“I Am Who I Am”
1
Lady Ann woke up feeling extremely grumpy.
She’d just had what had to have been the worst night’s sleep of her life. She’d staggered home pissed in the early hours of the morning, vomiting several times on the way home and then had to make her bed up when she got back to the hay barn above the stable. As a mere stable hand, Burt wasn’t given proper lodging. Now she was living his life she literally had to roll out his thin straw mattress every night and put it away in the morning. It was hardly worth the effort. She could feel the joins between the floorboards through the flimsy thing!
She’d tossed and turned for the rest of the night feeling cold, uncomfortable and queasy. Try as she might, at three o’clock in the morning, feeling like death warmed up, she’d been unable to block the draft coming in from outside in numerous places. And it was spring! Imagine how much colder it would be for the real Burt when the weather really took a turn for the worse come autumn. She thanked God she’d be back in her own warm bed long before that.
In the end she’d barely slept a wink all night and felt exhausted now – and awfully dehydrated. Like common drinking men since beer was invented, Ann vowed not to drink as much ever again!
After feeling filthy the day before she was determined to have a bath now. She actually called out Gladys’s name before she remembered she was on her own now. It was a shame Mavis hadn’t spent the night. She might have drawn a bath for her if ordered to. These servant types were all the same. Talk to them imperiously and they’d jump to it whoever you looked like.
That was her theory anyway.
Feeling increasingly irritable, Ann hunted round for the bathroom, realising quickly that there wasn’t one. Eventually she found what amounted to a bath tub hanging off a nail on the wall. It was far from the beautiful porcelain bath on dainty legs that she was used to. This was just a rusty old metal tub, barely big enough for a person.
Grumbling to herself she got it down and tried to think what came next. Gladys usually took care of everything while she was still fast asleep. She decided eventually to fill it using water from the kettle. But before she could do that she had to light the stove! Worse: there’s wasn’t any firewood to hand!
She almost gave up then and there but decided she was determined to maintain her standards. Just because she was in Burt’s body didn’t mean she couldn’t be every bit as clean and well tailored as she’s always been.
Muttering to herself she but on her boots and went out into the wood behind the stable to gather firewood, feeling all the aches of her rough night as she did so. Eventually she was ready and after cursing in a most unladylike fashion for over half an hour she got the fire lit.
Then she had to go and get water for the kettle!
This turned out to be from an open barrel outside at the back of the building! There were leaves floating on the surface and more at the bottom of the barrel but there was nowhere else to get it so she had to fill it up and tromp back upstairs.
She heated the water up then poured it into the bath with a satisfying cloud of steam as she smiled for the first time that day out of relief.
But the water barely covered the bottom of the bath!
Stamping her feet in fury, Ann went back outside and down to the barrel again and refilled the kettle. She heated it again and poured that into the tub. It barely had any effect. So she did it again. And again. And again!
When she’d filled the kettle eight times she decided that the amount of water she had would have to do. Feeling the draft from the cracks in the hay door she stripped down naked and climbed in.
The water barely covered her buttocks! And it was only lukewarm; it had taken so long to fill it! And it was so small her hairy knees were up in front of her face!
After spending a furious thirty seconds making a half-hearted attempt to clean herself, Ann clambered out of the bath and kicked it over in a fury, spilling the water all over the floor and her mattress. Just about ready to kill somebody she climbed back into her dirty clothes from the day before and sat shivering in front of the stove, regretting the entire attempt to wash herself and telling herself that being clean was highly overrated.
2
In London, Burt sank into the warm water of his bath feeling every bit the pampered woman that he looked like.
Gladys poured even more piping hot water in then tactfully withdrew as he languished in the huge bathtub – one of the most beautiful things he’d ever seen! He was able to stretch out in it and it gave him the first real view of his naked female body.
He looked so beautiful and dainty. The skin on his arms and legs was so soft and smooth. He turned his tiny hands back and forth, marveling at how small they were, how soft the skin. His own man’s hands were big and callused, the fingernails bitten short but still able somehow to trap dirt. His nails now were shiny ovals, perfectly manicured and dazzlingly pretty.
