Knight & Lady, Part 5 (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 5: Faster Changes

The magic was speeding up, much to the pair’s embarrassment. Each morning brought new revelations, and it was obvious that the married pair were going to be fully exchanging roles in days to come - the Gods knew that enough people had already mistaken Marcus for a woman from a distance, and even some had viewed Astrid as a man, especially now that her muscles were sprouting, giving her a more manly frame.

When they travelled back across the Jade Sea, the pair largely stayed in their cabins. Astrid no longer got seasick, at least, but the pair were growing increasingly uncomfortable in their clothing as more developments persisted. On the final day, Astrid woke to find her husband huffing with annoyance at the side of the bed. The first thing she noticed was that his hair was now black - it had been going that way for some days now, but now the change was obvious in its completeness.

“I didn’t realise you were into dark-haired women, husband,” she said, teasing him a little.

He didn’t turn to face her, clearly preoccupied with something.

“Are you alright, love?” she asked, observing his now-hairless back. She caressed it, sampling the pleasant feel of it. Her arm had more muscle on it now, and was hairy besides. She would have to give up on shaving soon - like her husband’s head of hair, it always grew back unnaturally quickly.

“I am . . . beset by another change, my love,” Marcus said, his voice anxious.

“Is it your face?”

“That is part of it, no doubt. But this is . . . something else. Please, do not make fun.”

“I won’t, you know I won’t.”

“Still, promise me.”

“Just turn around already, dear Marcus!”

He sighed, slight shoulders sagging, and shifted. Astrid’s eyes widened.

“Oh, I see. Indeed, that is a change.”

“I appear to have . . . grown. Overnight.”

“Yes. That much is obvious. Twice the size they were before, I’d say.”

Marcus covered his chest, his even paler features bringing out the cute red blush in his soft cheeks.

“I told you not to make fun!”

“I wasn’t,” she said, still looking at his chest even as he tried in vain to prevent them being seen. In cupping them, a line of cleavage had formed, only further emphasising that he now had a bustline. “I was just . . . surprised, is all.”

“They feel enormous.”

She snorted. It was a sound she felt more comfortable making now that she no longer had to keep up a pretence of being ladylike. “Please, you’re not that big. My chest is bigger. Well, was bigger. I confess to a little jealousy.”

“Jealousy?”

“Well, I miss the ‘girls,’ as it were. How do they feel?”

He cupped them again, lifting one and then the other, measuring their weight.

“Not too heavy. But . . . they do insist on shifting about.”

“They’ll do that. We’ll have to get you a support.”

“A support?”

Astrid smiled, trying to comfort her husband even through her own disbelief. “Of course, my love. You’re not immensely ample or anything, but you’re not ‘flat’ either.”

“They feel like the size of apples.”

“They’re not that big! We’ll get you a wrap. It will give them some support, and we can tighten it to flatten them if you wish to pass as male. Though, I see other parts of you may defy that now . . .”

Her gaze fell to his midriff, which looked toned but no longer displayed clear abdominal muscles. His waist had thinned noticeably, and his hips . . . they made her think of the ultimate outcome of the wish.

“. . . given you appear to be developing more child-bearing proportions.”

Marcus groaned. “Please, don’t even bring that up! This is already shameful enough.”

Astrid gave a wry grin. “Well, this is partly your fault, you know.”

He raised his face from his hands. “How do you figure that, my love?”

She gave a low giggle. “Well, just that you might recall that we are turning into our own personal fantasies. If your fantasy had a flat chest and mannish frame, you wouldn’t need to worry about it!”

“Oh, har har,” he said. 

“I was just thinking, actually, that I had no idea that you were into raven-haired women.”

“I - how did you? - oh, this damned hair! It’s black now!”

He pulled a lock of it in front of his eyes.

“And long again! And getting longer!”

“Perhaps I should have dyed mine. I thought you liked my ‘flame-hair.’”

At this, Marcus shifted closer, took her face, and kissed it.

“I do love your hair,” he whispered in his androgynous voice. “So much so. It’s just . . . I always fancied dark hair. Slightly curly, perhaps. Or wavy, might be a better way to describe it. Don’t think that doesn’t mean that-”

“Oh, I’m not offended,” she said. “I imagine I’ll take on some traits that might embarrass you.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You are getting taller . . . wait, will you be taller than me? I thought I was quite tall enough!”

“You were! You were! But . . . well, I like tall men. And I like blonde hair, evidently. See?”

She gestured to her own lightening hair. Indeed, Marcus could see that it was becoming a strawberry blonde. He frowned.

“I shall miss that hair. I vow to see it again, once this is done, and I have . . .”

