Anthony woke to a soft beeping and a bright light. Groggily he opened his eyes, to see white walls and curtains around a large window, through which the sun was shining straight into his eyes. He groaned and made to rub his eyes... but no response from his arms was forthcoming. Still half-asleep, he puzzled vaguely at this.
"Ah, you're awake at last!"
Anthony glanced in the direction of the feminine voice, and saw an attractive early-middle-aged woman approaching the side of his bed. She wore a surgeon's outfit and long brunette hair, tied back in a ponytail, and smiled warmly down at Anthony.
"How are you feeling?" she asked.
"Uhh... numb, but otherwise fine, I think. Er, where am I?" he responded, looking around at his surroundings.
"You're in the private medical wing on my estate," the woman said. True to her word, the white room looked very much like a hospital, spotlessly clean and with all the associated paraphernalia. "I'm a consultant bioroboticist, you see. Doctor Susan C. Coppelia, at your service."
Anthony nodded. "I see... Anthony Franz, at yours. So, what am I doing here? And why won't my arms move?"
Doctor Coppelia grimaced. "Well... do you remember what happened before you woke up?"
Anthony tried to cast his mind back. There was the shipping contract... loading the cargo in the shuttleport... the long, tiresome journey... another shuttle appearing out of nowhere...
"Oh god, the crash..."
Coppelia nodded grimly. "Yes. Fortunately, you landed close enough to my home - almost on top of it, in fact - that I was able to get you medical attention in time. But while you're in stable condition, you lost an arm to the crash, as well as some profound neural damage and... well, as it is, you may never be able to use your limbs again."
Anthony let his head fall back on the pillow, staggered by the news. For almost a minute he simply stared at the ceiling in shock, barely able to process his predicament.
Doctor Coppelia sympathetically rubbed Anthony's hand. "I'm sorry to have to tell you this... but there is good news. I am rather talented in the field of integrating artificial materials to the human body, and I think I can restore your limbs to full working order."
"Y-you can?" Anthony asked, his despair rapidly giving way to hope. "Thank you, doctor, thank you so--"
"But before you get too excited, there is something we  must address," Coppelia interrupted. "Now, I realise it can't really be considered your fault, but the crash dealt rather a lot of damage to my estate. I'm quite well off, but replacing what was lost will put quite a dent in my finances."
"Oh... right. Well, I'd be happy to chip in, but I don't really have much money of my own... i-if there's anything else I can do..."
"It's very good of you to offer. And I can think of something you might do for me; once you've recuperated from the surgery, I take you on as a servant until your debt is repaid. You'll receive full room and board of course, along with other benefits. What do you say?"
Anthony mulled the offer over, and presently nodded in agreement. "That doesn't sound too bad. I'm sure I could manage that - I suppose I'd better hope so, I'll be at it for quite a while, what with the expenses of the surgery on top of the repair bill..."
"Well, that brings me onto my second point. Naturally the surgery will be quite expensive, but considering our arrangement, I'm willing to waive those fees on one condition. Interested?" Anthony nodded eagerly, and Coppelia continued. "Due to the nature of your injuries, I'll most likely have to graft quite a bit of replacement robotics to your body, and since you'll be employed for domestic service it would make sense to adapt those parts for such tasks, yes? So, if you will allow me complete freedom over the layout of your implants, I will be quite happy to perform the operation gratis. How does that sound?"
Anthony was a bit more hesitant to accept this particular proposition, but soon enough he agreed to this as well.
"Under the circumstances, I don't suppose I have much choice really." He smiled weakly, trying to make light of his predicament. Coppelia smiled back.
"It's alright, I'm quite trustworthy! You're in good hands with me. But there's no time like the present of course, so if you could just count backwards from ten..."
With this, Coppelia held up a breath mask and pressed it to Anthony's mouth. The chemically cloying scent of anaesthetic filled his airways, and he began counting...
Ten... nine... eight...
Seven... six...
Five...
Four...

