The Exchange

1

Burt was shoveling dirty hay from the floor of one of the stable stalls when Ann approached him, a mischievous expression on her face.

His sleeves were rolled up past his elbows as he worked. She watched him for several minutes, staring at his rippling muscles; the careless attitude he had in his body language, entirely devoid of decorum. He obviously didn’t care one whit about the way he carried himself or looked with his scruffy clothes and deliciously masculine posture. He was the exact opposite of her. Ann had to be standing or sitting with perfect composure at all times. She couldn’t dare relax for a minute for fear of being thought uncouth. Every single second of her day she had to act the refined lady in case she was reprimanded by her mother. The countess was a gentle compassionate soul but Ann had always felt awful at the whispered scoldings; kind hearted though she knew they were.

To be able to act however she pleased 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, your ladyship! I’ll do it!"

Her lovely blue eyes gleamed with amusement and she thought, I wonder how he will like being a female?

"Burt, what I’m about to tell you will sound impossible. But it isn’t; I can assure you of that.” She paused. “It is hard to believe but for the next two weeks I want you to exchange roles… with me. I will be transformed into you and you will be transformed into me."

“I don’t rightly understand.”

“I have a magical necklace,” said Ann, speaking slowly so the dullard could follow. “A real magical necklace. Like you might find in a fairy tale.”

Burt gaped at her.

“It has an enchantment that will allow us to swap places. I will become Burt… and you will become Ann.”

He stared. “But m’ady—”

Lady Ann grimaced impatiently. "Listen you fool!” she snapped. “You’ll do what you are told!” Burt quieted instantly, cowed by her authority and the imperious command in her voice, but she softened her tone and touched his arm, feeling only slight revulsion at his filthy garments. “If you do as I ask and tell no one about it then I will also pay you ten pounds when it is over.”

"Ten pounds?" said Burt. “That’s more than six months’ wages or I’m a monkey’s uncle!”

Ann nodded. “Ten pounds Burt. And all you have to do is come with me now to the holiday cottage and do what I tell you.”

Burt was bewildered, not sure if her ladyship was playing a trick on him or not. He believed it if she told him it was so, but… Was she having a laugh?

Ann started walking away, leading him. "Come with me."

Burt stood for a moment, unsure, then staggered after his beautiful goddess.

2

At the holiday cottage, Ann commanded Burt to wait for her in the main room while she went into the bedroom to put on a dressing gown. When they transformed her womanly clothes would be far too tight for her new manly body.

Her new manly body…

The thought of it made her ripple with anticipation.

She wrapped the dressing gown round her curvaceous form that she’d put there before she fetched Burt. This was it: her last chance to change her mind. By God she was brimming with mirth and excitement. It was going to be such a riot!

In the other room, Burt didn’t know what to do with himself. He was confused by the tale Lady Ann had told him and though he was inclined to believe anything she told him it all seemed too fantastical. Did she really mean for it to work?

Obviously he’d do what she asked of him. It was only right and proper to do as he was told. He’d learned that from his father. There were those of good breeding as were in charge and those who needed telling what to do. He knew which one of those he was and didn’t mind it one whit. If it wasn’t for the good lady and her family he wouldn’t have a livelihood. He owed them everything and God himself had given them the right to tell the lower orders what needed doing. The vicar in church was always saying so.

Ann emerged from the other room wearing the dressing gown she’d just put on and Burt’s heart almost stopped as he saw her beauty attired in this way. The amulet hung from her lovely neck and Burt stared. It was like a dream come true. He almost fainted when she said, "Embrace me Burt."

He didn’t move.

“Do it you idiot! Now!”

Trembling Burt moved forward, opening his arms. He only prayed she wouldn't feel the swelling in his trousers.

Ann felt a sudden lump in her throat as the huge burly man wrapped his muscular arms around her. For a second she wondered one final time if she was doing the right thing but immediately dismissed her fears. Nothing 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. His very biology had cultured both ignorance and obsequiousness down through his family line.

And the idea of possessing this potent man’s physical attributes thrilled her more than anything else ever had.

Both felt a tingle run through them as their chests joined to touch the amulet. It was going to work, thought Ann exultingly.

Burt gaped like a fish. Lady Ann's aristocratic, beautiful face was changing - her creamy complexion roughening as fine stubble broke out on her cheeks. On her upper lip long hairs were poking out and growing… thickening! She was getting taller as she stepped away from him, and he— Yes. He was shrinking!

