Lady Ann's Holiday - Chapter Twenty One - Part Two

6

On the way home from the lunch engagement Ann felt highly conflicted, wrestling with the way her mind wanted to go and the way she wanted it to go.

She was disappointed in the way she’d acted in front of those old dowagers. Very disappointed. Before she’d become Ann she had been devoted to the former possessor of that identity but she’d long accepted certain… down sides to the lady’s personality. As a man she had wanted so much to be with the old Lady Ann but she would have admitted there were parts of he would have changed.

After becoming Ann she’d felt like she had the best qualities of both of them: the beauty, charm and intelligence of the former Ann along with the pleasant earnestness of Burt. She’d been glad she hadn’t taken on the more vindictive and… petulant side of the character. But it seemed as though the amulet wasn’t done with her yet and the changes continued, trying to goad her into becoming exactly like the old Ann had been.

The question was, how did she feel about that now?

Obviously it wasn’t just the character traits she was finding herself taking on; it also had to be the emotional response to those traits. The former Ann presumably hadn’t seen anything wrong about belittling servants and making snippy remarks to old ladies. Though the new Ann felt that she could now identify with the part of that which related to servants (since becoming one of the gentry she finally realised that their feelings really weren’t of consequence compared to the need to whip them into shape) but she still didn’t like the idea of disrespecting the elderly.

She mused on this for a while.

Because of course the changes still seemed to be happening; just slightly out of synch with one another. In time, it was almost certain that she would indeed come to regard it as perfectly acceptable to show spite to anyone present.

She wondered what that would be like… smiling mischievously. To not care about anyone else’s feelings. To speak her mind without guilt and not have to suffer fools silently. The dark side of her wondered if it wouldn’t be delightful to be like that.

And of course there was another thing.

At the moment she still, at times, felt guilty about extending her stay in this body and life; about betraying the man who used to be Lady Ann. Although she was continuing to put it off, she knew that eventually she would have to return to Griply and make that trade.

But what if she stayed in this form just long enough for the mental changes to reach the point where her spite outweighed her conscience? Not on purpose exactly – no; not at all – but just long enough, by accident, so that she become cruel enough that she wouldn’t care anymore that she was betraying her agreement; where she really could justify completely the idea of leaving the former Lady Ann in that clodhopper’s life for the rest of his miserable days.

At first she’d wanted to fight against these darker changes; do her best to maintain her kindly persona and sidestep the more malicious qualities this body leaned towards, but now…

She smiled to herself coldly.

Now she wasn’t quite so sure.

And in the quiet of the carriage she whispered to herself the words, “I’m Lady Ann Neville. I always have been. I’m not Burt and I never have been. I’m a thousand times better than that dirty little peasant. He’s nothing to me and his feelings don’t matter at all.”

7

As the afternoon ground on, Burt got into something of a rhythm, no longer wasting too much energy on wanting to resist his orders.

He’d accepted now that he had to follow them without question and that Harry probably knew better than him anyway. Going against orders had only ever gotten him into trouble. It was such a relief not to keep struggling against that – to just blithely do what he was told as though it was the most natural thing in the world. When he finished sweeping the yard he trotted back round to where Harry was reading the paper so he could get his next instructions.

The old groundsman barely glanced at him. “Get in that stable and clear up the shit again.”

“With me ‘ands?”

Harry paused, surprised and looked up slowly. “Aye. Since yer offerin. Yes. With yer ‘ands.”

Burt gawped at the old man as he went back to reading, realising that what he’d said had prompted a continuation of his earlier punishment. He wanted to withdraw his words but he didn’t dare for fear of inciting something worse. He just had to get on with, and quickly, before he got shouted at. He hurried inside the stable and got an empty sack and then sank down on his knees to begin snatching the stinking faces up off the stone floor.

The job took slightly less time than it had that morning, mainly because he’d overcome the initial revulsion and just accepted that he had to do it now. As he finished up he wiped the excess horse shit off on his trouser legs then walked out to see Harry for his next job, absently chewing his nails.

