...I need you to take care of someone. I'm sure you've heard that Lord John Hayward of Larnwick has been refusing to pay his dues to the Crown."
Megan nodded hesitantly.
"Yes, well my messengers have recently informed me that, to add insult to injury, he's been riling the good people of Larnwick, claiming that if they follow him in a campaign against me he'll shower them in riches. Can you believe that?" The King scoffed, "Openly making threats against my throne?"
"So you want me to... assassinate him?" Megan asked with caution.
"Oh, heavens no!" the King laughed, "I'm not some weaselly man who has his enemies' throats slashed in the middle of the night!"
The King leaned forward nonchalantly.
"I want you to challenge him to a duel, and I want you to win."
He leaned back in his throne.
"My nephew, Duke Everard will be replacing him, he'll meet you at Larnwick with his men in case a skirmish breaks out, but you've always been a capable man, Harriot, I'm sure you'll have that slimy traitor in the grave in a matter of seconds!"
Megan felt uneasy, she wasn't sure she'd be able to kill a man, but she felt as though there wasn't much of a choice here.
"As you wish... my liege."
"Excellent!" the King clapped his hands, "You'll depart tomorrow at dawn and, as always, I'll provide you with provisions for your journey."
The King turned to the ringed man, "Wolfgang! Please show these fine men to their rooms, they have a long journey ahead of them and need to rest.
Wolfgang bowed and led Megan and Philbert out of the throne room.
---
"Here you are, Sir Harriot," Wolfgang held the door open for Megan, "I'll have one of the servants bring your things shortly. Please, make yourself comfortable."
The heavy wooden door shut, and Megan was alone for the first time.
She walked up to the large bed that sat in the center, her armor clanking loudly with every step, the sound making her grimace as it echoed off the stone walls. Fiddling with the armor's plates she found that they were held together by leather straps. She fumbled with thick, clumsy fingers and eventually managed to undo every clasp. The armor fell apart in sections: shoulders, forearms, chest, and so on. She laid each piece on the bed's fur sheets, trying her best to keep them in the order they were on her body.
It wasn't until the armor was fully off that she realized how heavy it was. She stretched, relieved of literally getting their weight of her shoulders. Relief that was cut short when a sharp, acrid smell reached her nose. She looked down at herself, confronting her situation for the first time.
She was wearing a linen tunic shirt with a low cut collar, from which she could see dark, curly hairs poking out from beneath her sharp collarbones. And despite the shirt's loose fit, the musculature of her chest and shoulders managed to push out from under the fabric.
Rough burlap pants wrapped around her legs and were tucked into shin-high leather boots.
She couldn't help but stare at the slight bulge in her pants. She knew what was there. She'd felt it from the moment she'd arrived to this time and body but she'd been doing her best all day to avoid thinking about it. Thankfully, between the long journey, the commotion of the town, and the fact that her armor had all but obscured her new body, it'd been pretty easy to ignore the lump in her pants.
Curiosity, anxiety, excitement, and fear all rose up in a turbulent storm inside Megan's chest. She lifted a hand and started hesitantly reaching towards her groin. She didn't know how to feel, and she didn't know what it'd be like once she fully confronted her new organs.
Her hand inched closer.
Megan could hear her heartbeat in her ears as the distance between her fingers and the burlap grew smaller. More strange sensations filled her.
'Arousal?' she thought. She felt both disgusted and excited, ashamed and curious.
It was torture.
A brisk knock at the door pulled Megan away from her thoughts. She quickly folded her arms and turned to face the door.
"Come in!" she called, louder than she'd intended.
The door creaked open and a young girl wearing a plain frock and dirty apron poked her head in.
"Sir Harriot, I'm terribly sorry to bother you but Master Wolfgang has had a bath drawn for you and asked me to fetch you to."
A bath? Megan caught another whiff of her acrid body odor as she unfolded her arms.
"Yes, of course. A bath would be great!"
Megan followed the maid out and down the hall. She couldn't help but stare at her. She looked like she was maybe Megan's age, like they could've been in the same class.
"What's your name?" she asked, she hoped she sounded friendly but her deep, gruff voice made her feel as if every time she spoke it came out as a growl.
The maid, who'd been avoiding looking directly at Megan, looked up for the first time.
"I'm Meredith, sire," she answered, her tone confused. None of the King's guests had ever asked her name before. And why would they? She was just a maid.
"Nice to meet you, Meredith," Megan said with a smile. This only further unnerved the poor maid. Luckily for her, they'd reached the bath room.
Meredith opened the door and gestured for Megan to walk in.
The bath room was exactly that: a room for bathing. It was a relatively small, square room, faintly lit by oil sconces and dominated by a shallow pool filled with aromatic petals and herbs in the center of the tiled floor. The walls were made of some sort of metal, polished to a mirror finish. The room smelled of lavender and rosemary. m
Megan stared across the room, and a tall, muscular man stared back with dark eyes.
"When you're ready to go back to your room please ring the bell and I'll bring you a towel, sire." Meredith said, gesturing to a small silver bell that hung over the doorway. She then bowed her head and scurried out before Megan could thank her.
Megan was once again left alone with her thoughts and her body.
She knelt down and dipped her hand in the water, it was warm and inviting.
She looked up and saw her reflection again. Megan walked closer to the mirror wall, her boots echoing in the chamber. Though the light was dim, she was still able to get a good look at her face: square jaw, crooked nose, and intense, dark green eyes. She stroked the pointed goatee that wrapped around her mouth; she'd known it was there and had been playing with at all day, but she hadn't realized how pointy it was. She wondered if that was something she'd have to trim herself.
She ran a hand through her dark chestnut hair, it was longer than she'd expected and curled around her ears and her neck, she caught the glint of a few silver strands scattered throughout; it'd been slicked back by the sweat and pressure of wearing a helmet all day, exposing her m-shaped hairline. She ran a finger down the long scar that ran from her temple and down her cheek.
She looked her reflection up and down, and then looked back at the pool of bathwater, warm and fragrant, it seemed to almost call her name.
Megan let out a deep sigh.
She grabbed the hem of her tunic and pulled it over her head. It reeked, she tossed it into a corner and looked back at her reflection.
"Woah."
She was ripped. She knew Harriot would be solidly built just from the way the shirt had hugged her chest, but she didn't expect his muscles to be so... toned. She struck a pair of bodybuilder poses and watched her biceps spring to attention, but felt silly and stopped shortly. She'd been expecting to see a forest of hair once she took off her shirt but was surprised to see that most of her body hair seemed to be on her chest. Her stomach was surprisingly bare, the only hair there was a trail that disappeared into her pants.
She sat down and pulled the leather boots off her feet. She was greeted with a pair of slightly sweaty woolen socks that she threw in the corner with her soiled shirt. She wiggled the toes on her wide feet and stood up. She undid the clasp of her leather belt and let the rough burlap pants fall to the ground. She was surprised to see what looked like a cross between bloomers and boxer shorts. Not that she'd ever given it any thought, but she hadn't imagined that medieval people wore underwear.
She briefly considered bathing in her underwear, but decided against it. After all, she'd have to face the snake in her pants eventually regardless. She slipped off her trousers in one fell swoop, and there it was. Hanging limply between her thick legs, a pink dick sat nestled in a bushy mess of hair, her balls hanging low beneath them. They swung and hit her inner thighs as Megan made her way into the pool.
The water was warm and Megan could feel the tensions of the day melt away the deeper she got in. She sat down, the water reaching just above her nipples. Her legs instinctively spread wide. Megan let herself relax, taking in the perfume of the water as it swirled around her...