FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Anton brought his blade over his head and swung it down hard on his opponent's head

"Hey watch it!" said his opponent, who just barely blocked the attack with his shield.

"We have helmets!" Anton said with enthusiasm as he dove in for more. "And these aren't lethal, the real thing would have slipped!"

"When cutting," said his opponent, blue eyes rolling behind the slit of his helmet."These are twice as heavy as the real thing!"

"Come on, I need the practice! I want to win!" said Anton. "The tourney is tomorrow and I need the edge."

It was the biggest event all summer, and so all of the realm's elite were gathering for the annual tourney. This time, it was on Anton's birthday, and with that came the privilege of being able to compete in it like all of the other young men. Of course, Anton was determined to be the victor; his father was hosting. Perhaps maybe he could use the influence to get a nice princess for marriage. Now that would be a prize!

Anton took off his helmet, his brown hair dripping with sweat. Though his youthful face was red and he panted in exertion, he looked far more elated than tired. His green eyes gleamed as his opponent broke from the engagement and took off his helmet as well. Standing across from him was an older man who looked quite like him, with the same brown hair and sharp, royal nose and chin, though he had blue eyes.

"Brother," his older brother said. "We really got to talk about your competitive streak."

"Shut up, Kenan!" Anton replied with a smirk. He knew he was going to win and be the center of the tourney. All he had to do was be in tip top shape. If his brother wasn't going to oblige him, he was of no use to him. It was hard enough being the youngest one.

"You have to entertain the visitors; you aren't the only one here competing," said his older brother.

Anton merely shrugged. He didn't understand what he did wrong. It wasn't his job to take care of the lower nobility; that was the role of servants and housekeepers, especially since his father was the King.

"Fine, whatever."

"And get changed. Maybe bathe!"

Now that was something Anton could agree with. He nodded and walked away, wiping sweat away from his forehead as he made his way to the royal bathhouse, one of the many benefits of his birth and subsequently inherited status. Though the nearly always functioning bathhouse was an oddity in this land, a product of his parents' love of cleanliness having something to do with godliness, he wasn't going to complain, especially not now. His mind was still on that princess. While a man was meant to be gruff and tough and dirty at times, he doubted many would find him attractive or could see who he was with a face grimed with dirt and sweat.

Thus, Anton left his brother without another word, just a half-hearted wave goodbye before he quickly made his way to the bathhouse. Thankfully, it was close to the training grounds, and upon arrival he was quickly lead by a servant to the private room reserved for royal family in the back, the smaller, more public rooms available for anyone, but mostly the servants who his parents insisted bathed once a week despite their protests. Once the servant left, he was alone. He quickly pulled the curtain over the door and then began to disrobe, letting out little sighs of relief as he took off armor he realized might have been a tad tight, something he was sure he could get adjusted prior to the tourney. He noted it for later, still thinking of that princess as he hastily undid the rest of his armor. In a short time, he was naked and ready to bathe.

Anton pushed his discarded raiments into a discrete pile in the corner and then turned into the large, tall round tub filled with water. He smiled and ran towards the bucket, climbing over it and jumping in with a slight splash. He submerged completely and held his breath, reveling in how warm the water felt. It was just the right temperature--he would have to compliment the servants later on their perfect preparation.

When he had nearly reached his limit, he surfaced with a splash, laughing a little as he floated in the tub. He slapped his hands against the water and then sputtered as water splashed into his face. He laughed and wiped the water out of his eyes, even as he thought of other things that=n getting clean like visitors and rivals and princesses...especially the princesses. He wondered if he might find the right one that would join him in the bathhouse. Just think of the fun they'd have! He laughed again and splashed more water against his face, on purpose this time, getting some of the sweat and grime out and off. He was enjoying himself, pleasantly warm and lost in his fantasies.

"How adorable," he suddenly heard a voice say, high pitched yet with a slight rasp to it. "Enjoying yourself, whelpling?"

Anton's eyes widened, and he spun around in the tub to face the room's entrance. The curtain was open, but it wasn't a human hand that pushed it aside, but a draconic snout lined with scales of differing shimmering chromatic colors. He froze, but only momentarily, standing as the snout pressed forward to reveal the full extent of the draconic head and the green reptilian eyes that glimmered with amusement atop it.

"W-what?" Anton stuttered, hand going to his side for a sword that wasn't there. "W-who--" He cleared his throat and stood up straight, forcing his expression into solemn stare. "Who are you?"

"Me?" The dragon's head tilted and its mouth cracked a toothy smile. "Why, I'm your dragon godmother."

"My what?"

The dragoness chortled and entered the room a little more by stretching her long and sinuous neck forward so that she was nearly snout to nose with Anton. The prince took a step back, the realized what he was doing and stood firm, folding his arms across his muscular chest.

"Your dragon godmother," the dragoness said, green eyes blinking. "Why, your parents didn't tell you, whelpling? Me, the one who blessed you at birth?"

"I don't..." Anton gulped as the realization came to him that he was no longer naked and alone. He quickly covered up his crotch, and the dragoness chortled again, smoke curling out of her nostrils, though it didn't make Anton coughed as it spiraled up to his nose. It smelled quite sweet and nice, actually.

"Since birth," she said. "It has been some time since then, but there is nothing new on you."

"Right..." Anton moved his hands away, but barely. "My dragon godmother. And, er, why might you be here?"

"Because of my blessing, whelpling!"

"Your blessing?"

"Yes," the dragoness said with a nod. "I swore I would come on the eve of your twentieth birthday and make sure everything was well set up for my whelpling, the right life for my blessed, and..." she frowned as she looked over Anton. "While you are young, handsome and strong, I see there's some improvements that could be made." She chuckled. "Should be made. Will be made. Hmm...you looked wounded, whelpling,"

She nodded to some of the bruises that Anton had acquired in training.

"It's nothing," Anton grumbled, then winced as the dragoness prodded one of the bruises with her snout. He covered up the spot and glowered at her. "Hey!"

"I knew leaving you so soft and fleshy and weak was a bad idea, but your parents persuaded to leave you be. Hmph!" she blew smoke out of her snout. "As if I hadn't done them enough favors as is. Why..." Her green eyes glimmered mischievously. "I think the whole kingdom is due for an upgrade. Wouldn't be fair to just give you scales."

"Scales?" Anton squeaked.

She shook her head as if she hadn't heard him.

"No, they wouldn't like it. Your parents always did like the people being together in almost every endeavor, so why not this one? A prince should be a model for his people, after all!"

"I agree," Anton said, holding up his hands. "But I don't quite get--"

"Oh, no, no," the dragoness chortled, winking at Anton. "Don't worry about getting it, just know I have your best interests in mine. I mean, mind."

"And I can appreciate that too, but--"

"Time to toughen you up, yes..." The dragoness nodded to herself, and her eyes suddenly glowed gold, her scales glimmering and lighting up the whole room. She winked at Anton again. "Enjoy the scales you should have always had, whelpling!"

"Why do you keep calling me that?" Anton said as he raised a hand in accusation. And that's when he saw it, his hand covered in hard purple scales, tipped with claws. He almost jolted when he saw the sight. "Hey, what's this?"

The dragoness laughed. "There we go!" But then she narrowed her eyes, as if a bit disapproving. "I don't know though, something is wrong there... Maybe a different shade, it doesn't look good as I thought..."

But Anton was more concerned with what happened to himself than the insane ramblings of a strange magical creature. He looked down into the water, and the natural mirror showed him all he didn't want to know. His muscled skin was being subsumed by the purple scales, a shade that seemed royal, and his face seemed to be pressing forward even as twin horns spiraled out of his skull. He reached up and felt his growing snout, wincing as something pressed out right above his rear.

"This can't be happening!" he said, forked tongue flicking out with a slight hiss to his tone.

"Oh, it's certainly happening!" said the dragoness. "Though maybe some other improvements need to be done." She brought her fingers onto Anton's reflection's snout and then with a nudge gently reshaped the snout to be a bit longer. "No, still not right!"

"Stay away from me!" Anton shouted. He hopped out of the bath and brushed past the dragoness into a hallway, growing tail flagging behind him as toes clicked against the floor while they converted into claws.

Two servants who were busy serving drinks were surprised at him bursting out and lost their footing.

"Prince Anton!" One said in surprise. "What's wrong?"

"Don't stand there! There's an intruder in the bath!"

"Intruder?" said the servant. "How? An assassin?"

"Can't you see it for yourself!?" Anton shouted as he held up a hand. "This witch has..." He blinked. His hand was perfectly normal, callused and a little hairy, but it had skin instead of scales. It was a man's hand, his hand. He turned it over and his mouth opened in disbelief. "What...?"

