Story: You're Not Me!

YOU'RE NOT ME!
By Tcheser

Upon waking Sharon's very first question was "Where the heck am I?" as the small darkened space she was laying in didn't seem like it could possibly belong anywhere in her neatly ordered little world. Her second was "Ow, my head hurts!" which was odd as she didn't recall hitting her head. Putting that aside for a moment and rolling over, she got to her knees and felt around with her hands for a way out of the darkness. She felt nothing but a smooth wall at first, but eventually found a doorframe and then a doorknob. However when she opened the door she found to her great surprise that she was after all still in her cottage, in the little room just off the study to be precise, and had in fact just been in the closet she used to store boxes of old books.

Sharon was looking around and trying to remember how she had come to be in the closet, the last thing she could remember was opening the back door to some knocking, when she came to the even more startling realization that she was completely and totally naked. Suddenly feeling very exposed she covered herself with her hands. Looking around for something to wear she scampered into the study. There she found not the cozy sweater she was looking for though, but a young woman she didn't know, calmly chatting on the phone with someone and laughing.

"What is going on here? Who the hell are you?" Sharon screamed more from surprise than anger.

"You don't know? Wow, you must have hit your head harder than I thought," the woman replied putting her phone call on hold. The look on her face was one of both bemusement and feigned concern. She seemed oddly familiar, but Sharon couldn't quite place her. She did however know where the woman had gotten the beautiful blue silk dress she wore from. It was from Sharon's own closet. This intruder was wearing her clothes!


Though Sharon's head hurt that didn't change the fact that there was a stranger in her house, wearing her clothes, using her phone and patronizing her. She decided to let the interloper know she didn't care for any of this one bit. "Now look here whoever you are," she said indignantly "I want you to leave right this minute. If you do so immediately I won't call the police."

"That isn't very polite," the strange woman sighed "Maybe you should be the one to leave."

"Me leave? Just who exactly do you think you are anyway?" She found herself playing this woman's weird game, which was the last thing she wanted to do while she stood there naked before her.

Then in reply to Sharon's question the woman said the strangest thing. "I'm Sharon Marshall, I live here," Then she nodded toward the computer which was open to where Sharon had stopped last on her most recent book. "I'm a writer of some acclaim. I'm right in the middle of writing my next novel in fact."

Sharon was flabbergasted "What are you talking about? You're not me! I'm me.!" she blurted out nonsensically.

"I'm not?" the woman inquired as if confused.

"No you most certainly are not," Sharon insisted "You can't be Sharon Marshall, because I'm Sharon Marshall. And get away from that computer. That's my book not yours!" Then heedless of her nudity she reached for the laptop in an effort to recover her hard work.

"Hands off!" the impostor barked however and easily shoved Sharon, who proved to be quite a bit weaker than she was, away from the computer sending her tumbling over to land in a rather undignified heap on the floor.

"You should know not to touch other people's things," The woman rebuked Sharon from her seat behind what should have been Sharon's desk.

Red faced after her nude gymnastics Sharon decided to take a different tact with this odd woman. She stood back up and asked "If you're really me, then who am I exactly?"

Sharon expected the impostor to be stumped by this question and was therefore more than a little surprised when she replied "That's simple enough.You're Cindy Mallory, a stray I tried to look after until I learned she was in desperate need of help."

"What? What are you talking about?" Sharon sputtered not comprehending what the impostor was saying. Then suddenly it all clicked.

This woman was trying to steal her identity!

Further Sharon recalled now why she looked so familiar. She was the girl who delivered the groceries each week. HER name was Cindy Mallory. She was often late and there were sometimes things missing from her order which she suspected the girl had stolen. Because of this Sharon rarely gave her a tip. She hadn't recognized her at first because she looked so much more mature now than she usually did in the torn jeans and tennis shoes she normally wore around.

Thinking back Sharon recalled now that Cindy couldn't be more than 14 or 15 years old. Even if she was stronger than she was, Sharon was an adult. She would show this kid how foolish she was being.

"I know what you're doing and it isn't going to work," She informed Cindy.

"And why is that?" Cindy inquired.

"Many reasons," Sharon now confidant began ticking them off on her fingers "Firstly you know nothing about me and that would be necessary to pull off this charade, secondly you look nothing like me, thirdly I'm a well known writer, and lastly your just a child, you won't be able to fool anyone for long into thinking you're actually an adult."

Seemingly amused Cindy smiled and calmly addressed each point in turn "Well to begin with I do know something about you. Quite a bit in fact. I did some research before coming here and while you were asleep in the closet I found your diary and your box marked 'important private papers' , these were very informative. I doubt there's much I don't know about you."

"Oh yeah?" Sharon challenged "What's my favorite color then? My social security number? What was my first pet's name."

"Orange, 456-23-8761, and Noodles," Cindy replied effortlessly. She clearly had done her homework.

"The fact that I don't resemble you very closely is also irrelevant," Cindy then stated "You're such a recluse that no one is the village knows what you look like, you've barely left this house since you moved in, and you have no friends or living family."

