Imbecile
1
Burt reclined happily in the long pleasure boat with grandmamma as her manservant gently guided them across the centre of the lake in the morning sunshine.
“So you talked to that idiot maid then,” said Grandmamma.
“Yes,” replied Burt. “I did.”
“And how did she take your kind guidance?”
Burt raised an eyebrow. Grandmamma was smiling playfully. His first instinct was to be snippy, say something like, You were right. She’s nothing but an ignorant lazy girl who doesn’t deserve a kind hand.
But he remembered too well the life of a servant and the constant haranguing from the upper class over the slightest misdeed. He was determined to be better than that.
“She… wasn’t as… grateful… as I expected her to be,” he said. “But she just requires more time; and more guidance. When I see her again I’ll mention something else and so on as the days go by. By the time I leave at the end of next week she’ll have gone through as great a transformation as I have, thanks to you.”
“Well my best wishes to you Ann,” replied grandmamma, “but I fear you’ll grow weary of her laziness long before then.”
Burt smiled back, determined to prove her wrong.
2
Back at the manor, Ann was enjoying herself immensely! The first week had been just a long series of drinking binges and marathon sex sessions and she was looking forward to even more of the same!
She’d just finished yet another long morning shag with Mavis on top of her, the girl’s massive breasts swinging in her face as she chewed on them hard to her piggish squeals of delight, thrusting her pelvis up against Mavis’s crotch. She was a right bit of rough. Just the kind of woman Ann liked: a real slapper.
And she knew Mabel thought she was the best man in the village. She’d caught Mavis and the other girls more than once, tittering away about how virile she was and big her cock was. It made Ann’s pride swell to stride round the village getting admiring looks from all the slutty girls. She’d already had her dirty way with half a dozen other girls. It was great being admired for being so masculine. It made her realise how far she was from her former life.
“I’d best be off else me father and brothers’ll want to know what for,” whined Mavis nasally. “I afta work in’t bar again this afternoon. You comin’ down later?”
“Right you are,” replied Ann, lying back with her hands behind her head, her cock still sticking up onto her stomach. “I’ll be getting a few bevies in tonight, that’s for certain. I aim to get absolutely rat-arsed tonight, me. Then maybes I’ll give Jeb another trouncing. That fat bugger’s been givin’ you the eye right enough more than once. He’s gotta learn to keep ‘is eyes off of uvver men’s property!”
“Aaah Burt,” whinged Mavis, “You’re always fighting, yer great big cretin. Why do you afta act life such a simpleton all the time? We both knows you ain’t clever but you’ve been nothing but a nitwit lately; a right dunce. Everyone says so.”
Ann fell silent, stewing angrily.
“You better shape yourself up and stop acting like an idiot. I don’t want people saying I’m stepping out with some nincompoop. If you don’t stop acting the fool all the time then I might have to get me pleasurin’ someplace else” She strode out haughtily, still only half dressed, the rest of her clothes under her arm.
Ann got up off the hard pallet but didn’t bother to put any clothes on. She packed away the pallet to avoid a balling out from old Harry. As Burt, she had another week off yet but that didn’t stop the old man treating her like dirt whenever he got the chance.
But was Mavis right, pondered Ann. Was she stupid now?
There was a pamphlet Harry had left lying around on a shelf all about the Socialist Party. Ann picked it up in her dirty big hand and tried to read it but it was all beyond her. She couldn’t read more than one or two of the simpler words now! Her comprehension had declined even further than she’d realised!
She’d known all week that the part of her brain that contained her former education had changed into Burt’s less complicated grey matter but she’d had no idea it was so complete. She really was illiterate now.
But did that actually mean she was less intelligent?
She chewed her dirty fingernails absently, looking back over her actions of the past few days and the conversations she’d had in York and down’t pub. As Lady Ann she had enjoyed culture and heated discourses on political and artistic matters. Now she had to admit that she found it difficult to follow talk about anything vaguely intellectual. And it all seemed so stuck up and pointless. She recalled the conversation she was part of in York about the impact of tax on income. She hadn’t realised the significance at the time but she’d quickly grown bored, unable to understand the terms and had actually ended up starting trouble just to end the discomfort she had felt.
And the night before – she hadn’t even been able to remember the capital of France. She still couldn’t now, even though Arvin had told her then, laughing at her ignorance.
