Synopsis : The warrior woman Brunhilde, She Beast of the North, mightiest warrior in all the Kingdoms, finds herself trapped by winter storms within the mountain stronghold of the arch enemy of the King, the Wizard Gaits. The Wizard offers her a bargain, a truce until winter subsides lest they kill each other within the castles walls. Supremely confident in her abilities, Brune agrees to the bargain with the puny wizard and his pitiful servants, not realizing a subtle trap has been sprung . . .
Story is a very slow burn that features muscle loss, height loss, breast reduction, feminization/princessfication, embarrassment, chastity increase, loss of physical fitness, pudginess, loss of skills, gaining of skills, both slow and rapid physical and mental changes, etc . . .
Have fun!
Edit : In the interest of advertising and increasing interest I have added the above synopsis for new readers.
Author's Note - This is the initial draft of a commission work. Further entries and spell checking to follow. Feel free to comment or speculate, though ultimately decisions about the story will be handled between the comissioner and myself.
– Beast to Beauty - Part I
Consciousness returned to Brunehilde slowly, and then all at once. The first thing she became aware of was the sound of voices, garbled by distance and echo, but still nearby.
She was guarded.
The second was the mildewed odor of a dank cellar.
Underground.
With these two facts established she turned to her third priority, the cold stone against her bare skin. The chill was enough to raise goose flesh all over her arms and legs. Opening her darkness adjusted eyes, Brunehilde, the warrior woman, She-Beast of the North, found herself within a small dim cell barely large enough for her to lay prone.
She was spread eagle, and totally nude. Her exquisite armor and master worked weapons had been taken. No doubt when she had been captured.
That was their first mistake. Her fists curled into balls, nails digging into her palms as the tendons of her forearms rose proud. They could not take away her greatest weapon. So long as she had her body of steel, she would never be truly defeated.
A less resourceful warrior, trapped naked and alone, might have grown restless, might have begun to pace their cage or cursed at the guards. Brune instead restrained her simmering aggression boiling up from deep within her chest and remained still.
Her mountainous breasts rose and fell subtly, vapor breathed between the slight parting of her wide crimson lips. She gave no hint that she was awake.
She waited.
She did not need to wait very long before she heard the scuffing of boots against stone and the sounds of the guards voices growing nearer.
There were no other voice so it was likely that she was the only prisoner in which case . . .
In a fluid movement Brune rose to a crouch balanced on the balls of her feet. Taking stock of the walls she uncoiled her legs, fingers and toes met stone, scrabbling for infinitesimal holds in the crumbling mortar. She managed to find purchase, wedging herself into the corner using the cell’s corner and the thick beam of the door frame.
Just in time.
There was a loud banging, as if a club against iron at the door. Then a dismayed noise as someone peered through the door grate followed by a heated conversation of guttural barks and growls before the door ground open on rusty hinges.
A hunched half clothed and half furred figure stormed into the room, turning its head to and fro, it sniffed the air for clues. Suddenly, looking up, it’s startled bad moon eyes locked with Brune’s own.
Brune let go, and nearly twenty stone of raw muscle and bone came crashing to the ground with earth shaking force. There was a struggle, bare feet slipping and skidding as she wrestled her victim against the wall. Armor and fur rubbing against her bronze flesh.
One powerfully muscled leg swept out, around and then bent at the knee, hooking the beastman’s leg and tripping him. Powerful arms wrapped around shoulders and neck, locking under the line of the jaw. With one strong jerk of her shoulders Brune could snap the beastman’s neck if she so desired.
Yelps and growles from the open door demanded her attention. When Brune looked over her shoulder she was met by a pack of beast men, their yellowed fangs barred and their weapons pointed at her. Their ears were done and their tails stood stiff, trapped between fight and flight they were at their most dangerous.
Brune twisted, swinging her hostage around to use as a shield.
“My weapons and my armor.” Brune grunted. When one of them made a move she barked. “Now!”
The beastmen shifted uncomfortably, licking their lips and looked to one another. Brune tightened her hold around the beastman’s throat, coaxing him to speak.
“We . . . We no have!” The wolfine creature struggled to shape the words around his massive jaws. “We no have your armor!”
“Where is it?”
“M-Master has it!”
“Master?” Brune repeated.
“Geeeeeeitsssss!”
Gaits.
“The Wizard lives?!” Brune growled. Then they had failed to kill him at his tower. She would have to do something about that. “Take me too him.”
“He waits. He waitsss for youuuu.” She let the beastman go, throwing him into the waiting arms of his comrades. Quickly he retrieved a parcel by the door and offered it to the warrior woman. “Here . . . Here . . . Gift from Maaasterrrr Geeeeiiittttssss!”
Taking the parcel suspiciously, Brune hefted it in one hand before pulling apart the brown paper. She grimaced as a cloying flowery aroma filled the air, the contents spilling into her arms. Fine garments of cotton and silk. Garments fit for a princess.
There was a blouse of royal purple and a short pleated white skirt with all of the accessories that a young noble girl might require. Graceful golden bracelets and flowery clips and ties. Delicate stockings and even a pair of small pure white panties of incredibly fine cotton.
