This is the first chapter of a new story and the next two are already on my patreon (with two more coming out there later this month.)
https://www.patreon.com/c/SissyGirlSammi

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I had always thought that the position afforded by my birth was a fortunate privilege. In a royal family of seventeen children, I was near to the bottom of succession. Some of my brothers were already men during my childhood, well trained in their potential roles as statesmen, and I was allowed the favor of royalty without the responsibility.
My days were spent with books in the family library, or else riding in the country where the sun shined brightest. I had no fears of arranged marriage like my sisters or older relatives, and even engaged in a few trysts with village girls, something which would have never been allowed for the crown princes. In short, it was a peaceful life, where I had more choice than most princes and more luxury than most commoners. I even thought someday I might choose my own wife, and live out my days as a simple scribe, translating the legends of faroff worlds.
Then came the treaty with Morcarra.
They were a strange and exotic people in the east, “the country of a thousand detours.” Opening up their roads and trading lanes would allow spice and silk to flow from the nations of Zong, Tradul and Dai, including a dozen others who held treasures for the taking. Until now, they had remained as opaque and isolationist as their reputation presented them. Rumors and myths were abound about their magic and strange gods. But all my family knew was that an alliance would be lucrative. When their envoy asked for a political marriage to complete the treaty, we did something unique. We decided that it was best to give one of our least eligible children, instead of our best. The whispers of what would become of them decided that.
And so, one day as I sat by the window, reading an old text, my tutor came in with the final word. The treaty had been finalized. I was to pack my things.
The fact that their diplomat was a woman gave me my first clue that the legends of them were true. A country where women ruled…I could see why it was an indignity to send a high born son there. But we rode together for the many, many weeks of our journey, barely sharing a word despite the time of our travel. I watched as castles turned to ziggurats and forests turned to sand, watched as the comforts of home became the strangeness of my new one. I read mostly, occasionally thinking back to the stable girl I’d once laid with. I never did get a chance to say goodbye.
Then the day came where white, sandswept deserts gave way to a massive metropolis, sprawling across the stone plains like an island in the dunes. It was at least ten times as big as our city, and the whispers of the diplomat seemed to say that there were at least three more like in it the confines of their borders.
But all of it was scenery for me, not meant to be touched. I was brought directly to the largest of all the ziggurats, a sort of quasi-pyramid just outside of the grand city, and led into its chambers.
I knew what this was, of course. I had read all the legends of this place as soon as it seemed like I might be sent here. But the myths were just too fantastic and I wanted desperately to deny them. If they were real…
It was best not to think of that.
The statues that flanked the corridor did nothing to help my suspicions. They were massive, hulking women, with striated muscles and ample chests. They were also naked, and wielding massive stone members between their legs, as if one had been taken from a male statue and cemented on as a joke.
These myths are only myths…they have to be.
The only part of the myth I wanted to be true was the Sultana herself, the queen of this bizarre country. If this was all hogwash, as the ‘magic’ of our court mage often was, I expected her to be a man in a dress, playing along with this hairbrained ideals of gender. It was said that their patron goddess possessed the qualities of both men and women, and that she blessed their queen with the same gift.
So I expected it to all be a lie, just as it was a lie when our mage used slight of hand to replace his staff with a venom-milked snake. But as we emerged into the darkened peak of the structure, dimly lit by the crimson light of braziers which fought against the incessence and smoke, I saw my betrothed for the first time. I saw the women I belonged to and that made this all seem suddenly, terrifyingly real.
She was wearing a red dress that exposed her midriff, and golden bracelets up and down her arms. Despite the fact that she was likely twice my age, perhaps in her mid forties, her raven black hair was as dark as could be as it framed her appraising face. Despite the fact that she was of a somewhat tall, athletic build for a woman, I still had two or three inches on her, and she seemed to note that with a bit of amusement. She was beautiful, and I couldn’t hope to deny that. Her breasts were real and enticing. Her smile was bright yet sly.
And in the front of her thin dress, which swayed as the breeze went through the room, there was an undeniable bulge.
