Story: The Cleaner Returns. Chapters 47-48.

by BigBird74

If the moments leading up to that moment of delicious triumph had been among the most nerve wracking of her life, the release Melissa felt the moment her sister had stepped into the bathroom was pure ecstasy. For weeks now her anxieties had been building as the day approached that she would try to supplant her sister. All those sleepless nights, bouts of self-doubt and moments of near panic had suddenly paid off. Melissa closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, replaying recent events in her head, recalling how she had snatched away her sister’s undeserved fortune.

For a moment, Melissa thought she recognised the old Dahlia trying to assert herself. She feared she was about to fight back and upend all the careful planning. However to her palpable relief and just as the doctor had expected, Dahlia’s desire to reclaim a life she now associated with pure stress and near terror was so tepid, any remaining willpower she possessed simply imploded at the moment of truth.

Melissa nodded at Ms Nechita who duly left the suite to collect the doctor. In any good cop, bad cop routine, you need a foe and a friend, and it was now time for the doctor’s soothing manner to convince Dahlia make the right decision for everyone. After all, no one could rest easy until she was safely consigned to her new life. That thought sent a shiver through Melissa, as her moment of reverie was interrupted by a forgotten ghost. Despite everything that had been achieved in such a short time, in spite of standing so close to having it all, she knew she would never be able to relax until Dahlia was out of the way. Melissa hated uncertainty and was eager to push things as far as she could and finish this.

Throughout her life, Melissa’s impatience had been both a curse and a blessing. For most of her life it had played a negative role, leading her to apply herself only partially and grow disenchanted and bitter as she watched sister’s success come quickly and easily. However, more recently, it had proved something of an asset, almost compelling her to reach out and grab the chance to replace Dahlia, dedicating herself to that mission with great alacrity. Now, perhaps, the pendulum was swinging back again? Her impatience risked degenerating into a frustration that would see her pushing too hard. She needed the doctor’s reassuring hand on the tiller to calm the situation.

Much of this was understandable. Melissa would always feel a fraud until she felt her sister had accepted the situation and somehow anointed her as ‘Dahlia.’ Somehow Dahlia had to pass her life to her sister and play a role in legitimising the whole moment. Even then, would she be happy? What of the others participating in this scheme? How would she feel knowing that they would always see her as Melissa? Of course, the adult thing to do would be to accept that and move on as best as you can. Perfection is rarely achievable and, if it is, can be so fleeting it renders it meaningless. Melissa though knew there was more to do before she could feel her task was complete.

When the doctor arrived at the scene, he approached the door to the bathroom and knocked gently, before a clearly distressed Dahlia bid him to enter. The next few minutes were crucial. If Dahlia was to accept her place and settle for where she had landed, she needed to feel the other options facing her were unreal or risky. The doctor could see that the shock of seeing Melissa in her new body had released Dahlia from his hypnotic grip. But he wanted to test whether a new one was needed or whether the thin façade that had separated ‘Dahlia’ and ‘Petra’ was now so broken there was no need to worry.

Dahlia was in a fragile state and her mind was in a turmoil. Her face was even redder than before, with tears streaming down her fat cheeks. She looked a mess as her vast, rubbery chest rose and fall with each tearful gasp for air. She was wiping the mirror clean as the doctor walked in. She turned to face him, now fully aware of the vastness of her body.

“What is happening? Did you do this? Help Melissa?” She asks of him.

A few stunted nods confirmed that he had “Yes Petra. I could see you obviously wanted to change your life radically. Your lifestyle had changed and you embraced it with such vigour. It was obvious you wanted it.”

“But. I did not understand what I was doing. You… YOU should have been protecting me. Look at me! I am so repulsive now. So fat. So hideous.”

“Don’t be so cruel to yourself. You and I discussed this. You long felt you did not deserve the success you had. You were unable to handle the fame or success. When I saw you willingly let go and embrace this new life, I saw there was no reason to stop you. Remember how it felt to be free? You ran through that door I opened for you.”

