Princess - Damsel in Distress

Frederick’s spurs gently prodded his horse’s side as he pressed on through the forest. By now he had grown used to the sounds around him – his equipment clapping against his side, the distant sounds of birds, and the rustle of the leaves above him. The light of the sun was barely visible through the thick canopy, but even so, the knight knew that the day would draw to an end soon. He only hoped he could reach his goal by sundown. Determined, he continued his speedy pace, his tired horse beating a rhythmic trot into the wet ground.

He was one of many young knights eager to prove their worth in the kingdom. A knight-errant, Frederick was keen to win either glory or love in his quests. When rumours started to spread about a lonely princess from a far away land, locked in a tower on the borders of the kingdom, he knew two things: that he would find her, and that he would find her first. He set off immediately from the inn he had been staying in and had been travelling solidly for the week since. If he was successful, this quest could make him into the knight that Frederick knew he was destined to be.  As he broke suddenly from the cover of the trees, he was relieved to find the vague directions he had been given were correct. He could spy the tower, standing alone in a clearing, surrounded by twisting dark trees. As he lifted the visor of his helmet, a smile crept to his lips. It was exactly as described. The tower was the only building for miles around, almost unreachable, and perfectly hidden. Frederick knew he must have been the first knight here. He squinted his eyes, trying to focus on the small windows set into its worn stone exterior. This far away, it was difficult to see any signs of life. There was no thin plume of smoke from its spindly chimneys. The pathway here was overgrown, the route long since abandoned. Frederick wasn’t sure if his eyes were deceiving him, but in the fading light he thought he caught the briefest flicker of light from the highest, smallest window. Was someone trying to light a fireplace? He slammed his visor down with a metallic creak, spurring his weary horse onwards once more. If there really was a princess imprisoned in the tower, she would have to be there.

Despite his horse’s protestations, he felt that he was moving faster in this final stretch on his quest than ever, flying across the clearing with the wind behind him. Now that the end was in sight, he felt a burst of motivation. Much to his shame, throughout his travels he had sometimes felt that he had lost his faith, that he was on a fool’s errand while the better, more successful knights would be able to lap up the glory in his stead. He feared that he would be lost forever in the forest, and that the rumoured tower would be just that – a rumour, designed to trick the gullible into blindly following it. But now that with every hoofbeat the tower grew closer, by the time the sun set he knew he would have his prize.

Soon, he had dismounted, tethering his horse to the stump of a tree. He hastily grabbed a carrot from his saddlebag, feeding it to the horse which stared at him with weary black eyes. Frederick didn’t look up at the tower behind him. A part of him hoped that the princess would be watching and see his kindness to his noble steed. First impressions count, he thought to himself as he turned back to the tower, a smile on his face. Before him was a heavy oak door, cast iron knocker tangled with weeds that the young knight brushed away. Pressing on the door, it creaked open, the fading sunlight casting his silhouette far across the room. He kept his gauntleted hand on the hilt of his sword as he entered. He couldn’t imagine anyone leaving a princess unguarded, and it was always worth being prepared. He was in a large circular room, a set of spiral stairs leading up to the level above. He could see rats scurry away into the shadows as the light burst in, dashing behind old boxes and barrels that no doubt once held ample supplies for whatever the previous owner of the tower had in mind.

“Hello?” Frederick called out, his voice cracking as he spoke. He coughed to clear his throat. Without realising it, it had been several days since he last said anything to anyone, asking directions from some lumber workers on the edge of the forest. There was no response from the tower or its expected occupants. Frederick deftly used his fire striker to light one of the wall mounted torches, removing it from its sconce. With his sword held in one hand and the torch in the other, he pressed onwards, confident.

The stairs twisted as he walked, his leather boots making soft shuffling noises across the dusty flagstones. The knight emerged in another room; a large dining table having sat unused for years in its centre. Various stools and benches were scattered around, and Frederick poked at one inquisitively with his boot. A tapestry hung on the wall, but as he raised his torch to see it, he realised it was as moth-eaten and worn as everything else in the room. Whatever it once said or depicted was now beyond recognition. Carefully, he moved over to the window, and could spy his horse loyally munching on the grass beneath his hooves. He could tell he was about halfway up the tower. The highest room and his princess were almost in his grasp. He turned back to the stairs and continued his ascent.