* * *

Consciousness returned to Anthony, and for the second time in recent memory he woke to the sounds and sensations of a hospital room. Mixed with them, though, were subtle hints of machinery; the scents of lubricant and coolant, the hum of a generator. Anthony opened his eyes once more, to see Doctor Coppelia standing before him consulting a handheld screen. She glanced up at Anthony and smiled.
"Well, the operation went well, I'm happy to say! You should be able to move your limbs with no trouble - give it a try!"
Anthony tried to flex his fingers, and was delighted when they responded. Doctor Coppelia pressed a button that made the bed tilt to a vertical position, undid some safety restraints and invited Anthony to test his legs. He hesitantly started to take a few steps, but something caught his heel and he stumbled forward. Coppelia caught him before he hit the ground, but his eyesight descended to see what he was wearing.
"What the-- why am I wearing a dress?!"
Indeed, Anthony found himself dressed in a metal facsimile of the oversexualised black-and-white garb of a stereotypical French maid, complete with extremely high heels on which he was having a tough time keeping his balance, even with Doctor Coppelia's hand resting balancingly on his suddenly ample chest. He looked incredulously at Coppelia, whose smile had become rather more mischievous.
"If you'll recall, you agreed to allow me to choose the specifics of your implants in exchange of me waiving the fees for your surgery. And since you'll be providing domestic service for me, I thought this would be appropriate. You're welcome!"
"But... wouldn't a butler have been more appropriate? I mean, I'm male, for god's sake!"
Coppelia shrugged and looked over Anthony's outfit. "What can I say? I have a bit of a thing for crossdressing men - you'll be a welcome distraction. But I could always remove the replacements parts if you're not sold on being a maid?"
As stunned as Anthony was at all this, he couldn't really bring himself to be angry about it. Examining the elbow-length glove sculpted into his slender replacement arm, matching the one on his organic arm, he gave a sigh.
"I... no, it's alright. It's just rather a surprise, is all. I suppose you'd know what's best in this sort of situation, though."
"So the maid look can stay, then?"
"Yes... yes, I'm sure I can adapt to this. Thank you, doctor."
"You're quite welcome, Anthony! Now, shall we start getting you working on your new duties?" Coppelia invited Anthony out of the operating room, resting a hand on his shoulder as he tottered unsteadily on his high heels. "Oh, and it's "Mistress" from now on to you." she added with a smirk.
"I-- yes, Mistress."
"Very good! We'll make a maid of you yet..."

* * *

Anthony had hoped that after a few days of service in his new uniform he would adapt to the high heels and become surer on his feet. It hadn't quite panned out that way - while he wasn't quite as unsure in them as he was a week ago, stumbles and falls were still quite common, and it was only by the grace of plush carpets and soft stockings that his knees weren't bruised and injured. On staircases he clung to the banister as though his life depended on it, which was something he didn't intend to leave to chance.
As Anthony went about his duties, he heard the tinkling of a small bell, coming from the lounge. Setting down his feather-duster, he made his way to the source of the sound, carefully if unsteadily.
Sitting in a large luxurious wingback chair before a pleasant fire, Doctor Coppelia drummed her fingers patiently on the arm of the chair, before holding out her bell once more for another ring. Just as she did, however, Anthony arrived at the side of the chair, putting his arms out as he almost toppled over from his sudden stop.
"Still not quite got the hang of those heels, dear?" Coppelia said sympathetically.
"I'm sure I'll acclimatise soon, Mistress," Anthony answered. "Anyway, you rang?"
"Yes, I rather feel like a little drink. Bring me up something from the cellar, would you?" Anthony nodded and teetered off obediently. As he returned to within earshot, Coppelia continued.
"I've been thinking, darling - you don't seem to be handling those heels too well, do you? Even after seven days' worth of practice."
"Well, not really. But I am trying my best, Mistress," Anthony called back.
"I know, and that's very good of you. But it can't be helpful when you're trying to work, and I must confess I'm a little worried about what might happen if you should--"
As she said this, Anthony entered the room with Coppelia's drink, but his high-heeled foot caught the edge of the rug and he fell heavily forward.
"--do that," Coppelia finished, her point neatly illustrated. Stammering his apologies, Anthony shuffled on his knees to clean up the mess as best he could, though the brandy was lost. At a loss for anything to do, he simply remained kneeling, embarrassed, beneath the stern gaze of Mistress Coppelia.
"I... I guess maybe there is something to your concerns?" he said after an awkward pause, trying to make light of the incident.
Coppelia couldn't help but smirk a little. "Evidently so. Would you be more open for artificial equilibrium adjustment now, my dear maid?"
Anthony hesitated for a moment, before nodding in affirmation. Coppelia helped him up and began escorting him to the operating theatre...

