tagTransgender & CrossdressersThe Blood Pact Ch. 02

The Blood Pact Ch. 02

bykimtheelf©

Simply climbing the stairs out of the storerooms proved to be a challenge like no other I'd ever faced. I nearly fell three different times when I stepped on the hem of that infernal skirt. I don't know how any of the women in the keep ever did it. Yes, Master Oringel was definitely going to pay for this. Why had I even asked him for help in the first place? A single lost finger was nothing compared to what I was facing now.

Why was I even heading up to the kitchens as the Chamberlain wanted? Cooking was work for women. Regardless of how I might have looked at the moment, I didn't have to subject myself to that, did I? I could have refused, simply played the part of being "Stephanie" for a moment and claimed I was no longer interested in the job, but I suppose I hadn't been thinking too straight at the time.

At the top of the stairs, I could hear the sounds of bustling activity as the keep prepared for the evening's festivities. Every last hand had been pressed into service and most had been working since before dawn. Careful to stay out of sight, I leaned around the corner. The short corridor beyond was filled with more people than I'd ever seen there before. The kitchens at the far end appeared to be utter madness.

Seeing all that, I realized there was no way I could do what Master Oringel and the Chamberlain wanted. Just to get to the kitchens, I'd have to walk a gauntlet of my fellow servants. I knew all of them and worked with most every day. I simply couldn't face them looking like this. Maybe I could hide for a few days in some dark corner of the castle. The curse might even wear off on its own by then. Surely it couldn't be permanent. Even magic has limits, doesn't it?

Of course, I was just a stable hand. What did I know about magic? Master Oringel was a member of the cadre, the most powerful mages in all of Vitrelay. If anyone could forever curse a person with a casual wave of his wand, it would be him. If I angered him by hiding, then I might very end up stuck in this ungainly, bloated body the rest of my life.

I couldn't live like that. I'd sooner die. Maybe I should have simply gone to the top of the high tower and thrown myself off right then. After all, even if Master Oringel did change me back eventually, I'd still have to face the Chamberlain. However, suicide wasn't an option I was seriously willing to consider just yet -- at least not while I still had all my fingers.

Two side doors opened off of the corridor and lead to other parts of the keep. There was no way I'd get to even the closest one without being seen, but it was either risk momentary embarrassment with that, or thrust myself headfirst into the lion's den by going to the kitchens as I'd been instructed.

I didn't even have to think about it before choosing the second option.

It no longer mattered if I angered Master Oringel by hiding. I might have been willing to except this humiliation from him, but that did not mean I was going to face the same from everyone else as well. With all of them hard at work, they probably wouldn't even notice me. I just had to keep as unobtrusive as possible.

Brushing a few strands of golden hair across my face, I hunched my shoulders and dropped my eyes to the floor; anything to help hide my shame. Praying that no one would recognize me, I took a deep breath and stepped out into the hallway. After the trial of the stairs, walking on flat ground was a little easier, but I still felt as if I was going to fall flat on my face if I didn't keep all my concentration on simply putting one foot down in front of the other.

One halting step after the other carried me down the corridor. Around me, my fellow stable hands were busy bringing fresh supplies in from the courtyard. Against the walls, girls were hunched over piles of flowers as they tied garlands to decorate the great hall. Elsewhere, women from the kitchen were digging through piles of extra pots and pans looking for just right one while others prepared chickens and rabbits and vegetables for the various extravagant dishes that were to be served that evening. I did my best to ignore them all and simply concentrated on my goal. Just a few more paces and I'd put all of them behind me.

However, the boisterous chatter filling the hallway seemed to stop abruptly at my approach, leaving only the sounds of dropping knives, rustling fabrics, and clanking pots. I must have looked quite freakish indeed to have attracted that much attention so quickly. I could feel their eyes on me, burning through the mortifying disguise I'd been forced to wear. I knew that if I so much as looked up they would all start laughing at my miserable state. I dared not do so for fear I'd lose what little resolve I'd managed to gather in order to get that far. I lowered my eyes further still, if that was even possible, and hurried on as fast as my clumsy gait allowed.

