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Knight & Lady, Part 7 (MtF, FtM TG Preg)
🕑 Added 2025-02-13 21:27:52 +0000 UTCBy FoxFaceStories
A Commission for Al
Within the fantastical world of Vortis, there is no greater hero than Sir Marcus. He has earned the hand of his love, the beautiful Lady Astrid, and all should be well. But when a horrid curse prevents them from conceiving, the pair must leave on one final adventure: to an ancient well that may grant their wish to bear children. But when the wish is made, who shall be the father, and who the mother? Soon the pair must reorient themselves as their bodies switch genders and roles, all while their wish’s desire beckons.
Chapter 7: Swapping Roles
Things had truly changed in the time since their first joining. The knight and lady - whatever their forms may be now - found themselves utterly amorous once more. It was as if in conducting that first act, a key had opened the doorway to further such pleasures, and the shame and awkwardness of their union diminished with each continual lovemaking session. Madeline did not want to get pregnant, of course, and so was utterly adamant that Alston did not spend himself inside of her.
“I know I have to go through with this, but . . . I’m not ready yet!” she said, her voice almost a whine even as she began to remove her clothing, her loins hungry for her husband’s member to enter them once more.
But accidents happened, of course. Sometimes she was simply too overcome with her own bliss to let Alston slide out of her, and other times he simply expelled his seed earlier, like when she rode him, bouncing upon him as he lay back against a smooth hillside. The sight of her large breasts tremulously wobbling and bouncing right in his face had simply been too much, and even Madeline couldn’t blame him, especially when his climax brought on her own. Other times, they were more successful, and Madeline found that she could stroke her husband’s member and bring him to his full, even if getting his issue upon her full chest was not exactly what she had planned . . . not that Alston minded the outcome. The pair had never been particularly explorative when it came to sex, but now they were finding new positions that suited their new needs, and Madeline was as shocked as she was sheepish to find that being on her hands and knees and having her husband’s cock ram into her from behind was a deeply erotic experience. She would cry out in her high, musical voice, and Alston would find himself grunting, making sounds like a powerful animal, and this too seemed right to him.
Sometimes they slowed the sex down; travel had its own demands, of course. But the fact was that their forms were simply too attractive. Even when Madeline was kindly gifted better fitting clothing by Alston, and he himself found new garments to better suit himself, it was impossible to avoid the glances, the stares, the arousal that came with sleeping in one another’s arms when they rested the horses and stopped the carriage for the night. The nights were warming again, and both found it more natural to sleep in a greater state of nakedness, and this too aided them in becoming more familiar with each other.
“I swear, I’m lucky that damned merchant didn’t try to buy me,” Madeline complained, her form resting over Alston, her breasts squashed lovingly against his firm muscles.
“I would have fought him for you,” Alston said.
At this, Madeline laughed.
“What? What is so funny, my love?”
“Oh, just that you may be good - very good - with one particular sword, my love, but I’d be more afraid of you accidentally cutting my tits off than getting embroiled in an exciting fight with a dangerous foe.”
Alston frowned. “You don’t think I can fight? My strength-”
“Is not nearly enough. You need dexterity, practice, precision. Training. The kind that takes years to master.”
Alston took this in. Indeed, he had been musing on this lately; the fact that Madeline carried a dagger on her right leg. The fact that her former husband was not only much weaker now, but a ripe target. Already, they’d had a close call with one would-be thief trying to threaten them. Alston’s size alone had warded him off, but in truth he had known it would be Madeline’s reflexes, her skill with the blade that would have saved them if worse came to worse. In much the same manner though, there were things she had to learn as well.
“You’re right, of course,” he said. “I just . . . fighting is such a man’s work, it still feels alien to me. Perhaps you can teach me, and I can teach you?”
“What can you teach me? I know I’m not perfect with the hair yet, but-”
“Diplomacy. Negotiation. Soft powers. De-escalation. The art of a woman’s wiles, my love, and that does indeed also mean becoming perfect with your hair, your makeup, and your dress sense. All the better to know how to present yourself and soothe the tempers of others.”
This time Madeline frowned. She rolled over, groaning a little from the way her breasts heaved, and stared up at the carriage’s ceiling.
“That . . . is not the worst idea. If I’m going to be stuck as a woman until you get me with child - a strange enough prospect - then that means I’ll also be a noblewoman in the court of Vortis for at least nine months from that point! I was never very good at the regal speech of your upbringing, my love.”
“Well, then we shall teach one another! You help me master the sword and shield and bow, and I shall teach you far finer arts.”