Soon, he reached another heavy door. Frederick took a deep breath. He had been thinking about this moment for what seemed liked endless days in the saddle, but now that he was here he felt lost for words. Trying to refocus, he knocked on the door, his metal gauntlets ringing loudly against the solid wood. “My name is Frederick, my lady! I am a knight of the realm, here to rescue you!” he said in as brave a voice as he could muster. There was no response from the other side of the door, but he thought he could hear the rustle of fabric as someone inside the room moved. Whether the sound was real or just his hopeful mind, Frederick didn’t want to consider. He mounted the torch on the wall and pushed open the door with a grin.

Inside, Frederick found no one. The room was empty. It was better furnished and cleaned than the rest of the tower, with a large bed beside the window and a bookcase full of books quickly catching his eye, but there was no sign of the princess he had been expecting, despite how sure he was he had just heard someone. Disheartened, he sheathed his sword with a sigh. He had come all this way for nothing. Just then, the door slammed shut behind him, jolting him to his senses.

Frederick tried at the door handle, hoping that the gentle breeze flowing through the window and causing the silk covering the four-poster bed to wave had shut the door. As he twisted and pulled at the handle, the door was stuck fast. “Open up!” he yelled, his voice bouncing off of the impregnable door. Balling his hands into fists, he tried to hammer on it – more to make a noise than to punch a hole through the thick wood. Running out of options, the knight drew his sword, trying to make some dent in the wood with his pommel, but it was similarly useless. All his strength and training was for nothing. He marched over to the window, past the bed, and looked outside.

He was far higher up than he thought, his horse now little more than a miniature far beneath him. He could see far above the treeline, and in the setting sun thought that he could see the thatch roofs of the lumber camp, many miles away. Frederick had expected to see some vagrant dashing out of the tower after somehow slipping past him, but he couldn’t see anyone emerging. Either whatever had pushed and locked the door was still in the tower, or it hadn’t been pushed by anyone. Struck by a curiosity, Frederick went back over to the door, giving it a stern look. The practise of magick was far beyond his knightly training of chivalry and swordplay, so he wasn’t entirely sure what he was looking for. The door defined reason, so it had to be spelled in some way. He knew that even with a battering ram he wouldn’t be able to breach it and escape. Frederick could feel sweat building up inside his helmet, more from stress than from the exertion of climbing the tower. He looked around the room once more. It was similar to the bedrooms of the highest nobility which he had never been privy to, though hoped to attain one day. There was a large, opulent bed, a well-stocked bookcase, a wardrobe set into the stonework, a small dressing table, and a magnificent harp in the corner of the room. None of which would help him escape.

Walking over to the window once more, the knight yelled out into the darkness. There was no response, save that from a distant owl, beginning its nightly hunt through the forest. Frederick looked down at his horse, willing it somehow to stare back at him, if only to acknowledge his plight, but the horse continued feeding. He knew everything he needed to survive was in the saddlebags: rope, candles, and many more days’ worth of food. The thought of food sent an uncomfortable rumble through his stomach. He had eaten well initially in his quest, but in the past few days had tried to ration out his food. He had realised, soon after passing the lumber camp, that he didn’t have enough food to feed a potentially starving princess on the way home, so made sure to ration out his dried meats and nuts. Grimly, Frederick realised that he had last eaten when he broke his fast this morning, and there wasn’t a morsel in the bedroom that had become his prison. If he didn’t find a way out, he would starve.

Frederick breathed slow, trying to focus. He had had a long day of stress and exercise, and he knew he wasn’t thinking properly. Laying down on the bed, a sudden tiredness took hold of him as the adrenaline and excitement of meeting his princess faded. The knight had just enough time to strip off his armour before he fell into an exhausted sleep.

Frederick awoke to birdsong, his eyes flitting open to a small bluebird that pecked at the stone windowsill. By the time he stirred, it was gone. He let out a long, tired yawn. Something about his stomach felt strange, and he pulled back the covers to inspect it curiously. There was not the gnawing pit he had expected when he woke up after a day without eating. Instead, he felt full – not uncomfortably so, but content enough that he could comfortably go about his day without worrying. The young knight got out of bed, feeling the cold stone beneath his bare feet and tried to take stock of his situation.

He wasn’t sure how many more days he could survive in the tower. The chance of rescue was slim. Only two groups of people knew he was even here: the lumbermen, who Frederick imagined would be much too busy to investigate his quest, and any other knight who had heard him leave on his quest, whose help he would refuse as a matter of honour. Frederick, despite his situation, was determined not to just be some damsel in distress. Either way, neither would rush to save him, if they even knew he was trapped. Escaping by himself was the only option.

