Cinder Elli

Elliot bent down at the fireplace, scrubbing the dirtied bricks with his brush as he tried to clear the worst of the soot off the stone. The only visible effects were dirtying his own skin with ash and cinders, staining the blue fabric of the dress his step brothers had forced him into, and dirtying the maid headband they'd mockingly placed on his head to a dark black.

"Cinder Elli," called Jonathan from behind him. "You're dirtying your pretty dress, Cinder Elli. How ever will you go to the princess's ball?"

There was a meaty thwack, what Elliot assumed was a fist meeting a shoulder. That would be Rufus, who let out a low chuckle to confirm the blond boy's thoughts. "Like we'd let him go to the princess's ball. Right bro? He doesn't even have a tuxedo to wear."

"That's not the point," Jonathan sighed. Elliot knew without turning that Jonathan would be rubbing his shoulder, after a greeting like that. The young man was strong, but slender - while Rufus was bulky, with thick muscles from all the time he spent apprenticing in the blacksmith's shop. Even a playful punch would have hurt.

Still, Jonathan had a certain patience in his voice, that he always lacked when talking to Elliot. Or Elli, as they referred to him. Cinder Elli now, he supposed, and he sighed as he looked down at the soot-stained dress. He hadn't chosen to wear his mother's outfits, they'd forced it on him... but those outfits were all he had to wear, all he had left of his mother, and he hated to see one destroyed.

Jonathan was still talking behind him, but Elliot tuned out the words. He let the soft, somewhat patronizing tone wash over him. He pretended that it was him being spoken to, and that he actually still had a family that cared for him... and he returned his attention to washing the stones, quietly running the stiff white brush back and forth, back and forth. The motions were soothing, and soon his thoughts began to slowly drift. Back to the dress he wore.

It had been two years ago, shortly after his eighteenth birthday, that the blond had been first forced into lace garments. "You can thank your father for not leaving a proper will," his stepmother Ellanore had informed him, her cold blue eyes staring into his own sky-colored ones. "He specified that you had to be taken care of; but didn't specify anything beyond that... And I think you'll be working for your room and board... As a maid."

Firm hands had gripped his arms, while calloused fingers grabbed hold of his legs. Between them, Jonathan and Rufus had lifted him, Rufus lifting his legs a little upward to give easier access to their mother, who had pulled out a kitchen knife.

"Y-You... don't touch me!" He'd tried to squirm, but their grips had been like iron, and there was no give as she advanced toward him with the blade. She'd gripped hold of his pants, and begun to cut along the seam of his left pant leg.

"Relax." She'd faked a yawn, lifting a hand to her red-painted lips. "Your father was very clear that if any harm came to you, his wealth would revert to charity. Just as he was clear that each of his sons were to receive an equal share of his wealth upon your twenty first birthday, until which time I'm to be given a... Stipend." She'd spat the last word, apparently with some distaste left in her mouth.

She'd finished cutting her way up his leg, the flat of the blade resting slightly against his more private areas for a moment before she slowly withdrew the knife and began on the other leg. Elliot had let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, as she began to cut. The way she'd emphasized sons...

"I don't intend for you to count as male by any legal definition, when your twenty first birthday comes along." Elliot's heart started to beat faster, and his breath caught again as she quickly sawed through his pants and then sliced through the waistband. She'd begun to move onto his underwear. "But of course I can't physically force the issue on you. So it's my job to break you by the time the executor of the will comes to divide the wealth. Make sure that you're a perfect, unqualified sissy." She'd moved onto his shirt, ignoring the buttons to slice straight through the material, followed by the sleeves. She let it fall away, and then put the knife down.

"I won't give in," Eliot remembered telling her, as she'd tugged a pair of white lace panties up over his thighs.

"You will..." She'd insisted, smiling. It had made her cold eyes sparkle, and it hadn't been a good look. "I've burned all your other clothing, and your father's, and both yours and your parents possessions. Everything you could have laid claim to was cremated, along with your father. The only thing you have left to your entire name is your mother's clothing - and her makeup. The only thing you have to wear, the only thing you have to remember her by. You'll learn to love it. In time."