And then the servants looked down at his uncovered loins blushed.

Anton yelped and hid himself with his human hands.

"Get me a towel!" he snarled.

The servants looked away, one scuttling over to fetch a towel. He threw it to Anton, who caught it and wrapped it around himself. He snarled and glared at the servants.

"Not a word about this to anyone!" he said.

"But the assassin..." one servant said.

"I think he said witch?" the other said.

"Neither!" Anton exclaimed. "It was nothing, just a..." He turned back towards the room he had just left and paused. The dragoness was gone, the curtain closed. There was nothing there, no draconic hindquarters or the head peeking back to stare at him with those mischievous green eyes. He shook his head and turned towards his servants. He narrowed his eyes at them.

"You two didn't see a dragon, did you?" he whispered.

The servants looked at him in confusion. He faked a smile and waved them off.

"Good, because if..." He shook his head. "Never mind. Begone, but no one hears of this! Oh." He paused. "But please do come back later for my armor."

The servants nodded and rushed off. Anton sighed and walked back into the room he had just left. He looked over himself and found that he was clean even if his time in the bath had been abbreviated by that...hallucination. He shook his head and went to one of the room's cupboards, taking out a set of finery to wear. While the thought of that dragoness remained in his mind, he pushed it to the back and went tried to think again about what had been so pressing before as he got dressed. Of course, it was the promise of princesses, the thought of which got him putting on his clothes even faster. The day was still young, yes, but he only had so much time to see what he wanted to see before he was dragged into the droll of nobility.

Soon he was dressed in a fine silken tunic and woolen pants, his feet covered with simple sandals. As he walked out of the room, he shivered as he recalled the sound of claws on the wooden floors. Had that been real? But no, it was just...his imagination. Yes, he wasn't the most creative sort, but even royals had flights of fancy, yes?

Obviously, that meant he had to... indulge himself. Clearly!

He readied himself for a day in the town, to be the dashing young prince that was full of charm and grace and... something else he couldn't quite find the word for. No matter.

He dressed himself in his second best outfit and went to town. The whole Kingdom was going to compete, and most of the the counts and barons, while they had their own guest chambers in the castle, well, there wasn't enough space to be... comfortable. Most and their families were out and about... especially their daughters...

How convenient then, that they were all in a single spot, a little corner of the markets which had the perfect blend of things a young maiden could ask for. Anton took advantage of this by going there immediately.

The young maidens who gossiped and chortled at the edge of some sort of salon dressed a class better than the common folk that catered to their every whim. Though they wore the same style of dresses, there was such color among them that Anton felt as if he was looking upon a menageries of exotic birds. He smiled as he closed in, wondering which pretty bird he might pick or which one might pick him.

"Oh, what do you think of Julian?" one maiden said with a silken, silvery dress. "He's got the muscle of an ox!"

"But the brains of one too!" said Anton as he entered.

The maidens wistfully laughed as appearance of the prince, all knowing now that it was his time.

"Clearly and well said!" replied one other maiden.

Anton smirked and bowed to the maidens, who returned his gesture with giggles and curtsies.

"What makes him so appealing anyways?" Anton said, rolling up one sleeve of his shirt. "I got that too, and then some!"

The maidens laughed.

"Oh, Prince Anton, but this might not be the time," said the maiden in the silvery dress. "I don't know if my father would approve!"

Which had to be a lie. He was a prince of the whole kingdom; every father would approve, surely! Albeit the younger one, but still, Anton could charm them.

"What do you think? Perhaps I should win a victory in a tourney? Would that make me more... appealing?"

That caused that maiden to burst into bubbling laughter.

Anton of course, had someone special in mind, and focused his gaze intently onto one of the maidens in particular, one near the back who wore a dress that was less exotic. It was a pretty shade of blue and that was it, though her curly black hair that flowed down her back was the real eyecatcher. Sadly, she was playing hard to get, not even paying attention to him, instead talking to a maiden in a black dress as if she was going to some sort of funeral. Anton opened his mouth and spoke directly to her: "Well what about you, Ina?"

Ina blinked and then looked up at him as if he had interrupted something important. She tilted her head as she looked at him.

"Sure, if you were someone else..." said Ina with a shrug. She was a bit odd, less with the rest of the gaggle, but that just made her all the more interesting, desirable to Anton's tastes.

The maidens laughed at the jab only to silence themselves when Anton turned this gaze towards them.

Anton licked his lips. This challenge had been something he had been working for the better part of his youth to surmount, and boy, was she a prize: strong, smart, fierce... and with a biting wit. Of course, Anton knew that he had to give her something to win her over.

"Oh, Lady Ina, truly this wounds me.

"We both know I am betrothed already."

"In an arranged marriage to Julian, but we can surely work something out there. After all ,you didn't choose that fate. Surely something of your own volition would be better to your tastes." Because, nothing quite really stung a strong woman more than their roles and their lack of options. All he had to do was present himself as a viable alternative.

Ina seemed to think on this. "I suppose it would.... Oh, how I wish I had the power to make these sorts of choices for myself."

Score. Anton worked hard to suppress his joy. Of course, he had the vague feeling that this was all part of the show she sometimes put up, but oh well, he could dance there too. "If I win, would you marry me and be queen?"

Before Ina could reply, someone stepped in and grabbed Anton by the shoulder. The prince grunted and then yelped as he was forcibly spun around. He found himself face to face with none other than Julian, the tall tanned man wearing quite a scowl at his face, one fist already pulled back. Before Anton could react, that fist flew forward and hit Anton straight in the chest.

"Ow!" Anton yelped, stumbling back as he clutched his chest. He went down on one knee and looked to Julian...or at least he meant to. Instead his gaze caught the sight of a chromatic color, and he saw the dragoness from before peeking her snout from behind a stall, her green eyes gleaming. She winked and then Anton shuddered, though it was not from the pain. Instead, it was that his skin itched horribly and his fingers ached. He looked down at himself and yelped as he saw that purple scales had subsumed skin and that his thicker digits now he dark purple claws. He winced as he felt twin horns spiral out of his skull, the growth of his snout evident in his vision as it stretched to its full length. Shakily he got to his feet, a tail swaying behind him as he stood different than before, his heels up in the air rather than on the ground. Looking over himself, his jaw dropped, tongue licking at sharpened teeth as he realized he had become sort of dragon-human hybrid, same as in the bathhouse. Was this just another hallucation or...?

He looked to Julian and his jaw hung lower somehow. There was a burly fellow standing before him, but it wasn't Julian...well, in a sense it was. There was a rather muscular black scaled dragon standing before him clad in the same silken shirt and leather trousers, his arms folded across his chest, smoking curling out of his nostrils.

"Did I hit you too hard, braggart?" Julian rumbled. "Did I leave you dumbstruck, hmm?"

Anton heard the same giggling from the girls that he had elicited before, but not they seemed to hiss. Confused, he looked over to the maidens and found that they were dragonesses, wearing the same exotic trappings though there were adjustments for their wings and tails.

Wings...

He blinked as he realized Julian had wings, large batlike appendages that flared out behind him and he did not. He frowned and looked past Julian for the dragoness, but there was nothing there save for a few passing by dragon commoners clad in simple woolen clothes. He shook his head and glared at Julian.

"Well that was..." he stopped as he heard his own voice. It sounded similar, but just different enough with its hissing rasp that he almost didn't recognize himself. He shook his head and looked back to Julian. "Now, that was hardly sporting, was it?"

"I'd say it is," Julian growled, stepping forward, arms still folded against his chest. "Going after another's betrothed is rather low for a royal."

"What can I say?" Anton said, flicking out his forked tongue. Somehow that was more insulting than before if Julian's angered expression told him anything. "I'm just trying to save Ina a lifetime of being married to a dolt."

Julian guffawed and let out a small spurt of flame.

"That's it, then?" Julian said. "You're really going to fight for what's mine? Thief."

"Dullard."

And that was that. Julian lunged forward and swung, and Anton ducked. He roared and slammed into the bigger dragon, but it was like hitting a brick wall. He grunted and tried to get a good grip, but managed only to tear Julian's clothes a little with his claws before he was shoved away. He stumbled back with a hiss, dazed and unable to avoid the second punch Julian sent straight at him. It hit him square on the snout and he yelped, flailing for a few seconds before he fell into the dirt. He quickly sat up, but his jaw ached and his vision swirled. He swore he saw tiny little dragons flying around his head. Dizzy, he lay back and clutched at his head.

