Knight & Lady, Part 9 (MtF, FtM TG Preg)

By 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.

First Part

Previous Part

Next Part

Chapter 9: Adjustments

Of course, feeling an internal warmth and hope for a future baby wasn’t enough to stem the hardships of Madeline’s first trimester. The former stalwart knight had a number of new things to become used to - wearing courtly dresses, being attended to by handmaidens, learning the fine art of politics and diplomacy - all while dealing with excess tiredness, the occasional morning sickness, and an increasingly ravenous hunger that made her husband positively cackle at times.

“Careful, there won’t be any bread and butter for me!”

“Or jam,” she mumbled between bits, grabbing a jar for herself. “Pass me some of the scones will you please? With cream, too. Gods, I need a lot of cream right now.”

She spilled crumbs down her top and even into her cleavage, causing her to roll her eyes. “Damn stupid breasts,” she complained. “They’re even bigger now, did you know?”

“Oh, I certainly noticed, my dear.”

“Well, I guess I can’t blame you. If we were in switched places, I wouldn’t be able to keep my eyes off these tits even if a ravenous dragon was attacking.”

“You are a ravenous dragon, Madeline, from the way you’re attacking all this food.”

“Your fault. As you might recall, you got me pregnant, and if that isn’t a sentence I never expected to say I don't know what is.”

She devoured another scone and switched back to the fine bread with its perfect crunch and buttered side. 

“Good lords, woman,” Alston said. “You would have never married me if I’d ever acted like this around food! You’re filling up your cleavage with crumbs.”

“I wish. This cleavage is an utter chasm thanks to the size of these things.”

“Still, you need to practice your refinement, even in private. We have our roles to play, and for the next seven months at least you’ll need to be a proper noblewoman in etiquette, rather than a pig at the dining table.”

Madeline threw a scone in his direction for the insult, and he caught it easily.

“Good reflexes,” she noted glumly. “Lessons are going well, then?”

Alston stretched his right shoulder and felt the bandage there.

“Not as well as hoped, alas. I have more strength than I could ever believe, and I’m eager for it. It’s . . . exhilarating. But you were right when you started training me: muscles only get me so far. I need to learn finesse.”

“Harold will train you pretty hard, I imagine.”

“Him and the entire gallery, I’m afraid,” Alston said, cracking his knuckles. “Word does get around some quarters about our switch. It seems your knight friends are all very keen on seeing just how well I’ll do.”

Madeline groaned, placing a hand on her stomach. “By the Black Mountain, it’s the same for me! I’m seeing noblewomen give me the side eye, and that Lady Abigail is one of the only ones I like!”

“Oh no, she’s a viper. She just wants to play nice and then gossip about you. You want to be friends with Clementa.”

She put her face in her hands. “See? I feel like I’m being judged just for using the wrong damn fork at the dinner table.”

The two embraced, and Alston chuckled softly.

“Looks like we’ve both got some adjustments to make, and not just for our little one.”

They stayed together for some time like that, Alston’s arms hugging Madeline from the back, his hands resting on her belly, as they contemplated their future.

***

Over the next couple of months, the pair became more accustomed to their new roles in the Kingdom of Vortis. The initial shock of their body switch slowly faded away, though some amusement and astonishment no doubt remained. This was especially true for Madeline, who was slowly learning the ways of a noblewoman, often on Alston’s arm at important events, and becoming more aware of the arts of politics and diplomacy as she met important figures at said events. Her gowns and dresses were elegant and rich, and while they were not revealing, very little could hide her figure, especially her prominent bust, much to her embarrassment. When one drunken noble tried to flirt with her and compliment her ‘ample assets of the kingdom’ she had to be restrained by Alston to stop herself from punching him out.

“A condemnation in words, dear, will be stronger than physical actions.”

“The loud deserves worse than that!”

“I know, but that’s my job now, remember?”

Thankfully, Alston had been training rather extensively, and delivered quite the knockout blow when the traditional fisticuffs of honour was declared. It made Madeline swell with pride to see her husband step up in this way, and that made her more driven to step up as well.