They'd drawn a bra over his chest, though they thankfully didn't stuff it, and then placed a red dress over his head. Eliot remembered clearly that it had been a sleeveless number that hung loosely around his completely flat chest, showing off the pink bra, and his slender arms. The same outfit he was wearing now, actually, though he'd done little to grow into it. She'd applied makeup to his features, lipstick and blush, and eyeliner.

In the years since, his hard work around the house had let him build a little muscle, but the lack of food or proper nutrition had stunted his growth at five foot three, and had kept him from developing much visual bulk. He was lanky, waist thin enough that Rufus could cup him around it with his hands and make thumbs and fingers touch.

He was also stunted in... other ways, below the belt. Though he wasn't sure if that was a result of malnutrition or just how his body was designed. He really looked like a girl, in lipstick and blush, with the right contouring. His narrow face could be made rounded and sweet, with any angles clearly the result of starvation over manhood. Jonathan had joked that the only way he was ever going to the ball was as some boy's date, if he could find someone who enjoyed a sissy like him. Because certainly no girls would.

Sometimes he worried they were right. Not about going with a guy, but about his really being a girl; being Elli. He sometimes thought that he did belong in dresses and makeup. It seemed to suit him so well, and as the years had gone by, he'd grown so used to it... At twenty, he dressed without thought, pulled his shoulder length hair into a casual ponytail each morning, shaved his face so close that no hairs could be viewed, and applied the blush and lipstick without any prompting. Yet saying that this form suited him would be like letting his brothers win.

Which brought Elliot's thoughts back to the present. To the princess's ball. His stepmother thought one of her handsome sons could scoop up the princess herself, but Elliot didn't have any delusions of grandeur. He just needed to woo any wealthy lady at the ball, any at all, and he would be able to escape this place.

Behind him, he was aware of his brothers' presence, watching him as he scrubbed, and he worked the smile off his face as he scrubbed the fireplace, finally seeing a few flecks of red. That was probably the cleanest he would get it, and he pulled slowly back.

A foot pressed into Elliot's back, right above his rear end, and the boy froze in place as Jonathan leaned down. "And where do you think you're going?"

"Not to the ball, right bro?" chortled Rufus. Elliot and his eldest stepbrother both frowned at that. Neither responded, though Jonathan rolled his eyes and Elliot flicked his back to the ground.

"You're going to stay here until it shines bright red," Jonathan continued. "Then maybe we'll even let you sit by the fire, while we all attend the ball... While you clean the rest of this house spotless." He smiled down at Elliot, and Elliot fought to keep his voice clear of any emotions, any hint of his plans.

"Uh-hmmmm..." The noise came from his stepmother, walking into the room before Elliot could respond. She had always seemed tall, and time seemed to have made her loom even larger than before. The rounded, happy cheeks she'd had when his father was alive had devolved into more angular features as the family had tightened its collective belt and she'd been forced to lose weight. High cheekbones and cold blue eyes gave her a harsh look... Red touched the blond's cheeks as Eliot thought, not for the first time, that he was prettier than her.

"Leave your sister alone, dears." Elliot couldn't help but notice the gentle emphasis put on sister, but the foot did lift itself off his backside and he let out a breath of relief that he wouldn't be shoved uselessly into the further muck. At the same time, though, Elliot felt his muscles tense. Despite the sister comment, Ellanore was being uncharacteristically nice by telling her sons to back off. "She has some shopping to do."

Elliot's eyes widened, and his stepmother let out a small smile in response. "And yes, you can keep the change; buy yourself a little trinket with the pennies left over... I know how you young women love your shopping."

The blond's cheeks flushed, but Cinder Elli didn't correct her. He'd been forced to beg in the past, to keep a few coins to himself. He'd even resorted to stealing, skimming money off the change when he thought she wouldn't notice - whatever it took to gather a few precious pennies.

It had taken two years to save forty dollars, penny by penny. It wasn't much, but it was enough to buy a nice male outfit for himself, and hire a coach for the ball. The poor boy only had enough for a one way trip, but he wasn't relishing the idea of coming home again. Elliot doubted he'd ever be allowed out of the basement. Only Elli would.