It was so wonderful to slide down into the warm water and let it close round his chest and shoulders. He had always hated baths and getting clean. Now though he saw it in an entirely different light. It felt wonderful to gently cleanse his new body, running his delicate fingers along his smooth arms and legs.
He would have thought he would hate being a woman but now that he had gotten over the initial shock it was actually nice to feel so smooth and soft – and obviously it was fantastic to be so rich all of a sudden!
This really was the life!
3
Ann felt wonderful! This was why she’d made the body switch; right here!
She was galloping across the estate faster than she’d ever done before with the wind full in her face. And she was riding astride! Never had she been brave enough to spur Rosebud to such speeds and to jump the low hedges with such abandon.
Partly it was because she was riding properly for the first time in ages – like a man. Part of it was that she was a lot less timid and fearful now… more manly for want of a better word. Apart from that it was because she was a lot tougher now. If she fell off she would probably be fine in her big burly muscular body. And if she injured herself – well it wasn’t her body that was getting injured, was it?
She laughed to think of that servile bumpkin Burt dutifully taking his body back covered in scrapes and bruises and probably thanking her for it – the bootlicking cur!
It was hilarious how obsequious that little fool had always been; fawning and servile; when he could have really been enjoying life like she was! That was the difference between them though. It was her soul in this body now and that meant it had all her drive and self confidence; her willpower and her intelligence.
Once she’d had a really good ride she turned Rosebud back and set off for home happily, allowing the tired horse to go down to a trot as she went back up the drive. She dismounted in front of the stable and left Rosebud standing there as she started to wander off.
“Burt!”
Ann stopped and looked round. Harry was emerging from the stable a look of absolute fury on his whiskery face.
“What the hell do you think you’ve been doing my lad?”
“Riding,” she replied. “What does it look like?”
“And you think you can just do that whenever you damn well please; is that it?”
Ann shrugged. “Why not?”
“I’ll tell you why not you ignorant sod! Because they don’t belong to you! They belong to the earl and his family!”
“Well I can do whatever—”
“You’ll do whatever I chuffing say! I can’t believe you had the gall to take Lady Ann’s filly out! You’re barely fit to groom that horse – let alone ride it!”
“Now wait a minute—”
“Were you planning on leaving it out – saddle and all?” shouted Harry. “Well? Speak up you little turd!”
Ann couldn’t believe that Harry was speaking to her like this. It was entirely unconscionable! It was intimidating, and normally Ann might have been cowed by it as she had been the day before, but now she had the best of both worlds. She had her breeding as a lady of the manor and all the superiority that came with it and she had her newly endowed manly confidence. “As a matter of fact I was planning to leave it,” she said pompously, entirely disrupting the flow of Harry’s anger. “In case you hadn’t noticed, Lady Ann gave me two week’s off. You saw the note yourself. During that time I’ll do whatever I want!”
“You’ll unsaddle that horse and get in there and shovel the shit up as punishment for taking her out is what you’ll do!” cried Harry.
“No. I don’t think I will,” snapped Ann. “I’m on holiday and as long as I am you can do it your bloody self!”
She strode away proudly, turning her back on the ignorant man, head held high. He couldn’t tell her what to do! All it required was the proper commanding attitude and she was every bit in control as she ever was.
She really did enjoy being Burt! And she was a much better Burt than he had ever been!
4
Over brunch at the Duchess’s pristine home in the city, Burt was finding out that it wasn’t easy being a cultured woman. It wasn’t easy at all!
"Honestly Ann,” snapped the old lady. “Don't slurp your tea! You have been too long in the country and around your father.”
“Soz nan. You ain’t wrong.”
“And your accent!” she exclaimed. “You sound as if you have associating for far too long with the men from the stable!” Burt had to smile at that. “Don’t smirk girl! I’m telling you that you sound like an urchin with no breeding whatsoever! Don’t you have any shame?”
Burt looked forlornly down at his plate.
“Well? Answer me Ann! Do you want to talk like a lady or don’t you?”
“Er, well I can’t say as it’d be a bad thing.”
“Goodness gracious me! What I would have to work with! I’ve never met a lady who has gone so much to seed! You sound worse than your servant, and she has no breeding at all!”