"She's mine, Anton," Julian said, standing over him. "Whether you like it or not." He held a black scaled hand tipped with white claws down. Anton took it and the larger dragon hauled him up, guffawing as he patted some dust out of Anton's shirt. "Didn't go too hard on you. I'm looking forward to pummeling you tomorrow too. Knock you right off your war lizard."

War lizard? What was Julian talking about? Anton shook his head and stumbled away, hardly able to think straight. His cheeks stung as he heard the dragonesses laughed and so he upped his pace as much as he could, his vision still slightly blurred and his snout aching as it had never ached before because...well, he had never had a snout before. He ducked out of sight between two buildings and tried to get his bearings.

"Poor, poor whelpling," he heard a familiar voice hiss amused. "That was so rough for you!"

"Knock it off," said Anton as he tried to tend to his wounds. He was going to be fine tomorrow, but his roughing up was such a problem for him. For now, this basically meant he had to be somewhere else than where Julian was.

"Well, don't worry. Godmother can make it all better!" she said with a wink.

"What?" Anton exclaimed and then the dragoness's eyes glimmered as her tail swayed hypnotically behind her. Anton stared at it, noticing how the end gleamed gold and then there was a flash. He blinked and found himself still staring at the dragoness, her eyes no longer as bright.

Anton didn't know what he was expecting. But he suddenly felt a whole lot better, as if he hadn't been pummeled by an incredibly large male dragon just a few minutes ago... because, well, now that he thought about it... did that actually happen? Anton's head spun a bit as he felt some sort of weird pressure in his skull give way, and clutched his temple, like something had receded....

When the spinning in his head stopped, he noticed odd sensations move through his body. He felt... vulnerable, weaker like, he hadn't spent a lifetime in swordplay and martial studies... Because he might have not done those things. He felt like his scales were melting, smoothing into something lighter, while the muscle underneath melted into something gentle. His hair felt heavier, longer as if being gently pulled back by a comb. Small mounds formed on his chest, the start of something more as they continued to swell.

Anton yelped as loud as he could when he realized what was happening to him. "Eeep!" The shout came out as something more feeble and... more desperate than he wanted to. Definitely not something any grown man should have said.

The godmother looked at her charge and smirked. "See, isn't it lovely?"

"No!" Anton shouted. He had changed, but his clothes didn't, which left them loose fitting around his smaller frame. He had to struggle to keep his pants from falling. "What did you do? Why do I sound like this?" he said, his voice higher now that his Adam's apple being long gone.

"You see, my whelpling, it was for the best! Surely, you can understand that it would be better being a princess than a prince? Why now you don't need to fight in wars or even fight at all, allowing you to keep onto that wonderful form!"

"A princess?!" Anton shouted back. He pulled up his pants and then realized why his chest felt far too heavy and his groin well... too flat and empty. He was no longer a dragon and a prince, but a dragoness princess! It explained a lot and that... terrified him... her...but not for the reasons she expected. "But I don't know the first thing about being a princess!"

"Oh, that's true! You've had such a long time being a male and a prince, and that's going to need to change if you're going to be a proper lady."

Anton grimace, unsure of what the dragoness meant, but he... she didn't like it. She was going to change what, her past?

"First thing is first, a new name is required... You need to stop thinking of yourself as a man!"

Anton blinked, confused by the insane ramblings meant but... she was very concerned for herself. Her head was spinning as something not quite coherent entered it and took root, a name... her name was...

Andreca. Yes that was it... but then why was she also "Anton"? It made no sense why she had two different names. Why was this so troubling?

"I think I'm going to be sick...." Anton said, as her thoughts only confused her.

"No, this doesn't quite fit, but I think I'm on the right track," the dragoness said. "I just have to think of this more. Hmm... maybe, no, no... "

The dragoness stroked at her snout while Andreca stumbled to her feet and tried to flee towards something else, somewhere else. Anywhere.

She spotted a number of people sitting at a table. They weren't scaly, and she took it as a good sign. The speaker was giving a demonstration using a number of models and to create a scene where some warriors fought while men sat around and watched with keen interest. It was something she was familiar with. No, he was familiar with.

Anton examined himself and noted he was back to normal. What was going through his head earlier? Maybe he was that knocked out of his senses by Julian again? Why was he working so hard to keep his pants up anyways?

Anton went towards the lecture as the historian explained the importance of certain tactical maneuvers and why certain arms were made the way they were. This was important stuff for him to know in the future, not merely in the tourney but going forward.

Some of the men there he recognized. They were some of his father's men-at-arms and so he sat next to the one he knew best, a blonde haired man named Arvid. He nudged Arvid, who until that moment had been staring intently at the speaker as he moved the models around. Arvid blinked, looked over with a scowl and then his eyes widened.

"My prince!" he said, and he would have stood had Anton not shook his head and put a hand on his shoulder. He lowered his voice. "Is there something that you need, sire?"

"Yes, uh..." Anton gulped. "How do I look?"

Arvid furrowed his brow, but looked the prince over anyway.

"You look...fine, sire," he said. "Is there something amiss?"

"No, I just..." Anton looked to the speaker, who was maneuvering around teacups into a perfect circle around the porcelain plate. He blinked, but there the cups still were instead of the models that had been there previously. He swept his gaze over the rest of the table and realized it was no longer a modeling board. He groaned and rubbed at his eyes, but it was still the same difference scene, the speaker finishing nudging the cups together with her delicate, finely manicured claws. He frowned as he saw the speaker was still the same middle age, but now a dragon, a female one at that, garbed in fine silken robes instead of what should have been tactician's leathers and a mantle.

"Sire?"

Anton turned his head and there was Arvid except...it wasn't Arvid. It was a golden eyed dragoness who wore as fine a dress that could be attributed to her commoner status. She regarded him with concern as she brushed a golden strand of hair out of her ears, tucking it behind one of her two horns.

"Prince Anton?" she said, her voice sounding so much like Arvid's if she had been born a dragon...and female.

"A-Arvid?" Anton squeaked.

"Arvid?" the dragoness tilted her head, then laughed, her chest bouncing. "Oh, you have always had such wit, princess."

"Princess?" Anton shivered as he felt some familiar sensations wash over him, the itchy as skin shed for scaled and the aching as digits, tail and snout stretched accompanied by other sensations that were less familiar and more alarming. He squirmed as his groin shrank and his chest swelled, while his hair was forcefully tugged back and the rest of his form softened, his garments certainly ill fitting.

"Why yes," the dragoness said with a nod and another giggle. "Arvid is what my parents said they would have named their first son. Since I was their first and only daughter, well...I'm sure you understand your own joke, princess Andreca."

Anton shivered again and felt his chest shiver with him. He looked down and took a deep, shuddering breath as he looked down at his bouncing bust, to a slim form covered in roseate smooth scales. He...she tore her gaze away from herself...himself and back to the speaker whom she now realized was a visiting matron from a nearby barony. But no, that wasn't right, she was...had been...what?

Anton...Andreca thought of tactics and movements and maneuvers, but any knowledge of that seemed to evacuate from her mind, or had it really been there? She scratched at her head and felt her long, wavy hair that flowed between her horn. She giggled and shook her head, her hair waving as she thought how silly it was to be thinking of war and fighting when she was a lovely lady learning of tea time. It was nothing new to her, but a proper princess had to be see among her people as--

She paused and closed her eyes. Her people...she recalled there be rough, gruff men seated around here earlier, but as she opened her eyes, all she saw were dragonesses seated properly as they quietly watched the matron place the teacups into the proper placement, just like she was being properly aligned.

She frowned. Where had that thought come from? Was she improperly aligned before? She stood up and her clothes felt oh so wrong on her. She looked down and giggled at the sight. Why was she, a dragoness, wearing men's clothes? She'd have to change that!

"Excuse me," she said to Arvid...no, Ester. "I have to go, but I really did enjoy your company."

"Of course, princess," said Ester, standing to give her a small hug. She reached back and stroked at Andreca's hair. "Off to see some princes?"

Andreca felt heat rise to her snout as she considered the question. Princes? Why would she...but, of course! She wasn't betrothed, not like that Freja who had already gotten the best pick of the princes. Well, she would never get a man dressed like one!

She returned Ester's embrace, then ran off with a giggle with the thought of better dresses and her preferred prince on her mind. However, as she left the tea time area, she shivered and felt...strange again.

As she... he left, Andreca found herself back to normal yet again. She shook her head. No, he shook his head and then Anton really found himself back to normal yet again. Anton really hoped this was all just a bad dream, a crazy drunken dream that was at worst some delusion from a concussion or something like that. He honestly didn't know why he'd forget all of his military and tactical training... for some tea ceremony, as if that would ever happen.