The short set of stairs that lead up to the inner chambers opened to my right. Things would be quitter there and I'd have plenty of opportunities to find a hiding spot. However, several huge men were crowding the entire passageway with their bodies as they carefully maneuvered an ornate sideboard up the stairs. Rather than stand there looking like a fool as I waited for them to get out of the way, giving everyone amble opportunity to stare at me some more, I kept moving, acting as if I knew where I was going.

The passageway down to the stables was my next (and last) opportunity to avoid the kitchens. Unfortunately, it was even more blocked than the previous one had been. A number of hulking men were busy forcing several gigantic casts of ale up the stairs. They were going so slowly, maybe I'd be better to go back and wait for the other passageway to clear. I was stepping madly back and forth between my tiptoes as I looked from one to the other. Neither appeared to be moving at all. Even when it became clear my intent was to get past them, the men with the barrels paid little heed to my plight. It looked as though I had no other choice but to use that ridiculous voice I was now stuck with.

"Pl-please...um sirs, might I pass?" I practically whispered. It was a miracle the man supervising the others actually heard me.

With a swagger, he stepped forward and surveyed me with his eyes. The corner of his mouth turned up into lecherous smile. "Now lass, we're in a bit of a hurry here. Chamberlain says we gotta get all this in right away, no time for slacking."

And what exactly did everyone think they were doing by standing around staring at me? I nearly choked when I looked up at the man and say that it was Griffith. We'd been friends for ages. He'd be more likely than anyone to recognize me, but at the moment, that was not what I was afraid of. I'd never thought of him as being particularly big, but those bulging muscles of his now looked as if they could snap me in half without any effort at all.

"Please," I said again. My heart sank when I heard that same insipid voice coming from my mouth, only now on the verge of tears. What was wrong with me? Was I now going to start acting like a woman as well, breaking down in tears at the drop of a hat? I had to get out of there.

"Sorry, lass," Griffith said. He almost sounded like he actually was. "But we're almost done. Give us another ten minutes and we'll be out of your way."

Ten minutes? Standing around in that crowded hallway with all those eyes on me?

"Hey now, what's going on out here!" a shrill voice called from the kitchens. I knew it all too well as belonging to Holainah, mistress in charge of the all the women in the keep. "Get back to it, the lot of you! We've got work to do!"

Everyone hopped back to their tasks, me all but forgotten -- except by Holainah, of course.

"And just who the hell are you supposed to be? I know all the girls in the keep and you're not one of them." She brandished the long wooden spoon in my face like a club. I'd seen her use it often enough like one as well. "You'd better speak up when I ask you a question, girl, or I'll put you over my knee! And don't think I won't -- I don't care how old you are. If that doesn't teach you some manners, I'll let the Chamberlain have at you."

Maybe it wouldn't have been such a bad idea to get myself fired as soon as possible, but the thought of facing the Chamberlain again made my skin crawl. My voice came out at a squeak even before I was completely aware of what I was saying.

"Um, please, I'm new here, um, the...the Chamberlain sent me to see if you needed any help...?"

I could play along for a little while, at least until I found a chance to slip away. With hands on her amble hips, Holainah eyed me like a rotten piece of meat for several long second before saying anything.

"What's your name, girl?"

"Math -- Steph -- Stephanie." It took more effort than I could image to utter something so inherently wrong.

Suddenly there was a whoosh through the air as the spoon struck my backside hard enough to make me yelp. Several girls giggled behind their hands as they hurried past. I would have glared after them if Holainah's yelling wasn't occupying my complete attention.

"If you're going to work here, you will address me as 'mistress,' is that understood, girl!"

"Y-yes...mistress," I said, feeling like I wanted nothing more than to slink away and hide in a corner somewhere. Holainah stared at me again, as if debating whether or not I deserved another swat with the spoon, but then turned and gestured me toward the kitchens.

"Well, get moving, we haven't got all day!"

"Yes, mistress."

"Come on now, hurry up," she said, storming along right on my heels. I swear I could feel that spoon flailing back and forth through the air just behind my head. Everyone we passed, servant men and women alike, all laughed outright at the sight of it. Suddenly, the thought of throwing myself from the high tower didn't seem like such a bad idea after all.