Burt felt utterly ashamed of himself. He was letting Lady Ann down entirely by his pathetic attempt to pretend to be her.
“I see I am going to have to re-school you," said the Duchess. “There is simply nothing else for it.”
Burt gaped at her.
“I will take you while I have you young lady and mould you into the gentlewoman you should be. I will teach you to stand, sit and speak like a proper lady should, until you do it without thinking. You may not be a lady now but in two weeks time when you leave here you will be a cultured upper class woman from your head to your toes!”
5
Ann sat on her favourite clump of soft grass at the bank of her stream, there again where she’d found the magical amulet. She half expected to see something else at the water’s edge but there wasn’t anything.
She felt very very happy – more at peace than she’d felt in ages. Apart from the bath incident she was really enjoying being Burt for a change from her normal life. It was a most diverting holiday. She wouldn’t want to remain as Burt – not even a tiny part of her wanted that. Being Burt with money in her pockets and two weeks off work was one thing – when she had made the decision to become him. It would be another matter entirely actually being stuck like that – having to work while everybody and their uncle ordered her about.
No thank you.
But it was nice to pretend to be Burt. If anything it was annoying not to be able to do it perfectly. She wished she could do the voice more successfully. She found herself talking like she always had more often than not which really ruined the effect of living the Burt life to the full.
She actually wanted to pretend to be Burt for real. She remembered how much pleasure she’d had doing just that on her first night and wondered if there was a relationship between her telling herself she was really Burt and being able to talk like him.
She was planning to go out drinking again that night – and maybe see some more of Mavis. It would be much better if she could master the bumpkin accent a bit better. And also she felt she was missing out on an opportunity here if she wasn’t careful. How many people got to take a holiday this immersive – a holiday from her entire being and life. Ann was dressed in Burt’s body as she might dress in a suit of clothes, but she hadn’t become Burt. She hadn’t really taken on the whole experience at all.
And that was a real waste.
This was her only chance to fully experience life as a man and as a commoner – a member of the lower class who didn’t have to worry about pretensions and politeness but could do and take exactly what he wanted at any time.
When she was back in her own body, as a woman, she wouldn’t be able to do any of these things again. She would have missed her chance.
Sitting there on the bank, she felt like she was trying to persuade herself it wasn’t a bad idea. But it wasn’t! She was in Burt’s body for two more weeks. That was a given. Until Burt in her body returned there was absolutely no way she could change back. While she was stuck like that she should enjoy it in every way – really become Burt and live his life.
So recalling how it had worked the night before last she closed her eyes and thought, I’m Burt Harper. I’m a man. I’m a stable hand at Griply Hall, working for the Neville family.
She opened her eyes, not sure if it had had any effect. She didn’t feel too different.
I am who I am. I’m a big hairy man. I’m a servant. I’ve worked for the Neville’s my whole life. I’m nothing to them. I’m just a lowly servant. Not even that. I’m a farmhand; the lowest of the low.
She felt her penis swell suddenly and she shifted, altering her position so that her feet were more widely spaced, her pose more slovenly.
She tried saying a few phrases and smiled when she realised how much clearer her Yorkshire accent was.
“I’m Burt ‘Arper. I’m a workin’ man oop at hall. I’m not one of the Neville’s. I’m not Lady Ann. She’s a right posh lady… I’m… I’m barely fit to groom ‘er horse – let alone ride it. I could never be a woman. That’s impossible. I’m a man and I always ‘ave been. Me name’s Burt.”
She leant back against the grass, hands behind her head, feeling wonderful – incredibly relaxed and happy. She could feel the effect of this affirmation in her brain, ticking away as a slight warmth and dizziness. It felt soothing and peaceful to say it and keep saying it.
He was Burt. He was a man. He was a lower class working man who mucked out the stables and did manual labour.
Nothing more.
6
The forcible old woman started teaching Burt how to be a lady immediately.
He was told how to sit, how to eat properly, how to walk elegantly; what subjects were appropriate for dinner conversation. His new grandmother winced after every Yorkshire word
and not so gently corrected 'her granddaughter!' His head was awhirl with all this new information as he tried desperately to assimilate it – both to keep the duchess happy and to meet his side of the bargain with the real Lady Ann.