Madeline smirked. “Deal. Now let us sleep. We have a long day ahead of us.”
But Alston’s hands wandered, pinching Madeline’s reach as she shifted to her side.
“Or,” he started, already growing hard. “We could have a little fun, my love?”
Madeline sighed. “You are very lucky that my fantasy woman is very libidinous.”
“Oh, please, like we weren’t before we changed!”
***
The next day, the pair deliberately slowed their journey back in order to begin training on one another’s roles. They took the carriage to a tucked away field away from prying eyes. Madeline helped fit Alston in her old armour, most of which suited his new form even if some parts had to be adjusted for his larger size. Likewise, Alston helped Madeline prepare her appearance as a noblewoman, which meant wearing a rather regal dress she had been pressured to purchase, one that was a vibrant blue. It was a quiet contrast to her very pale eyes, as well as her dark curtain of raven black hair. The hanging sleeves and low hem made her feel utterly unable to move freely.
“That’s the point!” Alston said with a chuckle. “It’s there to make you beautiful, noble, and willing to rely on servants rather than your own labors.”
“Labor, that word is not the one I want to hear right now! Is this makeup truly necessary!”
“Absolutely. And it makes you look even more beautiful, my love. But is all this armour necessary? Surely not the plate?”
This time it was Madeline’s turn to have a laugh at her partner’s expense. “When a wyvern comes chomping, you’ll be glad of it. Now, tell me how to act like the lady watching a knight train, and I can adopt the proper voice to train a knight!”
“Well, for one, keep your chin further up. Use a commanding voice, but it need not be a low one. Fold your arms just so, and stop adjusting your dress, especially at the front!”
Another blush, but Madeline did as she was told.
“Very well, authoritative voice. I can do that. Okay, take the sword by the hilt. No, don’t hold it that way, you’ll carve your own neck! Keep its point outright when holding it. Remove your other hand, my love, it’s a shortsword. Now, a shield will complement this, so make sure to use both. We’ll go over some basic exercises, and I’ll try that walk you mentioned. The ‘dignified’ one . . .”
And so it began; the exchange of roles that would define their lives for the foreseeable future. From that day, Alston trained vigorously in the art of the sword under Madeline’s teacherly gaze, while he in turn would intrust her in courtly manner and what it meant to be a noblewoman, a figure of silk hiding steel. It made for many an amusing error, and more than a few stumbles: Madeline found walking in a full courtly dress difficult, though the grassy plains upon which she practised did not help, whereas Alston found it hard to get the hang of dextrous movements given his natural reliance on new strength.
“You must be daring, but full of finesse!” Madeline declared. “I shall show you. Pass me the spare sword. It’ll have to be, um, the lighter one. My strength is not what it was. But I can still handily beat you.”
Alston snorted, readying a stance that had followed a week’s practice with the blade.
“Honey, you are the greatest knight of the realm, or at least you were. But I highly doubt you can beat me as you are now. You’re more liable to tip over with that generous bosom!”
Just fifteen seconds later, Alston was on his back with a blade pointed directly at his chest. His head hurt from the fall, and a victorious and very beautiful woman was looking very, very smugly down upon him.
“I stand corrected,” he said. “That was a rout.”
He held out his hand for his wife to pull him up, but she just rolled her eyes.
“Oh no, not falling for that trick. You’ll pull me down and start making love with me on the grass.”
“Is that such a bad thing?”
“You can do that when you know how to hold a sword properly. Come, this is important. And then, I can’t believe I’m saying this, I’ll need some aid with those damned spoons and forks and knives and ‘proper table etiquette’, not to mention going through those lineages again. Boring stuff.”
“Ah, but it helps to know the connections between nobles,” Alston said, getting up. “And that can be its own kind of sword, my love.”
Madeline knew that well; her own hide had been saved from a pack of rampaging deserters who had captured her several years ago, and it was only thanks to Astrid’s quick, calm, and decisive work rallying several local nobles to send knights to his aid that he was able to escape and counterattack. Later, he’d learned that the nobles Astrid had managed to corral together were old enemies with blood feuds going back over a hundred years. The sheer level of diplomacy required to have forged a temporary alliance between them was beyond his understanding.
But it would have to be within Madeline’s, if she were to be playing the role of a woman who would need to defend their interests in the sphere of court politics. Still, she didn’t give up the sword completely, practising new stances and with lighter blades, as well as a lengthier spear, the latter of which would reduce the impact of her shorter reach. In this way, in sparring both physical and verbal, the pair came to know one another’s talents and souls on an even deeper level.