He had to get his head into game if he was going to win the day. These distractions were only going to slow him down. He needed practice, focus, activity!

Anton found himself walking through the town until he found several men sparring against each other in a ring. He cocked a grin and stepped forward. Now this was his kind of show.

He stepped up towards the ring as two soldiers out of their armor duked it out against each other, using training swords and fists depending on the distance. He was eager to step into the ring himself but he could wait his turn.

"Anton?" he heard a voice call out to him. Anton nearly jumped, spinning around to find himself face to face with his brother.

"Oh.... it's just you..." Anton said as he saw Kenan. He was honestly half shocked his brother wasn't... someone else at this point. It felt oddly weird because his older brother almost felt like a stranger to him, like he had this mental picture of him, but it was something else. He couldn't quite explain it, certainly not to anyone, even himself!

Kenan shrugged. "Well, I thought you'd be a little more excited about joining in for some spars. You were really eager this morning."

"Still am, I mean, I'm ready to go into the ring whenever, it's just..." Anton really didn't know how to say it. He felt paranoid with the strange goings on, though he attributed them mostly to some sort of injury or fatigue based delusion. Still, a part of him was getting worried that he wasn't just hallucinating.

"Just what?" Kenan asked.

"Things are strange... "Anton said. He furtively glanced around and made his choice. If he couldn't confide in his older brother, well, who could he trust? "...Uh... have you noticed anything weird lately?"

".. Weird?" Kenan said.

Anton shivered at the thought of trying to explain it. He checked for onlookers again because what he said sounded really embarrassing, especially in his head. "There's this dragon and..." He shivered as Kenan stared at him. "She kind of big and no one notices her and she keeps... changing me..."

"Oh, you mean your godmother?" Kenan started to laugh. "So you just met her?"

Anton blinked, Kenan knew!?

"... Uh yeah?" he said rather meekly, uncharacteristically for him, scratching at his wrists as they itched and wincing as his jaws ached.

Kenan's laugh turned a bit more shrill, more like a giggle. A girlish giggle. "Ooh, so she's started work on you too?"

"Uh...yeah?" Anton said, still itch, itching all over. He froze, then looked down and saw those roseate scales spreading across his skin. He reached up to touch his mouth and felt a snout with delicate claws instead of thick fingers while his horns pressed out of his skull and his tail snuck through a hole that hadn't been there before. He sighed softly, more resigned than anything as his chest swelled, generous mounds pressing against his tunic while below his nethers faded away into the feminine alternate just as his hair was pulled by some unseen force into a longer length. Somehow it didn't bother her...him as much, especially as his tail stretched out and his form softened and shrank, leaving him feeling small in his clothes, a dainty delicate flower who idly rubbed at her...his soft, smooth scales. It felt...right to be so soft and small, not large and rough and...sweaty. She shivered and her bosom bounced. There were those too, much better and prettier than that thing that dangled between her legs. She made a face and Kenan laughed. Anton felt his cheeks go flush.

"Ooh, you get to be my sister, too!" his brother said with enthusiasm.

"No, I..." Anton placed his hands on his wider hips, his shoulders feeling so slim and small now. He had to reach down to keep his pants up, but all worries about himself faded away as he saw something was happening to his brother.

Kenan slowly shrank before his eyes, losing stature as purple scales rapidly overcame skin and his face pressed out into a muzzle that seemed less...refined somehow. Anton gaped as he realized that Kenan wasn't merely shrinking--he was losing his older age too! His brother giddily clapped his more delicate hands together as he continued to diminish and become more draconic by the second. A long, thin tail whipped out from Kenan and Anton saw that it had a ribbon wrapped around one end. He blinked when he saw that Kenan's hair was growing longer even as he became shorter, and there were bows in his hair while his fighting outfit shrank into a small flowery dress that was quite girly.

Anton blinked as his brother disappeared, replaced by a little girl of a dragoness, a true whelpling. Gone was the old form and image of an older brother, now rendered innocent and pure. She let out a happy screech and ran around Anton with surprising quickness before standing in front of her "younger" brother and looking up to him. Anton now had a few feet on the diminutive dragoness but she didn't seem to care. Her grey eyes gleamed as she looked up at him.

"Your godmother came by a long time ago, when you were born... said I could be a pretty princess if I wanted, but Daddy said no back then, but well, I'm a grown up now... well was!" Kenan laughed...but no, that name didn't quite fit. Andreca...Anton groaned as a different name for the little dragoness sank in her mind, Evelys. "So I get to be the pretty princess now! But..." She frowned as she looked down at herself. "I didn't expect to be so little but..." She giggled and shrugged. "That's okie! I dun...don't have to worry about all that meanie man stuff." She looked up at Anton...Andreca. "And you're my older sister! Wow!"

She seemed almost thrilled to toss away her old life for this new one.

"You... like this?"

Evelys nodded her head. "Uhuh, it's great! No more fighting, now I can just play! Plus, I get to have all my friends with me too!"

Andreca backed away as the arena shimmered and shifted. She looked around as the arena began to change around her. What was once a fighting ring rapidly disappeared to make way for a new playground. A pair of sparring men at arms shrank down into little dragonesses whose swords had become dolls that they pretended were people. Equipment off to the side reformed into all sorts of dolls, toys, and fabrics for children to play with. A formation of footmen listening to the arena master's instructions became dragonesses who sat around and played pretend tea while the arena master was no more than a toddler spewing some smoke here and there. In a matter of moments, the arena of full of sparring men had been replaced with a circular playground set apart from the rest of the city where young girls roamed and shouted with dolls and other toys. They scampered, ran and played, all at the whims of the younger princess.

In Andreca's head, it became hard to think of any of the little dragonesses running around as ever having been men or even boys, as they became what they were now. Even her own... sister seemed to be as she was now, with any prior memory she had of her older brother replaced by this young girl.

Evelys grabbed hold of Anton's hand and bounced. "Come on, you can play with me!"

Andreca...no, Anton jerked her hand away and shook her...his head.

"Later," she said even as he ran from the strange changes happening around him. She didn't look back, instead focusing on a large building that lay ahead, the armory. As she came closer, she felt her chest have less bounce and her pants didn't need help staying up anymore. She stopped just short of the building's entrance and looked down at herself. She was a man again, and it felt disappointing for some reason. She shook her head, but she couldn't get that thought out of her mind. Her current form seemed so rough and...coarse. Why did she insist on being a man, again?

Anton took a deep breath and let out it, along with the doubt. He closed his eyes and looked down at himself again. Yes, himself, because he was a man.

"We're getting quite close, aren't we, whelpling?" he heard a familiar voice hiss playfully.

Anton looked to the side and there the dragoness was, poking her head from the side of the armory. He snarled and advanced upon her.

"You!" he said.

"It's me!" she said and laughed. "How are you, whelpling?"

"Crazy!" he said. "I've gone crazy and this is all your fault."

"Crazy?" The dragoness tilted her head, flicking her tongue out. "How so? Everything is resolving!"

"How?" Anton shrieked, not caring how he sounded.

"Why, we're doing away with all those things that would make your life uncomfortable." The dragoness nodded. "Yes, yes, everything is as it should be. Well, will be soon."

"But me..." Anton murmured, lifting an arm. "My sister, er..." He thought back to his brother, only the image of a smiling little dragoness came into mind. What was her...his name again? Evelys? His brother was a man though, unless...he didn't have a brother? He groaned.

"Ah, your sister. Your little sister." The dragoness laughed. "Always wanted to be a girl, that one, so why not let her be one? But..." Some smelling smoke spiraled from her nostrils. "She couldn't quite be the older one, right? That would make her the favored princess in this whole ordeal. Oh, she'll be quite pretty, but you're the one who has to be the prettiest now."

"I don't want to be pretty!" Anton growled, stomping a foot and curling a hand into a fist, a fist that felt even daintier now. He looked down, but he had still had a his human hand, calloused and masculine.

"Oh?" The dragoness frowned, then smiled. "How else are you going to get your prince?"

"Prince?" Anton said. "But..."

Despite himself, Anton found his eyes wandering to princes, but not quite the ones he had been expecting. They were not human, but dragons, the type that walked on two legs instead of four, princes who shined with their scales and armor both, handsome and strong, perfect for a princess such as she. Anton giggled and then realized what she...he was doing.

"No!" Anton shouted, rushing into the armory if only to get the princes and the dragoness out of his mind.

