Lady Ann's Greatly Extended Holiday - Chapter Eighteen free porn video

An Unwelcome Change of Plan 1 "Burt" woke up at the crack of dawn and breathed a sigh of relief. It had been right swell to get away from his life as a prissy stuck-up lady but, despite some reservations, he'd more than had enough of being Burt and looked forward to becoming one of the quality again. He'd loved the carousing and the fights and he loved shagging that tart Mavis, but the plummeting drop in status had been horrible, knowing that everyone looked down on him; even the other working men. He'd enjoyed not having to look neat and tidy all the time but he was sick of the filth now, the dirt trapped under his roughly bitten fingernails and ingrained into the creases of his hands and his clothes. He'd had enough for one lifetime of the drafty hayloft and sleeping on a his thin rolled up straw mattress; having to clear it away every morning because he didn't have enough to pay for proper lodgings. He loved chewing the cud with his mates; with Burt's friends; but their endless prattle about their sad lot in life and how much better the quality had it was wearing very thin. Yes! They were poverty-stricken lower class oikes! The sooner they accepted that and just knuckled down to work harder the sooner they'd - well they wouldn't be happy -but who cared about the lower orders at the end of the day. He certainly didn't! He got up and dressed in his scratchy clothes then went to his drawer and opened it as he he'd started doing every morning. Without even thinking about it, as was his habit, he kissed the ends of two dirty fingers and touched them to the lips of Lady Ann in the picture, then popped it back out of sight. Outside the coachman was cleaning his boots on the step. "Ey up Burt." "Ey up. Shouldn't you be up't railway station waiting for yon train? Lady Ann's comin' back today." "Ain't you 'eard?" replied the coachman. "She's staying on in the capital." "Wot you talkin' about?" snapped Burt in horror. "She's meant to be comin' back this arvo." "Nope." Burt was flabbergasted. That wasn't possible! That obsequious cur had meant to return today! She couldn't change the deal without his leave! Where did that leave him? Until Lady Ann returned he had no way of changing back! He was stuck in Burt's body! Stuck in his slow-witted brain! Stuck in his life! He put his hands to his head, trying to come to terms with what that meant. The day before he had relished the aspects of living Burt's life that contrasted so violently with his old life. Now though, the idea of being forced to keep those traits and qualities without any choice in the matter was truly terrifying. Until she came back he really was Burt - living Burt's life and his experiences over the past few days had shown just how little control he had over that life if others chose to lord it over him. "Well when's she comin back? Tomorra?" The coachman shrugged. "Damned if I know. I guess she'll come back when she's good and ready." Burt was becoming more and more panicked. "That can't be!" "You know the quality Burt. They're a law unto themselves. She might decide to stay there a week or a month or a year if she cares to." "A year!? Or even a week!? This isn't right! She was meant to come back today! Are you sure you're right?" The coachman shrugged. "She ain't comin back today and that's certain. That's all I know." Burt pressed his hands against his temples, his pulse racing, feeling intense claustrophobia suddenly as though this man's flesh were closing in on him, trapping him, trying to squeeze out any last traces of culture, breeding and intelligence he had possessed as a lady. He regretted starting this awful idea to begin with now. Oh, how foolish he had been! He tried to calm himself, to think of the positive side of things. At least he wasn't being bored to death at his grandmother's - that was something. But on the other hand, it meant more poverty with precious little cash left to spend and another night or more in that drafty stable! It meant-- "Burt!" Old Harry emerged from the stables with a grin on his face. "Holiday's over, Burt me bucko!" he said. "Time to get back to work!" Cripes, thought Burt. I'd forgotten about that. Surely this couldn't be happening! He was Lady Ann! He was the heiress to the entire estate! They couldn't make him work as a stable hand! They simply couldn't! But Harry was approaching, leering in anticipation and there was nothing Burt could think of to do. He considered, briefly, trying to write another holiday note but it could only be worse than last time. With a fortnight inside Burt's body and brain it was unlikely he even knew which way up to hold the pen! And Lady Ann was impossibly out of reach, over two hundred miles away! He couldn't even write to her to ask her to send him back a note! He was literally trapped! With great relish, old Harry grabbed Burt's arm and yanked him forward, handing him a shovel. He gave an evil grin. "The last few days I left all the shit for you my lad." Burt