Assured, the knight went to go put on his equipment and armour, lacing up the heavy gambeson he wore beneath his plate, before fastening each piece individually. Each strap and string felt unwieldy in his hands. By now, he was well used to donning his armour without a squire’s help, but now that he tried to move in his armour it felt odd, uncomfortable. The pauldrons dug uncomfortably into his neck, the chausses too loose around his legs. It was as if he had reduced in size, or the clothing had grown in his sleep. Frustrated, Frederick tossed the clothing aside, fastening his gambeson around his waist in an improvised loincloth to at least preserve some of his dignity – not that anyone could see him.

He took up his sword and went to the door, determined to batter it down again now that he wasn’t exhausted. His thoughts of magick the night before he put down to tiredness speaking. Gripping his sword, his hands already ached from the weight before he had even swung it. He was well versed in swordplay and intimately familiar with the heft of his weapon, but now it felt heavy, no better than a club. When he tried to use it against the door, his blows with the pommel were even weaker than earlier, his strength having gone. He even kicked at it weakly, but the strikes barely made the door rattle in its frame. His frustration growing, Frederick tossed the sword aside, the metal clattering uselessly across the stone floor. Frederick caught a flash of light from the mirror, set upon the dressing table. Wiping away the layers of thick dust with the edge of his hand, he looked himself over.

The mirror showed him what he feared, and what he felt. He had lost weight. The strong bulk of his muscles had gone, leaving him with a thin body that reminded him of his physique before he begun his training as a younger man. He poked at his ribs, almost visible beneath his soft, unblemished skin. The coarse hair that had once dotted across his body was gone, from his chest hair to his stubble. All that remained was a small patch just above his genitals. It was as if time had reversed, the years of toiling and questing having gone in an instant. Frederick knew it couldn’t be just down to his diet or sickness on his journey. He was eating less than usual, but nothing that would cause such a drastic change. He found himself pacing around the room, walking the borders of his one room prison. Boredom was overwhelming him, with nothing to do but wait for rescue. The bookcase sometimes caught his eye, and he was tempted to try and get into one of the myriad books that were on display. Their brightly coloured spines were trying to entice him, but he had never found much joy in reading, outside of practical manuals. Eventually, Frederick decided to exercise, to at least do something to try to build his muscle back. He knew he should try and conserve his energy until rescue arrived, but between starving a fraction faster or throwing himself out of the window just to have something new to do, he felt he had no other choice.

After a few attempts at a press ups, his arms crumpled beneath him, and his chest thumped into the floor with a thud. His breath was ragged, exhausted as he lay there, staring up at the ceiling. A press up wasn’t difficult for him to do, Frederick knew this. His strength had left him almost in its entirety. The man dragged himself to the edge of the bed, resting his head on the windowsill as he tried to refocus. He knew he needed to come up with some plan of escape, but he lacked the energy to think, let alone exercise. The day wore on, and Frederick found himself staring out of the window, his eyes lazily moving from his horse, still as docile as ever, and rough path he had taken through the forest, but no rescue appeared. The sun slowly made its way across the sky, and eventually Frederick felt the need to sleep come to him – a merciful respite from the boredom. He tossed aside his clothing and sunk underneath the silken covers.

Once more, Frederick awoke to the dawn chorus of birds. The expected pang of hunger was missing again. Slowly, he was growing used to the expectation, reasoning that his body was acting strangely with the stress of the quest. As he pulled the covers down from his neck, the silk brushed across his nipples, sending a sensitive jolt through him, eliciting a gasp from the young knight. Looking down, Frederick could barely believe what he was seeing: on his chest, two small breasts had formed. He poked them with a confused finger, not realising his cracked, dry nails were now manicured to perfection. The flesh beneath his nipples was soft and pliable, transformed during the night. A part of Frederick knew that he should be wracked with panic at the sudden change in his body, but he found it surprisingly easy to stifle this fear. No matter what was happening, he knew he had to stay calm if he wanted to survive his stay in the tower and break free. He got up on his feet and realised his centre of gravity had shifted. Running his hands along his hips, he realised that more fat had built up in his rear. It wasn’t a womanly behind by any metric, but the subtle curves it gave him, combined with the small breasts, was making his appearance almost androgynous.