* * *

"Y'know, ordinarily I'd be rather pleased to see a pair of legs this attractive..."
Anthony sat on the edge of the bed, examining the legs in question. They were shapely and slender, clad in metal stockings and high-heeled shoes, the very picture of feminine beauty, rendered in various shades of chromed metal.
"... but seeing them attached to my own body rather takes the fun out of it."
Doctor Coppelia gave the legs a once-over, ensuring that they were working properly. Satisfied, she stood up and invited Anthony to stand up. He obliged, and found that he was considerably more well balanced on his new mechanical legs.
"They're not so bad from my perspective, if you'll pardon the comment," Coppelia said, watching as Anthony took a few steps. His gait was much more steady, albeit rather sexualised - by his new legs' very design, Anthony now walked in a sultry, mincing fashion, his buttocks swaying like a petticoated pendulum.
"At least I'm not constantly about to fall over now," Anthony admitted, looking down at his new limbs over his wide skirt. "But I must look rather strange, what with the male face..."
"A little, but I do have a solution for that problem..." Coppelia answered. She opened a box that Anthony hadn't yet noticed and removed a blonde wig. She held this up with one hand, and with the other held up a makeup case, giving a sly smirk all the while.
Anthony gave her a incredulous look back. "Now you're just taking the piss..."
"Oh no Anthony, I'm quite serious," Coppelia answered, her smirk expanding to full Cheshire Cat proportions. "To be honest, this is something I've been thinking of introducing for a while now. After all, if you're going to look like a maid, surely you might as well look like a complete maid?"
Anthony felt his anger drain out of him. Somehow, Coppelia's reasoning made a lot of sense.
"I... I guess so. I don't know, this is all a bit confusing..."
Coppelia rubbed his cheek sympathetically. "I know, dear, I know. But you needn't worry, I do have your best interests at heart. And considering everything we've been through, surely a bit of lipstick and mascara is small beer?"
"I suppose so... and you've done such a lot for me, for free, so I guess I owe you."
"So I can go ahead with the makeup?"
Anthony nodded, and Coppelia began applying the makeup. Not being an expert in feminine beautification, Anthony wasn't entirely sure what Coppelia was doing to his face. Soon enough though, she put the makeup down and carefully placed the wig over his brown crewcut. She adjusted it meticulously, adding a maid's headdress, and held a mirror before Anthony's face. At first glance, he couldn't quite process the connection between himself and the feminine face reflected in the mirror, such a change had been wrought by the makeup. But when it finally struck him, he stared slack-jawed at the image before him.
He barely knew what to think. "I-- I look..." he stammered.
Coppelia appeared in the mirror next to Anthony, leaning over his shoulder smiling encouragingly. "It looks good, doesn't it? You look good, yes?"
Hearing Coppelia's words, Anthony blushed - not that he could really tell under the rouge - and smiled shyly. "Yeah... I guess I do, don't I?"
Coppelia squeezed Anthony's shoulders. "It's not so bad, is it, being a cyborg maid?"
"I... suppose not. Is there... anything else you need to do to me, Mistress?" Anthony asked hesitantly.
"Not for the moment, dear, no. Though I may decide to perform a few upgrades somewhere down the line. But I'm sure you won't mind, will you?"
"I... no Mistress, of course not..."