was seething, but what could he do? As long as he was Burt, this was his rightful job. If he hit Harry or tried to get away he might end up in prison or worse. The least he'd get was another day and night in the stocks. If he didn't do the job they'd chuck him out on the street right quick. He might not even be able to get back access to Lady Ann, even when she returned. He might really be stuck like that - living in ditches for the rest of his short and squalid life, or worse yet, stuck working down't pit for the rest of his days! And in addition, it really didn't feel... right somehow... to ignore the orders of one of his-- one of his... betters. As long as he was Burt he had a man's responsibility to do a hard day's work. A huge part of him urged him that this was only right, that it would be wrong to try and get out of it. Burt looked down at the proffered shovel, feeling that if he took it then it would mean some awful acceptance of his tawdry fate. He was terrified that if he accepted it now then Lady Ann would never return. He'd be shoveling up horse shit for the rest of his days -nothing but a common unschooled labourer. But he didn't have any choice. He took the shovel and held it firmly in his hands, looking forlornly down at it. "Go on then, ya big hulking moron,"cried Harry. "Get shoveling that shit! It's what you're best at! And once that's done I want all that grain moved up to the barn down the lane. After that there's some trenches need digging!" Burt stared at him in mortification. Surely this wasn't really happening. Surely Lady Ann was going to return at any second and save him from having to do these things - having to really become a working man. But however much he stared at the entrance to the lane, she didn't magically appear. He was going to have to go through with it. "Don't just stand there staring at me like a slack-jawed twit!" snapped Harry. "Get started!" Burt looked toward the stables, seeing the steaming piles of horse shit in there, swallowed dryly then sorrowfully shambled toward the building. 2 "Mornin m'lady!" Ann turned to see Grandmamma's stable hand emerge from the stable block at the rear of the property. He was the same young man whom she had spoken to shortly after arriving in London and frankly, seeing him again only reminded her of the embarrassment she'd felt when he'd basically pointed out what a rotten job she was doing of acting like a lady. She didn't respond. "It's a lovely morning ain't it miss? Quite makes man happy to be alive." He smiled affably but Ann found herself sneering. "It might be an altogether better morning if you spent less time loafing about trying to engage your betters in conversation and actually did some work!" The smile dropped off his face in an instant. "Er, sorry m'lady. You're quite right. I shouldn't be wasting your time." "And yet you continue to do so now,"snapped Ann. "Be off with you." The stable hand tipped his cap and scurried back out of sight and Ann smiled coldly, enjoying his fear and subservience. She hated dirty men like that -always moping about instead of working; thinking they had a right to speak to their superiors. It was pathetic. Ann let her mind wander for a moment, imaging if this had been Burt - the original Lady Ann, and her cold smile broadened. 3 "Burt" realised after the first hour that having to shovel up horse shit wasn't the worst part of this; not by a long way. His strength made the work easy but it was revolting. He'd never smelt such a stench! The dung had been left to fester and the flies around it were thick: crawling over it and eating it and laying their eggs. He retched several times as he shoveled, not quite vomiting but coming close. It was impossible to do it cleanly as well and soon his trousers were spotted with wet splotches of faeces that would continue to stink well after the work was done. But none of this was as bad as the realization of what it really meant - what he was really doing. The idea of being stuck in Burt's life and job - stuck as a working man - up until now had been a series of dark fantasies; snapshots of him working in the stables and doing other labour. The reality wasn't a snapshot. The reality was that after five minutes of doing it there was another five minutes. Another hour. Another two hours. Being a labourer wasn't a single moment in time it was something that went on and on with an end so many hours in advance that it felt endless. He kept keeping an eye out for Harry, hoping he could somehow think of a way out of this but Harry was always there, keeping an eye on him, and how could he find a way out of it? He was Burt! Until Lady Ann came back he was the one and only Burt Harper with no proper rights and no control over his life. He had already considered the terrible things that could happen to him if he shirked "his" duty and those ramifications weren't part of a fantasy, they were completely real. He would be beaten. He wouldbe locked in the stocks. He would be sent away with no money and nowhere to