She’d wanted to experience being Burt but it was like she was really becoming him now, the more time went on. She’d already lost her intellect and education. She’d taken on his mode of speech and body language. She’d lost interest in most of her own pastimes and had developed a love for his.
The only things that stopped her going mad in a panic were that she still had her core personality – that was mostly unaffected, and it didn’t matter. She’d be back in her old life in only another week though and back to being a right posh and cultured woman.
She did feel embarrassed about what a dunce she now was though. It made her want to hide away and not see anyone. She’d always been known for her intelligence and wit. Now she had lost all of that and truly become a clodhopper.
It didn’t matter. She kept telling herself that. Once she was back in her own body all this would go away.
Still, she didn’t like the sound of what Mavis had said. She didn’t want to run the risk of losing the girl on account of being a nitwit. She really liked shagging her senseless and didn’t want to get dumped.
Which Ann told herself was ridiculous! What did she care about some silly barmaid? She could get any woman she wanted! … as long as they weren’t quality. But she did want to be a good man for Mavis… even if she was an annoying nag when she wasn’t spreading her legs.
Ann sighed angrily, then; her mind wandering; opened a drawer and found a little framed picture as though she’d know it was there.
It was a sepia portrait photograph of Lady Ann with an oval frame! She had no idea where the original Burt had got it from – probably filched it from the house when no one was looking! She
was wearing a lacy black blouse with the smooth skin of her upper arms visible through it and her chin was resting on her hand, her soft feminine forearm exposed.
She smiled alluringly out of the picture and the new Burt stared at her face, feeling resentful of Mavis and the nagging she always gave him. He wished he could be with a woman like this, even though he knew it wasn’t possible. How would it feel to kiss those rouged lips and have this wonderful cultured lady look on him as an equal? It would be—
Wait a minute, thought Ann angrily. What am I thinking? I am Lady Ann! Not some idiot country bumpkin!
It had been a wistful subconscious thought but it chilled her a little. She was enjoying herself as Burt but she’d be glad when the holiday was over. She’d had no idea how fully immersive becoming Burt would be, even for a short time!
She wasn’t about to ever forget who she really was – that would never happen – but she did find herself acting entirely as though she was a commoner. It was just disconcerting not being as fully in control of this switch as she had planned.
She decided to maintain better control from now on. Down’t pub today she’d not talk like a clodhopper so much and she’d have some proper conversations. And she wouldn’t fight! She wasn’t a caveman. She was the one in control of herself. She wasn’t defined by her body! She was Lady Ann Nevile for chuffs sake, not some block’ead twit!
And it wouldn’t hurt to keep Mavis sweet. She didn’t want to risk losing a good’un like her.
Before she left Ann tucked the picture of the gorgeous Lady Ann back in its drawer, sighing happily at the thought of her lovely smile
3
Burt and the duchess attended a delightful open air concert in the park after their boat trip. It was turning into a glorious day and it was wonderful to sit neatly on the pretty little wooden seats provided and listen to the melodies of Bach. The cellos were simply divine in their ability to carry such sweetly long notes.
When the orchestra paused to recuperate and the audience stood to take an interval, Ann and grandmamma sent the servants to buy ices while they took a stroll to the lakeside.
“I have a proposition I think you might enjoy Ann,” said the duchess.
“Oh? Do tell?”
“Simply that we leave in a day or two and spend some time in Southsea.”
“Southsea?”
“Yes. I know a hotel there that’s half decent and we can enjoy ourselves a little rather than moping about in my stuffy old house.”
Burt was overjoyed! He couldn’t conceive of any better way to spend his time! Yet again he couldn’t believe that the real Lady Ann had chosen to miss out on this opportunity! And had taken his life as a servant instead! She really was a bloody idiot!
But that didn’t matter now. For the rest of the concert Burt’s mind wandered as he imagined how exciting it would be to go to the seaside. He’d never seen the sea before in all his born days! It was yet another first!
When they got back to the duchess’s house he flew straight up the stairs and into his room and fluttered about gathering his dresses and trying to decide which would be best to wear in every conceivable situation he could visualize.
He tried on a variety of different outfits and pretended he was at the beach or walking along the promenade, or out at an expensive restaurant. It was a wonderful way to spend the afternoon!
