Cheese, Chalk and Plenty of Pork – Part 09 of 10

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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.”

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Wendy Jean's picture

Really needs to pay for this.