Lady Ann's Holiday - Chapter Four

Ups & Downs

1

The real Burt meanwhile, stared out with his new eyes at the disappearing English countryside, an elegant shawl wrapped around his shapely legs. In no time they were at the railway station and he was helped down from the carriage.

It was a marvel to be walking through the milling people. Up until now Burt had only spent time in Griply Hall. Now he was outside in the real world, surrounded by ordinary people; either his equals or betters in his normal life. Now, instead of ignoring him as they normally would have, they stepped back out of his way as he walked as carefully as possible through the station building and onto the platform.

He didn’t have to do anything himself. Gladys fussed with the tickets and carried the baggage with the help of the coach driver. He felt like he was royalty… which he supposed (as a distant relation to King Edward) he actually was!

Standing for a moment on the platform, waiting for the train, he suddenly really saw himself as he was now. To every passerby he was an elegant lady on a trip to the capital. As long as his mouth was shut no one could tell him for the imposter he was. He was a beautiful woman, the breeze caressing the curls of his long hair, his hands neatly clasped at his waist.

Though something felt a little off… like he really wanted something, without knowing what that something was.

When the train arrived, Gladys made sure he was comfortable in a first class carriage then discreetly withdrew to third class. A posh gentleman was across the aisle from Burt. He smiled broadly and said, “Good morning madam.”

Feeling awfully unsure of himself Burt just tipped his head and smiled as demurely as he could in return.

The train pulled out in supreme comfort and as the journey began Burt was served tea in a china cup and cucumber sandwiches. He felt like he was dreaming.

The Yorkshire countryside started to fall away and soon he was being whisked through the outskirts of the Griply estate. It was wondrous to see it from this angle – he’d never been on a railway train before – and to think that he was currently the heiress of all of that land!

How peculiar life could turn out to be!

2

As Ann walked down the lane and cut onto the fields where twenty four hours earlier she had done the same on her horse as a woman she had an odd realization.

That morning she had entirely forgotten to take a bath.

It was probably the first time in her life she hadn’t done it, with Gladys preparing it and her sinking into the lovely warm water. It had been a daily tradition so ingrained that it was second nature. Even without Gladys there to wake her with breakfast she was surprised she hadn’t done it herself.

She wondered if she should walk back and have one now, but she was a good ten minutes out already and it seemed like too much effort. If she smelled bad then people wouldn’t be surprised. They thought she was Burt after all. They would just think that she was smelling like he usually did.

She ruminated on that for a few minutes, wondering if her thinking that was because she was somehow influenced from being in Burt’s body – that she wasn’t too bothered because he wouldn’t have been – but she decided that it wasn’t that. She simply didn’t want to waste time going back now that she was on her way.

It was wonderful to be out striding on these strong male legs. Burt’s body was necessarily far fitter than her own and she felt healthier than she ever had.

She was as careful as she could be to maintain a masculine walk, which felt a bit unwieldy still. She felt like she was alone out in the country but any of the farm hands might spy her and make annoying remarks in front of the men at the pub later if she flounced about like a woman.

After ten minutes of concentrating on making long strides with widely spaced feet and her hands in her pockets she didn’t find it too hard. The body was used to it. Soon she forgot all about it and it only occurred to her again after about half an hour had passed. Ann 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 a field 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 continue pulling off her impersonation.

It was great to just go out walking like this. It would have been regarded as odd had she still been a woman. On any normal day she’d have been pressured into sitting on the sofa doing embroidery with her mother and sister. Exploring the countryside for a change was far more diverting.

She passed the stream where she’d found the amulet and smiled to herself, thinking what a profound experience its lucky find had brought her. She was immensely grateful to whatever higher power had chosen to reward her like this.

As she walked she reflected on the clothes she was wearing. They were filthy and threadbare: a shirt, waistcoat and breeches, very tatty and ingrained with dirt. On any other day she’d have been mortified to be seen out in them but now they were just part of her disguise. And what a disguise it was! With her close-shaven hair, big muscular frame and manly stride – and these clothes, she was a dead ringer for Burt. Anyone would think she really was him.

That made her think of the letter she’d tried to write and her theory of the changes in her brain. If the part of her brain that had contained the information on how to write had transformed until it was the same as Burt’s, she wondered if there were other effects she had yet to notice. Was all of her education gone or just that relating to the written word? And was her reading affected too? She hadn’t thought to investigate.

As for her voice, although she found it easier now to say some words with a Yorkshire accent, she still for the most part spoke with good elocution. She had mixed feelings about it. Although it would be handy to be able to fit in with the “other” men more easily, the thought of sounding like a country bumpkin felt ridiculous.

Just imagine talking like that all the time!

