another transformation story. covers an adventurer who's cursed to become a woman, and then some. Things get a little crazy, so heads up on the fickle or touchy. Not especially dark or edgy, just gets freaky in the kink biz (species changing and implied bestiality and impregnating a bodyswapped male, mostly)
The Western kingdom of Vasaar had some very stern doctrines about gender roles; women could be housekeepers, artists, even leaders and blacksmiths, but combat was a man's game. Noland came from Vasaar, and he was their definition of a warrior. He was tall and broad, even as a relatively young adventurer, with deeply tanned skin and, most importantly, he was a man.
A lot of that changed when he went to break up the cult of Ygzamek. He took down whole dungeons full of monsters and evil cultists before, and this was hardly any different. The psychopathic fanatics of the goddess of dragons, with their curvy daggers and wicked spells, fell before his thick bow or his huge axe. The head cultist didn't even bother to fight back. He hurriedly chanted out a spell right before Noland smashed his shield across his face and buried the blade of his axe through his chest.
Hindsight being what it is, it felt like a bit of an error killing him to quickly. The priest fell gurgling to the ground right as a numbing sensation ran over Noland's skin before his armor... fell off. All but his loincloth slid right off the armored brute of a man, the muscular shoulders that were holding it up now missing. He still had some bulk to him, but his sudden nudity also revealed his curvy figure and his impressive bust. Noland looked down at his suddenly feminine body, though feminine was an understatement. He patted around his crotch and confirmed that he was female, not just feminine.
"What was that!?" he blurted in more of a frustrated (and female) voice than genuinely angry. He was still unharmed, but confused as he grabbed the dying cultist by the tall collar of his robes.
The pale and bearded dwarf grinned back at him. "This is the curse of Ygzamek," he coughed as blood ran down his smirking lips. "Blessed be the goddess of dragons and petty revenge!"
"Petty revenge?" Noland furrowed his brow. "I... didn't hear that part of her domains. I thought she was just the dragons."
"Nope!" piped the crooked cleric. "Petty revenge too. Regular revenge is Letcar's realm."
"Well how do I change... THIS back?!" Noland gestured at himself. The reflection in one of the large magic gemstones showed him to be a tall, fit but slim woman with dark hair down to his childbearing hips and breasts the size of grapefruits.
"Ha! Where's the pettiness in telling you that?" the priest gloated before coughing up more blood. "You'll become what you most hated. Now... at least... I saw..." He gurgled as he fell limp in Noland's grasp. "...some sweet titties before I died..."
Noland came to fully grasp his toplessness and hugged his arms around his breasts. There was some treasure left for him to loot, but first things first: he went through his clothes for something to turn into a top that would fit him.
Noland dumped the statuette of the dragon goddess onto the desk of Lyla W’stend. The ashen-haired drow mage blinked at it before looking up at the brunette woman in front of her. She was dressed like a warrior, more or less. She was muscular while keeping a relatively small frame, with thick thighs and a set of abs was visible beneath her sparse armor. A few plates of metal were on this stranger's body, lining a shoulder and upper arm before seeming to give up around the elbow. The rest of her wore simple leather armor, and even then not very much. A simple but sturdy flap that hung from the waist, and a chestpiece that resembled a large and studded bra that pushed up her shapely breast. A big axe was on her hip, and a shield and bow were slung over her back.
"How did you know I was looking for this?" Lyla asked, picking up the silver idol of a squatting she-dragon.
The woman frowned and folded her thick arms in front of her (which seemed to unwittingly push up her breasts even further). "It's me," she said gruffly, despite her otherwise sweet-sounding voice.
"Well then, you're obviously a bard because that was an informative story. You're going to have to give me more than that."
"I'm Noland."
The drow snorted and leaned back in her chair. "That's spider shit! Noland was a big ugly pile of testosterone."
"I did the job for you during the spring with all the ogres."
"Oh, everyone's heard about that."
"You skipped out 50 gold on me for borrowing that cloak of hiding."
"So you've done your research. I still don't-"
"You like your hair pulled when you're being taken from behind. You didn't know that until you and I hooked up four years back."
Lyla raised her narrow eyebrows at this. "Noland? Really?"
He pointed at his stern but pretty face. "Dragon's curse. How do I turn this back?"
