On Becoming Gretchen

My name is, or used to be, James Carrion. At the time, I was kind of a vagrant. Itinerant worker sounds better, and I guess would be more descriptive and apt. I would work at a job maybe six months or so and then set out for a new place and a new job. At any rate, my story begins as I was between jobs, so to speak. In fact it had been quite a while since my last job and I was getting down to my last couple of bucks when I heard that there were jobs of some kind opening up in Wells City.

Since there weren’t any immediate job prospects in this town, I decided to try my luck there. When I paid off my room rent, I had barely enough for the bus ticket. I was going to pay for that lousy roach-infested room, but as I started to leave I was met by my landlord, all six feet and two hundred pounds of him. So naturally I was overjoyed to pay my past-due bill. I sure didn’t want my credit rating damaged, nor my nose bloodied and my eyes blackened.

I trudged to the bus station. It was a cold, miserable day in late fall. Not freezing, exactly, but one of those chill days when the dampness goes right into your bones. Arriving at the bus station cold, wet, and hungry, I found to my dismay that the next bus for Wells City didn’t leave for another six hours. Nothing for me to do but wait, and starve.

I purchased my ticket and went over to sit in the dingy crowded waiting room when this really good-looking dame came up to me. “I just saw you buy a ticket to Wells City. Are you just going to sit here and wait until the bus leaves?” she asked me.

“Yes, ma’am. I got no place to go and no money left. About all I can afford to do is to just sit here until the bus leaves.”

“Well, I’m going to Wells City and I hate driving alone. I’ll tell you what. If you will cash in your ticket, I’ll take you there, half price. We’ll leave right now so you won’t have to sit around waiting.”

To me that sounded like a really good deal. I’d get to ride with a good-looking girl whose eyes promised real company rather than wait around and then have to ride in a crowded bus. Besides, I’d have enough money to get something to eat and maybe rent a room for a day or so when I got there. Without a moment’s hesitation I agreed.

It only took a few minutes to cash in my ticket and pile into her big fancy car and be on our way. You might have guessed by now that this whole thing was just a come-on. At the time I was tired and disgusted and my only thought was to get out of there, so I never even thought of a come-on. We got going, her driving at a pretty good rate of speed.

I wasn’t paying much attention to where we were going until I noticed that we had turned off the main road and were traveling down a back country road. I turned to the girl to ask where the hell we were going and looked down the barrel of a big, and I mean big, pistol. “Just sit quietly. We’re almost there,” she ordered.

I soon found out where ‘there’ was. The road dead-ended. She ordered me to give her the rest of my money, which I reluctantly did. I couldn’t even hold back a few bucks since she knew exactly how much money I had. She then ordered me to get out of the car, which I did with a bit of alacrity. The farther I got away from that gun, the better I felt. That gal was handling it like she was born with it in her hand and she did this every day. Maybe she did.

She didn’t waste a minute. She turned around and drove off with my money, my pack, and everything else I had except for the clothes on my back.

There was nothing else for me to do except to trudge back toward the main highway. I guessed I was a good ten miles up this deserted little side road. To top it off, it had begun to drizzle and it was getting dark.

I guess I walked a couple of hours in that drizzly rain, when I finally came to a large house, kind of set back from the road. It was the first and only house I saw the whole time I was walking. It sat out there by itself. There was nothing else anywhere near, not even a barn.

I approached it, hailed it, pounded on the door, and even circled it. I tried looking in the barred and shaded windows but could see no sign of life. Finally convinced that no one was about, and being cold, wet, and hungry, I tried the door.

Lo and behold! The windows were barred and the door looked as solid as a rock, but it was unlocked. The interior was as elaborate as the exterior was imposing. I wandered through the living room and den, sloshing water on the deep napped rug with every step. I made my way through the house, meeting no one, and finally found the kitchen. Looking about, I found a well-stocked refrigerator.

I was hungry, but I was also wet by now, quite chilled. I decided to try and find some dry clothes, or at least a blanket that I could cover up in while the rags I was wearing dried. I then started wandering through the darkened house. I finally found a bedroom, but the only clothes I found were quite feminine.

I gave up and thought I’d try another room, maybe I’d have some better luck and find some male clothes, when suddenly the lights came on!

I turned, and the first thing that caught my eye was the barrel of a cannon. For the second time in one day I was looking at the wrong end of a pistol.

As my eyes strayed from the mouth of the pistol, I saw that it was held by a girl. Woman, really, as she was tall. Taller than me, even allowing for her high heels. She had fair skin, accented by her long black hair. She was wearing a white gauzy see-through blouse that embellished her full breasts and wore black form-fitting slacks that emphasized her long tapered legs.