Elliot forced those thoughts away. He smiled at his stepmother, and took the leather pouch she gave him, and the shopping list. He dipped into a small curtsey, bending his knees, bowing his head and even pulling out the hem of his skirt to either side. "Thank you, Mistress," he told her, playing the proper maid. Then he scurried out the door before she could give him any more orders.

He regretted the decision the moment his feet hit the wooden porch, and the door closed behind him. He was outside, now - but in a dirty, ash-covered dress, with a soot-stained headband. Wearing girl's clothing was nothing new, of course, but dirty? The public would talk about the dear maid Elli, whose mistress couldn't even provide her with clean clothing. Or shoes, for that matter - he had only been given thick black socks, that covered his ungainly feet. It would all get back to his stepmother, eventually, and there would be hell to pay. But only if poor Elli was still around to pay it. Let Ellanore deal with the fallback, the blond decided. She apparently couldn't even be bothered to come through the door after him; assuming she even recognized her mistake.

Elliot took a deep breath, glancing at the door again to make sure that its handle wasn't jiggling and that it wouldn't open up when he was least expecting it. He took a look, too, at the forest that surrounded his childhood home, making sure no one was wandering up the path or hiding in the trees. His isolated house didn't have many visitors, and he always hid himself away in the attic when they appeared, but right now he couldn't do that.

Elliot had deep doubts that the townsfolk would understand anything of his situation, beyond the fact that he dressed as a girl. His stepmother had painted a very clear and believable portrait of them pointing, laughing, and violently throwing things when he was forced to go into town. If they didn't lynch him on the spot, it would only be because they didn't want to interfere in family affairs. He would certainly never be able to live a normal life when this was over with. The story might even follow him to other towns.

His stepmother had carefully convinced him to not only hide his crisis from the townsfolk, but to maintain it. If Elliot was the son of a rich merchant, who never left his house - then Elli was the bastard daughter, who'd come looking for her long-gone father and found only work as a maid instead. To pull that off, to not get recognized the moment he left the household, he'd had to do more than simply pretend. He'd had to make Elli real, imagining what his life would have been like if he'd been born a girl. A girl without any of the societal pressures of a lord, but also without any of the rewards. A girl who could be herself, even if she would never be much. He had to make Elliot disappear, and Elli reign supreme - and he had to keep his family from spotting it, or else they'd realize how much better he could do at home.

The face was first, but it was easy. The day was still early enough that the fine, blonde facial hairs had yet to regrow. That would probably change by the time she got home, but the makeup usually took care of things. Better, there was the soot that lightly covered her face; it would hide any sign of the lighter strands, with luck. That just left her needing Smile Number One - a happy and innocent smile, meant to draw people in - with just a hint of Elli's true feelings behind it. The bone-deep weariness and wariness that any maid would have. That little glimpse, caught against her apparent will, was the weapon that made most people sympathetic and kind.

The next thing was body language. Walking style. Elli didn't have much of a bottom to show off, and while she waxed and tweezed her legs on a regular basis, the sticks that held her up were still thin and knobbly, without much butt or thigh to show when she sashayed. So she skipped most of the mile through the forest, traveling the well-worn trail. In the curves, when she was convinced no one would see her, she would try to weave her hips back and forth with every step, and practice a more seductive step. There were times she couldn't skip in the crowded streets, and it was normal for Elli to at least try and look sexual. Without much in the way of breasts, at twenty, she wasn't likely to have any assets at all to show and catch herself a partner.

The blonde girl picked up a brown wicker basket from besides the door, carefully bending down with her legs closed so as not to show anything improper. She grasped the woven handle, and gave it a quick shake to make sure nothing frightful had slipped inside the basket or under the soft cloth that would cover her shopping from prying eyes until she got home. Nothing came out, so she picked up the basket with a big smile and began to make her way down the dirt path through the forest. With a mixture of skipping, sashaying and even half dancing, in practice for the ball, the blonde eventually made it through the half mile that separated her home from the town. Just a silly girl, following her dirt path to where it fed into a larger dirt road. A silly girl whose sharp eyes could see the town up ahead. If she squinted, Elli could even make out distinct buildings, mostly houses this far out. The one exception was a prosperous inn, whose swinging sign showed a duck, dressed in a suit and cravat. Though the maid couldn't make out words at this distance, she knew that it was called The Rich Duckling, and that it marked the entrance to the town proper. Once she was past that building, she would start seeing people. She already had to assume people could see her.