It was a good thing too, because after just a month of training and still a week’s journey from the capital, they were set upon by brigands.
***
It was morning. The pair had just set off after breakfast and brief morning training. They were back within the borders of Vortis, and a sense of nervousness and excitement lay in their hearts. Madeline in particular was embarrassed to be re-entering not as the greatest knight of the realm, but as a quite amply blessed noblewoman, but Alston likewise was unsure exactly what he would be saying to his father to explain all of this. Still, the road back to civilisation had been far less dangerous than the one to beyond it, and there was a sense between them that the first major leg of their destiny was over. The whole ‘making a child part’ would obviously be quite daunting and need seeing to eventually, but soon they could settle and come to deal with that.
That was, until the horses reared the carriage to a stop and neighed loudly, causing the pair to jolt within the vehicle. Madeline was up before her husband, but both were alarmed.
“What was that!?” Alston exclaimed.
“Shh!” Madeline hissed, her warrior’s instincts still with her. She could hear yelling. Men. Men yelling, and getting closer. Get your weapon!”
She grabbed her own and Alton moved. Everything happened very quickly from that point: horses bounded into view form the sides of the carriage, and several figures on foot could be heard racing up from behind. There were at least four of them, and Madeline confirmed this as she frantically looked out every peephole.
“They’re surrounding us!” she declared.
“Should we leap out?”
“No, they’ll cut us down or have us in easy sight at least. But we can’t just stay in here either. A woman looking like I do . . . best not to think about.”
The very thought of brigands seizing his wife made Alston’s blood boil. He gripped his sword tightly, his male aggression rising.
“We could . . . when they bang on the door, or try to open it?”
Madeline nodded. “We might need to draw one closer. If only we had a squealing wench we could - oh. Ah.”
“Yer noble carriage is surrounded! Come on out if ya don’t want us to set it alight! We’re claiming it all; gold, valuables, clothing, women. Whatever ya got is ours, and we won’t slit yer throats bloody, so’s long as ya get out now, y’hear!?”
“Well, that’s just rude,” Alston said.
“It’s also a fact, if we don’t act properly,” Madeline warned. Her heart was beating in her chest: she was very aware that her strength was not as it was. She was not very well practised in a crossbow, but she readied one nevertheless, using the loading mechanism to prepare a bolt.
“Ready?” she asked Alston, seeing that he was also very nervous.
“I - I’ll have to be. I have to be the protector now, my love. For both of us.”
“We’ll protect each other. Make good use of the plate.”
“One last chance! Open the carriage door and step out, right fucking now!”
Madeline took a deep breath, readied herself for a very unwarrior-like role, and then screamed. Loudly. Very loudly, in fact, right at the top of her lungs. Alston almost had to cover her ears, though he was impressed by her performance.
“Please don’t kill us! We’re just maidens! Please, I’m stuck! The cupboard came loose from the horses pulling up! I can’t reach the door!”
“We’re not joking! I don’t give a fuck if your legs are come clean off, we’ll make ‘em itty bitty stubs if you don’t-”
But Madeline was already utilising her emotion, drawing upon her more heightened state. She began to wail, and surprisingly even began to generate tears, so swept up in her own performance was she. Her sobs were loud.
“Please, just help meeeeee! I don’t want to die! You can take everything!”
The voice came closer. “Oh, we’ll take more than everything. We’ll take you too, dearie, and leave you alive if you make it fun enough.”
“I can’t get to the door, I swear!”
There was a huff. “Gerald. Open it already. Kill ‘em if they’re playing tricks, but try to leave the girl if you can. We’ll punish her in our own way.”
His words sent a dark chill down Madeline’s spine. The notion that she could now be a prize, to be assaulted and raped by cruel men, was a new prospect for her, and one that she would rather die than experience. She readied the crossbow. Alston was likewise disgusted, and gripped his sword more tightly.
“Fine, stay back!” came a new voice.
The bandit stood up to the carriage step and poked his head in through the window. Two things happened very, very quickly from that point.
The first was that Madeline shouted “NOW MY LOVE!” and loosed a bolt from her crossbow right into the brigand’s eye.
The second was that Alston burst from the side of the carriage, smashing into a second brigand and hurling a spear forward. It arced through the air, missing the chief of these bandits but spooking his horse, which rode up and tried to buck him. It gave Alston enough time to launch forward in his heavy armour, slashing out with his sword to tear apart the saddle. An arrow shot through the air and plinked off his armour, followed by a second shot which found a gap and embedded sideways along his shoulder. Alston roared, aware that he had been hit yet oddly unfeeling. Behind him, Madeline was emerging with her own shortsword. Her movements were not as full of finesse as they had once been, but she shocked the nearest brigand, slashing him down before he could even assess the damage to his eye.