stay. He had to keep on working; living Burt's life now in its entirety. "Burt!" It was old Harry. "Get out here you dirty bugger!" Burt dropped the shovel and hurried outside. Harry was checking things off a list. "I want you up at the chicken coop," said Harry briskly. Feed them their grain and let them out into the run. You know where the grain's kept, don't you?" Burt gaped stupidly at the older man for a moment, his mouth hanging open then realized with a great deal of regret that he did know. Because the real Burt had known. He had a memory of fetching the grain sacks before - something only the original Burt would have done - and again the memory wasn't a struggle to find; it just slid up into his forebrain as though it truly belonged to him. He nodded forlornly at Harry. "After that you can feed the pigs." He glared at Burt. "Well go on then you big lummox! Don't just stand there looking like the idiot you are! Hurry!" Burt jerked and rushed off in the direction of where the chicken grain was stored, regretting not just this stupid swap in its entirety but also his foolish reiteration of who he was the day before. He'd been so sure he was turning back into Lady Ann today he had pushed the mental changes further than they'd ever gone. Now that he wasn't going back right away he was stuck with the ramifications of that. He was more Burt than ever - more stupid, more ill-educated; more manly. He even thought of himself as being Burt and of... her as being Lady Ann! That was the most sinister part. He really thought of himself as Burt - however much he also knew that he wasn't. Oh, it had all been a ghastly mistake from the start and it felt like it was getting worse and worse! 4 Four hours later, Burt was still working! Still! It was unbelievable! He was having to groom the horses and at least that required some skill and allowed him to be close to the beautiful animals he'd always loved as Ann. He remembered how to do it, just as he had done a week or so earlier when he'd tried it out. This was very different though - having to do it without any choice in the matter - just another barked command from old Harry. And it made it worse that the skill to do it didn't come from his real life and background but from Burt's. The skills of a groom were a seamless part of his brain now as though he'd been doing it for years and the horrifying part of that was that if he let his mind wander then numerous "memories" popped into his head of doing it before... as Burt. This was terrible! This whole situation! It was like he really was Burt! And he hated it! He wanted to go back right now! But he couldn't! As the horses hadn't been done properly in so long their coats were much harder to do and Burt struggled to get it done well, sweating in the narrow stable with his sleeves rolled up. It was a position he had seen the real Burt in a hundred times and that was infinitely chilling. Anyone coming in would see him working in exactly the same pose and with the same aptitude as the real Burt. He was the real Burt now! There was no escaping that! He was Burt! Over and over he kept thinking that and in the base of his skull the warmth spread and the ticking went on until he realized what was happening and stood up with a jerk, alarmed. The more he dwelled on his position here and how identical it was to Burt's, the more that reinforced and accelerated the change - the more it really turned him into Burt, mind and soul! He almost felt like crying but he forced himself to stay calm. He wasn't about to start weeping like some pansy. Only girls cried... and softies. And he wasn't one of them. He was a man! He put his dirty hands against his face and pressed the palms against his eyes. Crikey!What was becoming of him? 5 In London, "Lady Ann" sat in a very feminine pose on the window seat reading Wuthering Heights. She'd worked her way through several Jane Austin's before settling on the Bronte sisters and planned to complete all their works if she could. Though the thought of that made her pause in her reading and lower the book. In a couple of days when she returned to Griply Hall and traded lives with Burt she would lose all this glorious education she'd gained. She'd become illiterate again; unable to read more than a few words - let alone an entire novel! Worse, she might even lose the desire to read - something she couldn't even conceive of! When she'd been that idiot man she'd had no interest in the printed word or in beautiful stories about torrid romances. She really had been a heathen and a simpleton. And that was what she had to look forward to! She realized that she wouldn't even get the chance to finish this novel and hurled it across the room with a cry of anger! Damn that Burt! Damn him! That stupid ignorant man! Not for making her switch lives with him - oh no: this was the best two weeks of her life! No! She just wished he wasn't there waiting for her to swap back! She wished she could stay this way and leave him to be the illiterate clodhopper for the rest of