It just wasn’t possible! But it was still happening!

Ann felt her form swelling, her height increasing, her muscles firming, her shoulders broadening. She looked down as her soft slender arms became muscular, as the dainty fingers became thick and callused. She felt the strength flow through her as she flexed them into fists; the muscles hardening. 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 five o’clock shadow. 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 felt his own muscles softening, his height falling away. He touched hands that were becoming softer and finer to his smooth cheeks. His arms looked so soft and slender, the sleeves of his work shirt hanging off them. There was no hint of muscle definition there at all now; 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!

He felt the tickle of hair on his slender neck and the push of breasts beneath his tunic. Never in his life had he imagined feeling something like this!

Ann looked at the backs of her hands were thick black hair had sprouted and turned them over to see roughly bitten nails where once had been only manicured ones. She parted the dressing gown, pausing only a moment to worry about – and dismiss any concerns of - decency, and looked at the broad hairy chest she now sported, the hard stomach, the hairy muscular legs. And the penis… the man’s sex organ; something she’d never once seen before in her life and now stood firm and erect before her.

She felt a sense of power to look at it that she’d never never felt before.

She was a man! She was a dominant potent man!

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 confidence – was gone! He felt faint.

"What ‘appened?" he asked and his hand flew to his throat. His voice was a woman’s voice. “Ee by gum m’lady! What did ye do to me?”

"The Amulet has affected a metamorphosis you ignorant fool!" 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; or like one of his mates from the Dog & Pony doing an impression of one of the toffs. "You're making me look ridiculous in your clothes." She shuddered. "Take them off at once!"

“But m’lady—”

"Don't be an imbecile 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 vocal chords 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. And she had always been good at imitating the bumpkin way of speaking. It would be a terrific hoot to try and pass as one of them.

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. She looked critically at what had latterly been her body, seeing it from an objective angle for the first time then she smiled and nodded. Everyone was right. She was certainly the most beautiful woman in the county.

Looking at her naked hips, 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 dress and thrusting it at him.

“Hurry now Burt,” she said. “Don’t procrastinate. Get dressed. Tout suite.”

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 him 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, "For goodness sakes, don't do that again. It is frightfully unladylike!"

Burt nodded weakly. He felt like he was losing his wits. He stood before a mirror dressed like her ladyship, the dress long, his arms and shoulders bare. He stared at the Lady Ann in the glass and when he touched a smooth cheek with an elegant hand, the beautiful woman looking back at him 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.

Ann found the clothes musty and scratchy; stiff from ingrained dirt and far too few washes. It was only now, putting these on that she felt the fact of her transformation close around her. She pulled on the trousers, loving the freedom they gave her legs then pulled the shirt on over her head. For a moment she was washed over by the smell of them – the stink of sweaty hard work and dung and mud. With the odor filling her nostrils she felt an overwhelming claustrophobia and panic. Then she pulled her head through and the clothes fell into place.

Now she was Burt, from his big feet and hairy strong legs to his ribbed torso, muscular arms and shorn head. Now she was really a man! And the woman in front of her REALLY looked like Lady Ann. She knew it was Burt and his posture was inelegant but if a passerby saw them then they would see Lady Ann and Burt Harper, not Burt and Lady Ann.

For several moments they both simply stood, staggered by the completeness of the transformation. Then Ann took the initiative and hurriedly explained what Burt was to do and how he should behave as he nodded submissively.

“Remember Burt. You are now me; Lady Ann Neville; and you must act like it. You must pretend to be the gentlewoman you appear to be. You ought to know how I and the ‘quality’ behave – you’ve been watching me all my life!” She made her voice threatening. The deep timbre added an extra frightening edge when backed by her imperious tone. “If you don’t do it properly then you will get in terrible trouble. Do you understand? If you are found out you will let me down and… and you’ll get a sound thrashing from the earl himself! If you aren’t careful he might even throw you in the stocks!”

She smirked at the terrified expression on the dimwits face. "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 that 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 grandmamma'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 amulet under the seats of the couch. There was no sense taking any chances! Burt watched her do it, flabbergasted by the power of the thing to do this incredible transformation to him and still entirely on the back foot, staggering bewildered through the whole experience.

They left the building together, a big brawny man and a slim beautiful woman and paused in the sunset light. “Go on now,” said Ann. “Toodle pip. Be off with you. You don’t want to miss your dinner.”

“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. I will. I’ll do it for you m’lady.”