Of course, she wasn’t just swelling with pride, but in body by this point as well. The physical changes of pregnancy happened slowly, so slowly and then so very fast. It was as if, after weeks of enduring nausea, exhaustion, sore breasts and a desperate hunger, Madeline suddenly woke with a tautness in her stomach. Yes, there had already been a slight curve there from the nine week mark, ever so faint, but now she had an actual dome, and one that could only be hidden under a far more robust series of layers. But Vortis was in summer, and the fashion for its women was much more sleek than other, more cloistered neighbourly nations. And so, with her pregnancy now four months along and her midriff’s muscles effectively gone, Madeline felt truly pregnant for the first time, to the point where Jenna had to remind her to stop poking her belly.

“I can’t help it!” she said as she finished getting dressed with another handmaid’s aid. “It’s - it’s there!”

Jenna was feeding her own child by this point, having given birth over a month ago. She resumed her duties only as able, and had already offered to be a wetnurse for Madeline’s child, a fact she was happy to accept, despite her own breasts being obviously up to the future task.

“I know well the feeling, mistress,” she said with a giggle. “But it would not be ladylike to keep poking at it with your finger.”

“Yes, I imagine a soft caress would be it. A touch of the hand, like so.”

She rubbed her belly, something she actually wanted to do, feeling the tautness of it. It was at that point that Alston came in.

“I’m not fully dress yet, dear,” Madeline complained.

“Oh, please, I’m your husband. Nothing I haven’t seen.”

She scoffed. “More masculine all the time, barging in uninvited.”

He gave a sheepish grin, then focused on her stomach, where her hand was laying. Even with her green dress now upon her, the outline of her bump was easily seen.

“Is that? By the Gods, I can see it! You’ve blown up overnight.”

“And with a lot more blowing up to do, it seems.”

Jenna smiled, and excused herself with the other handmaiden. Madeline watched her first handmaiden go, clutching her little boy, her own heart skipping a beat at the sight. He was indeed very cute, and something maternal set off inside of her, even as Alston touched her belly, hand sliding over her stomach.

“Amazing,” he said. “I’m really rather jealous.”

“Don’t be. I’m going to look ridiculous.”

“Nonsense, you look beautiful. Just look at your stomach!”

“I can only see it in the mirror with these great things in my way, or when feeling it like so. The morning sickness has gone away, at least. And the tiredness. I feel like I finally have energy again and - and . . .”

Alston waited for her to finish, but Madeline said nothing. Her eyes slowly widened, and she focused her mind entirely upon her female body. 

“Madeline? My sweet? Is something the-”

“Get your hand off me, quickly.”

Alston pulled it away, still very confused. He went to speak again, but Madeline raised a hand to silence him. Her eyes were so wide they were like dish plates, her mouth hanging open in shock.

“Madeline, what’s the-”

“I can feel it.”

“Feel what?”

“It. It! Our child. I can feel it moving.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m certain.” She broke out into a nervous smile. “It’s so slight, I almost didn’t catch it. It’s not my stomach. It’s sort of . . . shuffling.”

“They say four months is around when you can feel the tremors. I’d read up quite a bit while we were trying for so long. How is it?”

Madeline gave a sheepish laugh. “Amazing! Foreign! Completely bizarre! Good Gods, I have something living inside me. I shall have to charge it rent! Gods, this is strange. It never felt real until this moment, Alston. I . . . would you like to feel it?”

She placed Alston’s hand on her stomach, but after some time he confessed that he couldn’t feel a thing.

“I think it’s too early from my side,” he said, still marvelling at her stomach. It really had grown. “I guess for now you have a special little connection to your baby.”

“Our baby,” she said, holding onto her husband, pressing her belly against him. “And you’ll feel it soon too. Plenty of time left as I turn into a giant cow.”

“Nonsense,” he replied, kissing her. “Man or woman, you will always be beautiful.”

“Just keep that in mind when I’m in the birthing bed. I’ve never wanted something to be over so quickly and yet staved off for so long at the same time. Now go on, let me finish dressing. We’ll head out on our walk soon.”

She shooed Alston out of the room and began adjusting her jewellery and final touches of makeup herself, just as she’d learned. She really was beautiful, and for once she was actually proud of it, especially her dark tresses of hair and piercing blue eyes. She placed her hand on her stomach again, almost unable to stop herself after those movements.

“You can move about any time, little one,” she said with a smile. “I won’t mind.”

In fact, she was quite looking forward to the next time it did. 

***

“Ughhh,” Madeline grunted.

Alston stood beside his wife, both of them present for an important medal ceremony as part of diplomatic relations with the Northerners. It was a long, protracted affair, with many speeches and lots of standing. Madeline hated the standing.