3

When she reached Griply village Ann found it profoundly odd to walk around, passing by the ordinary folk. Every other time she’d been in the village, every passerby had stopped to look, nodding in deference, leaving no doubt in anybody’s mind that she was superior to all of them.

Now, nobody turned their head in her direction.

She was just a nobody – one of the common people – not noteworthy in the least. In fact, she noticed that if anything she was even slightly avoided! Mrs Landon, the vicar’s wife wrinkled her nose in disgust when she saw Ann approaching and crossed over the road, studiously pretending she wasn’t there. It left Ann feeling annoyed and just slightly… ashamed? She was angry to be treated that way but she also felt bad to be looked down on at the same time.

Since starting this whole sham it had been a gallop of different intense experiences leaving her a little overwhelmed… but it had surely been the most intense and exciting experience of her life to date. Even this feeling of being looked down on was stimulating in its own way.

Just ahead she saw the coach and driver from the hall and smiled, relieved. She was a lot fitter than she had been as a woman but she couldn’t be bothered to walk all the way back the way she’d come. She approached the coachman who was chatting with the blacksmith, finishing off some business.

“Ey up,” said Ann, happy that she was getting a slightly better handle on the bumpkin turn of phrase.

“Ey up Burt. What you doin’ in’t village when you should be up at t’hall working?”

“I’ve er… I’ve got the fortnight off,” replied Ann, still feeling a little unsettled to be addressed as a man.

“Oh. Good on yer. It’s easy for some. I’ve got to get back to Estate to take the countess and Lady Harriet down t’ut station.”

“I wondered if I might—” Ann cleared her throat. “How’s about giving me a ride back to the hall?”

“Ain’t gonna happen.”

“What?”

“Ain’t gonna happen Burt.”

“I’ll pay you obviously,” replied Ann crossly, reaching into her pocket.

“Keep your money Burt,” said the coachman. “It ain’t about that and you know it. You could give me an hundred pounds and I wouldn’t let you ride in there. It’s not for the likes of you. It’s only for the quality.”

“Quality?”

“If’n the earl saw you inside of there we’d both of us be out of a job.”

“But I have money,” said Ann plaintively, almost petulantly.

“Money don’t change the fact that you’re a working man Burt. That’s all you’ll ever be.”

Ann stormed off without another word, her fists balled by her sides.

What did that idiot know? She didn’t actually feel like riding in the coach now anyway. She’d much rather enjoy the stroll back!

She heard giggling from the other side of the street and looked across to see Mavis and another girl looking her way, twittering between them. Mavis’s shoulders and cleavage were bare and she looked right sexy. The girl she was with was a lot chubbier but Ann found her eyes drawn over and over again to her round cleavage.

As she approached she heard Mavis whisper, “… but you should see the size of ‘is cock. It’s gigantic!”

Ann grinned broadly, feeling suddenly better. “Ey up our lass,” she said, finding again that sometimes lower class colloquialisms just appeared in her mouth – usually when she was most distracted.

“Ahright Burt,” replied Mavis. “I was just tellin’ Ethel ‘ere ‘ow strong and virile you are.”

Ann’s face coloured but she felt proud. It made her feel so powerful and confident to remember how big her erect member had been.

“I’m off t’ut pub to open up for’t evening so you’d better not let ‘er steal you away!” said Mavis. She stuck her tongue in Ann’s mouth and squeezed her crotch, giving her another jet of pleasure and waking the beast, then she walked off laughing over-loudly.

Ann looked at Ethel and sized her up. She was far fatter than Mavis but she created a real stirring in Ann’s trousers in her already throbbing penis.

“Are ye really as big as they say?” asked Ethel bawdily.

“Bigger,” bragged Ann, amazing herself at how lascivious she was prepared to be now.

Ethel looked her up and down then winked. Ann found herself grinning, having a sudden feeling at what that wink was supposed to mean.

“And I bet you got muscles on top of your muscles.”

“I certainly—” Ann cleared her throat. “That I do. I’ve got muscles like you wouldn’t believe.”

Mavis was half way to the pub now and Ann watched her for a minute, briefly considering the morality of this flirtation and discounting it.

It wasn’t her life anyway. She owed no obligation to Mavis. It was Burt who’d promised himself to her. She could do whatever she wanted. And besides, these were the lower orders. It was common knowledge that their emotions were more retarded than those in the upper class. And furthermore, this is what the commoners did all the time anyway. That was the whole point!

She shook her head to herself. None of that mattered. Not when her cock was pulsing in her trousers, telling her exactly what it wanted.

“I like a muscular man,” said Ethel, stroking Ann’s arm.

“And I like a woman who… with tits like yours.”