* * *

As she had hinted, Dr. Coppelia did indeed perform further upgrades on Anthony. Over the next few weeks, more and more of Anthony's body was replaced with cybernetics, according to Coppelia's maidly design. And through it all, Anthony himself remained unresisting, hesitant but ultimately ceding to Coppelia's suggestions.
It was after the most recent surgery that saw Anthony lying upon the now-familiar operating table. By now, the machinery replacing his orginal organic body was so extensive that only his face and the top of his shaved scalp weren't covered by polished metal plating. In addition, they were the only parts of his body that weren't totally feminine in appearance - especially since his most recent upgrade had provided him with a generous pair of sculpted metal breasts, shaped to fit the previously empty cups of his dress.
Coppelia undid the table's restraints and allowed Anthony to stand up. He gingerly raised his slender fingers to his newly metal-plated throat while Coppelia reassembled the overlapping plates of his metal outfit around him. As she finished, she picked up a tool and opened the panel that replaced Anthony's Adam's apple. Inside were masses of circuitry and assorted machinery, mostly concerned with Anthony's new electronic larynx. Coppelia adjusted a tiny switch with her tool and pushed the covering panel to.
"Alright, give your new voice a try."
Anthony nodded and did so. "Ze quick brown fox jumps over ze lazy dog... ze rain in Spain..." His new voice was a soft and delicate feminine one, with a slight metallic tinge to it, as well as a pronounced French accent.
"Sounds like it's working fine!" Coppelia noted, smiling in satisfaction. Anthony smiled back, though his expression was tinged with confusion.
"Oui Ma�tresse, but why ze accent? It seems a bit superfluous..." he asked.
"Just something for your image, darling. You are a French maid, after all!"
Anthony nodded vaguely, frowning to himself. While Coppelia busied herself tidying up, he finally spoke up.
"Ma�tresse... may I ask a question?"
Coppelia glanced up from cleaning and sterilising her tools. "What's that, dear?"
"Well, over ze last few weeks, I 'ave been very...acquiescent about ze upgrades you 'ave been performing on me..."
"Acquiescent, Anthony?"
"Oui Ma�tresse... I 'ave agreed to every upgrade you 'ave recommended, with very little argument. I am not usually so agreeable..."
"Ah yes, I had a feeling you might notice that," Coppelia answered. "I suppose it wouldn't do any harm to explain it to you."
The doctor picked up a computer tablet and showed it to Anthony. On the screen was a diagram of a human brain, with certain coloured sections annotated. It meant almost nothing to the non-neurosurgery-oriented Anthony.
"Aside from my work in biorobotics and mechanical engineering, I also dabble a little in neuroscience - the fields are rather closely linked, after all," Coppelia expounded as Anthony puzzled over the cerebral diagram. "Using my experience in this field, I have been making subtle alterations to the behavioural centres of your brain during your various surgeries, to make you more malleable to my desires."
Anthony looked up, aghast. "You mean-- ?!"
Coppelia smiled malevolently. "Yes, Anthony, I've been reprogramming your mind to make you bend to my will. I've wanted someone to help out with the chores for a while now, but I didn't fancy paying the expenses that human staff would entail. When you landed on my doorstep, I seized the opportunity."
"B-but why?! Why not just program a normal robot for-- ?"
"I understand brains, Anthony, not computers. Besides, converting you into a maidbot helps keep my skills sharp."
"Y-- I... people will come looking for me!" Anthony stammered, horrified yet defiant.
Coppelia shrugged. "Probably, yes, but they'll be looking for Anthony Franz, a male human, not a mere maidbot. Won't they?"
Anthony made as if to reply, but no retort was forthcoming. Crestfallen, his shoulders slumped, and he nodded.
"Indeed.  And what with your newfound docility and obedience, you're not going to rat me out, are you?"
Anthony shook his head.
"Excellent. Now, what say we finish off your conversion? You'd like that, wouldn't you?"
Shedding a despairing tear, Anthony nodded.
"Good boy. Now lie back and count backwards from ten..."