“Kicking again?” he asked his wife, taking her hand in his.

“Again?” she whispered to him. “It never damn stopped. I swear I am going to kill Kathorn once I am a man again. I can’t believe he sent us to that well. Feel this.”

Subtly, she moved her husband’s hand to her belly. It had swollen now, her being five months along, and he knew it still galled her that she was now nearly two-thirds through her journey. The belly had certainly come out of hiding now, and all of her dresses emphasised her fertile bump. She practically kept one hand on it all times, though she always gave a sharp glare when Alston suggested she was acting in quite the womanly and maternal fashion in doing so. Now, though, he could feel the movements of his child within, and despite himself, he chuckled, more loudly than intended.

Someone shushed him.

“Stop embarrassing us,” Madeline whispered. “This is a very formal ceremony.”

“Me embarrass? You’re the one grunting.”

“I’m the one who’s pregnant. And hungry.”

“It was you who used to embarrass me at these events. What a turn around.”

She gave a sly smile, only to preoccupied by the little one swimming about in her womb. She rubbed her belly, trying to maintain a noblewoman’s dignity, but it was so very hard to when a number of the medal-recievers up on the raised dais before the king were her old knightly compatriots, and a few were smirking in her direction.

“Oh, they are just going to laugh it up,” she predicted.

Indeed, they did. When the ceremony was over, the ‘old roundtable of knights,’ as they called themselves, formed together for conversation, and Sir Harold practically dragged Alston and Madeline over.

“Marcus!” Sir Lochley said with enthusiasm. “We barely see you in the training grounds these days!”

“It is a mystery why,” Madeline said, holding her bump. “Unless you bumped your head and forgot, I was in fact changed into a woman.”

“Quite the glowing one in fact, old friend,” Sir Davis said. “If you don’t mind me saying, you look pretty as a peach!”

“Yes, I saw you appreciating both of my peaches last month, Davis. You do know my eyes are up here, don’t you?”

“To be fair, they are quite overripe!”

The group laughed, and Alston briefly bristled, wanting to defend his wife. She placed a hand on his arm.

“It’s okay, husband. This is the kind of shit-talk real knights get up to when they don’t have an image to maintain. And my tits may be overripe, Davis, but at least I’ve got a pair to grab hold of when I want, instead of wandering down to the Salis Brothels and picking up the first whore willing to put up with the smell of me.”

Another laugh rippled through the group, and Davis cackled hardest of all. “Yep, it’s definitely still our Marcus in there!”

“Madeline for now,” she said. “Just like Astrid is Alston.”

“Ah, such a loss, if you don’t mind my saying, sir,” Lochley said to the new knight. “We all had such a great love for the fiery-haired Astrid.”

“I admit, I do miss the red hair.”

At this point, Harold put a hand on the knight’s shoulder. “Ah, but he’ll draw red like paint to judge from how he’s training. Can beat me two out of five bouts already, and always improving.”

“Becoming a real man, then,” Lochley said.

Madeline put an arm around her husband, caressing his back and looking up at him with love. Her attraction to him was still powerful. “Very much so,” she said.

“Certainly virile!” Lochley joked. “Are you having twins, Madeline-Marcus? Never thought I’d see the greatest hero in the kingdom knocked up with child.”

She pouted. “Alston, punch his teeth out for me, then give me an entire wheel of cheese to finish the job and then eat.”

More rounds of laughter followed, during which she did manage to extract an apology from Lochley. It was still very strange for the pair of them: Alston now a man among their ranks, sharing in jokes about pretty women and heroic deeds, while Madeline was now the quite pregnant and beautiful noblewoman, subject to interested gazes but also occasional moments of awkwardness as her friends tried to navigate their new relationships with her. By the end of the ceremony and banquet, the pair were more than ready to get home.

“I think that went well, at least?” Alston suggested as he helped her up into the carriage, her own core muscles displaced by her distended womb’s growth.

“Oh, very well, Davis was practically drooling at my tits.”

“They are very drool-worthy, my love. But the rest seemed to enjoy seeing you again. You really should come by the training grounds, you know. Other wives do, to see their husbands and gossip among one another. I’ll be in fine form, lots of muscles on display. And besides, I think your friends do miss you. A lot, in fact.”

She sat down in her carriage seat with an ‘oof,’ cradling her bump as their baby began to kick again.