Anton entered the armory and was glad that there was no one at the forefront, no one who could have heard his insane conversation with the dragon or even pick up on hints that he was pining for princes instead of princesses. He smiled as he looked about, finding himself surrounded by weaponry and armor. It was what he was meant to be around, not flowers and dresses and strong smelling teas. He was glad to be free of the thoughts of the dragoness and his brother-turned-sister and all those feminine thoughts that weren't really his, even if they seemed so strongly nested in his mind. He turned towards a suit of armor that gleamed with what little light that spilled into the room, and rushed over to inspect it, hoping that examining it would push...other erstwhile thoughts out of his mind.

It wasn't combat armor by any means, jousting armor was heavy and designed for maximum protection all at the cost of being only really useful in well... jousts. Suits like this were kept just for that specific occasion, despite how impractical they were for all other duties. He wondered if this one was his, left unrecognizable after being doused in polished.

There were other suits too, each of them was meant for the other princes no doubt. Anton was tempted to smear them, but decided against it; they were all of inferior quality anyways and his opponents needed all of the help they could get to look pretty in his opinion.

Wait, pretty?

Anton blinked and saw all of the metal in the room dissolve into silken garments, all in a rainbow of colors that no man should ever consider wearing, yet appealed to Anton in an almost primal way.

He touched the metal gloves of his armor, as they softened into delicates underneath his touch. The metal skirt expanded into a long, lacy skirt and now only held its shape via a concealed struts in the outfit itself. The chestplate bloomed space for ample breasts, while ribbons appeared where leather straps used to be. She blinked as she felt her own breasts bloom and her skin itch, other parts of her shrinking and softening as she once again shifted over to feminine draconity. Still, she was distracted by other things than being female and a dragon again.

Anton was entranced by the sight, as the rest of the room shifted and changed. The armory now housed different weapons, and different armor, made for a different battle, with dresses and roses appearing from out of the mists. "Oh dear!" she said, with a confused mix of shock, worry... and... allure.

She could barely stop herself from touching her dress for tomorrow. Though, why was it down here and not in her dressing room? That needed to be fixed.

She had this urge to go tell a servant to transfer it over, but before she could approach, a strangely familiar dragoness approached her. Her scales were a black so dark they shined somehow, which made Anton feel jealous because while her scales were a nice shade of pink, surely they didn't shine like that. Not to mention the other dragoness had quite the bust even if her butt was bony. Anton knew because she had seen the other dragon lady naked before in the dressing room, on accident, of course. Or had she? That memory seemed strange, ethereal, half-real, not so unlike her masculinity.

"Not so fast!" said the dark scaled dragoness, stepping between Anton and the dress and shattering her musings. The way the dark dragoness glared at her reminded her of her rival. Could it be...?

"Julian?" Anton guessed, but then shook her head, no that name didn't fit... it was weird.

"Who? I'm Freja."

Anton...no, Andreca stared at her blankly.

"Whatever, weirdo!" said Freja, growing as she folded her arms across her chest, pushing her bust up. "Remember, no cheating! Just because it's your 'special day' doesn't mean you can act all weird and stuff!"

"My what?" Anton said with a confused expression. "I... I don't know what you're talking about...."

"Liar!" said Freja. "I saw you eying my man!"" She huffed, black smoke pouring out of her nostrils. "Well, he's mine!"

"No, he's mine!" Andrea said out of reflex, like she had done this song and dance a thousand times before. Albeit, she probably did in both lives, but this was a weird twist on how it usually went.

"Well, you're hardly a qualified lady!" Freja said as she raised her tail. "Begone with you!"

"I am too!" complained Andreca out of frustration. Still, she retreated into a different corner of dressing room, away from her rival princess. She felt dizzy after all of that shouting, like the blood was rushing into her head faster than it should be. She could totally be a better lady than Freja if she wanted to. And she could totally wear a dress... if she wanted to.

Anton blinked his eyes and found the armory had returned to what it used to be. It was very disappointing to see all of the colorful and unique dresses reduced to dull metals once again, almost like a portion of him felt like something important was lost in the return. He looked over and there Julian was, glaring at him while he stood in front of a polished set of armor.

Anton really hoped these sensations would stop before he lost his mind. He stepped out of the armory and saw the sun was setting, which meant it was near time for supper. Maybe it was a good time to attend the family dinner in early celebration of his birthday (and the tourney, he supposed) just so he could finally get his mind off of everything. Maybe talk to his parents, because they should have told him about his godmother, if that's what she even was.

Not wanting to have any other strange encounters, Anton rushed through the rest of the castle until he reached the fine dining hall where his family had their private dinners from time to time. When he reached it, he groaned, because there was a dragoness with scales that shifted between chromatic colors waiting for him. She was curled up in front of the hall, seemingly enjoying the last rays of the day's sunlight. Oddly, there was no one else around.

"Go away," he said to the creature many times larger than he.

"No, not yet," the dragoness said, lifting her head to regard him from on high. "Enjoying the adjustments yet, whelpling?"

"No," Anton growled.

The dragoness laughed, her tail slapping against the ground. She stretched her neck and swung her head around, poking him in the chest.

"We'll get there," she said. "This really is for the best."

Anton frowned and folded his arms across his chest, but said no more.

"Really, it is, whelping!" the dragoness said. "Just think of it. A long tourney tomorrow with quite the prize, and by the end of it you shall have it--your drake in shining armor! You'll be standing there in your prettiest dress, hair all done, and he'll come to you and the other princesses and he'll choose you. Doesn't that sound nice?"

Without thinking, Anton nodded and then shook his head. Except...it did sound quite nice. He could picture it in his head, his form so soft and smooth covered in even softer and smoother silks, shaded from the sun and then there he was as the dragoness said, her drake in shining armor. Anton sighed and almost felt as if she would swoon right there, at least until she noticed that she did feel soft and smooth right now, her delicate arms folded across her chest propping up her breasts.

Her breasts.

"Stop it!" Anton shrieked, voice transitioning from high to low as he was once again...well, himself. But even as he looked down at his masculine, human form, he felt some regret. He sighed and looked to the dragoness, whose eyes glimmered mischievously.

"You saw him, didn't you, whelpling?" The dragoness brought her head back and grinned a toothy grin. "Tell me, was he handsome?"

"Yes, but..." Anton said, then shook his head. "No. I'm a man. A human. A human prince, not a dragoness princess."

Even as he said this, Anton doubted himself. The words sounded half-hearted even to himself.

"So you say, whelpling," the dragoness said, standing up and moving to the side. "Well, I mustn't keep you waiting. Your parents have prepared your favorite foods. Go and eat, whelpling."

"Fine," Anton growled. "I will." He pointed an accusing finger at the dragoness. "No more interference, ok?"

"I'm not interfering with anything, whelping," the dragoness laughed, sauntering to Anton's side. "Things are coming to fruition. You will enjoy this best, because I know best." She flapped her wings. "But I must be off as well. Say hi to your parents. I wonder...will you find out their secret as well?"

Before Anton could respond, the dragoness flapped her wings and the prince felt the winds stir. He flinched and looked away, but heard and felt nothing. When he looked back, the dragoness was gone.

Shrugging the encounter off and feeling like he'd one in some way or the other, he stepped through the dining hall's doors.

Anton stepped through and found his parents sitting on the table, still human. Food was being delivered by servants, far more than necessary for all of them, but well, the servants usually took the leftovers so it wasn't a waste.

"Mother, Father. I need to talk about something..." he started.

And that was when Anton realized that his little sister was sitting close to his mother, no a dragoness, but well still obviously a little girl.

"Hi brother!" she giggled.

"... Uh hello, Evelys..." Anton replied. It felt kind of strange to see his sister still... his sister, but with the way things were turning out, was it going to be a case of thing going to be harder to change back once the dragoness did her work? He shook his head and went to the point. "Mother...Father... brother's a girl..."

"Yes, we know dear..." said father. "Your godmother is a bit... odd when it comes to these things. Once she gets started, it's really hard to stop her. Especially since your sister had been so... encouraging... before."

Anton's sister giggled in knowing response. "Cause, I get to play more!"

"That's kind of why we sent her away on a trip,made her promise not to come back until you were eighteen and well...now that you're an adult, she's come back."

"And we were hoping a trip to the islands would keep her busy for a few more years before... this happened!" The mother motioned to their daughter while she glared at her husband.

"Hey," Anton's father said, holding his hands up. "It's your ancestor who's to blame for her, not me."

"... So, we can't do anything about it?" Anton said. He had been hoping for something a little more... decisive could be done, but not only did his parents know about his godmother, they seemed almost reluctant to do something to her.

