Cyprus sat in her rooms on the great cushioned pillow located in front of her new vanity and stared at her breasts.
It was almost hypnotic the way they bounced and swayed when she poked at them with a finger.
So...the breasts were kind of fun, but that still left the rest of the body to deal with.
Where she once had dangly bits, she now had a wet, leaking slit behind her Cliftsom that was annoying the Goda right out of her.
It got irritated when she attempted to wear her old leather loincloth; it burned when she tried running in the now ill-fitting garment, and now it was destroying the new loin-covers that Raitza had purchased for her.
She refused to leave the domicile now that word had gotten around that the most famous and stalwart of the Equine families had produced a Coven Master.
Cyprus didn’t think that she could stand the stares and gossip.
She sighed, pouting a bit as she stopped poking at her right breast and rested her head on her hand, her elbow planted firmly on the vanity.
She stared at her new face and sneered.
Sure, she had been basically androgynous before the conversion, but this new...new softness was something that was hard to deal with.
Her lips had gotten plump and softer, her cheekbones higher and more defined, and her voice...it was still husky, but it was so...feminine now!
Her whole countenance had become soft!
Even the hard-earned wall of muscle that was her chest had given way to the soft and utterly useless breasts that now made it as uncomfortable to run as the leather loincloth!
And her balance had shifted.
She had marched into the practice yard to join her Sibs in combat training and had to basically sit the whole thing out.
Her balance was so far off that it made hefting her sword nearly impossible!
And her trainees kept staring at her breasts.
Who knew that you were supposed to tie the useless things up?
Her Damshire had approached her, trying not to laugh, as he explained that her bare breasts were disturbing the men.
In their practice yard, her family trained warriors, all kinds and species of warriors. It was what her family did.
But to be accused of distracting them at practice... It was unfair!
Redisaton smiled as he explained the breast binding and proceeded to bind them for her.
She saw nothing wrong with this, since it was one warrior assisting another, but the blushes and smirks from the trainees were a bit much.
Snarling and tossing her newly thickened golden hair, she marched over to the worst of the slackers and planted her fist right into his face.
Though her swordplay was off, her hand-to-hand was just fine.
Within seconds, she had the trainee unconscious on the sandy ground and turned to face the others in her group.
Amusement quickly gave way to lust, and a horde of males just reaching Goda suddenly wanted a chance to spar with her.
Under the gaze of her hysterically laughing siblings and the Ravens, Cyprus proceeded to put several of her twenty male trainees into the medical regenerator while causing some minor injuries such as broken noses and jaws.
In the end, she had once again gained the respect of her trainees and those of her elder siblings and the Ravens.
When an obviously upset Coven Master from a lower house converged onto their domicile, demanding that Raitza do something about her unruly female, Raitza snorted and all but scalded the other female with a heated look.
“How in the names of the seven hells do you expect her to behave? We are the Equlestraa Untitalis! We rear warriors. If you do not have a care for her methods, I will return your stabling fee, and you are free to take your child elsewhere.”
This was no idle threat. To be rejected from the Equlestraa Untitalis was tantamount to having your future destroyed, so much power did they wield.
The chastened Coven Master collected her child and returned home, apologies on her lips, with assurances that her child would be ready to return to training as soon as the medicals released it.
That solidified Cyprus’s rank and standing in the family and ensured that no other Coven Masters would converge upon their domicile, angered at the treatment of their males at the hands of their Coven’s female.
“What do they expect you to be?” Raitza embraced Cyprus after the other female had left. “Do they expect you to behave as other females, primping your hair and plotting how to spread your legs without getting caught by their Damshires? You are a warrior, Cyprus. No matter what form the outside takes, you are a warrior to your core.”
Those words helped, but it soon became apparent to Cyprus that her old approach to handling problems would not always work in times of strife.
Like for instance, she was once again in the training grounds when one of her trainees told her that she would never find any male to enter her Coven as she was so...not femalelike.