It was only hours later that he realised what he’d done. Without any intention to play a role he had pranced about for hours doing exactly what a woman would have done in those circumstances.
Why, she was acting more and more like Lady Ann every day!
She really was a woman now!
4
At the Dog & Pony though, the burly man found it was harder than she’d thought to be more Ann than Burt.
For a start, these working men here drinking and singing were her mates. As soon as she was surrounded by them, the idea of trying to act more ladylike seemed preposterous! She couldn’t let them see her acting like a sissy!
She decided soon after entering that the best way to prove she wasn’t a peasant through and through would be to talk more gentile and avoid getting into fights. If she could get involved in some proper intellectual conversations then all to the good. The lower class thugs she palled around with in there were hardly geniuses so it couldn’t be that hard to do!
Getting pissed was part of the problem. Being totally bladdered didn’t help her to maintain decorum. She decided to lay off the raz tonight entirely.
Counter to that, Jeb slapped a pint of bitter down on the table a minute after she sat down.
“Ah, I ain’t drinkin’ tonight Jeb,” said Ann.
“Course you fucking are, you pansy,” snapped Jeb. “Get it down ya!”
Ann fumed at being called a pansy. She was more a man than Jeb any chuffing day of the week! But she kept calm, deciding to humour him with the drink rather than starting a fight over it.
Once she’d downed that, Jeb slapped her hard on the back and said. “Your round up!”
This put Ann in a difficult position.
Jeb was right. If she was going to behave like a gentlewoman – well, like a gentleman, then she had to be civil. Part of that civility was meeting her obligations – in this case buying an equal number of drinks.
She bought them both a second pint and started to chug it down, feeling the rosy warmth spread through her muscles. She didn’t know why she’d been so stuck up about it to be honest. Everyone knew that liquor didn’t turn you into somebody else it just brought out the man inside.
As they started on their sixth pint, Jeb said, “I’m sick of that chuffing lord of the manor! Ee thinks he so much better’n us! But ee’s not! Am I right?”
“Well you ain’t chuffing wrong and that’s a fact,” replied Ann in the same broad Yorkshire accent she’d been using pretty much constantly for the past four days. It was funny how difficult she’d found it at first to pretend to have the same accent as the lower classes, sounding like a toff doing a bad impression, but after spending an appreciable amount of time with her new mates she talked more and more like a Yorkshire clod! Now she sounded exactly like all the other working men.
All the other working men…
It was funny but annoying and Ann was a bit tired of it. Obviosuly she couldn’t start talking like a stuck-up twat in front of her mates suddenly but she came up with a cunning idea to prove to herself she could still talk like a swell whenever she wanted to.
“Ere,” she said, “Ow’s this for an impression of the old fart!”
Jeb chuckled, as did several other men nearby. “Come on then Burt! Show us what you think of the old ponce!”
Ann cleared her throat theatrically and said, “Ere, you lads! Get that ruddy work done else I’ll tan yer ‘ides!”
There was a sudden silence, then bawdy laughter broke out across the pub. Ann grinned, thinking they thought her impression accurate, then Jeb shouted, “Blimey Burt! That’s the worst bloody impression of the old snob that I’ve ever heard! You sound common as muck!”
Ann blushed furiously, determined to do it justice; after all, nobody there had the breeding she did. “Ahright then Jeb, ye muttonhead! Ere! Listen!” She cleared her throat again, concentrating hard. She couldn’t have forgotten how to talk gentile like. That was impossible! She was quality!
“I’m Earl Neville, me,” she cried, puffin out her chest. “I live oop in’t manor ‘ouse over yonder with me wife and darters!”
The whole pub filled with laughter. Ann stared back at them, furious with rage and humiliation. She literally couldn’t talk gentile at all no more!
Jeb snorted with laughter then put on a pretty realistic plum voice. “Shouldn’t you have talked a little more like this old chap?” He burst out laughing and everyone laughed too. “You really are a bonehead Burt me old mate!”
Ann pushed him hard in the chest, seething and was about to punch his lights out when she caught Mavis’s disapproving eye. Cowed, she lowered her head and stomped off to the corner with her pint. She couldn’t face being balled out by her girlfriend on top of everything. She wanted to be a good man for her.
