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LADY ANN'S EXTENDED HOLIDAY Original Story by Eric - Expanded Edition by Emma ENGLAND 1908. It seemed to Burt that his life was always spent with his face pressed against the glass. He worshipped Lady Ann Neville more than he did god in church. But Burt was only the stable hand at her father's vast estate. His job was to muck out and groom the horses and perform manual labour around the estate. He was forbidden even from entering the manor house. He scraped an existence in the reflected light from this affluent and powerful family but he could never be one of them. Still, he had his dreams - dreams that one day she would smile at him and say that - no it was too stupid for words. The distance between them was greater than from here to the China. He might as well howl at the moon like a dumb animal. Lady Ann had hardly noticed him while they were growing up. Why would she notice him now? He was dirty and coarse; a big hairy man who couldn't even talk in a gentile way. She would never consider him as a friend, let alone a husband. Burt hurried away from the window - he might lose his place if he was caught and that would mean a life of destitution or worse: a job in the pit, hammering at a coal face hundreds of feet below the ground, barely seeing sunlight and dying young. No. He couldn't possibly risk his position here. He was little more than a slave but anything was better than being down the mine. He went back to the stables and took care of the horses and cleaned the stalls. He took extra care of Lady Ann's fine filly, fondly imagining her taking the horse out next day. That night Burt's lusty girl friend Mavis came over to play fun and games, showing off her legs and her cleavage. She really enjoyed his virility and it helped him to forget for a moment his hopeless love for Lady Ann. "Ey up Burt but you are you well endowed! Just like the stallions in the stables!" She giggled, covering her mouth, only illustrating how different she was from the refined lady of the manor in her voice, accent and ways. Burt was pleased and enjoyed himself, but Mavis was so common and crass - nothing like Lady Ann and he found himself imaging it was that beautiful lady underneath him, kissing him as he pumped into her; loving him! * * * In the castle Lady Ann was seething! "Father you are impossible! You actually expect me to spend two boring weeks with my dull old grandmother in London! There would be nothing to do there - no riding - no balls as we're still in morning for grandfather! Damn it all, Father, you didn't even like the old fossil! We have a month more before we finish the official mourning period! You are being most unreasonable!" The Earl tried to keep calm. "Rail all you want, Ann, but you are going and that's that! I don't think a two week visit with your grandmother an unreasonable duty." Lady Ann stormed out of the room. Life was so impossible! Constraints were all around her. She was so bored with being a lady! "God! I would just like to cut loose and be slutty or vulgar!" she said with vehemence. "Being a lady - even being a woman is as confining as my corsets! Life is bloody unfair!" She set her maid Betty to packing. There was no way she could get out of the visit. Maybe a good gallop would set her mind more at rest. Her maid, Betty, helped her into her riding habit. Ann felt better after she bitched at Betty for her clumsiness. "You idiot girl! Hurry up! You may not have anything better to do with your life but I do!" "Sorry m'lady. I didn't mean nowt by it." "And keep your mouth shut! Your crass dialect offends my ears. You need to mind your place. You're far beneath me on the social ladder for a reason. Just get on with your work and then get out of my sight." At the stables, she called out for Burt and he brought out her Rosebud. He was dressed as always in his coarse threadbare clothes, striding through the muck without care. He probably didn't notice. He spent his life in muck, just like one of the pigs in the field. She was well aware of his hopeless love and worship for her. It amused her but there was no chance on God's green earth that she would ever give him what he wanted. She had to admit that there was something attractive about his huge muscular frame and broad shoulders though. In her very darkest fantasies she might wonder how it would feel to be taken up in those hard rough hands, to feel his thick moustache tickling her face as he kissed her... But only in a fantasy. It was laughable really. The stink alone would negate all possibility of romance. He was nothing but a caveman compared to her and a far cry from the foppish and dull, but well-moneyed suitors who called on her from time to time. Still it was nice to fantasize occasionally. Though if anything, it illustrated more the limitations of her position. She couldn't make love with anyone she chose, whenever she chose. She had to remain chaste until such time as a husband was chosen for her. It was oftentimes frustrating. But she enjoyed teasing Burt. It was gratifying to have men, especially burly strong men like Burt so ruled by her. "Get on with it Burt you oaf! Hold Rosebud steady! Come on you idiot!" She climbed onto Rosebud's back and as she turned the horse to trot away she smiled at Burt, toying with him. "Thank you. That was wonderful. You're so strong and masculine. I couldn't have held him steady myself." He coloured from the attention, immediately ill at ease and confused and Ann rode away grinning to herself at how diverting it was to have him and ever other man she met so controlled by her whim. But riding sidesaddle was such a bore and she quickly became irritated! She would have ridden astride if she could. But no - a lady never did anything comfortable! A lady had to act with decorum at all times! She was sick of the rigid control her life was under, forced to act the lady! She galloped like the wind for her favorite quiet spot by the stream and took a delicate seat on a grassy verge in the sunshine. As she sat there, wondering how to get out of the visit with her grandmother, her idle eyes saw something gleam at the bank, just under the water line. She crept down and picked it up. It couldn't be! But it was! It was the Medallion of Zulo! She had read about it, but had thought it a fable. The possibilities ran through her mind in an instant. With this trinket she could switch places with anyone she chose! It was her way out of this whole tedious trip she was to be forced into! But the real question was who could she become? Her father? The thought of bullying him as she had been bullied was gratifying, but she didn't want to be old and he would return the bullying with interest when she changed back! She shuddered at the thought. Her maid? Hardly - the girl was almost as constrained as herself and not nearly as beautiful. Betty was forever trying to fit into Ann's cultured house but never able to. No. Swapping places with her would be the worst of all worlds. Then her lovely blue eyes gleamed. Of course! Burt! The clodhopper would do anything she asked and would keep his mouth shut. If, in her place, he did something frightful at her grandmother's then who cared! It would serve the old harpy right. Ann's lovely mouth grinned full of mischief. Burt had a slutty girl friend - Mavis; the barmaid in the village - attractive in a vulgar sort of way with prestigious breasts and a crude mouth. A good time was had by both according to Ann's maid who whispered how virile Burt was. Ann got the impression she'd been ridden by him herself in her earlier years. Ann felt a rise of sexual excitement - she could have sex without fear of pregnancy or social status. She could ride astride, be vulgar, drink too much - even spit! It was too delightful - what a holiday she would have. It would be a most enjoyable two weeks! She thought of her grandmother and her stuffy friends dealing with the new 'Lady' Ann and actually giggled. Then she thought of herself: free and deliciously lower class and having sex whenever she wanted. Sex as a man would be interesting, certainly. Just the thought of it almost made her faint. Ann frowned - she was to leave tomorrow morning. It didn't give her much time. She remounted her filly and rode back, first to the house and then to the barn. Burt was shoveling dirty hay from the floor of one of the stalls, his sleeves rolled up past his elbows. She watched him for a few minutes, the rippling muscles there; the careless attitude he had in his body language, entirely devoid of decorum. He was the opposite of her. She had to be standing or sitting with perfect composure at all times. She couldn't dare relax for a minute. This was going to be fantastic! "Burt I wanted to ask a special favor of you," she cooed, startling him. Burt stumbled all over himself with eagerness, dropping the fork and flushing again. "Blimey. 