All of it was of the very finest quality and absolutely none of it would possibly fit her enormous body. The warrior woman tossed the open package back to her captors defiantly. Looking at the confusion on their lupine faces she replied gruffly. “He can see me as I am.”
If the Beastmen had anything to say about that, they kept it to themselves. Their spokesmen, approaching cautiously, clapped her wrists in a pair of iron shackles and gestured for her to follow.
She was taken from the darkness of the dungeon up a flight of stairs into a space that was immediately grander and lighter while remaining just as icy cold. Grand tapestries covered a stone wall opposite soaring windows that gave a panoramic view of the endless snowcappd mountains of the North.
They crossed paths with more beastmen here, and for the first time, Brune witnessed pseudo humans who had clearly not been created for battle. Unlike the caenid wolfmen, these were felinid, their frames smaller and their features more refined. Dressed in well made servants clothes, from a distance they could have almost passed for human, only closer inspection revealing the subtly squashed feline trace to their faces and the fine tawny fur like velvet covering their skin.
The servants gave Brune and her escort a wide birthe, some stopping to stare at the female warriors marched naked in chains. Chained, but unyielding.
Brune held her head high and thrust her chest out, standing tall, knowing no shame in baring her body. Her face settled into an expression of warrior’s poise, eyes glaring down from atop regal cheeck bones, full blood red lips pursed.
Her enormous breasts bounced firmly with every step, their nipples turned to small hard arrowheads by the cold. The hard hemispheres of her butocks popping with each step, bulging thighs gliding against another. The cobbled muscles of her tight v-shaped stomach twitched with like living steel while wide hips swayed in a predatory catwalk. The hardened muscles of her body rippled panther-like in a display of powerful animalistic grace.
The gawkers looked away as she radiated a sort of bestial intimidation, a primordial confidence, awakening some ancient fear of apex predators.
Brune began to commit their path through the structure to memory. The warrior woman had made her way as a mercenary and her military training had been earned on the field of battle. Even so, she recognized the architecture of a fortified castle in a state of partial repair.
This was not the Wizard Gaits’ tower which they had assaulted, Brune realized. A hidden base elsewhere in the mountains? Or had the tower always been nothing but a diversion?
It was pointless to ask herself. They had climbed a grand flight of stairs and were now standing before a set of finely worked oak doors into which had been inscribed arcane diagrams of Wizardry.
The doors opened of their own accord and just swiftly at her back. Brune found herself standing alone in her shackles at the door of what appeared to be a well appointed much care worn, library. The wooden tables scuffed and the green leather showing signs of great ware. Brune inhaled the musty scent of paper and leather, finding it unfamiliar. She craned her neck towards the sound of muted foot steps on thick carpet.
“Ah . . . awake and well I see.” A voice that she had last heard shouting arcana in the midst of battle greeted her cheerfully. “And also naked . . .” The Wizard Gates blinked owlishly as he emerged from behind a tall bookshelf. “Did Hortens not give you the clothes I picked for you?”
“Gaits . . .”
Brune’s eyes narrowed as she studied the Rogue Wizard. The largest bounty in the Kingdom of Fortuna. She decided, after a moment, that it was indeed him and not a double. The same slight and unassuming frame, the same watery dark eyes, the same beard. He was old enough for his wizard’s beard to have grown luxuriously, but young enough that it was still pure black without a hint of gray.
“I hope Hortens and his pack didn’t mistreat you. That band of ruffians running the dungeon can be quite horrid when they want to be . . .”
“Why am I here?” Brune cut through the Wizard’s babbling. “Speak plainly.” She had no patience for pathetic obfuscation.
“Ah . . . well . . .” Gates nodded, putting his books down on a nearby table and stroking his beard wisely. “I suppose it would be accurate to say that you are my prisoner. Ah! Not to worry! Your friends made it out of my tower before it collapsed.”
She remembered the last moments of the battle, of the tower collapsing all around her as she sought shelter. Then . . . a flash of light and blackness.
“What is to stop me from killing you here and now?” Brune asked coolly, taking a single menacing step towards the wizard. Using her shackles as a weapon, she could think of a half dozen ways to kill him in less time then it would take the guards to break down the door.
“You could do that.” Gates agreed. “You very well could.” He paused, biting his lip and nodding his head thoughtfully. “You’d die.”
“I’ve survived worse odds.” Brune assured him, spreading her legs shoulder width apart and pushing out her hips so that her dark hairy crotch was bared, her engorged clit swollen and glistening pointing straight at the diminutive man. She had found that small weak men in particular tended to be intimidated by displays of her body.
“If it were just my guards I’m sure you could kill me and escape.” She took another step towards him. “But!” He added quickly, freezing her in place. “As you no doubt already know the winter winds have already begun to howl. Even well provisioned you would surely freeze to death before you made it out of the Fell Peaks. Come, let me show you something.” The Wizard turned his back to her, it would have been the work of a moment to have killed with that carelesneess before he could conjure magic to his defense. Instead, brune decided upon caution. Why had he gone to lengths to capture her?