"Not really; we're just going to have to wait until she settles down."

"But what about getting things back to normal?" Anton asked.

"We don't even remember what 'normal' was before she was involved!" exclaimed his father. "For all we know, we used to be porcupines for all of the good that it would do!"

Anton glowered, this was not the answer he was looking for. "But if I don't stop her, I'll end up being a princess!"

"Well, what's wrong about that, dearie?" said his father.

"Besides, you'll look lovely!" said mother. "I'm so proud of my daughter, aren't you, wife?"

Wife? Anton frowned but his father nodded and smiled even as scales crept up his face.

"Well said," his father murmured. "You would do well to listen to your father. He may not be a woman, but he is very wise."

Anton blinked and then things changed in a sudden and almost seamless way. For her, she had gone through this enough that the changes almost seemed quite boring as she became a dragoness again. There was another change now, and that was her tunic and pants fusing together into a small blouse that better fit her diminished shape.

"Oh dear!" she exclaimed.

But the rest of the changes upon her family were more noticeable, with each of them growing purple scales. Mother's hair was shortened considerably and turned white, as her breasts visibly deflated and her figure broadened, while her clothes shifted to be what her husband wore while her husband... mother had her hair darken, likely the result of dyes as she began a dragoness wearing what her wife had been wearing previously. Evelys meanwhile resumed being the young dragoness she had been before and now was seemingly from here on out.

"Oh, no, not again!" Anton exclaimed, a little exhausted. Her delicate feminine frame wasn't meant for such drastic changes and it was tough enough to handle the ones around her as well! "Could this stop! It's so tiring..."

She swore she heard the dragoness's laughter, but didn't see her materialize.

"Relax, dear," said... father... mother, it was confusing now. "You've got a special day tomorrow!"

"Speshul!" cried her little sister. "Yaya! You'll be wearing that pretty dress and you'll be the prize of the tourn...tournknee!"

It seemed like Evelys had lost her ability to say certain words now that they had grown too complicated to her.

"Prize?" said Anton. She was confused. She didn't recall a prize, even when she was the one aiming to win the joust.

"Your hand in marriage!" laughed her father. "You're the oldest and well, the strongest gets you."

Anton's heart burst at the seams at the thought of burly, strong dragon men fought amongst each other for her... her hand in marriage. She had vague images of a number of male specimens who were of interest to her and wondered which of these suitors would steal her heart. Oh, to think how she could feel their strong hands on top of her delicate scales, caressing her curves, feeling up her breasts...Anton whimpered, unsure of herself.

Her sister giggled. "I knew you'd be a good princess!"

Anton...Andreca frowned, still half dreaming of her ideal mate. A part of her was sure that she should have been looking at the fairer sex, but her own feelings had made things complicated, as she longed for male companionship. It was like everything she craved was what she used to be...

It was only the sound and smell of the rest of the food being delivered to the table that snapped her out from her confused thoughts.

"Yay, dindin!" said Evelys said.

The servants, now dragons themselves though apparently they had been lucky enough to retain their sex, placed the food before the draconic royals. Andreca felt her stomach grumble as she watched the foods laid out before her. They were some of her favorite foods--fresh fruits and vegetables, spiced soup and sweetbread, and not too much meat. Although...didn't she love meat? And didn't Evelys too?

She meant to look over to her sister but instead saw someone else walking into the dining room--a dragoness with chromatic shifting scales. She glared at the dragoness as she lumbered over and sat at the empty end of the table that had never been occupied before, laying down and sitting before the table as if she belonged there.

"Hey!" Andreca snarled as the dragoness surveyed the food. "No one sits there."

"Oh," the dragoness said, blinking and looking over to the dragoness princess. "But I do."

"But you're not--"

"Family?" the dragoness chortled. "Of course I am. This spot has always been saved for me, I've just been...away. I apologize for that, things have gotten out of hand here. Oh, and please do excuse my earlier absence. A knight wandered into my lair and well..." She chuckled. "She's not so much a damsel in distress as a dragoness in a dress now. It suits her better." She looked over Andreca. "I must say you look quite nice in one yourself."

Andreca blushed and tittered and then caught at what she was doing. She meant to growl, but all she could do was let out a cute little hiss as she sat up.

"Mother, father..." she said, looking over to her parents, realizing that she had gotten the ordering wrong. Both of her altered parents looked up at her, but only for a moment before looking back at the bowls placed before them, filled with a sweet smelling pudding. "Godmother is--"

"Oh, she's fine..." her mother, no, father said. Or was it still her mother? She groaned and gripped at her head. "She can sit there if she likes. She's the head of the house, after all."

"What?" Andreca said, looking over to the dragoness who was grinning toothily.

"Your mother is right," the dragoness said. "I am the head or...I am the head now. The matriarch, if you please. I was absent long enough here and you can feel, it can't you? All sorts of problems!"

Andreca wanted to say something, but it felt wrong to speak up while the dragoness was speaking. It was too brash, too...masculine. So she stayed quiet even as she thought over the dragoness's words.

"But don't worry, whelpling," the dragoness continued. "You will still get your happily ever after. It'll take a little more work. You'll be the prettiest dragon princess and you'll have your hunky prince of a drake!"

While Andreca quite liked the sound of it, she didn't like how the dragoness was just...taking over. She looked over to her parents, expecting them to say something, but they were too preoccupied with eating their pudding or at least the princess supposed at first. While they were eating the pudding, they were shrinking as they ate it, regressing in age with each spoonful, and they either didn't seem to notice or care even as they became little purple scaled whelplings dressed in little purple dresses.

Her mother... father--she wasn't sure anymore--the whelplings stuck out their forked tongues and ate with their hands, both lost any semblance of maturity and poise in an instant.

Andreca felt odd... as new memories came in her head, of the two being... hatched, instead of grown parents and they were her...sisters? She had three of them? Yes, they were her charges and even younger than her little sister...

"Stop that!" She shouted.

But the girls just laughed it off.

"Andy's so siwwy!" one said.

"Don't worry about them," the dragoness said. "They're enjoying themselves, after all. Aren't you? Just look at the foods prepared for you. Aren't they your favorite?"

Andreca nodded as she looked at the food laid before her. Previously she had doubted if they really were her favorite, but as her forked tongue flicked out of her snout and tasted the air, she knew they were her favorite. Andreca picked up a spoon and with more poise and restraint than she had in a previous life, quietly ate her meal. It served as a potent distraction from the more... convoluted thoughts.

The dragoness ate across from her, surprisingly quiet as she took little bites here and there, trying a little of everything. Andreca stared at first, surprised at how dainty the dragoness was, but then remembered that staring was rude. She wasn't here to challenge anyone or anything, no, she was here to eat her favorite foods. It was her birthday tomorrow, after all, and that meant tomorrow was a big day. As much as she tried to suppress them, thoughts came to her of getting prepped and ready for the big day, but it didn't involve donning armor or some warm up swordplay or even mounting a horse and charging at what felt like a million miles an hour to clash with another man. No, the thoughts were of beautification, polishing her scales and claws and nails, having her handmaidens do her hair while she picked out the perfect dress that would be comfortable and surely attract one of those muscular dragon princes. She frowned, feeling as if it should be the other way around, with her looking at all the princesses and picking out one among them but...why would she do that? She was a princess except...

Except was she? She wasn't so sure. She wore a fine, flowery dress, but it was more than just appearance...she also had roseate scales that were so smooth, hips that flared out wider than her shoulders, a bust hidden under the dress that she would like to show to the right drake one day, and between her legs...well, that was why she was a princess, and not a prince at least so did her society say. Still, there was doubt, and why was there doubt? Why, when she thought of tomorrow's tourney, did she think of fighting and clashing and all sorts of rough stuff in pursuit of a prize princess? Shouldn't that be her or should she be male? She wasn't sure, and that doubt upon doubt wasn't helpful, draining her of all her appetite.

Andreca let her spoon drop as she stood. The dragoness paused and looked up at her curiously.

"Is something wrong, whelpling?" she asked, her green eyes glimmering.

"I think..." Andreca shivered. "I think I need some rest. My head is all muddled."

"Ah," the dragoness said, nodding. "Do get some rest. It is a big day tomorrow, dear! We want you right for it, and some rest sounds right! Off you go then!"

Despite the dragoness's kindness, Andreca didn't feel much better. She went into her room a little dismayed. All of the swords and armor pieces were replaced with ribbons and bows, with her sheets changed into something light purple and more... fitting for her feminine form. The room seemed quite pleasing to the eye, but served as a reminder to the princess's new status.