Lyla frowned at him, sizing him up a bit before her eyes glowed white and she looked him over again, a sign she was using her magic. "Wow, that's a doozie," she noted, losing any air of mysticism that provided her. "Cursed by a dying priest, psycho or not, that's not easy to remove."
"What'll it take?" Noland pressed.
"Something on the lines of a hundred-thousand gold."
The female Noland pounded a fist on the desk. "What!? I could practically bring myself back from the dead for that much!"
The dark elf shrugged. "I don't know what to tell you, Nol. When you're dead, you're dead, but the curse is still there. It'll take a lot of spell components and a lot of work, and the guild doesn't work on credit. What do you have now?"
Noland sighed and leaned on the desk, not noticing that his perky ass squashed out against it slightly. "After this job, maybe 10K."
"Well, I'd start working and saving. Less on the ale and whores stuff. Though it looks like that'll be easier for you now, huh?"
"Oh shut up," Noland huffed. "This isn't easy already."
"At least you're kind of cute, for a buff amazon chick."
"Still not helping!"
"Look, you want help? I'd find someplace safe to keep that loot of yours. If you're going to go running around punching and stabbing for gold like you used to, you're not going to want some kind of acid-spitting monster to burn through your bags and make you drop everything. Dig a hole, find someone you trust, something like that."
"Good point," Noland sighed. "Know anyone I can trust?"
"Oh, ha ha. There's the caves I sent you out to last year. The goblins moved back in, and if you clear them out and don't tell anyone, I can pay you and you can use it as a hiding spot. Also... you might want a new name."
"Why?"
"I sure didn't recognize you like this in your armor bikini and all..."
"It's all I had that would fit," he grumbled.
"...and do you want to earn your manhood back just so everyone knows you spent 6 months as a woman? How's that work with your warrior code deal?"
"Not great," he grunted, rapping his upsettingly long and healthy nails on the desk impatiently. "What's a girly name?"
Layla shrugged. "Nora's a girly name."
"Ugh." The brunette amazon winced. "TOO girly."
"Then how about Norataa?" Layla gave a little wave of her hand as if indicating a sign. "Sounds majestic, right? Like the barbarians of the Northern lands."
"Good enough. Now where's this cave again?"
Noland went to work, even if it was "Norataa" on paper. His former boasting about his adventures in taverns and brothels became him drinking grimly by himself, giving curt excuses of being from a barbarian tribe out north when anyone asked. He had work that had to be done, so he spent less and less time with people when he could be doing some hard labor or going out on a quest. He made regular trips out to the cave that Layla had offered, dumping off his piles of gold and valuables. At least his strength wasn't affected by his new form, so he was still able to lug huge sacks of his loot back to the cave.
"Here." Norataa dropped a pair of wanted posters onto Layla's desk at the mage guild. "Balthazar the Purple and Tarius the Mad. Taken care of."
"Good! Always nice to have a few less necromancers around," Layla noted as she dug around for another sack of gold for the bounties. "Well, unless they pay their guild fees and listen to the standards and practices department. You're really getting good at these, you know. I guess it helps that you can't be cursed more than once."
"Yea, lucky me," grunted the feminine warrior, folding his strong arms under his breasts. It hurt his chest to do it anywhere else.
"Well, someone's looking a little horny lately," Layla noted.
"Tell me about it," Noland sighed. "I haven't been able to get off in over a week. I can't figure that damn thing out."
"What do you mean you can't figure... wow, that explains a lot about our relationship. But that's not what I meant." The drow pointed up to the top of his head, and when Noland ran his fingers over his scalp, he felt a pair of dull, spikey ridges growing from his head. Layla flicked her fingers and conjured a small mirror for him to see the small but noticeable horns, sky blue in color and sweeping back from his head.
"How did that happen!?" Noland blurted, feeling them carefully, but they seemed to be quite firmly in place against his skull.
"I dunno. Did you piss off any other dragon goddesses lately?" Layla shrugged. "Sounds like more curse to me."
"Well what do I do about it?"
"Work harder, maybe," Layla offered. "Or get good at headbutting people and get some use out of them."