'Ow do m'lady. You freet'ned me to death," he stammered in his lower class Yorkshire brogue. "Anything you want, Lady Ann!" Her lovely blue eyes gleamed with amusement and she thought, I wonder how Burt will like being a female? "Burt, I know this will sound impossible, but I want you to swap places and be me for two weeks." He stared. "But Lady Ann -" his head was in a whirl - it sound like the fairy tales his old granny - God rest her soul - had told him when he was a lad. Lady Ann grimaced impatiently. "Listen, and do what you are told! I will also pay you ten pounds when it is over." "Ten pounds?" It was three months wages! She nodded and held up the medallion. "Come with me." Ann took the bewildered Burt to a vacation cottage and she went into a room and came out wearing a dressing gown and nothing else. She was brimming with mirth and excitement. This was going to be such a riot! The medallion hung from her lovely neck and Burt stared - it was like a dream come true, and he almost fainted when she said, "Embrace me!" Trembling he did so, only hoping she wouldn't feel his hard-on. Ann felt a sudden lump in her throat as the huge burly man wrapped his muscular arms around her. For a second she wondered if she was doing the right thing but immediately dismissed her fears. What could possibly go wrong? Burt would do anything she commanded. He'd been bred as a bootlicking and submissive servant his whole life. His brain was trained to be servile through and through. The idea of possessing this potent man's physical attributes thrilled her more than anything else ever had. He felt a tingle and so did she. It was going to work, Ann thought exultingly. Burt stared. Lady Ann's aristocratic, beautiful face was changing - her creamy complexion roughed and she grew taller. Was he - yes he was shrinking! It was impossible! Ann felt her form swelling, her height increasing, her muscles firming. She looked down as her soft slender arms became muscular, as he long dainty fingers became thick and callused. She reached for her hair, only to find that it had already vanished; touching only the bristles of a close-cut man's hairstyle. Her cheeks had always been soft and smooth. Now they were chiseled and covered in stubble. She fingered the thick moustache that had sprouted on her upper lip, recognizing it as a symbol of the manhood she had taken on. She felt overwhelmed by the changes suddenly; momentarily terrified by the completeness of it; then she felt exultant again. Meanwhile, Burt had felt his own muscles softening, his height falling away. His face became smooth. His arms looked so soft and slender. There was no hint of muscle definition there, and why would there be? Lady Ann had never had to do manual work of any kind her whole life. Burt couldn't believe what was happening to him. He was really changing into her! In less than a minute it was over. A man who looked like Burt stood dressed in Lady Ann's dressing gown and Burt's own clothes hung on him like a filthy sock on a chicken, his dainty wrists and hands extending from the dirty rough hewn sleeves. He felt tender breasts rubbing against his scratchy wool shirt making them itch and, involuntarily, his hand went to his crotch. His manhood, the organ that Mavis and the other girls loved so much - the part of him than imbued him with power - was gone! He felt faint. "What happened?" he asked and his hand flew to his throat. His voice was a woman's voice. "Ee by gum! What did ye do to me?" "The Medallion has switched us around you ignoramus!" said Lady Ann in Burt's deep voice. But she didn't sound like him. She sounded like one of the posh gentlemen that visited the house from time to time. "You're making me look ridiculous in your clothes." She shuddered. "Take them off at once!" "But m'lady - " "Don't be a fool, Burt. You now have my body. I look at it every day." He started to disrobe, his new face flushing. "I ain't never seen nowt like this before," grumbled Burt and Ann frowned. Burt looked like her and he had her voice but his dialect was every bit as common and crass as it had ever been. It made her realise that her own speaking voice might need a little dumbing down for her to not be noticed. She wondered if this would cause problems but shrugged it away. At worst they would think that "Lady Ann" was playing an extended joke by imitating the lower orders. They would never imagine "she" was really a bumbling stable hand. Ann chuckled, vastly amused by the ungainly motions of the "woman" in front of her as Burt finally managed to strip the last of his garments off. Ann looked critically at her body, seeing it from such an angle for the first time. She smiled and nodded. Everyone was right. She was certainly the most beautiful woman in the county. Looking at her naked hips and legs and stomach actually made her feel strange. Pleasant. A sensation grew and spread from her crotch that she quickly sidestepped by gathering up her own dress and thrusting it at him. "Hurry now Burt," she said, "get dressed." Burt stared, dazed, at the beautiful garment and then did as he was told, feeling like this had to be a dream. Ann helped to dress the new woman as he grunted and moaned in a most unladylike fashion when she tightened the stays. Lady Ann frowned behind Burt's rough face and gruffly snapped, "Don't do that again. It is most unladylike!" Burt nodded weakly. He felt like he was losing his wits. He stood before a mirror dressed like Lady Ann, the dress long, his arms and shoulders bare. He stared at the Lady Ann in the glass. He touched a smooth cheek and the beautiful woman did the same. The silk and satins felt at home on his smooth new body but the sensations were completely unlike anything he had ever felt before. He had really changed into a woman! He had really become Lady Ann! He turned and saw 'himself' hurriedly dressing, feeling a flush of nerves, his new body trembling before the large male. He suddenly felt very vulnerable, fully aware how much more powerful this big hairy man was next to his new female body. Lady Ann hurriedly explained what he was to do and he nodded submissively. Then she went into how he should behave. "Remember Burt - you are now me, Lady Ann Neville. You ought to know how I and the 'quality' behave - you've been watching me all my life!" "I'll do me best not to disgrace you, m'lady. I won't do owt wrong. You'll see." Ann cringed at the terrible Yorkshire brogue issuing from her beautiful lips but there was nothing to be done about it now and she was eager to enjoy her newfound freedom. "Jolly good! Now run along back to the house - it's almost time for dinner. Your maid will dress you - tell her you want the red gown and your mother's diamonds. In your purse I have made up a list of what you should wear at my - your grandmother's. Study it! Keep your mouth shut and just look bored; you'll get by famously." Despite himself Burt grinned. It was so strange to hear himself talking like a swell! Ann hid