She didn't know if it was a good thing that she hadn't switched back to being male at this point, but at least it gave her time to... settle. Whatever that meant, at any rate.

She sighed as she sat down on the bed, eyes tracing over its flowery sheets as she ran her claws over them. It was soft, like her, and was that really so wrong? She really wasn't sure, her eyes shifting from the bed to her slight frame and the dress she wore. She stood and slowly undressed until she was naked. Was this really her, the pink scales, draconic snout and claws, tail and horns, not to mention her curves that she knew made her attractive to the male gaze along with the proud breasts that sat on her chest and the feminine flower that lay between her tender thighs? She got dressed in a simple floral night robe while thinking that her body was nothing she had ever had until today, until her godmother had meddled, but perhaps it was as she was always meant to be.

No!

She had started to lay down on the bed and sat straight up at that last thought. She wasn't supposed to be so soft, so slight, so utterly feminine and yet...again, why not? She frowned. What was it that she wanted? To be rough and tough and gruff again, a hairy, sweaty man who fought for fun for no real reason other than to satisfy his pride? She scrunched up her snout as she thought of what had gone on earlier in the day when she had been a brutish prince. She...he...had gotten into a fight with some other man just because they fancied the same princess. Oddly enough, she felt a little pride at the injuries she had sustained, but that quickly faded away because the whole thing had been...well, it had been stupid. There had been so many women to choose from, why had she chosen the one that would get her hurt? Now, being fought over on the other hand...

Andreca's heart fluttered, and she placed a hand over it as she thought of all the drakes in shining armor that would be fighting over her tomorrow. Oh, they were so brave, so strong, and they were all doing it for her. She smiled, daydreaming a little about the one that would win it all, no doubt a handsome and noble drake who would treat her right and not subject her to hardships she simply wasn't built for, and in turn she would be the loving little dragoness they all desired. Maybe she would be even lucky enough to have some eggs and little whelplings of her own that--

No.

She frowned. Had she really been thinking of children when she was still so young? She should be out on adventures, getting drunk on her parents' pay, and winning some tourneys while she...he still could, until he was forced to play politics in a damp, cool castle. But, no, that wasn't right. She had been raised in the courts, and in the courts she would remain. Sure, seeing a tourney was certainly fun, and she didn't mind some wine from time to time, but a full fledged adventure? No, no, no. Leave that to the footmen and fools. She was quite happy with her castle and its amenities. Why, tea just didn't grow out in the wilds, and any excursions in some cursed cave or haunted forest would surely dirty her clothes.

No...

She lay back on the bed, head coming to rest on her soft, silky pillow. Her mind went back to armor, metal plate and leather straps so much different than her current garb. Initially, she yearned to be in that instead, but that was silly. She was in her room and it was nearly time to sleep; why would she be in armor? And how would she wear it? She shivered at the thought of chafing her nipples within the tight, metallic confines or scraping her smooth scales on its pointed plates not to mention how the exertions would cause her to sweat and her muscles to ache. No, no, she was in the right garb, a soft night dress that would be comfy to sleep in because she needed a good night's rest if she was to endure the heat of tomorrow's tourney. She would be under the shade in her booth, of course, but it was still going to be rather sunny. Plus, she needed to look her best, and Andreca truly believed in the concept of beauty sleep.

Yes, she thought as she slid under her covers, the sheets caressing her feminine curves. There was no doubt in her mind that this was what she was meant to be, a pretty dragoness princess without the worries, sweat, and grit of being a boisterous prince. She just hoped she would wake up in the same shape.

Andreca woke up groggy, feeling uncertain, her motions clumsy. She rose to her feet, in a daze, and hastily put on clothes. She had to have people helping her get her dress on right, her outfit, so tight and restrictive that impeded movement. Each shoe was so heavy, her tiara weighed her down. She was so tired, so stressed out.

And then... she was on some sort of lizard that had this gigantic girdle that she gripped with her hands while it lazily walked forward, the din of the crowd muted as she tried to get a grip on reality. She tilted her head when she saw her scaly hands also bore something else, something long and sharp and pointed.

Andreca blinked for moment, confused. Why was the lizard so big? Why was she on a lizard? Why was she holding a weapon?

Anton shook his head, oh right. Was this his war lizard? Was it time for the joust? He yawned and tried to stir himself awake. He had to be focused, he had to be ready for... Was that Julian?

"Sir Julian," the announcer called from his box, his voice distinct even over the roar of the crowd. "Are you ready?"

Anton narrowed his eyes down the jousting lane and saw his rival nod atop his steed, a big, thicker lizard than the one he rode. Julian wore armor so deeply black that it didn't even shine in the sun. Anton hissed at the sight of his opponent and was a little surprised to have hissed in the first place, but why was that so strange? He was a dragon through and through...

Speaking of dragons, he looked over to the main box, and there was a dragoness somehow fitted in there, her scales shining with every sort of chromatic color. A dragoness...a dragoness that was the queen. His...mother? Godmother? Anton's head ached as he tried to think of it, as if something was severely wrong with all of this. But that was silly, because today was his birthday and also the day of the tourney, of course his godmother would be out here...along with all his little sisters, all three of them that cheered and waved at him.

"Prince Anton!" the announcer shouted. "Are you ready?"

Anton nodded. He wasn't so sure about the lizard thing, but well, he had his armor. He just had to brace himself. He could do this. One solid hit with his lance and he would unhorse his rival.

Unhorse? Why would he do that when he and Julian could have a nice chat instead, maybe with some tea too. They had problems, sure, but it was nothing that couldn't be talked through between two princesses. After all, he needed to practice his diplomacy if he was going to make it anywhere in--

Anton hissed and shook these errant thoughts away. Princesses? Diplomacy? Tea time? No, he was here to joust. As if on cue, the announcer shouted: "Charge!"

And so, Anton and Julian charged. The prince tucked himself against his mount tight as it built up surprising speed. His lizard leapt forward, not quite as agile as a horse, but with more than enough strength to make up for it. His lance wobbled unsteadily, and he wasn't sure he'd actually able to get a clean hit on Julian. He cursed, wondering what was going on. He had trained for this for years, and now he was having trouble just staying on target. This wasn't a joust, so much as the two warriors running up to clobber each other!

Before he knew it, Anton was upon Julian. The two warriors clashed and struck each other. Anton let out an excited shout as he hit Julian square in the chest, the celebration premature as he himself was hit. He grunted and tried to hold on, but then he was falling off his lizard, lance escaping his clawed grasp as he went where gravity directed him.

He grunted as he hit the ground on his front, all air escaping him in a single pained exhalation. He groaned, feeling how coarse and dirty he was even over the pain. What had just happened was...well, it was humiliating. He felt no pride about it even if he could see Julian sprawled out twitching in the dirt out of the corner of his eyes. What had just happened was just so brash and brutish and so unladylike...

Anton groaned again and rubbed at his snout. Why was he thinking about being unladylike? He was a prince, and yet he wasn't feeling like much of one right now, breathless and in the dirt. It was no place for a noble, especially not a princess.

Princess? That blow must have done more to his brain than his breathing. Still, as he rolled over onto his front, he began to consider that maybe those thoughts were right in a way. Right, because that's what he was. Princess, not a prince.

"Are you quite alright, whelpling?" he heard a familiar voice ask.

Still on his back, Anton glanced about and blinked when he...she saw the dragoness standing over him, her eyes glimmering with concern and...was that something else?

"Godmother!" Anton...Andreca cried.

"That's me," the dragoness said, smiling. "You're not too hurt, are you?"

"No, but..." Andreca tried to sit up, but the strength in her arms surprised her. She fell back and her chest throbbed. She looked pleadingly at the dragoness. "Everything is all wrong."

"Oh?" the dragoness tilted her head. "How so, dearie?"

"I..." Andreca frowned. "I should be a princess, right?"

"I don't know..." the dragoness murmured. "You tell me. Would you like to be one?"

Andreca nodded, and the dragoness smiled, carefully brushing a claw against Andreca's armor.

"I need your words, whelping," the dragoness said. "I know best, but I've never been much of a mind reader."

"Then yes," Andreca said quickly, so quickly that she didn't feel any doubt at all. "I want to be...no, I am a princess. A dragoness, not a drake, and I wear dresses, not armor and I'm jealous of Jul...Freja because she has a bigger bosom but...oh, I know I'm prettier and I know we could be good friends after she gets over herself."

"Is that it, dearie?" the dragoness asked.