The kitchens were huge, spread out over several different rooms, and today, every square inch was in use for one purpose or another. Just stepping though the door, I nearly ran right into someone carrying a steaming rack of loaves. I skidded to a halt, but Holainah grabbed me from behind and ushered me to the side, off into one of the back corners of the kitchen. There, a few barrels had been set up with a board across them to create a makeshift table. At one end a large old woman sat shelling peas, while at the other were a pair of girls about my age who were busy polishing silverware.

"What've ya got there, Holainah?" the older woman said, without even breaking the rhythm of what she was doing. Apparently she didn't need to address Holainah by her title. The two younger girls looked up from their work and eyed me with a sort of morbid curiosity. I stood before them all, trying to make myself as small as possible.

"Alright Stephie, you'll be helping out Greta and Nat there with the silverware," Holainah said. "They're so slow, they could use the help."

"Yes, mistress," I peeped.

Then I felt the sting of the spoon across my butt once again and reared up straight as could be, my ample chest inadvertently thrust forward for all the world to gaze upon. All three of the women laughed, but none louder than the old one, who cackled on in a rowdy guffaw.

"What -- what was that for?" I demanded of Holainah as I rubbed my backside.

"Standup straight! I'll not have any of my girls slouching around like those brutes out in the stables. Is that understood?"

"Yes, mistress."

"Good, now get to work! We still have a lot to do before this evening and not enough time to do it!"

Holainah hurried off, already yelling at someone else for some minor infraction.

"Hi, I'm Greta," one of the two girls said after Holainah was gone. She was a cute little brunette who I'd flirted with on more than one occasion. However, as far I knew, no one had yet gotten under her dress. Her friend had jet black hair and an angular face that made it look like she was always scowling. Griffith claimed to have gotten her to go down on him once, but I never wanted to try for fear she might bite something off. "And this is Natalie. You're Stephie?"

"um...yeah, Stephanie, that's me, I guess."

The older woman laughed again, rolling back and forth on the barrel she was using as a stool. "Damn girl, don't even know your own name?" I'd seen her around before but we'd never met -- after all who would want to socialize with a fat old hag like her? Now I found myself wishing we would have stayed strangers.

Greta and Natalie shifted over on the small bench they were sharing to give me a tiny little edge to sit on. With that diabolical corset squeezing my already sizable hips out on the bottom and my gigantic chest out on the top, just sitting down proved to be a challenge getting both ends to counterbalance each other correctly. Teetering on that tiny bit of seat, it felt like my whole ass, which was so much more rounded and soft than before, kept wanting to roll out of from under me and push me right onto the floor.

I picked up a rag and an ornate knife and became polishing just like the others, trying my best not to look up. The way my arm kept brushing against my breasts every time I reached for something gave me a sick feeling inside. The sensation of them jiggling wasn't entirely unpleasant but I just knew that even the slightest touch would be seen by the others and they'd instantly assume I was playing with myself, or something equally as humiliating. If Master Oringel was so intent on making me endure life as a woman for a time, why couldn't he have at least given me a more normally proportioned body?

"You're new here?" Greta said, her tight little body pressed up against mine. Under different circumstances, it would have been heaven, but with a corset biting into my ribs and the constant struggle to stay on the bench, it was anything but. She gritted her teeth as I tried once again to get more comfortable. "Are you from the village?"

"Um, yeah, I mean, I guess, I just moved here." It seemed like a good enough lie to get me through for a while. After all, it was turning out to look as if no one at all was going to recognize me for who I really was.

"You're not related to Mathis, by any chance, are you?" Natalie said. "You look a little like him."

My blood ran cold. She must have noticed something. Was she going to string me along, just to humiliate me in front of the entire kitchen? That would just be my luck. If I looked anything like my masculine self, it was no wonder everyone kept staring. I couldn't even imagine how hideous I would look as a woman. My jaw quivered and I didn't dare look away from the ornate knife I'd begun polishing. Again I shifted my weight to keep from falling off the bench and Greta groaned. I didn't know what to say, but the fat woman shelling peas spoke up for me.

"Ha! Everyone around here is related to everyone else! You're nothing but a bunch of inbreeds!"