the medallion under the seats of the couch No sense taking any chances! Burt watched her do it, flabbergasted by the power of the thing to do this incredible transformation to him. They left the building together, the big brawny man and the slim beautiful woman. "Go on now. Toodle pip," said Ann. "It's a rum do, this, ma'am. The shoe's on the other foot now and no mistake. I feel right strange in this get up." "I'm sure you do 'Ann.' But you'll do as I say and go and take your place as the lady of the manor. Alright?" "Aye. Ah-reet. Ta'ra then m'lady." Burt walked ahead in ungainly masculine steps toward the manor house. Ann, in Burt's manly body, grinned at the departing rear, chuckling to herself at how ridiculous he looked. Well, what did it matter? It was a hilarious trick she was playing on all of them. * * * After Burt had left in what lately had been her body, Lady Ann grinned in triumph. That would show her father and her grandmother! She picked up the sack of coins and bills from its hiding place - fifty pounds should be more than enough pin money for 2 weeks. Ann strode out of the cottage grinning to herself, flexing the big muscles in her arms. The sense of power was incredible! She looked at her reflection in the window, stroking her bushy moustache. There wasn't a trace of a woman in the expression. She was a man now, through and through. She turned to move away and frowned. She noticed a slight airiness to her movements in the glass; a femininity. That wouldn't do. It wouldn't do at all. She forced herself to move in a manly way, her shoulders broad, her feet widely spaced, her stride long. That seemed to do the trick. Satisfied, she set off down the lane toward the village, careful to monitor her gait and keep it as masculine as possible. It wasn't too hard; the body was used to it. Soon she forgot all about it and it only occurred to her again when she was almost at the village. She realised that she was walking like a man without even trying. She'd been so busy chuckling at what horrors Burt was up to in her body that it had entirely slipped her mind to keep it up. She was doing it automatically. She stopped in the middle of the lane and tried for a moment to walk as she normally would, in a ladylike fashion. It felt immediately uncomfortable and false; not even familiar. That was odd. But it didn't matter. Walking like a man was necessary if she was to pull off her impersonation. Ann approached the Dog & Pony with some nervousness but steeled herself. There was no need to worry. As far as anyone in there knew she was just another illiterate peasant; a salt-of-the-earth commoner with crass manners and only a life of hard work and poverty before her. They would have no idea the true identity of the manor-born lady in their midst. She looked just like one of them. As long as she was in Burt's body she actually was one of them - there were no two ways about it. Actually that was a scary thought. She imagined for a second what might happen if the amulet went missing and she were really stuck like this for the rest of her days. She shuddered. It didn't bear thinking about. It was fun to be a man for a short while - to have the freedom she so much deserved - but she was under no illusions. The minute Burt was back from her grandmothers he'd be back shoveling the horse dung. When she went inside the pub the noise and stink were overpowering. Even though it was early it seemed like almost all the villagers were already if not tipsy then downright drunk! She squeezed through the crowds with some disgust to be so close to the commoners and placed some coins on the bar. "I'll have... a pint of ale if you would be so kind my good man." She winced inwardly at the sudden hush and strange looks from the barman and the closest punters at the crisp accent totally counter to the form she now wore. "Ye wot?" grumbled the barman. "Er... Some ale. Please." She did her best to ape the local bumpkin dialect and blushed at how false it sounded. She'd always thought she was rather good at her clodhopper impression but now she was one of them it didn't sound so good. The barman eyed her suspiciously as he poured her pint. She took it quietly and retired to a corner of the pub to keep out of the way. She was frightened someone might become violent with her. She had never been able to stand the sight of blood - especially her own - and couldn't stand violence of any sort. Burt's girlfriend Mavis was working the pub, carrying three or four pints in each hand by the handles. She wore a frivolously slutty dress that managed to expose her creamy round shoulders, her forearms and a good deal of her cleavage. Part of Ann found the outfit grossly inappropriate but part of her couldn't help but be intrigued by it. The odd sensation she'd felt earlier when looking at Burt in her own naked flesh started to return and she became very intrigued by the question of when she'd be able to spend some time alone with the girl later. After all, sex without consequence had always been part of her plan... Perhaps sensing her gaze, Mavis came over, grinning lasciviously at the man she thought was her bedmate. "I've been thinkin' about you all day luv." She came close as though to whisper, but instead said very loudly, "And that great big cock o' yours!" Mavis gave Ann's crotch a hard squeeze and she felt a bright charge of pleasure there, then the slutty woman threw her head back, exposing her neck and cleavage all the more, and laughed long and hard. Half the people in the pub who'd overheard laughed too. For a moment Ann was furious at the public exposure but found herself chuckling. What did it matter? It wasn't her reputation being paraded in front of the punters! After a minute she found herself laughing deeply. Then guffawing louder than she'd ever allowed herself to do in company before. This was what it was all about! She took a deep swig of her beer. "By ecky thump," she cried loudly, "Don't tell all the lasses darlin' or they'll all want a rogering!" The whole pub erupted into laughter and Ann laughed too, turning red faced and throwing back the rest of her pint. She slammed the glass down on the table and called after Mavis. "Ere, our lass! Fetch us another one of--" She paused, perplexed by how much easier she was finding it to imitate the clodhopper accent. "Er, be a... a darling... and bring me another glass of beer... please." The sudden change in accent was unnoticed this time by the laughing drunkards around her but Ann settled back a little in her seat, feeling slightly uneasy. * * * Burt walked into the castle shaking like a leaf, sure that someone would yell, "What do you think you're doing, impersonating Lady Ann." But all the staff bowed and deferred to him. It was so strange. Yesterday he had tipped a pint of ale with AlBurt the footman and now the man was servile! Calling him "My Lady". He almost tripped in the skirt going up the stairs and he flushed. Slowly, he told himself, small steps and slowly. In Lady Ann's room, Betty was waiting. She had always been snotty to him, considering him far beneath her in the social scale. Now she was all deference and servility! It was kind of fun. He tried to imitate Lady Ann. "Hurry up girl!" "Yes, m'lady!" "The red dress and my mother's diamonds!" "At once m'lady!" Soon he was putting on silk stockings and three petticoats. Burt felt ridiculous, but said nothing. When Betty tightened his stays he barely kept from grunting. Soon the beautiful red silk gown was on and his lovely hair was done atop his new head in a very aristocratic style. Somehow his new, slender fingers knew how to put on the diamond necklace and the heavy earrings. He thought they would pull his ears off at first but soon forgot them. Again, he was able, with Betty's help to paint his face. He stared in the mirror and his goddess, his impossible love, stared out at him. He couldn't believe that he was the beautiful Lady Ann! It was impossible! But it was also true! He felt light headed as he absently thanked Betty and headed downstairs. His high heels almost sent him down them head first. The Earl stared upward from the hallway. "Have you been drinking, Ann?" he asked "No - father." 