The sudden shock of pain and anguish those words caused to her heart gave Cyprus a pause, just before hot tears began flowing down her face.
Was she an ugly female? Was she too manly? Would she forever be alone, a burden to her family and a disgrace to their names?
Crying, she later learned, was the term for those leaky eyes. One of her trainees explained this as she was breaking his nose and several of his ribs for the nasty comment, crying all the while. She had never seen her Coven Master cry, but the wounded trainee assured her that Coven Masters did, and that maybe her own chose to cry in private.
So while she discovered that she might become an emotional crying mess from time to time, everyone learned that crying had no bearing on her ability to smash in the face of anyone who disrespected her.
Her Damshire was proud. He told her those skills in breaking noses would be good for when the Time of Choosing descended upon their Coven; something about her ability to protect herself easing his worry about the males who would come courting and drawing her away from the safety of her Ullah with their talk of moonlight walks, sweet kisses, and the delights of the flesh.
Cyprus snorted. What delights of the flesh? The only thing this new flesh brought her was trouble.
And that was why she was sitting on the new plump pillows in her room staring at the new mirror Raitza insisted she have to check her appearance, wondering what was becoming of her life.
She felt the burn of those tears behind her eyes and blinked rapidly, a technique she discovered worked well for discouraging the fall of these things.
Maybe it was time she behaved like the warrior she was and actually left her domicile. Maybe she would go to the weapons district and purchase a lighter sword, one that was more appropriate for her new balance and musculature.
And while there, she could try and see if the rumors about the Dragon Warriors being on their planet were true.
She vaguely recalled the Coven Master and her Damshire speaking of it on her day of emergence, and she had quietly followed up on their short conversation.
It was rumored that some the most elite warriors outside their own, the Dragonish, had arrived for a trading conference, and that the Master Dragon had brought his son. It had been rumored that the young prince had gone through three Goda without giving one offer to mate. He had instead spent his time among pleasure houses and with females of little moral fiber.
The Dragonish society was a bit like the Equlestraa, in that they formed family Circles, but each Circle had a male Master, and the rest of the family Circle was female.
It was odd but acceptable as it was a foreign culture of their allies.
And it would be nice to catch a glimpse of the Ice Prince, as people were calling the Master’s only son.
Besides, she had a sudden yearning to buy shoes. She didn’t really know why, but shoes and weapons suddenly became a constant craving, something that she could not pull her mind from contemplating and then wanting with a passion.
And knowing that a craving was something that the body needed to perform at optimal levels, she knew better than to deny herself.
Shoes, weapons, and the prince, and not necessarily in that order.
* * * * *
“Damn them all!” Cyprus thought before she ran out of the social house, running fast as her legs would carry her. The backpack beat painfully against her shoulders and the world seemed to pass in a blur when she moved.
Why would they choose now of all times to show their true selves? They could have lied to her a few more weeks, at least until she grew more comfortable in this new body!
But no, the warriors she trained with, fought with, bled and killed with, just summarily rejected her.
Rejected, that was, from their professional lives. It appeared they were ready to accept that she spread her legs and invite them to pound away.
She had gone to her usual haunt, a place she hadn’t seen since she returned from Earth and hadn’t expected to change.
But when she entered the small social house, a tense silence descended.
She saw a group of warriors she knew well and approached, only to have one of them stand up and halt her progress.
“What is wrong with you, Kapris?” she asked her still neuter friend, smiling at the remembered times when they had broken into the public baths and replaced the warriors’ cleansing hair tonics with dyes that glowed in the dark and smelled of the most delicate jasmine flowers imported from Earth. They had almost lost control of their bladders watching as the unfortunate group began sniffing at each other and trying to ignore the cloying, ultrafeminine scent when they returned to the practice grounds.
But instead of smiling, her friend was frowning deeply at her approach.