As he stood, Frederick felt something soft tickling at his neck, soon growing used to the feeling. His closely cropped dark hair had changed. Now it was a glorious ginger, tumbling down his neck to just touch his upper back. Running his fingers through it, he made a mental note to try and brush it later. He had never brushed his hair properly before – it had never been long enough for that, but the thought of slowly, methodically brushing his hair was now oddly enticing to him. Looking around the room for his clothes and equipment, Frederick realised that they were missing. The room was by now utterly familiar to him, and he searched it all. His armour, his clothing, his sword, all had vanished during the night. Curiously, he looked out the window to notice his horse had disappeared too, though there was still the length of rope he had used to fasten it to the stump. The cold air of the room suddenly felt all the colder on his newly sensitive skin, and without his clothing Frederick began to shiver.

Opening the wardrobe, he was bombarded with the array of colourful dresses, almost begging to be tried on. They were all in fantastic condition, the dyes still bright and the seams all stitched beautifully. Determined, Frederick pushed them aside until he found something more gender neutral than the opulent dresses: a simple cotton chemise. With a sigh, he slipped it on, the garment gathered at the neck and wrists but leaving most of his body covered in the soft, flowing fabric. The small breasts that had sprouted were safely covered beneath the fabric. He took a few more steps around the room, strangely enjoying the liberating feeling of his legs touching and the fabric trailing behind him. He even found himself doing an uncharacteristic twirl, softly laughing.

At the dresser, he grabbed a brush, stealing a glance at himself in the mirror. His stubble was gone, his face having softened, but Frederick found he didn’t mind so much. Walking over to the window, he began to brush his long ginger hair, softly humming a nameless tune as he watched the world go by. Inexplicably, Frederick didn’t feel the boredom he had felt before when he had stared out of the window. Slowly, a feeling of hope came over to him, growing with each brush stroke. He wouldn’t have to break out if he could wait to be rescued. Help would come, he knew it. Eventually, he slid underneath the covers once more, a satisfied smile on his suddenly poutier lips.

When Frederick awoke the next day, he got out of the bed with a smile. His first night in the tower was frustrating and terrifying, but now he had spent several nights here, he was feeling far more cheerful. The tower was small, of course, but it had everything he could ever need. The knight noticed in the mirror that his breasts had grown larger, filling with fat and softer than ever. Strangely, as he watched the chemise hanging tight across them, he felt proud of the development. His hips had also filled out during the night, becoming wider and childbearing. He blushed at the thought, his cheeks flashing rosy in embarrassment. His body was almost completely that of a woman’s, with the exception of his manhood which had shrunk to a knub between his soft, hairless legs. Once, the sight of his masculinity so diminished would have filled him with fear, but somehow Frederick found he didn’t care anymore. His new body was soft and sensitive, something he never knew he had been missing.

Humming to himself, Frederick went over to the wardrobe. Earlier he had opened the wardrobe out of an essential need for warmth, but now he looked at the dresses with new eyes. They were all gorgeous. As he examined dress after dress of expensive fabric, he somehow knew that they would all fit him perfectly. He gasped as he found the perfect one – a luxurious velvet dress in a bold green, with slitted sleeves and a square neckline. Frederick couldn’t wait any longer. He slipped the dress on, slowly lacing up the sleeves and back with difficulty. Quietly, he wished to have handmaids to assist him, but stuck in the tower he had all the time in the world. At the bottom of the wardrobe, he found a pair of square toed tiny shoes which he slid eagerly onto his now tiny feet. The shoes, like everything else, fit him perfectly, as if tailored for his soft, curvy body. Frederick made a few laps around the room, feeling the weight of the fabric as it moved around him, the long dress twirling and twisting around his feet. The knight felt something he had never felt before – he felt pretty.

In some way, Frederick knew the outfit wasn’t quite complete, and he knew just what would finish it. There was a full range of lotions and powders atop the table which at first seemed as foreign to him as needlework, but now he knew the purposes of each and every one of the small vials. Frederick began applying the make up as if he had done it for his whole life. His eyebrows were refined and plucked; his lips highlighted in the softest of reds. In the drawers of the dressing table, he found two tiny pearl earrings which he poked through his now pierced ears with ease. Next, he found a heavy golden necklace, pressing it tight against his thin neck and fastening it behind him with his precise fingertips. The metal felt cold against his delicate skin, sending a shiver throughout his body. With an appraising look in the mirror, Frederick was satisfied. He was beautiful. Standing up, he now saw the room properly. At first it had appeared boring, not fit for a knight, but now he saw it for what it truly was – a sanctuary. It had everything a young maiden could want or need.