his days! She couldn't bear to think of it! 6 Burt was exhausted by the time Harry finally summoned him from up the track and told him it was time to finish for the day. He couldn't believe it had gone on for so long. It had been relentless! And he had resented being told what to do, hour after hour. But at least that was something he could cling onto. He knew that the real Burt had been an obsequious sap - a servile bumpkin incapable of making his own decisions who, if anything, thrived on being told what to do. The fact that he resented the orders meant that he was still himself deep inside - still Lady Ann. All he could focus on was when her ladyship was coming home - making the switch - turning back into himself. It made him terribly uneasy that lady Ann hadn't returned or communicated with him about what the delay was but he reassured himself that she couldn't stay away forever. It was bound to be some simple explanation, like a rail strike or a short illness - a cold or something; nothing to worry about. "Right then our Burt," said Harry."Ow does it feel to be working again after your high and dandy holiday, care of er ladyship?" Burt shrugged, feeling surly and unhappy. "I asked you a question lad," snapped Harry. "Ahright I guess," replied Burt glumly. "Well we can't ave that, can we?"said Harry with a glint in his eye. "I'd better give you twice as much to do tomorrow, eh?" He laughed merrily at the horrified expression on Burt's face."Can't 'ave you thinkin you can disrespect me an get away with it, can we, eh? You remember me telling you that, don't you?" "Yeah," said Burt. "Yeah. Right. Now shove off you big oaf! I'm sick o'looking at your backward slack jawed expression. Go on!" Burt turned his back on the old man and trudged off toward the village. He paused briefly, wondering if he should have a wash before he went but shook his head. He was used to the stink now and what did it matter? 7 "Lady Ann" sat at the huge dining table with a pair of scissors in her hand, crossly working at cutting up her copy of Wuthering Heights. She snipped away, apparently at random, loping chunks out of the book and leaving shredded pages littering the table. After twenty minutes Grandmamma poked her head through the doorway. "Are you alright Ann dear? I've hardly seen you today." "Quite alright thank you Grandmamma,"replied Ann without looking up. "I'm just in the middle of something." The elderly lady left her to it and Ann continued snipping at the novel, carefully cutting shapes round certain words. It was difficult to get everything she wanted. The words she was after weren't always easy to find and sometimes she had to make up a word from letters cut from two or more different sources. Finally though she had found and cut out all the words she was looking for and she laid them across the table looking every bit as though they belonged in a poisoned pen letter. The words said: I hate Burt. He is a filthy stupid servant. He is an idiot lower class working man and nothing more. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. 8 The man who, despite his best intentions, couldn't help thinking of himself as Burt Harper, walked into Griply village feeling the aches in muscles that had been allowed to grow relatively soft over the previous two weeks and had now been pushed to their limits. He felt absolutely miserable and desired more than anything to be back in his rightful body. He didn't know what had possessed him to make the trade in the first place and regarded the whole experience as a terrible mistake. Being a real working man was awful! He wished he was back in his real body as a woman, lounging up at Griply Hall waiting for dinner to be served, wearing a beautiful evening gown. "Hmmm." He stopped and frowned, feeling uncomfortable, disliking the idea of wearing a fancy dress - or even, come to think of it, of being a woman. He glanced round, feeling embarrassed and ashamed to be thinking thoughts like that. But then he stamped his foot angrily. That was just his stupid man's brain thinking! However unnatural and repellant it felt at the moment, he did want to become a woman again. At the very least he wanted to be one of the quality again! Two women were approaching down the lane. Feeling self-conscious, like they'd somehow know he'd been thinking effeminate thoughts, Burt went on walking and slowed as they came close. He'd seen them round the village from a distance but never spoken to them before. One was shapely and quite attractive; the other was a bit on the skinny side with crooked teeth. They giggled to see him and whispered to one another, giggling some more. "Ahright ladies," he said. "How do." They giggled again and the plain one said, "Eh up Burt. We was just wondering if'n you was as well-endowed as they say." Burt grinned proudly, enjoying the attention and flattery of his manhood. It was exactly what he needed so he could feel better. "Aye. I'd say I was even bigger than that!" They giggled even more and Burt looked from one to the other