She couldn’t believe how humiliated she felt though. All across the pub, the other blokes were squawking out impressions of the posh folk and all of them were better than hers. She couldn’t talk like the quality at all no more. Even these common labourers could talk posher than her if they chose to. She really had become Burt in every way!
She sulked for the better part of an hour, nursing first one pint, then another and finally the third that Jeb bought over as a peace offering. In the end she chuckled to herself. It was funny that she, Lady Ann Neville, was stuck this way, a big great oafish lout who couldn’t even talk proper. And it didn’t matter how common she’d become. One week away and she’d be back in the manor house. She would have avoided a dull trip to her grandmothers and everything would be back to normal. She could stand being an illiterate idiot man until then.
An idiot man…
Did she really think of herself as a man now? She hadn’t realised.
She thought it through for a minute.
Yes he did. He didn’t think of himself as a woman one whit no more. The idea of being a woman actually seemed weird and unpleasant – mincing about in dresses and skirts with pretty hair and make-up.
Obviously he wanted to go back to his old life – there was no doubt about that – but at this moment it seemed completely alien.
Ann caught himself daydreaming again for a minute, imagining an alternative where Lady Ann returned from her holiday a week from then and instead of switching back, he took her out walking in the woods. He imagined them strolling arm in arm and turning to the beautiful woman and saying, “I luv ye Lady Ann. I right chuffing luv ye.” And he imagined her smiling and saying back to her in cultured tones, “I’ve always loved you Burt, you big strong handsome man.”
“Burt” sighed and necked the last of his ale just as Mavis came and wrapped her legs round his waist, shoving her tongue into his mouth. His big cock had already been aroused. Now it sprung to attention painfully in his dirty trousers, even if this bawdy girl’s attention wasn’t as pleasant as his daydream had been.
“Youse a good man Burt, not fighting Jeb back then,” said Mavis, making him swell with pride. I’m going to give you some extra special attention tonight to say ‘good boy.’ How’s about that?”
Ann grinned from ear to ear. Blimey though. He was looking forward to that.
He decided he’d sulked enough.
He reached into his pocket, determined to buy drinks all round and go back to carousing, but he decided against it when he saw how much he had. He’d taken a lot of money with him when he’d made the switch but it was starting to run a bit thin. He’d have to be careful or he’d run out before the end of his second week!
5
When Burt went up for an early night to enjoy some more Pride & Prejudice by lamplight before settling into bed to go to sleep she found the upstairs maid, Betty, standing there, proud as you please in front of the mirror wearing one of her necklaces.
As soon as the girl saw Burt in the doorway she snatched off the necklace, embarrassed, but instead of placing it carefully down she threw it onto the hard surface as she backed hurriedly away.
Burt saw red.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she snapped. “What ON EARTH do you think you’re doing with my necklace?”
“I’m sorry m’lady.”
“Sorry? SORRY!?” Burt put her hands on her hips angrily. “You’re trusted to come up here into my private room because I expect you to treat my property with respect. Who told you that you could try on my necklace?”
“Nobody miss.”
“Who?”
“Nobody. I’m sorry m’lady.”
“Oh! You’re sorry! And does that make it alright?”
“No m’lady.”
“No it doesn’t!” Burt strode over to the dressing table. “Let’s see if you’ve damaged it because, by God, if you have you’ll be straight to the police!”
“No miss, please!” The girl had tears in her eyes.
Burt examined the necklace but could see no actual damage, She turned back to the girl but seeing the tears only made her angrier. “Am I expected to take pity on you young lady? Is that it? Is that why you’re crying?”
“No miss. I don’t know miss.” Betty hung her head in shame.
“So you don’t know.” Burt glared at her then folded her arms tightly across her chest. “Well let me tell you what I know.” She paused. “You’re fired. You can clear out your things and be gone by lunchtime tomorrow. Is that clear?”
“But miss—”
“I don’t want to hear another word from you,” snapped Burt, turning her back on the ignorant girl. “Get out.”
“But—”
“Get out!”
There was a moment of silence then a shuffling and then the door closed.
“Good riddance to bad rubbish!”
Burt glanced to her right and caught her reflection in the glass. It startled her out of the moment completely and the expression she had seen there dissolved into one of surprise.
For one moment, just for the briefest second, she had seen on that woman’s face the exact same expression she’d seen on the real Lady Ann’s a thousand times.
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