit, folding the uniform neatly and leaving it on the hanger. Emerging from the dressing room, she found Leonard waiting in the hall.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Hargrove," she said firmly, meeting his eyes. "I don't think I could work here. Thank you for your time."

Without waiting for a response, she turned and walked out the door, the autumn air cool against her skin as she headed down the driveway. Behind her, the estate loomed silent, but she didn't look back.

Chapter 2

Leonard stood in the hallway for a moment after Miss Tantania's abrupt departure, the echo of the front door closing still hanging in the air. He frowned, not entirely surprised---she had seemed too professional for what he truly had in mind. But no matter. He had anticipated this possibility. With a sly smile creeping across his face, he headed toward the dressing room.

Inside, the uniform hung neatly where she had left it, the black fabric still warm from her brief trial. Leonard stripped off his shirt and slacks, folding them meticulously on the chair. He slipped into the minidress, the ruffled white accents brushing against his skin as he zipped it up. The sweetheart neckline felt odd against his chest, the short puffed sleeves constricting his arms, but he ignored the discomfort. Next came the long black gloves, sliding up to his elbows, followed by the diamond choker collar that clicked shut around his neck. He stepped into the pink heels, wobbling slightly as he adjusted to the height.

Satisfied with the fit---for now---he reached behind the mirror, his fingers finding the hidden compartment. From it, he withdrew the Medallion of Zulo, an ancient artifact of tarnished gold, etched with arcane symbols that seemed to pulse faintly in the light. He'd acquired it years ago through shadowy channels, its power a secret he'd guarded jealously. Holding it in one gloved hand, he pressed it against the fabric of the uniform, where Miss Tantania's essence lingered from her touch.

A warm glow emanated from the medallion, spreading through the dress and into his body. Leonard closed his eyes as the transformation began. His frame shrank, bones reshaping with a subtle crackle, muscles softening into feminine curves. His skin smoothed, hair lightening and lengthening into a voluminous blond bouffant that cascaded over his shoulders. Features shifted---nose refining, lips plumping, eyes widening into a striking blue. The uniform, once ill-fitting on his male form, now hugged perfectly: the minidress accentuating a slender waist and full hips, the heels complementing toned legs.

But he didn't stop there. Leonard held the medallion longer, willing its magic deeper. Knowledge flooded his mind like a tidal wave---Miss Tantania's experiences, her skills, her memories, all weaving into his consciousness as if they had always been his own. He blinked, and suddenly, her resume wasn't just words on paper; it was his life.

He picked up the portfolio she'd left behind, scanning the lines. "Vandenberg family penthouse," he murmured, but in his mind, it was I who had scrubbed those marble floors until they gleamed, I who had organized their endless parties with flawless precision. Elmwood Manor? My hands had dusted those antique vases, my back aching from long hours but satisfied with the results. And beyond the resume---unlisted fragments surfaced. At 18, when Mother sent me over to her friend's house to clean up after a garden party, the first crisp bills pressed into my palm as payment. The thrill of it, the sense of independence in my young woman's body, skirt swishing as I mopped and polished.

He concentrated, pulling forth earlier memories. His first real job at that bustling hotel, inexperienced and wide-eyed, learning to make beds with hospital corners, to fold towels into perfect swans. The sting of bleach on my fingers, the camaraderie with the other maids in the break room, giggling over shared stories. Then, his inaugural private home gig---a wealthy couple's villa, where I navigated the vast kitchens and learned the art of discreet service, always in a crisp uniform that made me feel both invisible and essential.

One memory sharpened vividly: that employer who got fresh, his hand lingering too long on my arm as I served tea. The outrage boiling up, my voice steady as I quit on the spot, storming out with head held high. All of it---every scrub, every fold, every triumph and trial---played out in the body of a woman, curves and grace that were now his.