“Thank you, for your service to your sisters” she told the diplomat as she left the two of us. Trying not to cough as the smoke filled the room, I stepped forward. In some nations, it was a death sentence to address the ruler in the wrong way, but I thought we ought to talk. We were to be wedded, after all.
“So…” she said, looking me over and perhaps realizing my intentions. She was being kind enough to start the conversation herself. “You are to fulfill our treaty, and my place as Sultana. You are a worthy choice” she nodded in a somewhat mannered way. “I am told you are very learned, and so I ask: are you aware of what is being asked of you?”
I hesitated a moment, and then gave a nod. This was all hocus pocus, trickery and lies, a ritual of power that had no actual meaning…
Right?
“Very good. Then please, present yourself to our High Priestess…”
I turned to look at a somewhat older woman, so enveloped in cloak and smoke that it seemed impossible to discern more about her. She was standing next to the largest statute yet, so tall that this woman’s head barely reached the goddess’s ankle. I looked down at the white, diaphanous robe I’d been instructed to put on in the carriage and then to the priestess.
“Future sister…” she said, holding out a stone goblet. “Drink, then kneel at the feet of our goddess…”
Future sister…
Those words made me shudder, and I was too tense to move. I had to tell myself that these people were a delusional cult, that magic was a myth made up to keep the peasants in line, but I still hesitated to move. It was only the fact that I had an obligation to my nation to take part in this ceremony, lie or truth, that made me walk forward. I took the goblet, inspected the runes and then sipped down the bitter contents, putting it aside and kneeling before the statue.
She was just like the others. A beautiful woman carved in stone, but with a massive member staring down at me.
Then, it moved.
I wasn’t sure what was in my drink, but I seemed to feel its presence arrive in the room, eyes turning down at me as if the statue had a gaze. Then, its mouth slowly moving, it asked me:
“So you are come?”
The voice resonated in my head as if it had not travelled through the air, but originated inside my ears themselves.
“Tell me, daughter, do you accept my gift? Do you accept that you are no man, you are a girl whose soul was lost on the road and ended her journey in the wrong vessel?”
I wanted to say no. I wanted to say something snarky or deny this. I wanted to wiggle out now that it was my last chance to do so. But the goddess had left me dumbstruck and stopped all those knee-jerk reactions. I knelt there in awe as much as in terror. Whatever I said, there was no going back. It was as though I could feel the eyes of my family upon me, feel the eyes of the strange women behind me, like their minds were weighing down on mine, impressing the weight of my obligation.
After what seemed like an eternity, I slowly nodded, swallowing hard and giving her an uncertain "Yes."
It was barely a whisper but I'd said it. I hoped that this was just in my head after being given the insane concoction from the goblet, that I was just talking to myself like a madman.
Madness would have been easier to live with.
“Then drink from me.”
Her hand moved, very definitely, to gesture to her cock. The altar beneath me lifted, stone rumbling quietly, lifting me until its tip was right before my face. Up this close, it seemed as though her rock had turned into flesh, like she was really before me and incarnate in my view. Her hypnotic gaze was impossible to break, but some part of me knew that the world had disappeared. If I turned around, I would see no women, no temple. It was all be smoke in a void. All except I and her.
Fear of this situation had been refined into a fine point as exclusive fear of this goddess subsumed all else. I had never been in the presence of anything like this before. It was overwhelming. It was frightening. I couldn't free my mind from its spiral into anxiety and hyperfocus, not even for a moment. I leaned forward and kissed the tip, unable to think of my shame. All I could think of was how mortal and small I was compared to her, how foolish it would be to deny her will.
“Open, girl. Your body knows what to do, listen to it.”
The command was stern, certainly, but not unkind. It was almost matronly, only a bit more seductive than that. Slowly, as though my body was doing what instinct asked, my mouth opened and my lips pressed further. If I had been thinking, I would have stopped myself. But I wasn't. I was simply doing. I remember it tasted like good wine, like the sweetness of ripe fruit from my home’s garden. It was all a dream…it had to be dream…
“Good girl. Listen to your heart.”