Things got progressively stranger, yet easier for Noland. By the time he defeated the wild djinn in the mountains, he had grown a tail. When he'd slain the pack of void wolves that were haunting the forest, he had a set of wings growing out of his back to take him back to his cave. He was getting bigger, too. He had to find new clothes regularly until he wore nothing but a robe over some sparse wraps over his breasts and crotch. The armor seemed to be useless now; even when he wasn't fast or powerful enough to bring down his foe unharmed, his hide was getting tougher.
It seemed like something he could overcome and ignore, or at least tolerate until he had his hundred-thousand gold. But when he went exploring in the abandoned dwarven mines, he found the mad deep gremlins that had taken over the mine, and their crystal golem; a huge rocky humanoid with shimmering gems all over its body. The jewels caught his eye as instant things of value; they shone and danced in the light, and he wanted them desperately. He felt a heat grow in his belly, and his breasts puffed up as the monster raised its stoney fist. His tail whipped and his wings spread, making himself look as big as possible like an instinctive warning to a would-be predator. When the golem went to strike anyway, Norataa opened her mouth and white-hot fire burst forth. It melted right through the stone of the golem, and her body gave off a high, shrill shriek as she gasses in whatever new organs he had mixed with the oxygen in his lungs. It was a new experience to be sure. Noland thought it felt somewhere between an orgasm, peeing after a long wait, and a good belch as the stream of heat and chemical left his body. He swept his head and the scorching fire swept over the gremlins, cooking them alive as they squealed pathetically beneath his newfound might.
He could see what he was now: he was a monster, in every sense of the term. He was terrible and heartless. He wiped out whatever was in the way of his wealth at this point, whether they were mad, evil, or just dumb beasts. But he was powerful, to be sure. He was unstoppable. Blades broke against the scales that grew along his arms, and men fell off their feet from the winds when he beat his wings. And now, his breath itself was a weapon capable of obliterating a creature made of stone that was more than twice his size. He hurried to gather the gems and valuable around the cave before he considered the smell. His nose was stronger than ever, what wit his nostrils thinning into almost slitted openings. He was no magic user, so the scent of cooked goblin was new to him, and strangely welcome. In fact, his mouth watered behind his fangs. He would need his strength to regain his flame, after all, and to grow large enough to protect his horde.
So Norataa bent over her prey and devoured it, tearing the meat off the bones with her fangs and strong jaws alone, growling and hissing hungrily as she fed. The man called Noland was strong, but never as strong as the dragoness form he called Norataa. The name felt like a comforting barrier between himself and his deeds, free of any sort of human guilt when a dragon's pride was there in the way. He wasn't even bothered when he reported back to the dwarves who had hired him. They said the gems were considered cursed by their people, and they would pay more for the picks and shovels than they would these gems. "Just as well," he thought. "They will make my horde gleam that much brighter."
"Noland?!" Lyra poked her head into the cave entrance, her voice echoing inside. It looked bigger on the inside than she remembered, as if something had carved more out of the mountainside where the goblins had claimed their caves.
"Here," rumbled the voice deep inside. She almost thought it sounded like the old Noland, just distorted by the cave. It was deep and commanding like he used to be, but she hadn't seen him in weeks. She wanted to at least make sure his stash was safe, if not finding Noland himself.
"You okay? I haven't seen you in a while. Did you end up fixing the oohhhhh wow." The drow froze as she saw the large heap of gold and treasure, with the blue dragon resting comfortably atop it. Large plate-like scales went along her spine between her wide wings, and boney ridges grew around her eyes and top of her skull.
"You're impressed," rumbled the voice, which Layla realized was not being modified by the cave. It was just the voice of female Noland in a body roughly ten times bigger than herself. She could see the same sharp, stormcloud-gray eyes inside those huge pupils. "That's a natural response."
"Oh... soooo Noland. You're really... growing into yourself, huh?"
"I've put on some weight. It's getting around that time of the season," the dragon's voice replied before giving a big yawn. Noland's shifting claws rustled loose a few large lumps of gold and a few shining swords. The latter looked magical, by Layla's mystic senses, but she knew better than to try to take it right now. The yawning jaws spread wide enough to swallow her whole, with teeth like short swords and a breath that hit her as if someone had just opened up a furnace that caught a gentle breeze. "What can I do for you, Layla?"
Well at least he remembered her. "Me? Oh, nothing! I was checking on you. I hadn't heard from you in a while, and I wanted to make sure you were okay."