“What are you doing here?” shem demanded, crossing shem’s arms across a massive chest, shem’s eyes narrowed in agitation.
“I always come here when I shop in the cities. You know this.” She rolled her eyes at shem’s behavior. “I thought it was time for me to again renew acquaintances now that the Time of Change has passed for me.”
“You are not welcome here,” Kapris growled, as if she would turn her back and run at the sight of shem’s irritation.
“Sure I am.” She sniffed, pointing to the wall where her name was inscribed as a member. “Have been since I reached my majority, even before I was sent to Earth. You know this, Kapris.”
“That was then, Cyprus. Things have changed.”
Shem took a step back as she moved forward, but held shem’s stance, barring her from entering farther.
“Nothing has changed.” Cyprus snorted. “Now move. You are blocking the way to the bar, and I have a thirst.”
Who knew that trying on shoes could make you so tired? And she hadn’t found nearly as many suitably comfortable pairs as she had hoped. And the weapons, they were either so bejeweled and decorated to the point that they were useless, or they were not balanced for her current form. She had measurements taken, and the swordsmith assured her he would have the appropriate weapons ready for her within the week.
“Everything has changed, Masterless Coven Master.” Shem sneered. “And your kind are not welcome here.”
“My kind?” Cyprus felt her hearts stop for just a moment before anger made them rush with the hot need to destroy something.
“Your kind,” shem insisted, a few murmurs from the others backing shem up.
“My kind? Do you mean full adults who survived conversion and have passed the Time of Change?” she asked, tossing her hair, her right foot tapping in its new flat-soled boot. “No?” No one spoke, and a few looked down. “My kind who has completed the Warrior’s Duty and returned to our home world alive?”
Still no answer.
“My kind who has fought and spilled blood in the name of our forefathers, protecting one of the last few neutral planets in this system?”
Even more shuffling of feet, this time from a few who were still considered neuter, neither man nor woman, and a few who were still waiting for their warriors’ duties to be announced.
“You know what I mean.” Kapris spoke in low tones, shem’s head constantly bobbing between up and down as if shem couldn’t really raise it high with pride nor let it totally sink in failure.
Kapris was one who had not gone through conversion and had no idea what was going to happen when shem did.
“No,” Cyprus growled, moving to stand before Kapris. Her new height, though not as tall as a male, was definitely taller than the neuter. “I believe that you will have to speak clearly, without artifice.”
“Just tell her,” someone from the back shouted, one of the old warriors who delighted in hanging around the social houses and telling tales of their past conquests for the eager neuters.
“Tell me what?” she demanded as the warrior from the back stood up.
“This social house has changed since you’ve been away. The only females that frequent these haunts are those who delight in trying to get their...orgasmic joy by spreading their legs to the unchanged. This is a bar for the unchanged who want to better their chances of being male.”
Her eyebrows went up at that; she had never even heard of such goings-on in this haunt. How could an unchanged know what they would be? It could be assumed, like in her family, because of their long line of males, but...
“He’s right,” Kapris fairly whispered, shem’s friends in the background urging shem on. “You never stayed here long enough to see it happen. You were on Earth. But this place now is for us who know that we are going to be male. It was never an issue for you because of your bloodline. But the rest of us have to do something. And I guess being here wasn’t enough to help you, Cyprus.”
“What?” Cyprus was truly stunned. She had never heard anything of the like, and she had wasted a lot of free time here.
“So.” Kapris struggled to speak. At last, with shem’s friends behind shem urging shem on, Kapris was able to lift shem’s head and sneer. “So, you want to make sure that I become male? Gonna let me play with your new female parts?”
Cyprus almost stumbled a step backward after hearing such a lewd suggestion from someone who at one time had been as close as a sib. Her eyes went wide, and her mouth opened in shock.
With shem’s friends laughing acceptance behind shem, Kapris grabbed the undefined mass between shem’s legs and waggled it in Cyprus’s direction. “I hear the mouth works almost as well as the spread legs for a good rubdown.”