I felt a slow flow into my mouth, as if I’d wrapped my lips around the pipe of an aqueduct, and felt the trance within me growing stronger. I lost all track of time and reality until I felt her lips on my forehead, seemingly waking me from my divine sleep.
“You’ve done well, Arya, my daughter. When you go to your new mistress,
introduce yourself to her by your new name. Come to me, if ever you need guidance.”
The world of smoke grew blurry, and I had the feeling of someone coming up from the water, a moment away from drowning. I was kneeling at the altar, the statue was still and I was once more in the mortal plane.
But something felt…different.
I was breathing heavy as my journey faded like a half forgotten memory, trying to remember it despite the haziness. But my new reality was quickly confronting me, and the present became my immediate concern.
I felt something soft on my back and my neck. I felt that I was in a somewhat different posture, as though my butt was pushing higher on my resting heels. I felt a weight moving on my chest…
No…
No!
This was a charlatan’s trick, a stupid fairy tale, a myth made up about a faroff nation…
But why then was I staring down at my breasts?!
MY.
BREASTS!
This was wrong. They were...huge. I whimpered and muttered half syllables as I raised up my hands, only to see slender arms and hands with perfect long nails. This...this…
"What have you done to me?!"
“Exactly what we said” smiled the Sultana, a look of glee and delight in her eyes as she appraised me once more. All the patience and withholding of judgement seemed to have faded from her gaze. Now, she looked at me with an eager possessiveness, as if she were proud to say that she owned such a lovely thing.
I stood up, breasts bouncing as I did, only to find myself looking up at her. This was...I was... Nononono…
Reaching down to my thin white gown, I tried to rip it open to see what had become of me, awkwardly scuttling towards a corner as I did. Despite the fact that it came much harder than it should have with such weak fabric, I managed to rip my dress and look down as my new breasts spilled out. Massive globes of flesh, bigger than my head, the size of watermelons despite my small frame. Small, pink nipples marked their end, and they had a perkiness that seemed impossible considering their size.
Their magic, their goddess…it was real?
“You’ve seen me,” remarked the Sultana, turned away as to respect my nudity. “You knew this was the point of the ritual, to mix the forms of man and woman. Besides, Ashla gave you the choice, you accepted. Part of you wants this.”
True, I’d seen her, but her goddess had made her a tall, imperious woman. I had thought that if she was what happened when a woman was transformed, I wouldn’t lose any of my own vitality. But it seemed like I had been brought to the absolute extremity of what this ritual could do, laid down down with this absurd body in one fell swoop. My size. My chest. My everything…
I whimpered and cried as I looked down at my outrageous bosom, touching one and feeling it in confirmation it was mine. I felt so strange. It wasn’t just the body being wrong. I felt more vulnerable. Self conscious. Weak. I pulled the fabric back over myself and pressed further towards the wall.
"Can I have a moment..."
“Of course,” she gently replied, a certain kindness and understanding in her voice. The receding footsteps echoed in the altar room until I was sure all had left.
Then I once more pulled at the robe, this time all the way. I needed to know what exactly I’d become
I could hardly believe what I saw.
My skin was supple. Soft. Smooth. Nubile. It hugged on tight to my hourglass frame without blemish or pudge, reflecting the torchlight from its pale visage. My breasts were full and perky, no doubt due to the goddess’s hand. Every move I made, they mirrored with a slight delay. Their weight annoyed me. Their existence terrified me. Beneath them, my waist cinched and my hips flared out. My bottom seemed to have increased in size as well but in the front... In the front there had been shrinkage. I was at first relieved to see it there at all but then I realized how tiny it was. It was as though its size had been halved, leaving a pathetic thing which any self respecting woman would scoff at.
Then, I heard new footsteps. They weren’t the strong, awe inspiring steps of the Sultana, strutting into the room with confidence. They were the small, eager steps of two other women, who seemed just as eager to inspect me.
The Sultana’s other wives.