She had an air of quiet confidence and held the pistol like she knew how to use it. What was worse, she looked like she was rather eager to try it out on me.

“Lady,” I said. “You can put that gun away. I’m not trying to steal anything except maybe a little food, the loan of some dry clothes, and a chance to get it out of the rain and cold. I banged on the door and hollered all around the place but no one answered. I just figured that no one was home, so I came in.” I started to lower my hands.

“Keep them up!” she commanded, waving the pistol a bit. She then walked around me, kind of looking me over from every angle, giving little exclamations of approval or disapproval during her inspection.

After circling me a couple of times, she got a pair of handcuffs from somewhere. Quickly and efficiently, she pinioned my wrists behind me.

Marching me back into the den, she stopped me on a big furry rug lying in front of the fireplace. She made me lay down on my stomach and produced another pair of manacles which she put on my ankles. Then, to add insult to my helplessness, she linked my wrists and ankles together.

“Your clothes are soaking,” she said rather unnecessarily as if she hadn’t seen me dripping water the whole time. “We’ll have to do something about that.”

She left and returned a few moments later with some scissors and calmly began cutting my clothes off me. I mean everything. She stripped me down to the buff so that I was lying there on that rug, bare-assed naked.

She kind of giggled while I lay face down on the rug and tried to pull my feet up to hide the crack of my ass. However, she relented a bit and covered me up with another skin. I didn’t know whether the rugs were fake or real animal skin, but they sure were soft, warm, and dry.

“Hungry?” she finally asked.

“Starving,” I replied. “I haven’t eaten since this morning. I met this girl who offered me a ride to Wells City. We hadn’t gone but a little way when she took me down this lonely road, pulled gun on me, and dumped me. Now I find this place, and the first thing I know you pull a gun on me, hog-tie me, and strip me.”

Then I added quite angrily, “You’re damn right I’m hungry, and mad and disgusted too. To top it off, you have me chained up this way for no reason at all.”

“I only asked if you were hungry,” the woman replied. “I’m not in the least interested in your problems or whether you are disgusted or not. I’ll get you something to eat.”

She appeared shortly with a plate of what appeared to be pieces of meat, gravy, and some kind of vegetables in it, and a bowl of milk.

She sat the dishes down in front of my face. “You’ll have to eat it like my little doggy, but don’t worry; when you’re through, I’ll wash off your face.”

I looked at the food, rather warily. It looked suspiciously like dog food. She saw my look and laughed. “No, it’s not dog food – this time. But if we don’t come to some sort of an understanding, it may very well be, next time.”

I was hungry, and despite the humiliation, began eating. The meat was rich and tender. The vegetables were delicious. But have you ever tried eating while lying on your stomach with your hands tied behind you? It’s not easy. You have to estimate where the food is. By the time you get your face down to it, you can’t see it. Then you have to get your nose out of the way. No matter how hard you try, you are still going to get your nose and chin messed up. Also, trying to get liquid out of a bowl is no snap. I guess that if a person practices long enough, he would get adept at lapping it up like a dog or cat. In my case, though, I had to kind of purse my lips and suck it up.

I finally finished it all, even to the point of licking the plates clean. The woman removed the plates and cleaned up my face. After putting the dishes away, she sat on the sofa, looking down at me.

“I’m needing a maid to serve a group of girl friends I am having here in a day or so. If you will act the part, I won’t turn you in to the police for breaking and entering and possibly trying to attack me.”

“I never tried to attack you and I wasn’t breaking and entering. I just came in to get out of the rain.”

“On the contrary, I found you in this house sneaking around, looking for something to steal. Probably if you had found me unarmed, you would have tried to rape me.”

“Why, you know that isn’t true!”

“Who do you think will believe you, after I tell them my story of how I caught you sneaking up behind me, trying to attack me?”

I was beat and I knew it. There wasn’t a soul who would believe my story. I could hardly believe that it had happened the way it did, and I was there.

So, I asked, “Maid? What’s with the maid bit? A maid’s a female, I’m not, so that leaves me out. I may be a lot of things, but I’m no girl.”

“If you agree, when I’m through, no one will know the difference. I can put some makeup on you, dress you up, and you’ll look quite attractive.”

“Hell, no! I’m not going to agree with such a silly thing.”

“OK., I’ll just call the cops and tell them I caught you in my bedroom.”

“Why, I’ll just tell them what really happened,” I responded. “I’m sure they’ll realize that it was just a mistake,” I replied desperately, knowing that no one would believe it. What was worse, she knew it too.