It made Burt feel like a fool trying to walk, speak and move like a woman 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 pretend he was one him— or as it was, herself!
This process went on for the better part of the day as he tried his hardest to talk gentile, but it was a hopeless case. He just couldn’t lose his accent and he couldn’t stop dropping in Yorkshire colloquialisms.
“What you have to understand Ann dear,” said the duchess, is that acting and speaking like a lady has to come second. Before you can do that you have to decide that you want to be a lady.”
Burt looked back at her. Could he do that – really pretend that he wanted to be a gentlewoman?
“Once you have made that decision you have to visualize yourself as a cultured and refined lady. Stand in front of the mirror and tell yourself that’s who you are if you must but find a way to change your self-image. Only then will you stop being such an awful country bumpkin and start acting like the lady you should be.”
8
Ann walked into the Dog & Pony feeling entirely different to the way she had two nights earlier just after she’d changed. No longer did her body feel uncomfortable. She didn’t have to concentrate on moving in a masculine way. She walked with an easy masculinity that gave her a wonderful confidence.
She stroked her moustache, loving the feel of it and liking the way it complemented her manhood. Reiterating who she was now had really made a difference – as had the decision to let herself really be Burt, to wallow in the manhood in a way she had restrained herself from doing before.
“Ey oop Burt!” said the barkeep.
“Ahreet kid,” she replied. “Ow do?”
“Ah, can’t complain. You ‘ere with more brass to chuck about tonight?”
“Aye, I might be at that,” replied Ann, reveling in her improved accent. She hadn’t made one slip up yet. Telling herself she was Burt had really let his vocal patterns overtake her. “There’s some beer in ‘ere wi’ my name on I’ll tell you that much. Start linin’ em up. I want to get me some jars in afore it gets dark and get right trollied up this ev’nin!”
The barkeep raised his voice over the din. “Burt’s buying again lads! Come’n get ‘em!”
There were cheers all round and Ann grinned as she got slapped on the back some more.
They started telling saucy stories and she started laughing along with them. And the bawdier the stories got, the louder Ann laughed, hammering her fist down on the bar. And the Yorkshire accent continued to flow. If anything it got even richer as the evening went on.
At about ten o’clock, when she was well and truly bladdered once again it occurred to Ann in a moment of quiet that she’d not slipped on talking like a yokel once since that afternoon. She could talk like a working man freely now as much as she wanted.
“Ah’ve nivver seen the like o’this,” she said to nobody in general, pursuing the fantasy. “I’m a bloke now through and through.” She necked her pint and gave a deep chuckle. “I’m a salt of the earth workin’ man and no mistake. I’m Burt ‘Arper and that’s who I’ll be for the rest of me days.”
9
Exhausted from his long day of lessons, Burt allowed Gladys to help him prepare for bed and then, after the maid excused herself, spent the next few minutes rubbing cream into his smooth arms.
It felt really nice to be in such opulent surroundings and to be living the life of a swell – even if he wasn’t really one of them. Even doing something like this – pampering his new body – felt right. He had never taken care of himself before but it was a good feeling to be doing it – however silly it was to be doing women’s things.
But it made him think about what Ann’s nanna had said. He needed to think of himself as a woman if he was going to act like one. He still wasn’t sure he really wanted to act like a lady but he had given his word to Lady Ann that he would do his best.
With this in mind he went and stood in front of a looking glass and stared into his beautiful eyes, looking up and down at the beautiful woman he now was.
“Well I guess for now,” he said, “I am who I am.” He decided to tell himself who he now was, so he could set it in his mind – so he could really think of himself as a lady.
“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.”
It felt odd to say that but it also seemed to help make her feel more comfortable; more at ease in that body.
“I’m Lady Ann Neville. My parents are the earl and countess. My sister’s name is Harriet… Hattie. I’m the eldest daughter. I’m a cultured and refined lady.”
The more he said it, the easier it became and he found it easier too to speak in a more refined way.
“I am a perfectly well spoken woman; and why wouldn’t I be? I have been brought up in the upper classes. I’m a lady of royal blood.
“I’m Lady Ann Neville and I always have been.”
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