Being watched didn't matter to Elli, though, and she stuffed down any feelings Elliot might have on the matter. If she had any secret admirers, they were free to regard her form as she merrily skipped into town, basket swinging back and forth as she moved in a display of careless excitement. She skipped past the inn, onto cobblestones that bit into her poor feet and threatened to stub her toes. She kept skipping, anyway, ignoring each little jolt of pain that came through. Her feet had been hardened and calloused through the work she'd done, and she could take a little more of a beating as she moved through the town.

As the maiden neared the center market, the crowd began to thicken, leaving no room for skipping. She moved instead into her sexier walk, making her bottom and butt sway as much as possible in the limited space - and given the limited attributes she had to work with. Even trying her best, Elli felt more and more like Cinder Elli as the black soot on her dress marked every person she bumped into. It got her more than a few glares, and she was certain that the new name would stick with her for whatever was left of Cinder Elli's life. Possibly forever, if she couldn't end it at the next night's ball.

Elli took a deep breath, and reminded herself that the feedback would go only to her mistress, the Lady Ellanore. Keeping that in mind, she started to press and jostle her way through the crowd, bumping her dirtied dress against fine white cloth and blue-patterned dresses. She ignored a muffled curse as a lady in a particularly fine pink dress pulled the cloth aside before the sooty Cinder Elli could bump into it. She slid around the lady, instead taking advantage of the skittish behavior to move herself a few feet closer to the butcher's shop.

Three pork chops, three steaks, three pounds of hamburger. Never enough for poor Cinder Elli, who would eat what little leftovers Ellanore decided to spare her. Next up was the baker's, where she'd buy three loaves of bread, and the tailor's where she'd pick up two black suits, with mirroring blue ties. It was nicer than anything she could afford, but she tried to put that out of her mind. Their attention would be entirely on the princess, and Elliot's on... Whatever lady would take him, really.

Cinder Elli forcefully pushed that persona out of her mind, and realized she'd been scowling at the ground for a solid minute. She pushed her smile back into place, tucking the suits into her basket and under the soft cloth. The sun was already starting to set overhead, when she began to push her way back through the crowds. She swung her hips side to side, making room among people scared to get soot stained, until there was finally room to start skipping on the cobblestones.

It was a relief when she hit the dirt road, and then the dirt path back home. Rather than the constant pain of the dull rock, there was just the occasional poke of brambles into her feet. She paused occasionally to pull out little thorns that had pushed through her socks, but tried to only do it when necessary. The sun had begun to dip behind the hills, and the shadows of the trees were starting to fall across the small path. The longer she waited, the darker it would be when she returned home and the angrier her mistress would be at having to open the door.

Worry didn't make the path any shorter, though. The travel was hard, and her feet hurt, and complete darkness had fallen by the time she arrived on the porch. She sat for a moment, plucking each thorn out of her socks so that it wouldn't stab her during the long night of punishment that probably awaited her. Him. Time for Elliot to take control, again, and face his punishment.

When he knocked on the door, he was not expecting i tto open immediately. He certainly wasn't expecting the happy smile on his stepmother's face as she greeted him with a look that neared a warm welcome. The clink of copper on copper drew his attention downward, to the reason for that smile. There was something in his stepmother's hands; a small bag of brown cloth, which Elliot instantly recognized. It was filled with forty dollars, and twenty three cents. "That's..."

"Mine." His stepmother finished, smile widening as she looked out at him. "You seem to have taken a little extra, for yourself; but thankfully, you have exactly enough to cover the interest on my unwitting loans, so I won't be calling the police on you. In fact, as promised, I'll even let you keep the change from tonight's trip out. Like I promised."