Leonard---now indistinguishable from Miss Tantania---straightened up, a surge of contentment washing over him. He didn't need to hire a maid anymore. He was the maid. With a purposeful stride, he set to work straightening the house. Dusting the shelves in the study, where the interview had taken place, felt natural, his gloved hands moving with expert efficiency. He vacuumed the rugs, fluffed the pillows, and wiped down the kitchen counters, the minidress riding up slightly but not hindering his motions. The pink heels clicked satisfyingly on the hardwood floors, and he found himself humming a tune from one of those old hotel shifts.

By late afternoon, the estate sparkled, order restored. But his new form demanded more. Glancing down at his transformed body, he felt the need for proper undergarments. He grabbed his keys and headed to the garage, slipping into the driver's seat of his luxury sedan---a sleek, midnight-blue Mercedes that Miss Tantania could only dream of affording. The seat felt too far back now; he adjusted it forward, along with the mirrors, to accommodate his smaller frame. The engine purred to life, and he drove off toward the upscale lingerie boutique in town.

As he shopped, browsing racks of delicate fabrics, he selected what he needed: lacy bras in his new cup size, matching panties that felt silky against his skin, shapewear to smooth everything under the uniform, and dozens of pairs of tights and pantyhose. He knew from experience---his experience now---that runs in the hose would be a constant nuisance while working, snagging on furniture edges or during hasty bends. The sales clerk complimented his choices, assuming he was shopping for himself in this enlightened age, and he paid with a platinum card, no questions asked.

On the way home, a whimsical thought struck him. What fun it would be to hire himself out as a part-time housekeeper? To slip into other homes, performing the duties he now knew so intimately, all while reveling in this borrowed form. He stopped at a community center, jotting down a quick flyer on a scrap of paper: "Experienced Maid Available---Professional Cleaning Services, Flexible Hours. Contact for Details." He pinned it to the bulletin board, a secretive smile on his lips.

Back at the estate, Leonard hung up his new purchases and admired his reflection once more. The Medallion of Zulo rested safely in its hiding spot, ready for whenever he chose to reverse the spell. But for now, this was exactly what he wanted---a life of service, on his own terms.

Chapter 3

Leonard---or rather, the woman he had become---found an unexpected joy in the daily rhythms of maid work within his own estate. Each morning, he slipped into the black French maid minidress, the ruffled white accents crisp from the previous night's ironing, the long black gloves a second skin by now. The diamond choker collar gleamed under the chandelier lights as he moved from room to room, dusting forgotten corners, polishing silverware until it reflected his blond bouffant hairstyle like a mirror. No nook or cranny escaped his attention; he scrubbed grout lines in the bathrooms with a toothbrush, organized the pantry alphabetically, and even tackled the attic's cobweb-laden boxes, a task he'd long neglected in his former life. There wasn't a job too tough---whether hauling out the heavy rugs for beating or climbing ladders to clean the high ceilings, his new body handled it with the grace and strength drawn from Miss Tantania's embedded experiences.

For the rare moments when he wasn't in uniform---perhaps a quiet evening reading in the library or a quick errand to the market---he ventured out to purchase casual female apparel that fit his transformed frame. Simple blouses in soft pastels, tailored slacks that hugged his hips just right, and comfortable flats that didn't pinch like the pink heels. It felt liberating, this blending of worlds, though he always returned to the uniform with a sense of purpose.

A week slipped by in this contented solitude before the phone rang one afternoon. The flyer on the community bulletin board had done its work. "Hello, this is Miss Leonard," he answered, his voice naturally adopting the professional tone from his absorbed memories---smooth, confident, with a hint of warmth.

The caller, a harried executive named Mrs. Caldwell, inquired about availability, rates, and references. "I've got a townhouse that's seen better days," she explained. "Can you handle deep cleaning and weekly maintenance?"

"Absolutely," Miss Leonard replied, drawing effortlessly on the knowledge flooding his mind. "I've managed estates like Elmwood Manor and high-rise penthouses. Deep cleans are my specialty---eco-friendly products, antique care, you name it." The questions came rapid-fire: allergies to pets? (None.) Experience with smart appliances? (Extensive.) Discretion assured? (Always.) He handled each with ease, as if reciting his own life story---which, in a way, it now was.