Ethel giggled. “Oh, you’re right forward you are, ain’t ya?”

“Do you like forward men?” asked Ann, leaning against the wall so that her face came close to Ethel’s.

“They’re the best kind,” replied Ethel. “Especially if they’re as well hung as Mavis reckons.” She stroked Ann’s cock through her trousers with her index finger where Mavis had groped her a minute earlier, making her intentions clear and establishing herself on the other girl’s ‘territory.’ “Do ya wanna slip back ‘ere and let me get a closer look?”

“Aye,” said Ann, her accent thickening by the second. “That I do. That I do and no mistake.”

Both she and Ann watched until Mavis was out of sight inside the Dog & Pony then they slipped down a side alley and Ann pinned the chubby woman against the wall, kissing her, shoving her tongue into the woman’s mouth.

Ethel fumbled with the buttons on Ann’s trousers and Ann suddenly felt an overwhelming imperative to have this girl as roughly as she could.

She snatched up the woman’s skirts, raising them high enough to show her legs as her own trousers dropped down around her ankles, exposing her hairy buttocks and legs. She had no underwear herslef. And why would she? She was only a common man now – common as muck!

She lifted Ethel up, pressing her against the wall as she rammed her erect cock into the girl. Ethel gave out an almighty cry of pleasure and Ann grinned, loving it. “Ooo Burt,” groaned the girl. “Mavis was right. You are big. Right chuffing big!”

Ann beamed with pride, ramming her cock up over and over into the girl’s minge, muzzling her chubby neck and sloppily kissing her pillowy cleavage. It made her feel so masculine; so in control and it intensified the sensation greatly to feel her moustache tickling the girl’s skin and pressing against her face as they snogged.

She rammed over and over again, feeling the intensity of the sensations spread out from the centre of her body, feeling abandoned and lewd as she never had before.

Then movement in the corner of her eye distracted her for a second and she saw Mrs Landon glance into the alley as she passed on her way back to the vicarage. There was Ann, latterly the lady of the manor, now standing with bare legs and bottom in broad daylight ramming her cock up into a slut’s fanny as though she had no shame!

Mrs Landon tutted and hurried on but Ann just grinned. She really didn’t have any shame. She didn’t care one whit about that. She was having far too grand a time thrusting over and over again into this slag’s juicy vagina as she grunted and moaned against the wall.

She was a man now and she was doing what it was a man’s right to do!

4

Ann’s walk home to Griply Hall was a very pleasant one. All she could think of was how fantastic it had been having her way with that vulgar peasant. What made it even more hilarious and “dirty” was that she wasn’t even sure of the slutty girl’s name. It began with an E – she was sure of that – but it could have been Ethel or Edith or Edna. She really didn’t care! She’d had her wicked way – used the strumpet and then chucked her aside.

This was exactly what being a man was all about!

She thought of the vicar’s wife, seeing her like that and actually got another erection! The idea of it being so shameless and vulgar added to the pleasure of it no end!

Why this was one of the best days of her life!

As she walked back up the drive she saw the coach waiting to ferry her mother and sister down to the station. They were going into York to shop for a couple of days and it looked like they were almost ready to go.

The countess was in the doorway, speaking to the housekeeper while Hattie stood looking bored.

Ann suddenly felt a little jealous. The trip to York had been the original reason she’d resented having to go to Grandmamma’s. She’d been dying to go shopping in the shambles and buy some new dresses and had resented not being allowed to go. Now, even though she was remaining in Yorkshire they were still going without her. However much spending money she’d slipped away with she still couldn’t hope to ride with her mother and sister and spend the trip with them. For now she was just a burly man – a servant and nothing more.

Hattie climbed into the coach as Ann approached. Her mother was finishing off her conversation with the housekeeper and preparing to follow her. As the countess descended the steps, Ann said, “Afternoon moth—um… your ladyship.” Her voice sounded manly and a little curled by the bumpkin accent and, embarrassed, Ann tried to straighten it out. “Are you off to go shopping in York?”

Her mother looked at her and said nothing.

“That’s a right nice get-up you’re in,” went on Ann. “Er, I mean, a lovely outfit.”

“You, boy,” said the Countess, pointing at her as though she hadn’t spoken. “Make yourself useful and carry these bags.”

Ann looked at the baggage on the step and back at her mother.

“Chop chop boy,” said the countess. “I haven’t got all day.” She walked imperiously past Ann, not even offering a please or thank you, much less making eye contact and Ann felt crestfallen. She was devoted to her mother but all the warmth and kindness had vanished from her voice and manner – the kindness that Ann had always relied upon.

She watched her mother climb into the coach with the driver’s help and realised she was going to get told off at any second for dawdling – holiday or not. If she had still been a woman she’d have shouted at any servant this slow already.