“Remember your training, my love!” she shouted.
Alston found that he did. In this moment of chaos, it came almost instinctively to him. He pushed into the brigand chief, preventing him from getting up after falling from the broken saddle.
“Kill him! Fucking kill-”
The man never got to finish his sentence. With brute force, Alston was able to pummel the man down and press his sword point into the villain’s throat. Blood spilled from the wound, and for a moment Alston felt queasy. He controlled it, though. This was life and death, and he could mourn this death later. For now, he had to be a man, in all the most violent ways. He turned and ran towards the archer, who was upon his horse and trying to line up a shot at Madeline, who was duelling the fourth brigand and getting the better of him. Alston yelled, distracting the archer, who turned the bow on him. He turned his head just in time for the helmet to absorb the blow of the arrowhead, then slashed at the horse. It screamed, rearing up from the slash to his leg. A deep guilt ran through Alston; horses were beautiful creatures, ones he had spent his entire life rearing and riding in his father’s fields. But this was war, and he had to get at the archer.
Unfortunately, he was distracted by Madeline’s cry. He turned his head, and saw that her cheek was cut upon her right side and bleeding heavily. The other man wore mail, and was using his bulk against her. She had the better of him, but he could outlast her. Something new rose up in Alston: an anger and battlerage that only a masculine knight could possess. He made one last hack at his current enemy and then ran back to the carriage, raising his sword. The brigand was making another go to kill Madeline. She slashed at his leg, but his overarching sword still descended.
“NO!” Alston screamed, catching and deflecting the blade with his own. With automatic reflex instructed into him by his wife, he gripped the enemy’s hand, careful not to touch the blade since his plate armour was not all attached, and then shoved his sword into the man’s mouth and through his face. There was a horrific gurgle and spilling of ruby rich blood, and the man fell.
“Damn it all!” the archer yelled. His horse stumbled away at a half-gallop, back over the hill. “Damn it all, I knew we shouldn’t have tried this one! I had a bad omen!”
The horse whinnied in pain, but managed to get over the hill, urged on by its foul rider. Alston grimaced, annoyed at the man’s escape and for the misery of the poor horse, but at least certain that the villain would not return, not with his other three comrades dead.
“Are you okay, my love?” he asked, ripping off some spare cloth from his sleeve to pad her bleeding cheek.
“I’m fine, just fine,” she said, breathing heavily. “You did well, my love. So very well.”
“As did you.”
“There was a time I could have taken all four of them.”
“You certainly took on two. Not bad for a woman, eh?”
She smiled, holding the cloth to her cheek. “Well, I’ll have a scar to remind people I’m not just a woman at least. Come, we should get out of here, before we -”
She paused, gripping the edge of the carriage for a moment as she panted.
“Is everything alright, my love?”
Madeline winced. “I’m - I’m suddenly feeling very nauseous. I - Gods!”
She suddenly retched, hurling up the contents of her breakfast just behind the rear carriage wheel. Alston was momentarily alarmed.
“It’s okay! It’s just battle jitters, I’m sure!”
“I’ve never had - ughhh - battle jitters like this! Oof!”
She threw up again. As soon as she had, the nausea passed instantly. She panted, taking a waterskin to clear her throat. She looked down at the corpses of the brigands.
“It must be because I’m a woman. Some feminine emotion bubbling to the surface or something. Let’s get moving, and perhaps I’ll have a lie down. I think I need it.”
Alston helped her back into the carriage. He was still coming down from the fight himself, but he took the time to clean his sword before getting into the carriage. He had never felt like this before, nor, he imagined, had his wife. The bloodrage had been in him, but now it was dying away, and he was very glad that it had only been rage, not lust for blood. Surveying the carnage, he was actually pleased to find himself revulsed for it. For as much as he would need to be the protector, the knight, from now on, he was still Astrid at heart. Violence should only be used when utterly necessary.
“Lie down, my love,” he told Madeline, who was cringing as she settled herself down. “I’ll see to the horses.”
“S-sorry,” she stammered. “I’ve never felt like this before. Gods, I am tired after that. It must just be that I overexerted myself.”
“Of course,” Alston said, beginning to remove his armour.
But none of their theories were correct. They had survived brigands and their first taste of sharing new roles, but a new challenge was lurking on the horizon.
Or perhaps more accurately, was growing within Madeline’s belly already.
To Be Continued . . .