* * *

"Thank you again for being so cooperative in this matter, Doctor."
"You're welcome, Detective. Can I offer you anything to drink?"
"Not while I'm on duty, thank you."
"Of course, do forgive me. I think I might have something, though. Michelle?"
"Oui, Ma�tresse."
As the police detective sorted through some of his files, the owner of the French-accented voice approached Doctor Coppelia and presented her with the requested drink. The detective glanced up to see that the maid was in fact a robot, the very picture of a French maid's exaggerated fetishistic femininity rendered in artistically-stylised metal plating. With no further orders to act on, it stood beside Coppelia's chair, staring into space with its softly-glowing eyes. Briefly beguiled by the metallic maid machine, the detective snapped out of his near-trance and looked away from her minimalistic, mask-like faceplate.
"Anyway, this concerns the recent shuttle crash that took place on your property. I daresay you didn't miss it?"
Coppelia gave a wry smirk. "No Detective, I did catch that particular event. I'm still recovering from the damage, as it happens - you probably saw the construction site on your way in."
The detective nodded as he removed a certain file from his briefcase. "I did, yes. It seems that one of the vehicles involved was a freight shuttle belonging to Transterran Shipping, and they're trying to track down the pilot, a Mr. Anthony Franz."
"After an entire month?" Coppelia asked, furrowing her brows.
The detective shrugged. "That's corporate culture for you, I suppose. In any case, we would appreciate it if you could bring forth any information about Mr. Franz."
Coppelia gave a grimace. "I can, but I'm afraid it's not good news. Michelle, could you go and fetch Anthony Franz's personal effects for the detective?"
Michelle the maidbot curtsied, her joints whirring softly. "At once, Ma�tresse" she answered, strutting away in a mechanised mince. Soon enough she returned, carrying a small box with her. She opened the box and held it out for the detective. Inside were a few personal items, that had been exposed to extreme heat at some point. All items had been severely blackened, and some of them had been charred into unrecognisability.
The detective took the box from Michelle, donned a pair of latex gloves and removed the remains of Anthony's wallet. Opening it produced an ashen creaking, and revealed further items that were just as fire-damaged as everything else. A few panels of warped, melted plastic may once have been credit cards, and flakes of burnt paper bore a few patches of banknote anti-forgery patterns. The detective replaced the ruined wallet and picked up a small booklet. Prying open the destroyed artifact revealed the data page of a passport, and despite the damage done, a picture of Anthony Franz could be discerned.
The detective replaced the passport, closed the box and sighed. "Well, we'll need to get an educated opinion from forensics, but I can't imagine a human could survive the kind of heat that would do this."
Coppelia shook her head in agreement. "Even the firemen couldn't get close to the wreckage for quite a while. That shuttle must have carrying some volatile stuff."
"So I've heard, yes," the detective answered, standing up. "Well, I wish the news could have been better, but at least we have some answers. I'd better get these back to forensics, but once again, thank you for your cooperation in this matter, Doctor."
Coppelia stood up with the detective and stood his proffered hand. "You're welcome, Detective. I'm sorry to have been the bearer of bad news. Michelle, show the detective out, would you?"
Michelle curtsied once more and escorted the detective to the front door. As she returned, Coppelia had resumed her seat, and was smirking to herself over her drink.
"That went well, I think," she mused to herself. "Don't you, Michelle?"
"Oui Ma�tresse, very well," Michelle replied.
"I almost worried you might do something to give the game away for a moment, but you wouldn't do something like that, would you?"
"Non, Ma�tresse, I would never do such a thing."
Coppelia smiled broadly and stood up, standing before Michelle. "Excellent! Looks like there's nothing left of Anthony in you at all - a maidbot through and through!"
Michelle dropped into a curtsy. "Oui, Ma�tresse! I am your devoted maidbot servant."
Coppelia laughed. "Marvellous! Your conversion worked far better than I'd ever anticipated," she mused, caressing Michelle's polished metal cheek. "Perhaps I might try my hand at it again some day..."