She hurried to the steps and lifted the bags, scurrying back with them to the coach where she hefted them into position on the back while the driver tied them in place. Inside the coach her mother and sister chattered away excitedly about the purchases they were going to make.

As the coach pulled away Ann was still standing there forlornly. She watched it until it was out of sight, cap once again in hand then trudged down toward the stable.

5

When he reached the station in London, Burt was surprised to see Gladys suddenly appear looking servile. The maid arranged for a porter to carry the bulk of the luggage and led him out to the street. There Gladys hailed a horse drawn cab and helped Burt into it.

Burt was whisked in this carriage through the bustling capital and he gaped out the window at the sights he never imagined in his life seeing in the flesh. After a while they pulled up outside an elegant townhouse – her ladyship’s nan’s house.

Poshly dressed servants emerged and bowed, helping Burt down from the carriage and once again it was reinforced that he was the quality now. He was the elegant lady.

It was getting dark and the evening was chilly on his soft skin as he was led inside.

There in the hallway stood Lady Ann’s nanna, a tall slender elderly lady dressed entirely in black and looking more than a little forbidding.

“Good evening Ann.”

“How do Nan,” said Burt, “Are ye’right?” He winced at the sound of his common-sounding voice and turn of phrase but it was too late. He’d already said it.

“Am I what?” asked Nanna. “And what, pray tell, did you call me?”

“Are ye… How’re ye—” Burt blushed, panicking slightly and feeling like a total dullard.

“You must be tired from your journey,” said Nanna crisply, frankly terrifying Burt as she frowned at him. He’d never met a woman quite like this. She seemed awful and he fully understood now why Lady Ann would have done anything to avoid seeing her. “Perhaps it would be better for all concerned if you were to retire. Immediately.”

“Right you are,” said Burt in broad Yorkshire, wishing he’d just kept his mouth shut. He was so nervous it was making it much harder to control his speech.

Nanna stared at him coldly then turned her back on him without another word, leaving him to be led upstairs by the servants.

It looked like this was going to be an awfully long two weeks.

6

Ann was having a fantastic time!

After the previous night’s escapades at the Dog & Pony she’d been excited to get back down there to have another go. Her accent still let her down (try as she might she simply couldn’t properly imitate the local clodhoppers), but she’d discovered a great way to make it so they didn’t care.

She had walked in and dropped a pile of coins on the bar, loudly announcing that she was going to buy drinks for everyone!

When they realised she wasn’t joking there had been cheers all round. Men were patting her on the back and chattering excitedly with her, grinning and laughing. It was great! It made her feel like one of the lads.

And after her experiences earlier with the coachman and her mother it was nice to be appreciated…

These bawdy men might have been simpletons but they knew enough to be grateful for free beer. Ann had never had many friends growing up. To suddenly be surrounded by so many happy people all thinking she was great was almost overwhelming emotionally. Tears actually came to her eyes it made her so happy. They really treated her like she was one of them. One of the men.

She knocked back her first pint then bought another round for everyone. That raised the celebration even more.

“What’s this in aid of Burt?” asked the Butcher. “And where did you get all this brass?”

“Lady Ann,” she replied. “She gave me a wodge of cash to thank me for a job well done… And I wanted to celebrate with me— with my… mates.”

“Well good on yer!” The butcher clapped her on the back, raising his glass. “And good on Lady Ann.” He raised his voice so that everyone could join in on the toast. “She may be a spiteful bitch from time to time…”

Ann started to open her mouth but got jostled by a laughing pit worker from behind and lost the moment. 

“… but she’s paid for an almighty piss up! And for that we’re grateful! Lady Ann!”

“Lady Ann!” cried everyone in the pub.

Ann looked round at them feeling momentarily bewildered, then she raised her own glass and cried, “Lady Ann!”

She knocked that pint back and slammed it down on the bar then shouted, “Barkeep! Another round if you please!”

And everyone cheered.

7

Burt was shown up to his beautiful bedroom and after fussing round for a few minutes settling him in, Gladys disappeared to the servant’s quarters.

Burt just stood there in awe of his new surroundings.

He 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. Just imagine! Him – Burt – coming to the capital city and staying on holiday in a big mansion like this! Never once in a million years would he have expected that!

And Lady Ann had chosen not to come here – to take on his body and life instead back at Griply! It barely made sense to him.

He thought back to leaving the manor house: being helped onto the coach by the new Burt with all the servants in attendance. He’d never felt so important and esteemed.

And despite his adoration for Lady Ann, he had found it funny that she had had to help him. He 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.

Burt 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 then she deserved to feel the fool.

He 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.