of them, forgetting for a minute his urgent desire to get out of that body. Suddenly, once again, he found himself loving the fact that he was a well-hung man. "Well what if we don't believe you?"twittered the skinny one, flashing her eyes bawdily. "Well then," replied Burt. "In that case I might 'ave to take you two nice ladies off somewheres and give you a show." He flashed his eyes back. The skinny woman grinned but the pretty one turned her nose up. "Not hardly Burt Harper. I've got better things to do with me time." "Well get you miss high and mighty!" he said. "I'm not parting me legs for the likes of you. I wants a man with something between his ears other than cotton wool." She turned her back on him and her friend and walked away. Burt frowned at her retreating back. "Oooo. She thinks she's better than you," said the skinny woman, "but I don't mind that you ain't bright. I like a man with his virtues lower down... if you get what I mean!" She burst out laughing, gripping Burt's arm and he looked down at her feeling rather insulted and put out. This girl was far uglier than the other one - plainer than Mavis by far. He looked at the pretty woman as she passed out of sight and a realization came over him that thudded into place as solidly as his lack of power and control as a mere commoner had as he'd been locked in the stocks. Mavis wasn't cultured or beautiful. She was a pure salt-of-the-earth common-as-muck slag, but she was sexy and lascivious... and she was the best he could get. As Burt he was muscular and well-endowed but he was stupid and badly spoken and he was smelly and coarse. No girl with any breeding or prospects would look twice at him. He knew he shouldn't care - that he was going to be back in his rightful body soon - but he did care desperately at the moment. He'd had a terrible day and he needed a shag. He didn't want this trout. He wanted his proper lass. Nothing but Mavis would do. "Well?" said the skinny woman. "We gonna slip off somewhere?" "No, sorry luv," replied Burt. "I've gotta see someone. I'll 'ave to shag ye another time." 9 "Lady Ann Neville" stood several yards away from the table, her back mostly turned toward it but enough of it in her peripheral vision to keep it in sight. She was fuming but she couldn't help glancing back at it; at the words she'd spelled out from her ruined book. Her anger was still crackling slightly but now that it was dying away she felt a doleful pressure of guilt assert itself. The damaged book was the route the guilt took to get into her mind - she loved literature and the idea of destroying something as sacred as a novel was mortifying - but now the guilt was scratching at the rage she'd pressed in Burt's direction. She was angry at him for putting her in this position in the first place but though she knew he would no doubt have now become Burt in word and deed as well as looks, she knew that deep inside he was still Lady Anne. However much she loved being a woman; being Ann; it wasn't right to even fantasise about stealing this wonderful life away from its rightful owner. As a man, she had spent years being devoted to Lady Ann. Just because she was transposed into another form now and the waters of identity were muddied somewhat, that devotion didn't just vanish. It was deeply frustrating but she knew that it wasn't really the original Lady Ann's--... Burt's fault. This swap had been a great opportunity for the most incredible holiday. She had to keep that in mind. She had no right to keep this body forever when she had agreed she would return it. She had already gone past the deadline to return out of selfishness and obviously she had to go back as soon as possible. She walked gloomily back to the table and looked down at the spelled out words. I hate Burt. He is a filthy stupid servant. He is an idiot lower class working man and nothing more. That was who she was going to become again. It was only right. She had to do it. She had to go back. And she had to do it first thing in the morning. She stared at the words for several more moments as tears welled in her eyes then with a cry of anguish swiped them all out of the way. 10 "Burt" entered the Dog & Pony and hung around waiting for Mavis to show herself. He didn't have any cash so he couldn't order any drinks and no one was having it when he tried to scab one off them. He ended up sitting under the window, tenderly rubbing his aching muscles. His back ached and he had the feeling that he had been doing everything wrong - lifting things incorrectly and putting undue strain on his muscles. He stared into the middle distance for a minute, thinking about it and it came back to him - the lessons he'd learned as a boy about proper lifting technique. Now he thought of it he clearly remembered one of the old farmhands, a man named Jake, teaching him the right way to do it shortly after he started working at Griply. Burt sat back, ruminating over how long it was since Jake had left Griply then suddenly stopped and sat forward with a jerk. That