'she' stammered. "I ain't 'ad nowt. I mean. I... haven't had... none." Burt spoke as carefully as he could, not realizing that he was making just as many mistakes. The earl grunted doubtfully, frowning. Carefully Burt descended the rest of the way and trembled as the Earl took 'his daughter's' slender arm and led him into dinner. During the meal. the Earl and his quests stared with astonishment at Lady Ann. The guests were amused at her impersonation of a Yorkshire yokel, but the earl was not. In the past he had reproved her many times for imitating the dreadful local accent. Now the Earl guessed Ann was doing it to punish him for sending her to her grandmother's. She ate with the wrong fork and she talked with her mouth full. "How's about some ale instead of this cacky wine?" Lady Ann asked. "I've wet me whistle with better slop down't Dog & Pony." "Daughter, enough!" exclaimed the earl. "Stop that ridiculous imitation of the clod hoppers this instant!" Fearfully Burt grew quiet. That's right, he thought, I got - need to act like Lady Ann. What would she think if I disgraced her? Burt felt tears in her blue eyes. "I'm terribly sorry father," he said. "You must think me an absolute heel. It was awfully gauche of me." The earl grumped and went back to his eating. Burt sat stunned. He didn't know where that had come from. He'd done his best to imitate the way he'd heard Lady Ann speak and and done a much better job of it than he'd expected. He said no more, terrified to open his mouth. 'Lady Ann's' silence during the rest of the meal was taken for her typical sulkiness. Later in the evening, Burt felt terribly embarrassed after going to the bathroom three times in Lady Ann's body. He felt like a peeping tom! He went to bed that night emotionally exhausted, but slept for the first time on soft satin sheets. * * * Four more pints of ale later and Ann was having a whale of a time. She'd never been more than tipsy before but she was edging towards being really rat-arsed now. She was having a wonderful time laughing at the crude jokes of the labourers and pit workers. At first they'd made her feel very uncomfortable but the longer she spent drinking, the more she relaxed into the role of being one of them. Pretending to be one of them that was. She found herself laughing hysterically at a dirty joke about an ugly whore who had to pay men to have sex with her. She'd never felt such release or had as much fun in one evening! If she had stayed at home she'd have been playing bridge with her mother by now or something equally tedious. Jeb, a brawny lad who worked the fields owned by her family, started railing against what he called "the quality" - her family basically. Ann sat back and chuckled. "That earl up at the house there - he's nothing but a great fat bugger! He's lording it up there over us while we haveta slave away for tuppence! And he's a right surly old gaffer!" The crowd roared its approval and Ann found herself applauding. It was great having her father cut up. "And as for that stuck-up bint of a daughter of his," cried Jeb. "She's a scrawny bit of posh fluff!" "Hey!" cried Ann before she could stop herself. "I've seen better legs on a table!" "E'ya! Shut yer gob!" shouted Ann, leaping to her feet. "Don't you dare talk about a lady that way!" "Oh, sit down Burt!" bellowed Jeb. "We know you're in love with her! You'd let her cut your throat with a smile on your ugly puss!" Ann saw red. "Get stuffed yer gormless twit or I'll kick in yer chuffing gonads!" She reached back and punched Jeb hard in the face. The crowd bounced him back at her and she struck him again as hard as she could in the side of his nose, grinning as she felt the bone there crack. Jeb delivered an uppercut to her stomach but she hardly felt it with her strong six pack and in seconds they were rolling round on the floor in the filth and spilt beer, kicking and punching as hard as they could while the crowds cheered and placed bets. As Lady Ann sauntered homeward afterwards he had a real swagger in his--she had a real swagger in her step and a grin on her face. It had been hilarious from start to finish - a real blast. It had been so satisfying to smash her now large fists into the other man's face and he'd deserved it for what he'd said about Lady-- She paused in the darkened lane and rubbed the centre of her forehead. What he'd said about Lady Ann. She'd caught herself thinking about herself almost as a different person. As though she wasn't Lady Ann at all anymore. Which in many ways she supposed she wasn't. How odd. And what else had she thought? The other man. What a strange thought to occur to her, though it was technically accurate at the moment as well she supposed. She was a man right now. "I am a man." She said it aloud, hearing her beer-slurred very male- sounding voice come back at her from the trunks of the trees. "I'm Burt Harper, stable hand and labourer up at the manor house." She smiled to herself in the darkness; then remembering what had happened to her voice in the pub, she tried adding a bit more Yorkshire to her accent, choosing her words carefully. Now she was well and truly bladdered the turn of phrase came more naturally. "Me name's Burt ennit. I'm the bloke what looks after all the horses for the toffs up at the 'all. I work me knackers off shoveling shite up off the floor all chuffing day while those toffee-nosed toe-rags reap the benefit!" She found herself breathing hard, relishing the feeling of playing the part, really pretending, just for a minute that she was really Burt; really just a common labourer. A man. A big, brawny muscular man. A lower class working man at the end of a rough night getting pissed with his mates on his way home to have his way with his slapper of a lass. Feeling increasingly confident, the man strode on into the night. When he reached the stable he ran up the outside staircase and bashed open the door. Mavis was already in there, her dress discarded, her shoulders and arms bare, her tits almost breaking out of her well-worn corset. For a moment Ann turned up her nose at the surroundings. She was used to sleeping on a comfortable bed with satin sheets. Here in the hay barn she had only a pallet - a thin straw mattress with a blanket - that had to be cleared away every morning. She'd be sleeping almost on the floor amidst the straw and the dirt. Who knew what manner of rodents scurried round the grain sacks in the night? But then, here before her was a woman who wasn't beautiful by any means, but was nothing but sexy, from her bawdy lascivious movements and expressions to the soft skin of her bare legs. Ann felt the throbbing between her-- No. He felt the throbbing between his legs. He was a man right now and this was a woman in front of him; a woman who wanted him to take her. "Fighting again, Burt, ya great wazok! Honestly, men are such boys. A real man would rather be with me!" she kissed him hard on the mouth. A surprised Ann found herself more of a male than she thought and kissed the woman back. God was a male erection strange but it made her feel powerful; in control in a way she never had before. Mavis giggled and said "At least you have the decency to be glad to see me!" Her voice was nasal and irritating but Ann didn't care about that now. Even Mavis's body odour didn't matter that much. Mavis stroked his large member and Ann lost it, crushing the curvy girl in her strong arms. She threw the girl down on the pallet and pulled off her shirt and trousers. Her gigantic cock sprung up and out, dazzling her. She'd never seen a man's sex organ before. Seeing one of this proportion from her new perspective was overwhelming, especially coupled with