"I am stronger than ever, little lady," the dragon chuckled as Noland stretched out his legs and whip-like tail. "Of course I am fine. I can hunt and fight better than even Noland the warrior could."
"Right... because now you're Norataa?" Layla said uncertainly.
"Of course."
"Offfff course. Well... I'd like to say, that's quite a pile you got there. It looks like you have enough for the ritual now."
"What ritual?"
"...the one that turns you back into a man."
"Oh that. Layla, I have moved beyond such things. Learned what's truly precious." He ran a large, three-clawed limb over the treasure. "When one is so powerful and capable that they can take care of themselves and others with such ease, then gold has no use but to be savored. Wielded as a sign and warning of one's power."
Layla nodded slowly. It definitely was impressive, when you managed to look past the giant dragon sitting on it. She averted her eyes when she felt a small puff of smoke come from Norataa's nostrils and breeze over her, as if sensing her admiring it a bit too much. "Well, I can't say it wouldn't be nice having a dragon who's an old friend if things ever get tough... and you feel like showing off all that impressive power of yours."
Norataa spread and gently beat her wings, still enough to blow Layla's robe back a bit. "Of course. If it is worthy of my attention. It was good to see you again, Layla, but you'll have to excuse me. My mate is returning soon, and will be suspicious of guests that come while he is away."
"Your...?" Layla felt the word catch in her throat and decided not to pursue the subject. "Yes. Well, thanks, No...rataa. Maybe I'll stop by some time." She felt Norataa's eyes watching her expectantly, so she bowed low enough for her ashen hair to brush against the cavern floor. Norataa nodded, and she hurried back out the entrance.
Another dragon flew over Layla's head, and she forced herself not to look up and draw any petty ire. The big green beast, even bigger than Norataa, landed in front of the cave and slinked into the dragoness' view. Noland gave a low, appreciative purr of a growl at the sight, delighted to smell blood on the male. It opened its jaws to drop a crushed cow in front of him, which Noland set to gulping down in a few quick bites. As he fed, the male circled around behind him, sniffing at his flanks. Noland stopped feeding long enough to turn around, snapping his teeth and snorting a quick spurt of fire at the horny bull dragon. He naturally recoiled. While the males were the huntes and bigger of the two, the female was the matron of the cave. It wasn't terribly unlike his homeland in some ways.
When he was done eating, Noland shifted more comfortably on top of his heap of gold to spread his hind legs and lift his tail invitingly. The male mounted her, its strong forelegs bracing against the sturdy bones protecting her wings as if they were handlebars. Its big, clumsy erection prodded at her slick opening, and his heavy hips had to arch a bit more for him to find his way in. He was practically lost without her, the big dumb beast. As the bull's hard shaft pushed into him, Noland gave him encouraging grunts when he was especially pleasing to her. It let him reflect on his old life, in a strange way; Noland could slay dragons, but here Norataa had one under her utter control, obsessively hunting for and pleasuring her. It was mating season, after all, and something in the air just had Noland eager to be fucked as often as the bull was willing.
He cooed and wrapped his tail around the beast on her back's waist, the dull spikes on her brushing brushing against his leathery dragon dick. Her strong back arched, lifting even the bigger beast off the ground a bit. She groaned in an almost whale song of a noise, long and echoing from deep within her fertile belly. Noland felt the bull's rod tense harder than ever as it sprayed inside him. The male tried to pull out, but the powerful orifice of the dragoness held him in place until she was finished. Goddess, even his vagina was powerful in this form.
At last, Noland's new body convulsed and Norataa orgasmed. It was like the first time be breathed fire; explosive and defining, a peak of pleasure and release. He bellowed and blew out a hot jet of flame that scorched the ceiling before she released her mate's shaft from inside her. Noland settled onto his gold again, feeling that urge in his belly once again. He shuffled his hind legs, stirring up some of the treasure into a shallow hole. He lifted his tail, his ambiguous draconic orifice clenching and pulsing. The male watched expectantly until the small clutch of eggs, only two this time, popped out into the gold. His tail and legs brushed over it again to bury it and place his warm stomach on top of it, right next to his heating fire gland.
Noland knew that the world of men knew very little about the mating habits of dragons. He dozed off on his pile of loot, having been freshly fed and fucked, wondering if he could sell off this information to the other races for a tidy profit. More gold, more power, more young...
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