had been another Burt memory! And once again he hadn't even realized! He could picture the day when Jake taught him lifting technique perfectly in his mind and now he thought of the man, several other memories popped up featuring him too. In each and every memory, he was Burt as a boy or a younger man, working the grounds and doing what he was told. He put his head in his hands, shuddering from the horror of it. Why was this happening to him and when would it stop? This was really and truly terrifying! Mavis appeared carrying some beers but when she saw him the smile dropped off her face and she stayed well clear. Burt watched her drop off the beers with a hangdog expression on his face, hoping she'd approach him on the way back. She didn't. She went out of her way to keep as much distance between them as possible. Pouting, Burt tried to reconcile how this made him feel. In one way he was desperate for the physical gratification of sex and wanted to have her but he also just felt like he needed some affection from his woman. And meanwhile the other part of him deep inside resented both emotions and railed against them. This was just a peasant girl who was; or should have been; far beneath him on the social scale. Eventually he caught her by hanging round close to the door that went into the back. "Ey up luv. Ye got a minute?" "I'm busy," she snapped. "What with?" "I'm workin! Are ye blind?" Burt frowned and lowered his voice."I was just 'opin we could spend some time together later." Mavis sneered at him. "You got any money?" "What for? I ain't got to pay; you're my lass." She chuckled. "Ardly after your performance over the last week. It's embarrassin to know ye." Burt blushed, recalling the humiliation on the stocks. He was desperate for this girl to show him some affection but that desperation made him deeply angry. He hated the fact he wanted her as much as he did not having her. "Well screw ye then!" he snapped."I'll get me lovin someplace else! See if I care!" He turned his back on her and stormed off. "Good luck findin anybody better!"she called after him, but Burt just kept walking, feeling his emotions pulled in every direction. He stomped back up to the hall feeling more and more depressed. When he got there he gave Harry a guarded nod as he went round the back of the stables. "Where do ye think you're going my lad?" called the old man. "Eh?" Burt stopped. "I told you yesterdee you'd afta sleep rough tonight; or are ye too simple to remember?" Burt looked blank for a moment then recalled the conversation with a sinking feeling. He'd been so sure he would be back in his own body tonight that he'd not worried about the effect on "Burt." Now that he still was Burt, the horrible effect was well and truly on him! "Gar Arry," he said. "You can let me off that can't ye? I've slaved me bollocks off for ye today." "Aye. And ye've to be up at six to slave yer bollocks off again!" Burt's heart chilled. Surely Lady Ann would be back and save him from another day of that! But even if she was back tomorrow it wouldn't be until late. He'd still have to work the better part of the day. His heart started to sink even further. "I bet it makes you wish you hadn't disrespected me, eh boy?" said Harry. "I'm sorry about that," said Burt, "I shouldn'ta done it." He felt he was in some way betraying himself saying this -going against the confidence he'd felt over the fortnight in ignoring Harry's authority, but he was just so desperate to put his head down somewhere halfway warm and comfortable. "Shouldn't've done it?" "No. I was wrong to go against wot you said." Harry grinned. "Come on then, let's hear it." "Wot?" "Why you was so wrong." Burt swallowed. "I was wrong to go against ye because you're my superior. I should do whatever you tell me to." "Aye. And." "And..." "And why am I your superior?" Burt frowned, hating every minute of this and not noticing the gentle buzzing at the base of his skull. "Because... because you're my master... and because you're... cleverer than me." "Damn right!" Harry clapped his hands sharply and Burt relaxed, relieved he'd said the right thing. "Can I sleep in the stable now?"asked Burt. "Not a chance!" cried Harry. "Get out of ere! I don't want to see you until mornin!" Burt gaped in surprise and horror and then finally in acceptance. There really was nothing he could do. He couldn't go against Harry's authority. Doing that in the first place had put him in this position. He didn't dare push it now, especially if he was going to have to spend even more time in Burt's body and life. The idea of that made him shudder violently but he turned away from the stable wearily and staggered away, trying to ignore Harry's chuckling. This had been the very worst day of his entire life - aside from the day in the stocks. All he could do was pray that Lady Ann would return and that tomorrow would be the end of it. The alternative was too terrible to contemplate! ... and for more of my stories, check out: http://transformation-stories.blogspot.co.uk/