the sensations it was giving her as she clambered over the prostrate girl. Ann thrust deep into her eager pussy, gripping her forearms to pin her down! It was like nothing else on earth. I'm a man, she thought to herself with each pump. I'm a man! I'm a man! I'm a man! God it was great to be so strong and well hung! "Call me your big man!" she demanded. "You're my big man! You're my big man!" screeched Mavis, jerking as he rammed into her over and over again. Ann closed her eyes, pumping over and over into the sweaty curvaceous woman and suddenly an image came into her mind that almost knocked her from the moment. It wasn't Mavis she was imagining herself fucking like this. It was herself! It both puzzled and amused her before the sensations - the animal need to dominate this woman overcame her again and she no longer cared. In her mind it was Lady Ann underneath her and she was Burt, the stable hand; the labourer. She was pinning Lady Ann down and giving her the rogering of her chuffing life. This is what I'd do to you if I could, Lady Ann Neville, she thought, letting herself wallow in the fantasy. You gorgeous chuffing stuck up cow! This is how I'd fuck you if I got the chance by gum! * * * The next morning Ann was startled to wake from a deep and satisfied sleep at the crack of dawn. With no glass in the windows it was freezing and the dawn light shone right in her eyes through the open hayloft entrance. It took her a moment to realise where she was. And who she was. Her head was fuzzy from the previous night's drinking but it quickly came back to her the pleasure of drinking and carousing and fighting of all things with her mate Je-- with Jeb, the farmer's boy. She also remembered the animal passion and the thrill of bedding the slutty barkeep's daughter. It came back to her how she'd fantasized making love with Lady Ann - with herself - but she shook her head ruefully. She'd also gotten a lot of pleasure from telling herself she was really a man. It was ridiculous really. She put it down to too many jars of-- pints of that awful ale and the headiness of suddenly finding herself with the freedom to do anything she desired. "Best be up and about, Burt," said the smug woman beside him. "Old Harry will be wantin' you in the stables cleanin' up right after breakfast." Damn! thought Ann, I should have written a note giving Burt the fortnight off! Mavis was annoyingly present and there was no chance right now. I'll have to do it later. Mavis got up and made Ann breakfast on the little stove there dressed only in her corset. To Ann's amazement 'he' ate it all! Three eggs and three huge slices of ham! "Have we got any bread... luv?" asked Ann, trying again, fairly unsuccessfully now, to imitate the Yorkshire brogue. Mavis laughed "What do you think we are? Quality?" Ann wasn't sure how she felt about that comment. This "holiday" had been all about doing what she wanted. She didn't like the idea of being restrained in a different way than she had been in her real life. Also it made her feel a little insecure that she was no longer 'quality.' Before she left to use the outside toilet, Mavis walked lasciviously over to Ann and edged down his trousers. She took the end of his already throbbing cock in her lips and gave it a quick suck then pulled away. "That's so as you remember whose man you are," she said, slipping away. Ann watched her go, smiling as she swelled with pride. I'm her man, she thought, then stopped herself. What an idiotic thing to think! Mavis was gutter trash. Useful for a good rutting and not much else. But he did have to admit he'd enjoyed himself with the lass. Once he was fully alone, Ann hunted round until she found paper and ink. It was cheap - nothing like the water stained and scented stationery she was used to - but it would have to do. She sat down to write the note. Dere Hary. No. That wasn't right. Deer Arrie, Yoo av to plees givv burt-- No. I ordur yoo to Yooe wil lett Burt av the fourthknite tou 2 weecks of off work an so that ee She gaped at the paper in amazement and displeasure. No matter how hard she tried, it wasn't her own script that went down on the paper, but rough and untutored words in Burt's own handwriting, such as it was. For the life of her she couldn't recall whether Harry was spelt with or without an "H." She tried saying it out loud. "Arry." She paused and said it again, sounding it out as carefully as she could. "Arry." It sounded like it should start with an "A," but would it then be spelled A-R-R-Y or A-R-Y-E? It completely escaped her and she couldn't risk writing the wrong thing because Harry would know that the "real" Lady Ann wouldn't make such a mistake. "However could this have 'appened to me," she murmered. She'd noticed she'd taken on a few masculine mannerisms in her time in Burt's body - her way of walking for example, and how from time to time she found it easier to imitate the common way the clodhoppers had of speaking. She'd assumed that had been part of being a man. It hadn't occurred to her that she was specifically taking on some of Burt's ways. She supposed it made sense. Her body had transformed completely into his. Part of that body was the brain. It followed then that her soul was now inhabiting Burt's brain. That was why she'd been able to tap into the part of his brain that determined his language and mode of speech. And how she'd known how to fight and have sex as a man. She wondered if she'd know how to groom horses, and whether Burt in her body would know how to apply makeup. She looked at the rough bumpkin handwriting on the paper in front of her. The part of her brain that had been educated to write beautiful English had obviously transformed along with the rest of her body. She didn't just have Burt's body; she had his mind as well. The horror of that struck her for a moment. She really had become Burt in every physical way. She was still herself - her core personality was only slightly influenced - but she wondered about the longer term effects if she remained Burt over days and weeks. She wondered if she shouldn't just run and get the medallion now and-- "Burt!" She jerked up. "Burt!" yelled Harry from the stable yard. "Get down 'ere and muck out these horses ye great dozy twonk!" Ann got to his feet and frowned. He could run he supposed but what choice did he have? As far as the world saw him, he was Burt Harper; nothing but a common stable hand. The earl had every right to flog him if he shirked 'his' duties. He had to do what he was told until he could get a note off the new "Lady Ann." Surely during the swap, she might have gained the ability to write that he had lost. "I'm coming," mumbled Ann sourly, not caring for now about how inaccurate and posh his accent sounded. He went outside and followed Harry's bellowed instructions, picking up a spade to shovel the horseshit out of the stalls. As he shoveled he grumbled to himself that visiting grandmother might not have been so bad compared to this. * * * Burt woke up to breakfast in bed delivered by his amusingly servile maid Betty. That was wonderful. It only took a moment to come back to her the incredible transformation that had occurred to her the afternoon before. Looking down at her slender arms and long graceful legs was heart stopping. Burt had longed for so many years to be close to Lady Ann and now he was, in the most shocking way imaginable. She dressed for her journey with Betty's assistance. It confounded Burt why Lady Ann would be so desperate to escape a trip to her grandmother's that she would swap her own life of luxury for his life of poverty and hard work, but he'd never really understood the quality. With a little help from Betty, Burt applied makeup to her now lovely face. She guessed she had a knack for it because it didn't seem too hard to do. When she was all ready she stared at herself in the floor length mirror. As a mere stable hand she'd never even been allowed to set