He gulped. Both of them glanced down at the same time. The pair preferred to sleep naked together, and always had. Now, the growth between Astrid’s thighs brought an awkwardness as well. It was a couple of inches long now, and thickening at that. She had to push it down when needing to pee, and occasionally it became slightly hard when she thought about her feminising husband. Her lower lips were starting to seal shut, the excess skin becoming a sac that would no doubt house a pair of testes from which her seed would be formed.

“Once I have b-born a child,” he whispered, finishing his sentence.

“We don’t have to worry about that, yet, husband,” Astrid said, comforting him. “Our changes are far from over.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” he said, glancing down at his bare chest, where his bosom was looking quite pleasant. “Speaking of, did my . . . size always please you?”

Astrid couldn’t help but laugh. “Every day, or were my cries of joy not enough for you?”

“So I suppose you won’t be ending up any bigger than I was, then?”

This time it was Astrid’s turn to blush. “I, well, um . . .”

“You’re joking!”

Astrid covered her cheeks. “It was just a fantasy in my head, husband. A woman always wanted a well-endowed lover, and the mind goes places, and . . . it was just a fantasy!”

Marcus crossed his arms across his chest, accidentally rubbing his sensitive nipples.

“This is going to be quite the embarrassment, isn’t it?”

But for once, he actually laughed, and she joined in. Sometimes, laughter was all you could do in the face of such strangeness.

***

By the time the sea journey was finished, their bodies had changed yet further. Astrid was right; Marcus needed to wear a wrap around his chest. It had grown further, and now he was equal in size to Astrid’s former bosom. Not that she had ever had a gigantic pair or anything, but they were well sized. The problem was, his bustline still ached with the promise of future growth, as surely as his hips did so too, desiring to widen, and Astrid’s form yearned to grow muscle and a far more impressive and manly member.

“We’ll need to start dressing our proper roles,” Astrid said after they disembarked and purchased a carriage trip with their coin. 

“What makes you say that?”

“Um, hello? Have you seen how we compare lately? Or did the docksellers calling me ‘sir’ and you ‘ma’am’ not tip you off? Besides, I’m starting to feel that skirts and dresses might be . . . a bit of a risk. Um, sort of like now.”

Marcus cocked his head. He was next to his wife in the carriage. The two had kissed and held one another for some time, the need for closeness coming upon them, but now she had stopped the passion to discuss this.

“What do you mean by ‘risk’?” he asked.

“Well, um, you seem to have . . . excited me,” Astrid said, her cheeks now in full red bloom. She straightened the skirt of her dress to demonstrate this fact. Well, straightened it but for one particular place that had risen to the occasion.

“Oh,” Marcus said, now blushing himself. “It seems you’ve grown, again.”

“Just like you,” she noted, indicating his chest. “Your wraps are getting less able to disguise you.”

Marcus sighed. “From great stalwart knight to a dame with a bosom. Not exactly the future I had anticipated.”

“Well, having a cock between my legs isn’t what I imagined either, my love. We’ll adapt. How about this - at the next city, we get some garb to suit our new bodies? That way we can have a few days to still be fully ourselves. Besides, if we, um, develop any further, it would be best to wait for it.”

“Afraid of breaking open your tunic from all that muscle?” Marcus teased.

“Only as afraid as you are of suddenly bursting your bosom out.”

Marcus snickered. “Well, here’s hoping I don’t grow too much then. I don’t think I could handle the embarrassment.”

***

The pair woke in the town of Yornis, nestled comfortably in bed, in a small but quaint room they had hired. Their naked forms were pressed lovingly against one another as they often were, but something new had entered the equation. It was not uncommon for a hardness to develop between them, the pleasurable thoughts of sleep mingling with the warmth of one another’s touch. It was uncommon, however, for that hardness to come from Astrid.

“Mhmmm,” Marcis moaned softly, his lips now a little fuller. He squirmed slowly against his lover, his barely-conscious self savouring the sensation of that hard pole against his soft flesh. “That’s n-nice.”

Astrid woke slowly, similarly pleasured. “Ahhh, my l-love. You’re feeling quite - oh, it’s me!”

Marcus and she woke quickly at that moment, and each member practically scurried to the other side of the bed, holding up a sheet in Astrid’s case and fur covering in Marcus’. Immediately, it was obvious that both had changed further in the night: Marcus’ hair now fell to his shoulders in thick waves of darkest midnight black. His eyes had become a pale, gorgeous blue, and his face was delicate yet refined. His lips were enticing from Astrid’s perspective, full and ripe for kissing. His cheekbones were becoming pronounced, though the baby fat on his cheeks gave evidence for his rejuvenation into a younger age, perhaps only twenty years old or so.