"No..." Andreca shook her head, hating how big and bulky she felt, how her helmet fit on her head when she should be wearing a light tiara that sparkled in the sun. She blushed as she thought of what she was going to say next. "It's my birthday and...well, I want it to be special."

"Isn't it already?" the dragoness mused.

"Yes, but..." Andreca's blush deepened, her snout scales hot, and not just from the furnace her armor created. "I want a drake. A courteous, strong drake who'll take care of me and I'll take care of him. He can go off to battle and swing a sword, I don't care, but let me have my tea and dresses and courtly manners and maybe..." her voice squeaked. "...an egg or two. I've..." she paused. "I've had enough of pretending to be a prince. Oh godmother, can't you set things right?"

"Oh, dearie," the dragoness giggled. "They already are."

Andreca frowned, wondering what the dragoness meant. Then her vision swam, and she felt a great weight lift off her even if she still did feel hot, too hot. She lifted her hand, and someone took it, helping her to her feet.

"Are you alright, princess?" she heard a deep, soothing voice ask.

Andreca blinked and looked down at herself, her vision clearing up. Her perfectly painted talons were planted into the floor, floor that was covered with royal rug and not arena dirt. Her gaze traveled further up, her legs of course covered by silken dress just like the rest of her body. Well, not all of her. She felt her breasts kept in place by what must be her bra beneath the dress. Her breasts! She let out a cry of joy as she placed her clawed hands upon them, staring down her snout at her cleavage. She...she was a dragoness, and she could feel the most important part of that equation down between her legs, concealed beneath dress and undergarment, a...well, it wasn't quite emptiness, but it wasn't that awful feeling of something flopping between her legs as she had in the dirt.

"Princess?" the voice asked with more concern. "Are you alright?"

Realizing what she was doing, Andreca removed her hands from her breasts and blushed as she looked up, blushing even deeper as she saw who it was. It a...well, she got a flash of the image of a blue eyed girl with long black hair, but she blinked it away and saw instead the blue scaled drake that stood before her, clad in shining armor, his helmet held in one hand to the side. He looked so tall, so strong, so handsome that Andreca couldn't stop her heart from fluttering and she especially liked that look in his eye. He cared for her!

"Princess?" the drake asked again.

"Yes?" Andreca asked, then realized she had been staring at him. She looked away and folded her claws in front of her, desperately trying to recall his name. Was it Ina? No, no, that was from a different time, another life entirely. Of course this drake didn't have such a flowery, feminine name.

And, Andreca realized, of course the drake wasn't the only one around. There was a crowd around her in the main box that looked equally concerned, draconic servants and warriors, her sisters held back by a dragoness matron, and Freyja off to the side, frowning as she pressed her breasts up with her folded up arms. In fact, the whole tourney seemed to have stopped, for there was no one on the field at the moment. Andreca blinked and looked around, and realized what had happened.

"O-oh, dearie me," she said. "I'm so sorry, I must have fainted. P-please, let the tourney go on. Everything is..." She looked down at herself, at her feminine form with its smooth, polished scales and the pretty dress upon it, how she was so soft and devoid of any weaponry. She was...well, she was a feminine flower and she was beautiful, modesty be damned, though she would never say this out loud because...because she was a princess, a proper one, not an attention seeking harlot like Freja and certainly not a warrior or prince or any sort of drake. Everything was... "Everything is alright. Yes...everything is as it should be."

Everyone seemed to relax as she said this, but only for a moment as the tourney came to life once more. Servants went this way and that, one giving her a goblet full of water, the matron took her sisters back to their seats, and the warriors went back out to field...all except one, the blue drake who still stood stoically before her. Andreca felt her heart flutter, but she kept calm for now even if she wasn't sure what to say to him.

"Er, sir..." she began. She dipped her head and smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry, I can't remember your name. The heat--"

"Tarvik," the drake said suddenly. "Sir Tarvik."

And before Andreca knew what was happening, the drake stepped forward and took her head. She let out an "eep" and then blushed as he kissed her hand. Afterwards, he pulled away, stoic as ever, but was that a smile she saw in his dark eyes? She thought it was, and her heart's beating sped up. She blushed and had to look away and she heard him chuckle as he placed his helmet on his head. He turned to leave the main box.

"Wait!" she said.

He turned to her and looked expectantly at her.

"Milady?" he said.

She hurried up to him, reaching around her neck to unclasp the necklace around it. She held it out to him and he took it, a curious look in his eyes.

"Take this," she said. "For luck."

The drake nodded and smiled, tucking it into some nook of his armor.

"I need no luck, milady," he said. "For I have your favor."

Andreca smiled back, smitten. The drake gave her a nod and then walked out of the main box and into the staging area outside of the arena. Andreca watched him go, fantasizing a bit before she remembered her proper place. She walked through the box and passed Freja, who looked grumpier than ever, and why? Weren't there plenty of other drakes out here? Andreca supposed she would have to deal with her later, especially since they would be working together as noble ladies of the court someday soon. For now, though, she took her seat next to the queen, the dragoness with scales of shining chromatic colors, her little sisters on the other side. She sat down just as a joust was underway, and she watched in excitement as the drakes clashed, though her enthusiasm was a little dulled when she saw Sir Tarvik was not among those fighting...yet.

"Are you alright there, whelpling?" the dragoness asked. "I heard from your sisters that you fainted. Is the heat getting to you?"

"No," Andreca said, and meant to say more, but the dragoness went on.

"It could be if you'd like." The dragoness's eyes gleamed. "Early eggs wouldn't be so bad. I already see the makings of a mother in you."

Andreca was mortified, her face frozen in shock. Her godmother laughed and shook her head.

"I jest, whelping," the dragoness said. "It is too early for that. Why, you're just settling in, aren't you? Or are you already settled?"

Andreca considered the question while she looked over to the tourney, watching the drakes joust while he puzzled over what the dragoness meant. Settling in? Into what? Her role? Why, she was a proper princess through and through! There was nothing left of that previous masculine roughness. While she enjoyed watching the drakes clash, it wasn't because of the violence. It was...well, it was because she liked drakes, and she thought there might be one out there noble and brave enough for her, though she was already sure which one that was. She searched for him out in the arena and then suddenly sat up as she spotted him in his shining armor upon a lizard steed, his blue scales likewise shining.

"Whelpling, are you sure you're alright?" the dragoness asked. "You seem distracted."

"Oh!" Andreca looked to her godmother. "I'm sorry, it's just that--"

"You're smitten, aren't you?" The dragoness chuckled. "Yes, I see it now. Oh, don't look so ashamed, dearie! Which one is it?"

Andreca pointed him out just as he turned towards her in the distance and raised something. She gasped as she saw it was her necklace.

"Mmm, very good," the dragoness said. "That is quite the drake. I see I've chosen well in all of this, whelpling. Quite a gift, don't you think?"

Andreca looked at the dragoness, confused. Her godmother laughed and flapped her wings.

"What do you mean?" Andreca asked.

"Don't worry, dearie," the dragoness said. "Just know that I know best and it might be best for me to have a rest. This was hard work. Changing a whole castle? No small feat! But I did it all for you, dearie. Happy birthday."

"Oh, thank you!" Andreca said, smiling and ignoring the rest of what the dragoness had said as the meandering talk of any ruler.

"My pleasure," the dragoness said with a smile of her own. "And I truly do mean it. Now, enjoy the rest of the tourney, whelpling."

"You're leaving?" Andreca said.

"Only for a little while," the dragoness said. "Don't worry, you're not queen yet, but you will be and this is good practice. Queen for a day." The dragoness sighed. "It must be nice. Do enjoy it, dearie, and keep an eye on that drake. I think he quite likes you as well."

Andreca blushed, and with that, the dragoness was gone. The dragoness princess shrugged, taking the seat she had just occupied and finding it somehow perfect for her size. It was common for the queen to disappear with little notice, royal matters, the princess figured. She didn't think too hard on it, instead enjoying the tourney as the dragoness had suggested, especially while focusing on Sir Tarvik, though what she most of all enjoyed was how there was no longer conflict in her of what she was. There was no doubt in her mind that she was a dragoness with all the feminine curves and attributes and soft, smooth pink scales she sometimes polished herself along with painted talons and claws, but also a princess with the manners and mannerisms of a lady of the court with no need for harsh words or violent action. Now that such uncertainty of her role was behind her, she could look forward to her future and she was already imagining Sir Tarvik in it, especially the near future, right after the tournament in fact. Perhaps he would propose to her then...!

Andreca sighed softly, leaning forward as thoughts drifted into daydreams as the tourney went on. What a perfect birthday it had turned out to be after all, and it seemingly was only to get even better!