The knife I was holding slipped out of my hand and I had to lunge to grab it before it clattered to the floor. That, however, threw me off balance and I only managed to keep myself on the bench by nearly unseating Greta. She in turn had to grab hold of the tabletop to keep from falling and it was only Natalie's intervention that kept the whole thing from ending up on the floor.

A moment of utter stillness followed in which the fat woman laughed on and on, offering all manner of uncouth comments about my grace. That high tower was sounding more and more appealing all the time. Suddenly, Greta stood up with a sigh and nudged me in the shoulder with her hip. I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye and she was glaring back at me.

"Excuse me," she said. "I need to take a piss."

"A piss?" I said. I'd never heard a girl speak like that before. Just the very thought of what it implied made my cheeks burn red.

"Yes, a piss! Would you please get out of my way!"

"Yeah, sorry," I shuffled off the bench.

"Gods, what a fat-ass cow..." Greta muttered as she pushed past me. As she stormed away, we were treated to another chorus of laugher from the fat woman.

"What's the matter girl, don't anyone ever piss where you come from?"

"No, they do -- I mean...I just never..."

"You're not too bright are you, bitch?" she laughed loud enough that the entire kitchen heard her.

With more eyes than I cared to think about boring into me, I settled back onto the bench, all too conscious of how much my pillowy ass spread out now that it had amble room to do so. Regardless of Mistress Holainah's warnings about my posture, I let my shoulders slump as far as they would go.

As I tried to ignore the stares and got back to polishing, Natalie shimmied close. Despite the fact there was now plenty of room on the bench for both of us, she didn't stop until her body was right up against mine. She leaned over and her breast squeezed up against my arm. I froze. In a conspiratorial tone, she said, "Well, I for one think your ass is quite exquisite."

My mouth was already dry but it was doubtful I would have been able to say anything after hearing that even if it wasn't. I looked over at her and her face was creased from ear to ear with a sly smile. Maybe she wasn't quite so cold as I'd always assumed.

"I'd love to take a closer look at it after the festivities," she added. "I'd let you handle mine too, if you want."

I nearly smiled back, but then stopped short. Where I would have expected a playful twinge in my cock, I instead felt my nipples hardening and a growing warmth between my legs. Why did she have to be coming on to me now, of all times, when I didn't have the means to do anything about it? Was it even possible that all my various parts now worked just like a real woman's? I didn't even want to think about it. Doing my best to ignore her, I busied myself with the silverware.

She simply giggled, one of those girlish titters that always made me feel like they were all pointing at me behind my back. "You're cute when you blush like that."

Fortunately, I didn't have to reply because Greta returned and scooted onto the bench without any warning whatsoever. "Come on Stephanie, move that fat ass and give me some room here," she said. I did my best to accommodate her, but Natalie, humming innocently, wasn't budging an inch.

Wedged between those two girls, I found my new body bent uncomfortably out of shape and my movements confined in order to keep from disturbing them. As the two of them chattered away between themselves, my muscles became a tense ball of aches and pains. I wasn't in much of a mood to join in, especially when the topics they chose to keep retreading were a number of female issues which I would rather have not heard about, and the various men in the keep they wanted to have ravage them. (my real name did not come up once).

How long exactly I was stuck cramped between them like that, I couldn't say for certain, but it felt like hours. At least the boring repetition of the work helped to keep my mind from worrying too much. That secluded corner of the kitchen became my personal little sanctuary. As long as I didn't do anything to draw attention to myself, I was safe.

After awhile the girls' conversation stopped entirely, but Greta's occasional grumbles only grew more frequent, her manners more perturbed. Though I was certain she had much more of the bench to sit on then I had when on the end, she was now fidgeting far worse than I ever had. Finally, she slammed down the piece of silverware she had been working on and snatched up the one I had just finished.

"What do you think you're doing?" she said, holding up the fork in front of my face.

When she continued waiting for a reply, I said the only thing that came to mind. "P-polishing?"

"You call this polished?" she said. "Half of what you did here needs to be redone!"

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bykimtheelf© 1 comments/ 43601 views/ 6 favorites

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