The house exploded in laughter, and Cyprus felt every bit of blood in her body drain away, leaving her pale and painfully aware of the differences between them.
“She’s still standing there, small one!” the older, disreputable warrior who spoke before called out, moving forward. “Maybe it’s time you showed her what being a loose female in a social house is all about.”
Then he wrinkled his nose at Kapris, one gray eyebrow lifting as he suddenly found something humorous. “But then you really don’t have the size advantage...or the equipment”--he nodded toward Kapris’s crotch--“to show her a good time. Maybe you need to watch and see how it’s done.”
He shouldered Kapris aside and reached for Cyprus, palming one breast. A hush filled the room. “Now don’t go telling what we are about to do here.” Several warriors backed away, the play suddenly becoming more serious, more dangerous, and a few fled the social house altogether.
The ones who remained were torn between gleeful curiosity and delight, or revulsion and fear that if they left, their friends who remained would make fun of them later.
“You’re not...” Kapris began, “...rape?”
But the older warrior, who stood an impressive foot taller than Cyprus, who was amazingly tall for a female, hushed him quickly.
“It’s what she wants!” he insisted. “See? She is just standing there!”
His words broke Cyprus out of the paralysis that had gripped her. She inhaled once, then raised her hand to the old warrior’s wrist.
It took one snap to wrench his hand away from her person and one twist to have him bellowing in pain. The shocked look on his face would have almost been amusing if the situation wasn’t so serious.
“How dare you?” Cyprus growled, fairly snorting in anger as she adjusted her stance, bringing the warrior to his knees. Her fingers dug into the pressure point between his delicate wrist bones, and she mercilessly exploited that point, pouring all the anger and fear she felt into her grip. “How dare you touch my person?”
“Now see here...” One of the warrior’s friends rose to his feet. But Cyprus reared back and kicked out, knocking Kapris back and into the path of the angered friend, sending them both falling to the ground.
“Taking a Coven Master against her will is punishable by death!” she roared, pulling back with the same leg and kicking the warrior she held right in the groin.
“Umph!” He expelled a gasp of breath before he folded over even farther, ignoring the pain in his wrist for the pain in his groin.
Cyprus used his own forward momentum to yank his arm, pulling him so that he landed face-first on the stone ground with an audible thwack
. He shuddered once as if struggling to breathe, choking instead.
The room filled with a hushed silence.
But Cyprus was not done, not in the least.
“Dirty, stupid lecher!” she screamed, throwing his arm aside like so much garbage, and then set her sights on his back. She began to stomp, driving the flat heels of her boots deep into the tissue, trying to do her best to pulverize his muscles and render them useless.
“Touching me!” she roared. “Me? Do you know who I am?”
Again and again she stomped him until she felt an arm around her waist.
Screaming, she turned to the person who dared grab her and, without thinking, dug her thumbs into his eye sockets, getting released in a hurry. But Cyprus was not inclined to be forgiving. She got a grip on the hair that flowed around that blurred bellowing face and jerked hard, feeling long strands rip free, while at the same time she shifted her weight to one side. With just the right amount of leverage and pull, the body behind her flew up over her shoulder and slammed half on top of the groaning would-be rapist who jerked with the force of the body but had yet to really move.
“You dared!” She screamed again, hair flying wildly around her face, eyes looking madly around for the next attack. So she was prepared as two bodies launched themselves in her direction from the watching crowd.
Cyprus saw red.
She opened her mouth and began to trill.
It was intuitive but damn effective as the approaching bodies dropped to the ground, holding their hands over their ears and writhing on the ground as if in extreme pain.
Her anger kept the trill going until she lost her breath. She bent over, hands to knees and panting, struggling to inhale.
That was when the red haze began to clear from her eyes, and Cyprus startled, looked around the suddenly silent room.