Astrid, on the other hand, had only become more manly. He had scruff upon his cheeks and chin and upper lip, and his hair had become clearly blonde. His shoulders were wide - almost as wide as Marcus’ had been, if not equal in size - and his neck muscles and Adam’s apple had also developed. Her once regal jawline had remained regal, just in a more male fashion. Her eyes had turned from emerald green to blue also, but unlike Marcus’ pair, these were not pale and icy, but brilliantly blue like the seashore beneath the warmest summer sun.

Both individuals took in their other half for a moment, gobsmacked.

“Astrid, you look -”

“Marcus, you appear -”

“Most handsome.”
 “Most beautiful.”

They both blushed at the same time. The stirring feelings they were experiencing were both familiar and unfamiliar - attraction to one another remained, but somehow attached to a sex they had never found arousing in that sense.

“I think I woke us,” Astrid said, looking down behind the sheet that covered her at the rather erect manhood that now stood tall and firm upon her. “As you once often woke us.”

“Yes, I thought it was that,” Marcus said. “Sorry for, um, squealing like that. It was a bit-”

“Ladylike?”

“I was going to say unnecessary. I just never thought I’d feel that against me. We’ve changed again. Oh Gods, I certainly have.”

Astrid was curious. Gingerly, Marcus lowered the sheet.

“Please don’t make fun, though I know you will. But overnight I appear to have . . . well, I’ve grown once more.” He spoke in a voice that was demure and shy in a way that Astrid found strangely attractive.

“You appear shorter.”

“Um, not there. I mean I’ve grown. Even more. Again.”

He lowered his fur covering completely, letting it fall to the floor and reveal his nakedness. Astrid actually gasped.

“Oh, by the Gods!”

“They’re not that big!”

“They’re . . . they’re not small, husband. Not in the least. You’ve quite outdone me, that’s for sure.”

Marcus frowned, covering them. It only had the effect of emphasising them more, due to their size. They were like ripe cantaloupes upon him, full and pert and large. Certainly, there was a heaviness and a jiggliness to them. His nipples had also become larger; pink and perfect and womanly.

“I didn’t intend to become this big,” he grumbled, still cupping the breasts. “They’re heavy.”

“I imagine they would be,” Astrid remarked, finding it hard not to look at them. She was suddenly quite aware of another change that had happened for her as well. She didn’t even need to lower the sheet; it made itself known by pressing noticeably against it.

“By the heavens,” Marcus said. “You’ve grown too, just as I’ve withered to nothing.”

“I, ah, didn’t intend to be this big either,” Astrid said.

Marcus dared to lower a hand to his own crotch. A small passage had formed there. It was not complete, but it was clear the vestigial remnants of his member were shrinking to form a clitoris. His testes were already evaporating, becoming part of his hood.

“It would seem we’re both on the verge of becoming the other sex completely,” he said. He touched his neck. “Even my voice . . .”

“It’s rather lovely, you know,” Astrid said. “It has a . . . musical quality to it. A sort of lightness.”

“And yours sounded almost deeper than mine was.”

Astrid grinned awkwardly. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. This will just . . . take a lot of getting used to.” He stepped forward, emotion clearly bubbling in his eyes a little. With his hands free of his increased bust, his breasts bounced freely with each step. He frowned again.

“That will take getting used to as well. It will-”

He couldn’t even finish the sentence. Tears erupted from his eyes as surely as a sob escaped his mouth. Astrid rounded the bed to her lover’s side and held him against her. He was noticeably smaller than her now, and she was still quite hard against his nakedness. The swell of her husband’s hips was pleasing, as was the flat of his stomach and the rondure nature of his rear. But she didn’t relish these just yet; more than anything she simply felt that it was her role now to do what he had once done for her: be his protector and comforter.

“It’s okay,” she said. “Let it out. I know how it feels. Let it out.”

Marcus did, holding his wife, feeling his own prominent bust against the flat of her chest. There was something comforting in that too.

“I’m a woman now,” he said. “There’s some finishing touches to go, but my . . . passage is there. A tunnel. A feminine flower. A womanhood. Whatever you call it. I guess . . . I’m mourning my manhood.”

“And I’m clearly a man now,” Astrid said. “I too will mourn that. But we know it is only for a time, my love.”

“Don’t remind me. I don’t want to think about the next stage just yet. Besides, there’s still some change to go.”

They held each other a little longer in silence.

“I think you were right,” Marcus finally whispered. “I will need a new shirt.”

“Honey, you will need a whole wardrobe for that figure.”

Marcus snorted. “Tell that to the elephant’s trunk sliding up against my stomach right now.”

***

“I feel like I say this everyday, but do not laugh.”

“The same is true of you to me, Marcus. My Marcia.”

“I don’t like Marcia,” Marcus said as he completed his fitting. 

“Matilda? Millicent? Madeline?”