"The issue with you being a famous writer is similarly not much of problem if you consider it. Remember how all your dealings with your publisher have been done over the phone or through email? And how you purposely don't even have your picture on your book or anywhere on the internet. Well your efforts to protect your privacy have succeeded. As far as I can tell no one knows any more about you then your name and the incredibly vague information you put in your bio. As far as your readers know you could be a seventy year old Chinese man who writes from the back of a shrimp trawler in the gulf of Mexico."

"And lastly," Cindy said standing up and revealing that in the heels she had taken from Sharon she now towered over the petite writer "I don't think I'll have any trouble making people believe I'm an adult. After all people believe you're an adult and you have the body of a grade schooler and could barely find your way out of a closet while I look like a woman and plan to act like one too."

Frightened by her tone Sharon had to ask "What do you plan to do?"

Apparently happy to answer Cindy smiled and told her. "I'm going to come out of seclusion. I'm going to show the world who Sharon Marshall really is. I'll be the toast of the town. I'll go to fancy parties. I'll meet men. And I'll soak up all the attention and adoration you should have years ago."

"And what about me?" Sharon demanded impudently.

"Oh you'll be in good hands," Cindy replied "I just got off the phone with my new friend at St. Winifred's School for Wayward Girls." Cindy explained "They're expecting you this afternoon and will make sure that you're well looked after. I can't promise that it will be a joyride, returning to the 9th grade at your age will probably be quite unpleasant, particularly with those sour humorless nuns and their paddles, they're more strict than fair, but unfortunately I need you somewhere safe and out of the way so that's the way it's going to have to be."

She then produced a large flat box and handed it to Sharon.

Opening it Sharon saw to her horror that it was a rather formal and old fashioned school uniform complete with starched white blouse, plaid skirt and knee high socks. In an outfit like that Sharon knew she wound be indistinguishable from the rest of the girls and would become just another naughty little bottom to discipline.

"No! You'll never get away with this! I'm going to the police!" Sharon screamed, threw the box in Cindy's face and ran for the door.

Unfortunately Cindy was the quicker and caught her before she had gotten far "Oh no you don't. That's something I simply can't allow at the moment." Cindy said and grabbing Sharon by the ear steered her back into the study and over to a hard backed chair where she somehow landed face down across the woman's lap.

"Let me go!" Sharon cried but the woman held her tight and before she knew it was raining down heavy handed blows to her completely exposed and upturned little bottom.

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!

Sharon just couldn't believe this.

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!

She had woken up in a closet...

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!

...completely naked...

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!

...had her identity stolen..

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!

...and was now being spanked...

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!

...by someone she should be babysitting!

Worse still, having not been spanked since she was a tiny child Sharon couldn't help but squirm and whine as the blows stung her round little bottom. And after several minutes of this she was kicking and screaming like a naughty petulant brat being punished by a stern parent. Then when she didn't think she could take anymore she broke down in tears and out came the promises to be good and do whatever she was told.

It all seemed to last an eternity.

In time though even this time distorting event came to an end and the woman who had once been the woman Sharon but was now the girl Cindy was set back on her feet and stuck in the corner where she immediately began rubbing what was now a very hot, very red and very sore bottom.

"How long do I have to stand here?" she sniffed.

"Until I say otherwise," was Cindy's reply which she emphasized with another hard smack to Sharon's already tender backside.

Before long though there was a knock at the door and two nuns entered the study tsking and shaking their heads in disapproval. Were they upset with the sorry state of her burning behind? Were they mad at Cindy for punishing her in this way? Sharon couldn't be certain, but surely they couldn't still believe Cindy's was her now that the two of them were right in front of them. Then one of them spoke and made everything quite clear.

"So this is the naughty little tramp you've tried so hard with is it? She finally got a taste of good old discipline I see and from the looks of it not a moment too soon."

No! The nuns were fooled Sharon realized.

She had to say something to convince them that she wasn't a wayward teen, but despite being a professional writer, someone paid for her way with words, nothing convincing came to mind. Cindy had covered her bases too well. All that came out of Sharon's mouth was stammering "Um, no... I'm.. Uh... This isn't... She..." and so on until tired of having what appeared to be an impudent child waste their time the nuns seized her and before she knew it had wrestled her into the awful school uniform and dragged her off to St. Winifred's.

As they dragged her out the front door and down the gravel path to their waited car she finally started to come out of her catatonic stupor and fought them for all she was worth. Between the two of them she was outmatched. They just gripped her arms more fully, pulled her new school knickers down around her ankles and smacked her already tortured bottom with their leather paddles.

Whack! Whack!

Whack! Whack!

After that they had little trouble hustling the once again crying Sharon into the backseat of the car and locking her in.

Between the pain in her bottom and the enormity of what was happening to her Sharon was beside herself with anger, grief and humiliation. She wanted to scratch the eyes out of the smiling young woman waving to her from the gravel path. The woman who had stolen everything she had and plunged her into the hell she was certain to find at St. Winifred's. But alas all she could do was bang her impotent little fists against the rear window and wail like a banshee as they drove off "You're not me! You're not me!"