Dahlia looked worried. She had indeed grabbed at this with both hands. Of course she had known that what she was doing to herself was not the behaviour of a pristine supermodel. It just seemed like everything was okay at that moment. She recalled the high she felt each time she broke a taboo or over indulged herself. Everything she engaged in was done willingly, with an almost childish pleasure. As she began to recount her own culpability in this sorry, sleazy affair, she once again felt ashamed. The doctor shut the door for privacy.

“Petra..”

“Don’t call me that!” Dahlia said quietly.

“Shh. It is alright. You can be honest with me. I know what you want to say. I know how you really feel.” His gaze was fixed upon hers, waiting for her to look up and connect. For the briefest of moments they did and she flushed bright red again as the eroticism of the moment softens everything. She had shared her body with this man so many times recently. Though the amorous visits had diminished of late, the memories of his skin touching hers, his potency reaching deep inside of her, it all made her blush more.

“You wanted this, Petra,” he reasoned, leaning in towards her, his mouth up close to her ear “You found it thrilling. You never should have been Dahlia. It was a mistake. We both saw that. You can stay this way … forever”

He went on, reminding her of all they had covered in her therapy sessions, how her desire for shame and humiliation had driven so much of what she had done to herself. Each step of the way in her demise, she had fully invested herself, just more as a passenger than an antagonist. Why had she not spoken out as her body had ballooned like that? Images of their most intimate moments together flashed by her. Each step of their affair marked by ever more degrading sexual acts. She trembled at their memory, her body rippling with acute desire again. She remembered when he first turned her down, how she had felt when he needed to be elsewhere the following night. No anger. No sense of betrayal. Just a dimmed sense of unfairness and acceptance. It was right. She was no longer Dahlia. She was Petra. Fat, ugly Petra was used to being treated that way. She only took what she could get, not like Dahlia. Dahlia was fussy, difficult and careful of her image. Petra lived life dangerously. Her body was most certainly not her temple and she had piled abuse on it. Sexual freedom was just another side of the same careless streak. She felt herself want him so badly. But he was out of her league.

Their conversation twisted and turned. Each inflection point seemed designed to illustrate how Petra had largely supplanted Dahlia in her everyday existence. Did she want all that pressure back? Could she ever hope to lose all that weight again? Surely you are happier living the way you always needed to? The questions kept coming till, like she were caught in some tidal wave, Dahlia found herself turned over and unable to deny the facts: against her better judgement, she admitted to him that she was hopelessly lost and that she felt nothing but fear and stress at the thought of returning to her old life.

Was it that simple? Could she admit it? She knew that to be Dahlia again would mean stepping back into the limelight. Waiting in the wings was her sister, an almost flawless copy of Dahlia before she had started down this road of self-destruction. Then. He took her hand and led her out of the bathroom.

Ms Nechita and Melissa were there waiting, eager to hear what the deposed supermodel had to say. Dalia’s highly embarrassed state was obvious. Less obvious was the arousal streaming through her. The doctor knew it of course and he squeezed her hand, prompting her to speak.

“Ms. Western. Your bathroom is finished. I… I am sorry for earlier. I was wrong to question you,” she spoke quietly, never quite making eye contact. Though now large and physically imposing, Dahlia felt as though she were shrinking as a person, reducing herself and admitting to all in the room that she was a mere ‘flake’ that could not handle the good fortune life had given her.

She wiped the tears from her round cheeks and looked at Ms Nechita for guidance. “Come with me Petra. We will be back later to look after Ms Western.” As she led Dahlia from the room, it felt to her that every step taken led her further away from her prior life. She questioned herself: should she stop? But as she walked down the corridor and away from the new Dahlia, she felt that masochistic pleasure bubble up within her.

Even then, though everything had changed, in some respects, nothing had. In the back of her mind, she told herself that, until Melissa had made her debut as Dahlia, this could all be stopped… if she wanted. Or at least that was what she told herself to stop herself from running away from it all. Three days. That was all there was until her sister would replace her and then what? What would happen to her? She had always stood by her sister. But, while she knew the resentment that had built up between them, she had no idea of the depths to which it now reached. 

 

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