foot in the manor house before. She'd never conceived of such luxury as having a mirror as tall as the wall! And she looked beautiful in it! When Betty left the room, Burt told her to shut the door. "Don't come back in for a wee bit luv will ye." Betty looked at her oddly and closed the door behind her. Burt looked at the eyes of the woman in front of her and said, "Mornin'. Me name's--" He stopped then very slowly and carefully said, "Good morning. My name is Lady Ann Neville. I's the daughta of-- I am the daughter of the earl who owns all the land hereabouts." She smiled at herself and began again excitedly. "I'm a right posh lass who--" She gritted her teeth and concentrated. "I am a... cultured and... well-brought up young lady who..." Burt grinned to herself, enjoying the fantasy for a moment. "Who stands to inherit all of this come time-- upon my father's demise." Burt started to gather up what things he could carry then stopped and opened the door instead. "Betty!" The maid came running. Burt hid a slight giggle at the misfortune of this girl who had always been snooty to him. "Yes m'lady?" "Carry these bags downstairs! Immediately!" The maid started to move to fetch them. "Move girl! I haven't got all day!" Betty hurried to pick up the bags and carry them. Burt watched her go with a sneer on her face, then caught herself. That was really strange. As a man, Burt had always been what some might call servile, - what he'd always thought of as helpful. It wasn't in his character to be so spiteful to someone just because he had power over them. It didn't occur to him, as it had to Ann, that his brain had transformed as much as his body had. The part of Burt's brain that made him placid and helpful and been changed to the part of Lady Ann Neville's brain that was more than a little spiteful and conniving. * * * As she walked out of the manor house to her coach, Burt was startled to see himself; 'Burt;' rush up to him. It was fascinating and odd seeing this big man approach 'her' with such discomfort. Lady Ann obviously didn't enjoy being exposed in front of the coachman, butler, maid and other staff assembled like this. When last she'd seen them she'd been lady of the manor. It must surely have rankled to have to play the part of lowly stable hand in front of them. For a moment Burt enjoyed the turnabout before he reminded himself that it was his love for Ann that was spurring him on in this odd charade - that she would surely accept his adoration of her when they switched back. "M'lady," said Ann grudgingly. "Might I 'ave a word." Burt noticed that like him, his speech pattern still gave her away as an imposter, despite her clear attempts to overcome it. As a matter of fact, her accent wasn't too bad. "Aye," replied Burt. "Er, yes." They huddled for a moment away from the staff and Ann whispered sharply, "Go back in the house and write a note giving me a fortnight off!" Burt was startled and whispered back. "But I 'ardly know my letters!" "Just do it ya daft bint!" Ann hissed. Obedient Burt pulled away, slightly hurt, and perplexed by Lady Ann continuing to ape the local dialect even in private. She went to Betty and said, "You girl. Fetch me pen and paper immediately!" Several paces away, Ann watched the exchange, chilled by how well Burt emulated her turn of phrase with the servants. Burt had guessed accurately how uncomfortable she felt standing now in front of her staff, flat cap clutched at her waist, head lowered. It seemed the proper thing to do and so she was doing it but it annoyed her. Why should she have to pretend to be an idiot stable hand? She was the lady of the manor! Just not at the moment... Which was why she had to play along; pretend to be who she looked like. Pretend to be this burly illiterate gloit. She was still superior to all of them... in her heart, even if not in reality at this moment. She wondered then about her theory of the change in her brain. Objectively speaking, was she really their inferior now in the terms she had always believed? Was that a physical fact as long as the swap took place? It didn't leave her feeling good. Burt went inside and took a seat at an elegant corner table in the yawning hallway, taking up the pen and paper that Betty presented to her. She felt very nervous. Despite what Ann had said, there was no way she'd be able to write anything legible. As a little boy Burt had learned precious little. He hadn't been brainy enough to master anything complicated and both he and his teacher had known he would never have any use for writing. Betty standing there like a simpering fool didn't help either. "Oh be off with you girl!" snapped Burt and she scurried away. He concentrated as hard as he could, throwing his mind back to his classes, and tried his best to write. My dear Mister Bramshaw, If you would be so kind I would be most appreciative if you could give Burt a fortnight off from his daily grind and tribulations. She looked down at what she'd written in wonder. Ann had been right. She could really somehow write as though she'd had years of schooling! And her handwriting was the elegant letters of a cultured woman. She went on. He has done excellent work for the past months and (she smiled mischievously) though he has no culture or breeding (she giggled to herself) and limited intelligence, he has done his best to be a gentleman and deserves a well-earned holiday. Thank you kindly, Lady Ann Neville Burt stared at the letter in front of her and astonishment, especially at the signature. That was Lady Ann's personal signature; impossible to copy, especially for a country bumpkin; yet she had written it perfectly without a second thought. In fact, she'd been so wrapped up in what she'd been writing, she'd signed the name without even thinking it. Which was strange. She shrugged to herself and carried it outside. Minutes earlier, Ann had watched Betty, her maid, emerge from the manor's interior, scowling as though she'd just been chastised. This made Ann smile, imagining Burt playing her part well. Careful to simulate the Yorkshire accent, Ann said, "Ey-up Betty luv. You look like a bulldog that's chewing a wasp." She didn't know where she'd picked up that simile from but it was certainly apt. "I dunno what you're smirking at Burt Harper ye stupid oaf!" snapped Betty. "She may lord it over me but you're the lowest of the low round here! You're everyone's whipping boy! You're not even fit to go inside the house! You're worth less to the family than those horses I can tell you've been mucking out by the stench on ye!" The other servants laughed and Ann's face coloured in fury and embarrassment. She may have spent years bossing and bullying Betty as the lady of the house but as long as she was Burt, the maid really was her superior. She looked round at the chuckling faces of the coachman, butler and housekeeper and realised that she was subservient to all of them at the moment. It was a queer feeling made up of two parts. Part of her knew that if she snapped back at them they might well flog her where she stood for being impertinent, or send her packing, thus ruining what was meant to be a relaxing break from her normal life. Another part of her just knew that it was wrong to talk back to them. It wasn't a conscious series of thoughts making up a decision. It was just instinct. They were his superiors. It wouldn't be right to talk out of turn. These odd conflicting feelings made Ann feel even less comfortable and far more embarrassed. Why couldn't that chuffing toffee-nosed cow hurry up and get out there with his letter! At that moment "Lady Ann" emerged from the house and handed the new Burt his letter. He looked forlornly at the handwriting and perfect turn of phrase on the note and at the perfect signature. She frowned at the little insults to her current station in the note, muttering to herself at the smirk she saw on her former pretty lips. Very funny. But the joke was on