They walked to a window overlooking a deep mountain valley, jagged teeth of rock spearing up in broken ranks from the snow and ice.
“Look, over there.” Wizard Gaits pointed to a distant column of smoke on the shoulder of a far off mountain. “That is my old tower. A shame to see it destroyed but I believe a worthwhile sacrifice. Your adventuring party doubtless thinks you died with me. My scouts say that they are already in full retreat to make the foothills before they are iced in by winter. So you see . . . You’re trapped here for the next three or four months?”
“Why?” Brune asked. “What is it you intend with me?”
“Nothing. Nothing at all! I would like you to be my guest for the winter in fact! Assuming you will cooperate.”
“Cooperate?”
“I don’t allow even the beastmen to walk around naked!”
“That is what you do with your prisoners?” Brune rumbled in a voice so deep it caused her breasts to jiggle like great bowls of custard. “Dress them up? Like dolls?”
“You did destroy my tower. My reagent stockpiles, my notes.” Gaits pointed out. “The least you could do in return for my hospitality is wear something a little nice. You’re obviously not ashamed of showing off your body.”
Brune frowned at the lack of effect she seemed to be having. Most men of Gaits stature would have been reduced to stammering uncertainty. A strange few would have been driven into a confused melange of fear and sexual lust at the overpowering presence that was Brunhilde, She-Beast of the North, but Gaits remained composed, his watery eyes looking her square in the face, entirely bypassing the magnificent valley of her cleavage.
“And it would be an opportunity for me to convince you.”
“Convince me?” Brune grunted.
“Of the righteousness of our cause. The Kingdom, you see, is corrupt.”
Brune snorted in contempt. “Do you think I do not know that?”
Gaits seemed at last to be startled. “Then . . .”
“I do not care.” Brune said. “The Kingdom hired my sword arm not my conscience.” The King could be as corrupt as he wished, if the people weren’t so pathetically weak then maybe they would have overthrown him.
Gaits finally snapped, scowling. “Have you no decency?!”
In answer, Brunehilde widened her stance and squeezed between her legs. A hot stream of piss erupted from her pussy and traced an arc halfway between herself and the wizard. Rocking her hips slowly she spread the pungent puddle in a growing pool soaking into the carpet. She gave the Wizard Gaits a wordless look of defiance. “Are we done here?”
“Yes . . . Yes I suppose we are.” Gaits sighed. “Hortens will escort you back to your cell. I don’t presume you intend to escape.”
“It is as you say.” Brunehilde shrugged her mountainous shoulders. “I would freeze to death in the dead of winter.” Come spring however, that would all change. She would have to bide her time and plan.
Brune was almost back to the door when Gaits spoke again. “Wait.” She stood as silent and poised as a statue. “You said your sword arm is for sale. What about your companionship?”
“I am not a whore.” Brune explained. She arched a single eyebrow. “Do you wish me to warm your bed?”
“That . . . Won’t be necessary.” Gaits managed to shrug it off with a nervous chuckle. “I mean to say, could I pay to hear me out. Just to cooperate for this winter.”
“I am still contracted to kill you.” Brune answered bluntly.
“But you agree you can do that come spring.” Gaits reasoned. “The world thinks us dead. There is no danger of anyone stealing your bounty.”
“The pay?”
“A thousand pieces of gold.”
Brune snorted again. “Ridiculous!” If a job was too good to be true, then it probably was.
“Not at all. My beastmen have collected a great deal of coin in their raids. I do not want it and they have no use for it. Surely there is something that such wealth could buy you.”
It was a job too good to be true. But the Wizard was not wrong. With a thousand gold there would be wealth enough to found her own mercenary company and more than enough left over to buy the recognition of her prowess that she craved. Yes, she could do a great deal with a thousand gold . . .
“I want to see the gold first.”
“Of course.”
“I will know if it is a trick!” She added harshly.
“I wouldn’t dream of it. A thousand gold and in exchange you shall behave as an honored guest this winter. My death to be determined at a later date.” Extending his hand, Gaits smiled. “Do we have a deal?”
Brunehilde contemplated the Wizard for only a moment. In the end, it was a deal that cost her nothing. She could not see the downside to agreeing. The warrior woman hocked back deep in her throat and spat into her own hand. They clasped palms wetley, Brune shaking the Wizard’s arm to the shoulder as he wore a blank smile.
“Now then, if you are to be a guest I will have the servants prepare quarters for you in the keep. You will have some duties of course.”
“Duties?”
“You will be expected to have dinner with your host each night. And to obey the house rules. You may be asked to perform some simple tasks . . . ah . . . out your own pleasure.”
“A good host would return my weapons and armor. I am a warrior by profession, I must keep my skills hones.”
“All in good time. The castle has facilities where you may train whenever you please. But while within the keep I will ask that you show appreciation for my gifts.”
“Gifts?”
Gaits smiled as, if by magic, he retrieved a familiar brown parcel from behind his back.