“I . . . yes, that would be quite nice, actually. But let’s get home now.”

“Exhausted? I’ll get the staff to ready your bed.”

“Oh, we’ll be needing the bed alright, but not for sleeping.” She gave a sly grin. “I find myself desiring you, and frankly, you get no choice in the matter.”

Alston smiled back. “I have no problem with this, my darling.”

***

“Ohhhhh, yesss. Mhmmm, ahhh. We should have t-tried this ages, a-ago! Ohh!”

The pleasure was intense, but even better than the pleasure in some ways was the added comfort. Madeline gasped as her husband thrust into her from behind, clutching her wide hips and occasionally shifting one hand to grip her peachy rear. The sensations were intoxicating, but this time their actual positions were of great help to her. She was on all fours on the great long-haired rug in their living room, the pair of them in front of the magnificent warmth of the fireplace, which alone lit their perfect bodies. Her belly hung low, resting partly on a pillow Alston had cleverly put in place for her. Her breasts received no such support, hanging low and even bigger now that she was in her seventh month, slapping against her belly audibly with each thrust of her husband’s cock into her. And yet still, this felt damn good for the pair of them.

“I - ahh - told you!” Alston declared back, pushing into her again. He was on his knees, and he too found this position far more pleasant than the others they’d tried recently. “You said it would b-be demeaning, not m-me! That it would be like being m-mounted like an animal!”

“I was - ahhh - wrong! Or right, but I w-want to feel animalistic, right now! Keep going! I’m s-so fucking close!”

Alston bit his lip, smiling as he continued to slide in and out of his wife’s tight wet passage. He loved when she swore; even as Marcus he hadn’t done it much, having abandoned the speech of his peasant youth quite deliberately. But when it came out in the bedroom, it was a delight to hear, and more than enough to get him going.

Alston reached forward and cupped her breast with one hand, pinching her large nipples and making her moan, using his other hand for balance. He then caressed her belly, touching it while never losing the motion of their intercourse.

“You’re s-so beautiful, Madeline. I love how pregnant you’ve become.”

“S-say it again! Gods, it sounds sweet to hear.”

“So full with our child. I want to put another one in you. I want to get you knocked up with a beautiful set of twins, next.”

“Oh Gods, that’s so - ohhhhh! Yess! Yessss, my love! Yesss!”

They came, and once more she whimpered as ropes of his warm issue flooded into her. She squeezed him with her inner muscles, taking as many bursts of pleasure as she could, and only then did he remove himself and help her down to her side, whereupon he spooned himself against her, caressing her stomach. It didn’t take long for the baby to wake from all the motion and begin stirring.

“I never get tired of feeling this,” he murmured.

She moved his hand to a spot with even more activity. “Try being me,” she mused. “And try sleeping with it.”

“Don’t tell me you don’t enjoy it. I see you smiling when you think I’m not looking. Always touching your belly. At the training grounds the other day you didn’t even see me win the bout against Harold - I won three out of five and you were so preoccupied with our little one!”

She blushed, not that he could see it. He raised a hand to cup her breasts, playing with them idly.

“I was just - ahhh - distracted. Look, I suppose it is nice. I just wish he slept at the same time I do.”

“Still convinced it’s a boy?”

“He’s a bloody athlete in there, so I’d say yes, my darling knight.”

“Oh, darling knight? I like that. I like that a lot.”

He continued to squeeze and caress her large chest, occasionally roaming to her stomach but always returning to them.

“And I can tell what you like a lot, right now.”

“What can I say? I’ve learned to appreciate a good pair of breasts since becoming a man, and yours are still the best.”

“They’re bigger. Yet again.”

“Milk will be coming in soon.”

Madeline paused, a little embarrassed. “That talk about you getting me pregnant again?”

It was Alston’s turn to blush. He moved his hand back to her stomach, relishing the little movements of his baby within. “It was just talk, my love. No need to read into it.”

“But it did . . . arouse you?”

“. . . yes. It did. Sorry if I spoiled the mood.”

Madeline said nothing further. She didn’t want to admit a strange truth that had spilled over her like a revelation in those final moments of the sexual act. Admitting it would be a humiliation, even for her present circumstances.

Because the idea of being impregnated again had seemed so, so wonderful in that brief window. And a small part of her still felt warm at the prospect.

To Be Continued . . .