Burt of course. It was him that would have to live out the rest of his life in this pathetic existence once the two weeks was up. "Wait a minute," whispered Ann, quietly scolding the former stable hand. "You'll have to do this again. You've used a made-up word you idiot!" Burt looked at the note between Ann's dirty big fingers at where he was pointing. "Here. That isn't a real word." "Tribulations is a real word I can assure you Burt," said the apparent Lady Ann, just loud enough so that the other servants could hear. "It means a test of one's endurance." There were more chuckles all round and Ann shoved the note in his pocket testily, his face flushing beetroot red and his ears growing hot. "Now ey up and-- be a dear and help me into my coach would you." Feeling about ready to punch somebody, Ann helped the elegant lady into her coach. It was an odd moment that left Ann feeling confused. For the time it took 'Lady Ann' to climb into the coach with 'Burt' helping, 'he' really was the servant and she the mistress. She had demanded assistance and without thinking, he had stepped up to give it, using his man's strength so that the beautiful aristocratic lady didn't have to strain herself. Feeling increasingly perturbed by the whole scene, Ann stepped back, cap in hand, to watch it pull away, growing almost angry at the fact that he'd removed his cap in the first place and still felt reluctant to put it on while the coach was in sight for fear it might be disrespectful. Which made no sense at all! He got slapped hard round the back of the head a moment later by the butler. "You know better than that you big ugly wassock! You've no right to talk directly to the lady. You're no better than the dirt beneath her slippers! Keep to your own class. Is that clear?" Ann felt cowed beneath the pompous older man, even though he knew he could easily best him in a fight. "Are you deaf boy? I said is that clear?" "Yes," snapped Ann. "Yes what?" "Yes... sir." "Good. Now get out of my sight and take that stink with you!" Ann backed away as the servants dispersed; all of them laughing at him. He was furious but reminded himself that none of it mattered now. Now he had his note, for the next two weeks, he wasn't Burt the stable hand, he was Burt the free man! With enough cash in his pockets to get bladdered every single night! He took it back to the stable and showed it triumphantly to Harry. The old man grumbled but he had no choice. "The whims of the quality passes all understanding!" he misquoted. Ann grinned with Burt's lips. "But she got this part right about you being an idiot." The grin dropped from her mouth and she stormed away. She climbed up the stairs to the hayloft and found Mavis lying on the hard floor pallet, her legs spread, pleasuring herself. She started when Ann entered but didn't cover herself up. She didn't even stop fingering her fanny but she slowed down and gave him a saucy smile. "Ey up Burt. Wot you doin' back so soon?" "Ow do," replied Ann, pleasantly surprised at how she managed to imitate the local dialect without even thinking about it. "Watching you do that is-- is class, that is." Ann floundered for a minute, on the verge of referring to how it made her penis feel, feeling suddenly awkward. Then she decided to say it anyway. What did decorum matter now? "It makes me cock want to explode does that." There was no point in fighting the fact that for now she really was a common man inside and out, even if it felt like a dangerous surrender allowing herself to think that. A superstitious part of her was afraid that she might forget who she really was and be stuck this way if she REALLY admitted to herself that's who she was for now. But she looked down at this half-clad strumpet and the overwhelming sense of manhood she felt made a mockery of restraint. I really am Burt, she said to herself in the bubbling quiet of her mind. I'm really a horny commoner; a man who wants nothing but sex. For now, she reminded herself. She couldn't not add that, even if part of her really wanted to surrender, for the moment at least, to the full experience. She really felt that if she didn't fully take on the part with all her heart then she'd never enjoy the whole masculine experience. Before she could stop herself she rashly said the words in her head, further cementing her identity in her imagination. I'm not a sissy woman, he told himself. I'm not that stuck-up Lady Ann. She's quality. She's better than the likes of me. I'm nothing but a man - a.. a stupid illiterate labourer about to shag his woman. "By eck as like I must say," said the new Burt, the Yorkshire accent flowing completely naturally now, "I want me some o' that fanny! Ere, get on ye knees and suck my cock like ye promised." Mavis's eyes lit up as "Burt" flopped out his big engorged member. She put her mouth round it, on her knees in front of him and he made fists with his big dirty hands as the pleasure shot through him. Before he came, he ordered her to get on her hands and knees on the pallet and rammed into her juicy minge from behind. "Oooh aye," groaned Burt. "That's reet champion that is. Reet chuffin great luv, Reet chuffin great." He reached forward and played with her pendulous breasts as the lazy morning stretched on. At first he'd thought the talented girl smelled awful but soon didn't notice at all. This was the life. It really was. * * * The real Burt meanwhile, stared out with her new eyes at the disappearing English countryside, an elegant shawl wrapped around her shapely legs. In no time they were at the railway station and she was helped down and escorted to a first class carriage. Betty made sure she was comfortable and then discreetly withdrew to third class. As the journey began she was served tea in a china cup and cucumber sandwiches. Burt felt like she was dreaming. From the station in London, she was whisked in another carriage to an elegant townhouse, "her" grandmother's house, where she was shown up to her beautiful bedroom and left to dress for high tea. Burt was in a total whirl. What had began only as half favour and half command from his precious Lady Ann had become a fantastic trip through opulence and wealth. She thought back to leaving the manor house, being helped onto the coach by the new Burt with all the servants in attendance. She'd never felt so important and esteemed, and despite her adoration for Lady Ann, she had found it funny that 'he' had had to help her. She actually giggled to recall 'Burt' telling her off for making up the word "tribulations" and ending up looking like a complete dunce in front of the people 'she' used to command. She felt guilty laughing at her beloved Ann's expense and stopped herself, then let herself giggle away. It was Ann's choice that she'd taken on the roll of a servant. If she acted like an idiot she deserved to feel the fool. Burt was oblivious to the subtle but important shift that had just occurred in his and the Lady Ann's relationship but it was there. Up until then, Burt had adored her from afar as an almost mythical being, a dazzling beauty to worship and fawn over. Suddenly he saw Ann as just a person, still someone he was devoted to but just another human being. An equal. Or, for now, even an inferior. It was entirely subconscious. And it wasn't hard to do. Burt had spent his life resenting the way he was looked down on by his betters, while at the same time knowing they were his superiors. Now that he was in the role of the lady of the manor it was just such a natural perception to have that "she" was better than the "lower orders." That was simply how everybody acted. It made it true. Ann had helped her submissively into the coach. For now 'he' was a servant. "By ecky thump," said Burt, "this is a right rum do." He frowned crossly, touching his slender neck in the mirror with long delicate fingers and a soft hand. He was enjoying all this luxury but felt he was letting Ann down terribly by