“And you’ll be rewarded,” said Ann. “I mean that Burt. I won’t forget this favour I can assure you of that.”

Burt beamed, still hopelessly infatuated with her. Then he steeled himself, looking ridiculous, framing his bumpkin mannish expressions on her soft features. “Ta’ra then m’lady. I’ll see you in’t morning if not before.”

Burt walked in ungainly masculine steps toward the manor house while Ann, in Burt’s manly body, grinned at his departing rear, chuckling to herself at how ludicrous he looked.

Well, what did it matter? It was a hilarious trick she was playing on all of them.

3

After Burt had left in what lately had been her body, Lady Ann grinned in triumph. That would show her father and her grandmamma! She only wished she could be there to see the absolute fool Burt was going to look in her body as he stumbled through high tea with all the old ladies.

She went back into the holiday cottage and picked up the sack of coins and bills she’d secreted earlier from its hiding place behind the sofa. Twenty pounds would be more than enough pin money for 2 weeks. It was well over what Burt normally earned in a year!

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 outside, stroking her bushy moustache. There wasn’t a trace of a woman in the expression. She was a man now, through and through.

She’d planned to shave off the moustache as soon as she took Burt’s body – had even hidden the razor she’d stolen from her father’s room in the cottage so she could do it right away – but now that she had it; now she could smooth it down with her big manly fingers she wasn’t sure she wanted to. A proper bushy moustache like this was something a woman could never have. To her it represented everything she’d been unable to do as a lady – the freedom she had now: both socially and physically.

And besides… she thought it rather suited her.

Now, before she went out and experienced the fun of being a man, she had to write herself a note giving ‘Burt’ the fortnight off. Living as Burt wouldn’t be anywhere near as good if she had to do his work! She popped back inside the cottage and looked for pen and ink but there wasn’t any.

“Damn!”

It didn’t matter. There was plenty of time for that. She could do it before she went to sleep.

She went to move away and frowned, pausing as she noticed a slight airiness to her movements; a femininity. A flounciness. Why, that wouldn’t do. It wouldn’t do at all. She shuddered to think of the reaction of the burly yokels if they saw her prancing into the village like a drag queen.

She forced herself to move in a manly way, her shoulders broad, her feet widely spaced, her stride long, practicing it back and forth in the reflection in the glass. That seemed to do the trick. It felt odd and uncomfortable but she was able to maintain it as long as she concentrated. Satisfied, she set off down the lane toward Griply village, careful to monitor her gait and keep it as masculine as she could.

4

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 grandmamma’s 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 interested 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. “Ahright luv!”

“Er, good evening my dear,” replied Ann, feeling awkward and embarrassed. “You look simply… divine.”

The bawdy girl pouted. “What you talkin’ like a toff fors?”

“Why, I just thought…” Ann felt ridiculous and more heads were turning her way. She couldn’t talk like this here. Now she was surrounded by lower class oikes, she was the one who, ironically, sounded stupid. “I thought it would be… diverting. Fun I mean”

“Well you sound like a mug. Stop it.” She brightened. “I’ve been thinkin’ about you all day luv. 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 the sudden change in her voice.

“Er, be a… a darling… and bring me another glass of beer… please.”

The sudden shift back of accent was unnoticed this time by the laughing drunkards around her but Ann settled back a little in her seat, feeling slightly uneasy as Mavis walked back to the bar.

Where in God’s name had that come from? Just for a minute she’d talked exactly the same way as the working men…

5

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 Albert 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, Gladys 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. "’Urry up girl!"

"Yes, m’lady!"

Gladys hurried to follow his instructions but he was conscious of how poor his accent was.

"The red dress and me ma’s diamonds!"

"At once m’lady!"

Soon he was putting on silk stockings and three petticoats. Burt felt ridiculous, but said nothing. When Gladys 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. His new, slender fingers fumbled with 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 Gladys'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 Gladys 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 m’lor— Er, no – father," he 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. Lady Ann’s family and quests stared with astonishment at him. 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 he guessed “Ann” was doing it to punish him for sending her to her grandmother's. Burt ate with the wrong fork and talked with his mouth full.

"How's about some ale instead of this wine?" asked Burt. “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 but Burt sat stunned. He’d done his best to imitate the way he’d heard Lady Ann speak and had 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.

6

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… 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 involving men’s penises! It was appallingly uncouth but also very very funny! 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. She might even have been in bed!

She hadn’t done much talking – mostly just listened to the conversations all around. She was self-conscious of how out of place her well-bred accent was and didn’t want to risk embarrassment. She’d had several tries at talking to people but each time they looked at her as though she were strange.