All the Equlestraa there, changed male and neuter, were moaning in pain, blood running from their ears and noses, all downed by the power of her voice. Some were on the sandy ground, hands covering their heads in agony; some were rolling and writhing with the pain. But there was one constant: they were all immobilized and didn’t look to be getting up under their own power anytime soon.
Her first thought, being that she was a trained combatant first and foremost was: this screaming thing has some wonderful applications on the battlefield.
Her second thought, as the nurturer in her made itself known, was shock and horror.
Eyes wide, gulping for breath, she looked down and saw Kapris, silent as death at her feet. There, directly below her, was the face of her oldest friend, shem’s blue eyes staring sightlessly up at her.
“Creator!” she gasped before she backed up into a solid form behind her, shaking her head in disbelief. “No, no, no...”
“Sweet Ghods,” the man behind her breathed, and Cyprus spun around to see the local constable standing there with most of his Coven, looking at the destruction, amazement and fear clearly on their faces.
“Are you...?” One began reaching out toward her, but a cry of pure horror left Cyprus’s throat. Still shaking her head in denial, she turned and fled, her tunic and leggings in tatters streaming behind her, tears running down her face and nearly leaving her blind.
“Wait!” one called, but she was too fast. She was a trained warrior tempered by her time on Earth. She easily dodged around those who would stop her and then easily outdistanced those who gave chase. Ducking through the alleys and narrow streets of the cobblestoned city, she fled from the horror of what had happened to her and from the outright terror of what she had done.
Without taking heed of her direction, she blindly ran. But she never expected to be stopped by running into a wall, let alone a huge wall with firm, muscular arms that easily halted her forward progress.
“Get off!” she screeched, fighting as those arms wrapped around her, holding her still. “No!” she wailed as he reminded her of those cruel arms from before, reaching out for her, wanting to harm her, wanting to break her.
She panicked, struggling and fighting, twisting her body in odd positions to free her hands and arms, but the wall seemed to know every trick and halted her attacks before they could begin to do any damage, let alone secure her release.
“Let me go!” she shrieked, unable to stop the tears that were still flowing down her face and obscuring her view.
“Are you unharmed?”
She paused as the wall spoke, more like rumbled, in a deep, questioning voice. It was so different, not like the voices that threatened and terrorized her from before! Instead of angry and demanding, this voice was considerate and, of all things, protective. It shocked her into silence.
Cyprus lifted her head, tossing her hair aside and blinking rapidly to clear her vision, still tense in the gentle yet firm grasp, but calming slowly.
“Let me go!” she hissed, baring her teeth in a snarl, desperate to get to a place of safety...and then the wall laughed at her.
By this time, Cyprus calmed enough to finally look up and get a clear sight of the wall that stopped her, and her next words froze in her throat as she stared up at the thing that was holding her. Her chest was heaving, her hearts pounding, and her ability to think seemed to freeze in her mind.
“You are unharmed, I trust?” he asked again, and it was all Cyprus could do to keep from passing out!
That rich voice, the low tones, its words seemed to rumble straight through her, touching on nerve endings she had never noticed before. Then there was more of that unfamiliar wetness between her thighs and swelling in her penis. It was like her body suddenly had decided to develop an awareness all of its own totally apart from her brain.
“I...I...” she managed, at a loss as to what to say! So the things that were at the forefront of her mind came out. “I think I killed him,” she managed, and his growing smile died.
“Good,” the voice snarled, his arms pushing her back. The wall appeared to get a good look at the condition of her clothing. “He deserved it.”
Then the wall bared his teeth--yes, she was sure the wall must be a male of some sort--and he bared his teeth at her. His gums were black, and his fangs looked ferocious, and all of that growing ire was for her benefit. And, though he looked different, just as her Damshire and the Ravens showed their concern and their justifiable anger, he bared his teeth!
It was then, at that very moment, that Cyprusurakaliesupreidesa, newly turned female, first fell in love.