talking like a yokel half the time. True, he'd been able to imitate the posh way the swells had of talking some of the time but he still lapsed into his typical Yorkshire brogue more often than not. He had to try harder. He tried saying it again, maintaining as feminine a pose as possible at the same time. "Goodness gracious me. This is an awfully perplexing situation." The beautiful woman smiled back at him. That was much better. Ten minutes later, over high tea, Ann's grandmother proved just how poor Burt's attempts were to fit in. "Honestly Ann - don't slurp your tea! You have been too long in the country and around your father." "Soz grand nanna. You ain't wrong." "And your accent!" snapped the old woman. "I see I am going to have to re-school you!" And the forcible old woman started immediately! Burt was told how to sit, how to eat properly, how to walk and what subjects were appropriate for dinner conversation. His new grandmother winced after each Yorkshire word and not so gently corrected 'her grand daughter!' It made Burt feel like a fool but part of him enjoyed someone taking such an interest in improving him and making him into a better person. More and more he started to enjoy the exercise of being the best woman he could be. After admiring the quality for so long it was fantastic to become one him, or as it was, herself! Burt felt so strange but she soon found herself falling into quality ways without even having to think too hard about it. It was almost as if she was relearning the skills rather than picking them up for the first time. Her brain and body remembered how to act like a lady. Any delay in it was simply her bumpkin memories cluttering things up and getting in the way. She learned to suppress them and found that it really helped to try and think of herself as Ann. Every couple of hours she would take a moment by herself in front of a looking glass to look herself in the eyes and say, "I am Lady Ann Neville. I'm a beautiful well-bred woman and I always have been. I am the eldest daughter of the Earl Neville and have lived in the manor since I was a little girl." This made it easier to slip into her temporary role but she kept contradicting herself in her mind; part of herself reminding her that she was really Burt. Knowing she had to do well for fear of letting her darling Ann down, she tried a different tack to cement that side of things. "I'm not Burt and I never have been. He's just a big oafish labourer who doesn't deserve to even look at me. He's a pathetic commoner who's plainly besotted with me. Like that would ever happen. I'd sooner marry a monkey than get close enough to that smelly man to let him kiss me." She felt guilty saying these things but they really helped her to blot out the lingering clumsiness of action and voice that had come from her old life. On the second day, Burt was taken to meet some very dull old ladies, but watched and learned. He was taken to a concert. He had never been to one in his life. It was so strange to be treated so well by everyone he met, and he enjoyed lording it over Betty. The maid slavishly obeyed her and the new Lady Ann smiled impishly as she gave the common girl pointless and trivial tasks to do and errands to run. Proving her superiority in this way over the lower orders not only gave her great pleasure but helped immensely in slipping further into the roll she had promised Lady Ann she would play. On the third night, bored, Burt idly picked up a Jane Austin novel; Pride and Prejudice; and found much to her surprise that should could read very well. She shouldn't have been so shocked after the incident with the note but it was still a marvel. She'd never so much as read the first paragraph of a novel before! It was a wonderful book and Burt stayed up late reading it. It taught her even more about how ladies and gentlemen ought to behave and she assimilated it carefully, increasingly identifying with Elizabeth Bennet, the heroine. At breakfast the following morning, Burt ate sparingly, as she wasn't very hungry but it was so wonderful to be waited on! It made her feel in truth like she was Lady Ann. At midmorning she found her grandmother laughing. "Whatever is it, Grandmother?" asked Burt. "A most diverting book child. You must read it. Leave it to the yanks to be to be so silly and bold." She passed over a book called Perkins the Fakir but when she flicked back the cover the first story title leaped out at Burt. When Reginald Was Caroline! "It's about a married couple," said grandmother. "The wife switches bodies with her boorish husband to teach him a lesson! It is most diverting." Burt shot the old woman a glance. Did she suspect? No. Impossible. She still thought Burt was Ann. Fascinated Burt began to read and giggled at the mistakes the man made. This would help her even more to masquerade as a lady! That night they dined with some more old women and Burt found it dull, but the food was elegant and wonderful. Also, Burt found more and more pleasure in her appearance and the lovely gowns she wore. Everyone said she was beautiful and she flushed with gratification. Being a lady was so enjoyable and she was doing it so well! * * * Back at the manor, Ann was enjoying himself immensely! The first week was just a long series of drinking binges and marathon sex sessions. He'd just finished yet another long morning shag with Mavis on top of him, her massive breasts swinging in his face as he chewed on them hard to her piggish squeals of delight as he thrust his pelvis up against her crotch. She was a right bit of rough and he knew she was likely sharing it around for extra cash but he didn't give a chuff. As long as the slag was ready to spread her legs wide whenever he wanted, what did it matter if she made extra pennies on the side with the other blokes? And he knew she thought he was the best man in the village. He often caught Mavis and the other girls tittering away about how virile he was and big his cock was. It made his pride swell to stride round the village getting admiring looks from all the slutty girls. He'd already had his dirty way with more than a couple of them as well anyway. "I'd best be off else me father and brothers'll want to know what for," whined Mavis in her irritating nasal voice. "I afta work in't bar again this afternoon. You comin' down later?" "Right you are," replied Ann, lying back with his hands behind his head, his cock still sticking up onto his stomach. "I'll be getting a few bevies in tonight, that's for certain. I aim to get absolutely rat-arsed tonight, me. Then maybes I'll give Jeb another trouncing. That fat bugger's been givin' you the eye right enough more than once. He's gotta learn to keep 'is eyes off of uvver men's property!" "Aaah Burt," whinged Mavis, "You're always fighting, yer great big cretin. Why do you afta act life such a simpleton all the time? We both knows you ain't clever but you've been nothing but a nitwit lately; a right dunce. Everyone says so." Ann fell silent, stewing angrily. "You better shape yourself up and stop acting like a simpleton. I don't want people saying I'm stepping out with a nincompoop. If you don't stop acting like a blockhead all the time then I might have to get me pleasurin' someplace else" She strode out haughtily, still only half dressed, the rest of her clothes under her arm. Ann got up off the hard pallet but didn't bother to put any clothes on. He packed away the pallet to avoid a balling out from old Harry. As Burt, he had another week off yet but that didn't stop the old man treating him like dirt when he got the chance. But was Mavis right, pondered Ann. Was he stupid now? There was a pamphlet Harry had left lying around on a shelf all about the Socialist Party. Ann picked it up in her dirty big hand and tried to read it but it was all beyond her. She couldn't deny that the part of her brain that contained her former education had changed into Burt's less complicat