8

When he reached the Dog & Pony later, Burt smiled to hear laughter coming from inside but when he pushed open the door he saw old Harry at the bar in the middle of a story all about him having to clean up horse shit with his hands. All the other blokes were laughing raucously but when they saw him enter they laughed all the more loudly, calling him to go over and tell them exactly what it was like to have to do that.

Burt did his best to ignore them and ordered himself a pint then slipped upstairs to see if he could find Mavis.

When he appeared in her bedroom doorway she didn’t look wildly excited to see him. “What do you want?”

“I just came up to see ye,” he replied. “I was missin ye.”

“Well. I’m busy.”

She turned away from him and went on brushing her hair in the mirror but Burt loitered forlornly.

“You’re lookin right pretty tonight luv,” he said, looking at her cleavage.

“Well you ain’t getting any of it,” she snapped back at him.

Burt’s face fell. “Oh.”

“So what are you still standing there for?”

He shrugged. “I was just feelin a bit low on account of being ordered about morning, noon and and night.”

“Well you should be used to that by now. It ain’t like it’s anything new to you.”

Burt looked blank for a second then realised that he could only nod. He had so many Burt memories tickling around in his subconscious now that although he knew consciously that this life of servitude was new to him, at the subconscious level his brain “knew” that he’d never known anything different. “I guess.”

“And let’s face it,” continued Mavis dispassionately, “you’ve been bred to be servile.”

Burt frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Well think about it. You pa was a servant. His pa was a servant. His pa was a servant. It’s all your family have ever known. It’s in your blood, in every part of your body. You’ve got generations of heritage in that burly body of yours telling you that doing what you’re told is the right thing to do. Every man in your family as far back as you’ve ever told me about was nothing but a common labourer and you were brought up to know your betters.”

Burt stared at her, digesting all this, knowing instinctively that it was true. All of that ‘breeding’ was now hard coded into his body and mind. The commands he’d been receiving were merely activating the servility that was already part of who he was.

He’d known since this second day in this body that it wasn’t just his outer form that had transformed; it had been his brain as well. That body and mind were doused in the ancestral traits that came down from his labourer father and grandfather, that his— Burt’s— no, his brothers shared. The impact of his brain transforming had been so consuming that even after one day he’d lost the entirety of his education. Was it any wonder that he found it natural to want to follow his orders now? It was literally more natural than any other course of action.

Burt wasn’t just a servant by profession or by a twist of happenstance. He really was bred that way. It was in his blood, his muscles, his bones and his brain. The only place it hadn’t entirely taken hold was in his soul, but that part of him that still retained some elements of his life as a posh lady was being whittled away on a daily basis. How long could it be before it was gone altogether?

How long before his destiny became inextricably entwined with this genetic heritage?

9

Ann stood at her bedroom window with the lights off, looking out at the view from the rear of the manor, ruminating over the qualities that she liked in her darling Richard then every so often, almost without doing it consciously, she murmured the words, “I’m Lady Ann Neville. I’m a haughty and domineering woman who cares nothing for the feelings of others.” And all the while a pleasant warmth spread out around the base of her skull.

She found herself thinking about the buggy ride the night before when she’d been disappointed in Richard’s affections. She still remembered the delight of frequent sex from her… former life as a man and she missed it. Being a demure cultured woman was one thing but she still wanted to feel that pleasure. And she knew she wouldn’t get that pleasure from Richard. At least not within the time frame she was likely to remain in this form.

She found herself watching the stable hand outside, clearing the yard behind the townhouse, following his strong masculine form with her eyes; the flexing muscles, the broad back, the tight buttocks… and for a moment; just a moment; she allowed herself a dark fantasy.

She imagined herself going out to him after dark and letting herself up to his tiny attic room there in the outhouse, and she imagined him taking her in his strong arms and forcing his manly lips against hers, gripping her roughly and pulling her down onto his straw mattress.

She moistened her lips, imagining him stripping off her clothes and thrusting his engorged member between her dewy thighs, then she let out the slightest sigh and flushed, catching herself in the act of this lewd fantasy; feeling ashamed of herself.

She stepped away from the window, shaking her head at what she’d allowed herself to think, then paused, and just had one more peep as the brawny young man disappeared inside the stable house.