Excitedly, he went over to the harp. As his slimmer fingers gently touched on the strings, he was surprised to find it still in tune after so many years of abandonment. He sat on the stool and began to play. Frederick had never played the harp before, but the notes were flowing from his fingers like a master, each one ringing crisp and clear in the stone room. He felt a burning desire in his heart, a fervent need to sing along with the song he incredulously found himself playing. His voice was beautiful, a high soprano, the perfect accompaniment to the harp. Frederick passed the morning by with song after song, each one more enjoyable than the last. He didn’t know where the knowledge of the music and lyrics had come from, him being far more used to bawdy tavern songs, but he didn’t care.

By the afternoon, he decided to rest his weary fingers. He ran them along the spines of the books, picking out a simple romance story with a smile. Before arriving at the tower, Frederick would never have chosen a book like that, believing it far more the purview of women. Now, as he settled down on the bed with the midday sun illuminating each page, he was hooked. It was a tale of gossiping, scandals, and above all: true love. The only thing that stopped him finishing the book that day was the setting sun. Sad he would have to wait until the morning, Frederick placed the book beside the bed.

As he slept, Frederick dreamt of a world completely different to his own as a young questing knight. He dreamt of needlework, of sitting in a castle with his fellow women and spending the day talking and laughing together, a gentle, loving friendship between them all. Gone were the thoughts of violence, war, and adventure. Frederick wanted nothing more than peace and luxury until the end of his days.

The bird at the windowsill stirred him awake once more before flying away. Still half dreaming, Frederick’s dainty hands began to wander beneath the covers. Almost unconsciously, he found himself gripping the diminished manhood that was all that was left of his masculinity. With a murmured sigh, he began to rub at it. Slowly, it began to change. Folds of skin formed beneath it, painlessly peeling open as a vagina formed, unchanged by the rigours of childbirth or a wearisome life. Still dreaming, Frederick found himself shoving his testes inside of the slit, where they blossomed inside into a pair of fertile ovaries, more unfamiliar organs sprouting after them. Frederick felt a burst of pleasure as his manhood reduced further, becoming a tiny clitoris at the top of the maiden’s new vagina. Just as the pleasure rose even further, she stopped herself, jolting awake. What was she thinking? She had to save herself for her husband.

There was a cry of crows outside of her window and the princess looked out. An armoured man had just emerged from the treeline, riding a somewhat familiar looking horse. A rush of excitement came over her, and one word was at the forefront of her mind: rescue! While she was keen to stare forlornly from the window at the fast-approaching man, she knew she had more important things to attend to. The princess dashed around the room, making it as presentable as she could. Taking the dress from the day before, she slipped it on, slowly growing used to the puzzle of the many laces and strings that were required for such an elaborate, expensive garment. This was what she had been waiting for all this time. Her hands shook with glee as she dusted on some makeup, knowing that she had to look her best for her saviour. Soon, she was ready. She lounged sedately on the bed.

After a moment, there was a heavy knock at the door.

“My lady, I’m here to rescue you!” came a young, bold voice, muffled by both the door and a helmet. The man pushed the door open, and the princess gasped in joy.

“My saviour! Thank you so much!” she said, rising from the bed, the sunlight behind her making her hair appear glowing. The knight entered the room, kneeling down respectfully before her. He took off his plumed helmet, revealing a youthful, handsome face.

“My lady, I am Sir Gaunry, I had heard there was a princess trapped in this tower!  I have been questing for many days to find you. I had never expected the rumours to be true, or for the princess to be so radiant. Truly, the rumours did you a disservice by inadequately capturing your beauty”. The princess felt her cheeks grow red at the compliments. She extended one hand to the knight.

“Thank you, fair knight. You truly are noble and gallant to have come all this way”, she said, her voice prim and pure, her words as if lifted from the book she was reading the night before. “Whatever can I do to repay such heroics?” she said with a measured smile.

“Perhaps one thing, my lady”, he said, standing. He was taller than the princess, and moved closer to her. The princess did not back away – she wanted this. “A kiss, for my efforts”. His gloved hand went to her cheek, and the princess let him kiss her, chastely on the lips. She could feel the blushing returning now, all the more.

“I have enough food too take you back to the city, my princess”, he said, gesturing to the horse tied to a stump outside, laden with bags of food. “If you’ll accompany me, that is”, he said with a smile.

“Of course!” she responded, taking his hand.

“What is your name, my princess? I should like to know the name of one so beautiful”, the young knight asked, beginning the long walk back down the stairs.

“Princes Frederica”, she said, ready to start her life anew with her rescuer.

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A really fun commission to do for username93845! Sorry for the lack of posts recently, I've been on holiday so had a week or so off from writing. Now I'm back things should be back to the normal schedule of a story every couple of weeks. Thanks for your patience!