Mrs. and Mrs. March 2022: The Amazing Amazons

From the private journal of Titus Marches, soldier of Hearthfire Village...

Entry 1:

Today we march to meet the Demon King's Amazon soldiers in battle. We've heard word that they've enslaved every village and hamlet from here to the Shaded Valley. We may be simple farm folk, but we know the lay of the land, and we're willing to fight to the death for it.   I've never enjoyed battle. The Demon War has left it's scars on my father, and my father's father, and myself. But what I abhor most is saying goodbye to my beloved Beatris. Seeing the look on her face as I don my armor, sheathe my sword, and kiss her farewell, both of us wondering if it's the last we'll see of the other. Ahh, my dear Beatris. You said you wish to join me in battle. "Till death do us part," you said, "if we are to die, then we should do it as husband and wife." But the battlefield is no place for a woman, especially not a delicate flower as yourself. And I would hardly call the barbarians the Demon King has brought under his heel women. They say that no man is left standing in their wake. Monsters, the lot of them.

Ah, my dearest Beatris. How I long to see you again. Worry not, my love. Your lion will protect you, or die trying.

Yours always, Titus

Entry 2:

Our defeat at the hands of the Amazonians was as swift as it was humiliating. At every turn, they had us outnumbered, outsmarted, and outmatched. However, instead of giving us the mercy of an honorable death, all of us were taken as prisoners of war. Probably to torture us. Monsters.

I fear for what these barbarians will do to our village. To you.

I'm so sorry my dear Beatris. I have failed you.

Entry 3:

It has been a few days since I last wrote. The Amazonian occupation of the village has been... strange. Instead of stealing our crops, they have labored alongside us, plowing our fields and digging new water-ways. Instead of pillaging our valuables and quartering in our homes, they've instead started trading their goods and knowledge with us. The local blacksmith said he's learned more about metalworking in the last few days than he has his entire life! It's almost as if they're...

No, this is all a trick. It must be. I mustn't let my guard down. I will keep you safe my dear Beatris, I swear. I won't fail again.

Entry 4:

A high ranking witch from the Demon King's court came to pay us a visit. A young woman with blue skin and horns. And I SWEAR her shadow winked at me as she strode into town. She promised the village a blessing, one that would change our village for the better, make us into our ideal selves. I warned the others that this could all be a ploy, but my pleas were drowned out. My wife is beginning to doubt my judgement. But can't she see? I'm doing this all for her!

The witch surrounded our village borders with strange, fiery glyphs. She said they would keep us safe, and make us strong.

In the dead of night, I tried to rub out the demonic sigils, but it was no use.

I insisted to my wife we had to leave, that everyone is losing their minds! But she insisted that we stay, and that these demons mean no harm, and that if I ever loved her, I would trust her, just this once.

I almost left without her.

Gods forgive me, I almost did.

But I made a vow. Til death do us part. And whatever fate awaits us, we shall face it together. I will face it with my love.

Entry 5:

I KNEW it was all a lie! I NEVER should have trusted these demon spawn!

Last night, I was wracked with aches and pains. I could feel my bones churning, my muscles melting. I felt the heat of sweat and fever lay waste to my body. And more and more, I felt myself getting heavier and heavier.

When I awoke in the morning, I was no longer a man. I was a woman, a plump, curved creature of femininity. Nothing of my manhood remained. I looked like a damned heathen fertility idol! I feared the worst for my wife, but when I shook her awake, I was stunned to see the opposite had happened to her. She had grown almost twice my own size, and her once round body had been sculpted into strong, chiseled muscles that rivaled even my own! She seemed thrilled at the change, and the strength and endurance her new form afforded her. I was much more hesitant, having been reduced to a soft, spongy toadstool of a woman. I'll admit, once the initial shock wore off, there WAS a certain... peace to my new form. As if something had been missing. As if this jiggling, rotund house of supple flesh and soft hairless skin was finally big enough to house my soul. As if I had finally come home.

The rest of the village experienced a similar transformation. Some were left untouched, save being in much better health than the last night, but many had had their manhoods stolen from them. The village had gone from mostly men to mostly women within a single night. Some seemed elated at their transformation. My wife included.

But clearly this must be a trick, right? Clearly this is all a plan to fatten me up and conscript my wife into the devil's army, yes?

I thought I was sure once, but now... 

Entry 6:

I no longer have the body to hunt. My footfalls are much too loud, and these great mounds on my chest keep me from firing a longbow properly or even running properly. It feels as if the baker's supply of dough and molasses has been poured just underneath my skin. Like wading through a sea of pudding. It's... strangely comfortable, to be covered in cushions, but it keeps me from my role as man of the house. My wife, however, has taken over the duties of bringing food home. She excitedly tells me how thrilling it is, to track her prey, and kill it quickly and cleanly. To be one with the forest, a Lioness to my Lion. I felt as if I should be more disappointed in my lot, to go from being a lion to a housecat. My wife was stealing my role in the house, after all. And yet, something about it felt... right. I never quite had the stomach for hunting. I never told my wife, but taking the life of an animal was something that left a deep guilt within me. I had to dry my tears after some kills. But it was a necessity for the family, one my father thrust upon me. But there was never any thrill in it for me as there was for my wife. It was simply a duty I had to fulfill, my responsibility as man of the house.

As these new days of womanhood pass, I'm finding more and more that these responsibilities, these lines in the sand I've drawn between man and woman are more shackles than laws of nature. Leashes we put on ourselves, chains that keep us from becoming... more.

Perhaps I judged the Amazons too harshly.

Entry 7:

I apologized to my wife today. For everything. For ever treating her as less than equal, for ever making her feel no more than her "role." I was brought to tears as five years of guilt came tumbling out of my mouth. I'd never allowed myself to cry before, not in front of her. My father had always said you musn't let the women of the house see you cry. But I'm a woman now, too, so I'll cry as much as I damn well please.

My wife embraced me in her great Herculean arms. There was a thrill to being carried to our bed like a princess. And though my sword had been beaten into a ploughshare, it had done nothing to quell the love between us. In fact, we felt more alive, more as one than we ever had in seven years of marriage. There was so much more of me now. More of me to love. More of me for her to love too. The feeling of her rock hard muscles pressed against my soft, sensitive body was a bliss that scorched my soul. To hear her call me "Titiana" instead of "Titus" was a thrill I haven't felt in my entire life. It was as if someone had spoken my name aloud for the very first time. I was born again, that night, wrapped in my wife's beautiful arms, pressed against her perfect bosom, and her against mine.

In sickness and in health, till death do us part. Whatever lies ahead of us, no matter how frightening, new, and strange, we will face it together.

As wife and wife.

-Titiana Marches

(Special thanks to Lemon Custard for the request that inspired this piece and to all of you for your support!)