Jeb, a brawny lad who worked the fields owned by her family but run by a neighbouring farm manager, started railing against what he called “the quality” – her family basically. Ann sat back and chuckled, eager to witness first hand just what the common men thought. “That earl up at the house there – he’s nothing but a great fat bugger!” cried Jeb. “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.

“He gives us orders but he couldn’t do what we do. He’d bloody run crying if he ‘ad to do any real work!”

There was more laughter all round. Ann actually cheered. It was wonderful to cut loose and fabulous to make fun of her father in public – a man who had always demanded nothing but respect.

“And as for that stuck-up bint of a daughter of his, Ann” said Jeb. “She’s a scrawny bit of posh fluff is what she is! A right nasty piece of work and no mistake!”

“Hey!” cried Ann before she could stop herself.

“I’ve seen better legs on a table!” cried Jeb.

“E’ya! Shut yer gob!” shouted Ann, leaping to her feet.

There was silence all round her in the pub.

Ann felt everyone’s eyes on her and started to lose her confidence. “Don’t you dare talk about a lady that way! It simply isn’t proper.”

"Oh, sit down Burt!” bellowed Jeb. “We know you’re in love with her!”

Ann saw red and stomped forward. “Get stuffed yer gormless twit or I’ll kick in yer chuffing gonads!”

“You'd let her cut your throat with a smile on your ugly puss yer would!"

In an absolute drunken fury, Ann reached back and punched Jeb hard in the face.

Jeb tumbled back and Ann gaped at the blood that had squirted out of his nose. She looked down at her fist, amazed that she’d done that. She’d never struck someone in all her born days. Why, she detested violence in any form.

But in the instant it had happened, it had felt so… good.

She hadn’t thought about anything in that moment except punching Jeb as hard as she could. It had been incredible.

She’d loved it!

Jeb wiped the blood from his face and grinned. “Right then Burt,” he said. “Looks like ya want a good trouncin’!”

Ann looked back at him as his hands closed into fists feeling suddenly terrified. She had no idea what to do. Then Jeb charged at her and punched her back, as hard as he could in the cheek.

She span round and fell to the floor, feeling the spilt beer and dirt under her fingers. The whole side of her face smarted. It was agony. Then she gritted her teeth and looked back up at him, climbing to her feet. “That’n was for free. The next one’ll see you on yer arse with a broken nose!” she cried.

She threw an uppercut into Jeb’s stomach, then relished the feeling as she cracked her knuckles against the side of his face, grinning as she felt the bone in his nose crack. Jeb delivered a jab 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 wet, kicking and punching as hard as they could while the crowds cheered and placed bets.

7

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 accent and dialect 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 ‘Arper innit. I’m the bloke what looks after all the ‘orses 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, 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 she reached the stable she 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 himself more of a male than he thought and kissed the woman back. God was a male erection strange but it made him feel powerful; in control in a way he never had before. Mavis giggled and said "At least you have the decency t’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 his strong arms.

He threw the girl down on the pallet and pulled off his shirt and trousers. His gigantic cock sprung up and out, dazzling him. It was even bigger than it had been that afternoon! He’d never seen a man’s sex organ before that day. Seeing one of this proportion from his new perspective was overwhelming, especially coupled with the sensations it was giving him as he clambered over the prostrate girl.

Ann took hold of the girl’s forearms, pinning her down, and thrust deep into her eager pussy. It was like nothing else on earth!

She screamed out in passion and Ann grunted, thrusting his pelvis over and over again, loving the sense of freedom and power. Never had he imagined feeling this limitless and free.

I’m a man, he thought to himself. He repeated it in his mind over and over again with each pump.

I’m a man!

I’m a man!

I’m a man!

Mavis was gasping with pleasure.

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!” he demanded, his eyes lit up.

“You’re my big man!” screeched Mavis, jerking as he rammed into her over and over again. “You’re my big man!”

Ann closed his eyes, ramming his cock into the sweaty curvaceous woman and suddenly an image came into his mind that almost knocked him from the moment. It wasn’t Mavis he was imagining himself fucking like this. It was herself: Lady Ann! It both puzzled and amused him before the sensations – the animal need to dominate this woman overcame him again and he no longer cared.

In his mind it was Lady Ann underneath him and he was Burt, the stable hand; the labourer. He 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, he 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!

This is how I’d fuck you Lady Ann!