Marcus considered this. “I don’t . . . mind Madeline.”

“Good! I shall take Aidan, then. I rather like Aidan. Or Alston?”

Marcus considered this also. “Alston,” he said. “It suits you.”

“Then let’s see if we suit ourselves,” Astrid said. “Are you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

“One.”

“Two.”

“Three!”

The pair emerged from the separate rooms of their quarters, meeting in the living space they had rented. Both were now adorned in new clothing matching their new sexes, though this was the first time wearing them.

“Introducing, Alston,” the new male said, flourishing his hand dramatically. He was wearing a rather expensive and fine-looking red tunic with gold trim, marking him as a noble. It fit his broad shoulders well, as did his fine leather pants that were just tight enough to show the strength of his legs. The undone buttons at the top hinted at his hairy chest, not to mention his muscular pectorals. With a sword at his side - appearances were important, after all - he looked every part the handsome, dashing, and rather powerful male hero.

“How do I look?” he asked.

“You look . . . Gods, you look incredible,” Marcus said, trying not to peer at those muscles. “Like a true knight and noble of Vortis. How . . . how do I look? As . . . as Madeline, I mean?”

Alston’s eyes gleamed, taking in every inch of his feminised husband - wife now, he supposed. The woman before him was unequalled in beauty. She had chosen a simple green travelling dress, one that was not too revealing, though the slight dip at the front meant that enough cleavage was hinted at. A thin cloak was worn over the shoulders, a way for her to conceal her curves, but hiding them was a fruitless ambition on her part: however covered her bust was, it still pronounced itself, rising dramatically with each breath.

“My love,” Marcus breathed, trying to keep his voice steady. “You look . . . I cannot even say.”

“I think you’re saying all you can, dear,” she remarked, flicking her gaze downwards.

Alston realised what Madeline was referring to. “Oh, this damned thing! You can’t blame me for getting like this, can you? You’re a vision!”

“I can blame you for getting so well-endowed, my love. That truly is a monster between your legs!”

“Says the woman with a bust like that! They’ve grown again! I had no idea that you were into women who are so fantastically . . . forward.”

Another round of blushing followed. “I truly didn’t mean for this,” she said, trying to adjust her chest. “Every man likes a good bosom, but to have one of this size! It was just a silly fantasy. I swear, it’s like having two fleshy boulders attached to me.”

Alston was only getting harder again.

“Honey, if you would stop playing with your chest? I only ask because it’s making me quite . . . excited.”

Madeline stopped immediately. “Oh. Yes, I imagine it would. Gods.”

“But you do look beautiful, truly. I - I know this is strange to hear, my love, but I truly am still attracted to you, as much or more than ever. Your hips, your curves, your hair.”

It now fell to below Madeline’s shoulders. They weren’t even aware if the changes were completely finished, though she certainly hoped so. Her breasts were already like that of a tavern wench’s, and a well-endowed tavern wench at that. Even her dress, which was quite loose in places, was oddly tight around her bust. They were each half the size of her own head, it seemed. But when she took her eyes away from the alien sight of her own cleavage, she instead found her gaze falling upon her lover’s broad shoulders, his hairy chest, his square jaw, his delicious forearms. She shivered, causing her bust to jiggle even in the support band.

“I - I find you very attractive too,” she whispered.

Alston stepped forward, one handsome figure approaching one beautiful one, each very amply endowed in their own way. He was over a head taller than his ‘husband’ now, and the way she looked up at him . . .

He kissed her gently, and Madeline found herself giving over to that kiss, for just a moment.

“It’s still too soon,” she whispered. “I - I’m not ready to make a child. Not yet. Gods, I don’t know if I’ll ever be. It’s strange enough being in this weak, tiny, yet very overdeveloped body.”

Alston grinned. “Your fault for liking such busty women.”

“Trust me, I am well aware of how I’ve stepped in it.”

But Alston placed his hand beneath Madeline’s chin, lifting it so that she was looking at him, not her own impressive cleavage.

“I have an idea,” she said. “For tomorrow. A little detour so that we can properly feel at home as Madeline and Alston.”

“Oh, yes?”

“Think of it as a date. Our first date as our new selves. And then . . . we can see where that date takes us.”

“Not to the bedroom yet, I assure you.”

Alston chuckled. “A shame. You know, I’m starting to enjoy picturing you all big and pregnant. You could put those melons of yours to good use!”

“Oh no, you did not just say that!”

Madeline chased her laughing husband around the room. When she caught him, the two fell upon the bed, holding one another, kissing each other, but not daring to go any further. But the attraction, at least, was still very much there, and the curiosity too.

Alston hoped that a date would do her husband-turned-wife good.

Certainly, he had his own hopes for how it might end.

To Be Continued . . .