Munuth

 

English man to Viking/Norse woman TG

“Can you take the 100 megapixel one then?” Adam asked.

“Definitely mate.” Dean said.

The gate of the north is what they called those jutting rocks. They were common along the Yorkshire coast. Supposedly, this part of the coast had been used for centuries. Ancient tribes hid from invaders in old grottoes that had long ago collapsed, and then pirates and smugglers and the like.

Recently some big name influencers had put out stories about strange noises and lights coming from off the coast at night. It could be aliens, or ghosts… or a secret experiment by the Navy. Whether it was true or not didn’t matter so much to him, he just wanted to have a good time with his pal. There wasn’t a lot to do after being layed off… other than drink.

“Ok, let’s set up the tripod over there.” Adam pointed to a spot that faced directly between the two stacks.

Afterwards they set up some deck chairs and had a bit of drink. The place certainly had an atmosphere. The air was just balmy enough that he started to nod off. He woke up slowly, rubbing his stubble and brow.

“Boring huh.” Adam sniffed at the air. “You cooking pork?”

“Not likely.” Dean said. That was just the latest smell. First, there was a something like a foundry… or smelting. He used to urban explore in places like that. Then a raw fish smell… and then a leathery smell, all within the five minutes he’d been awake. His senses were completely besieged. Soon after, a humming sound caught his attention.

“Game on. Some kind of sound is coming from the cliffs. Get the camera ready, I’m gonna steal a look.” Dean said.

“I don’t know how it works!”

“It’s in auto mode, don’t worry.”

Adam practically knocked the deck chair over as he got up and headed over to the tripod. Dean carefully approached and looked over the cliff edge. A cold white light swam in the deep like the shadow of a sea-monster. Dean tossed a nearby rock at the white mass. It seemed to touch the surface but didn’t submerge. It simply, was not there, like a blink.

“Woah, it’s like a glitch in reality.”

Dean tried to pick up the hum again and bit by bit, but now he could make out the melody and pitch. It sounded like a woman. A bunch of women… singing happily. It was a language he’d never heard before, but it sounded kind of nice. He smiled peacefully.

“Hurry over here in case we miss the shot!”

“What exactly are we shooting man?” Adam said half-laughing.

He felt the earth beneath him shake as he nearly tumbled forwards off the cliff. What the hell… it sounded like bloody Krakatoa. Were the continents moving?. Then it happened again and he immediately went to cup his ears. He looked at the sky, there were strange funnels and formations of cumulus in the distance. Then it seemed the whole sea before him was glowing with the same eerie light. He stood with his mouth wide open.

“What the fuck, It’s like the sky is dissolving. Run away!” Adam shouted.

Before Dean could even turn around a blinding flash exploded in the distance, rushing towards him and engulfing him completely. Such events ran to such gargantuan numbers in possibility that given even hundreds of lifetimes, no human could write them. One number less, one number more, all mistakes demanded rectification.

His eyes flickered open as he felt cold stone beneath him. Did he have an accident? He sat up disorientated and hung his head. He lifted his head up once he felt strong enough. He spun around and saw there were big pillars everywhere, rune stones standing watch in a circle. In the middle was some kind of altar?

There were mountains off in the distance the size of which he’d never seen… except in photos. Waterfalls tumbled down uninhibited. How did he get from the sea to here? …This didn’t even look like Britain. It was kind of… magnificent.

He looked over the big stones. Near the base of one there was a small collection of objects. Pots, weathered silver coins, animal bones, small axes and other tools. It looked religious. He shouted out into the wilds.

“Adam!?”

Where was this? The weak but honest fear that pained him since he woke up now became an almost supernatural dread. It was like he feared for more than his life, but his soul. Fear he’d not had since he was a little boy. Something.. some entity, some externality was scratching at the window from the outside.

He began to hyperventilate. Small stabbing pains started all over his body. He looked down and saw his clothes were changing. No… this can’t be real. Ripping and stretching sounds began to swirl around him as his clothes fell off him in shreds. He shivered in the all too bitter cold. He looked over for cover but a crucifying immolation hit him before he could move.

His ash brown hair cascaded to the small of his back. It braided itself and the pigment slowly shifted, first as if only flecked with gold, then it exploded with it like the glory of autumn. His eyelashes became thick and alluring as hair all over his body began to drop off, freezing and shattering at impact with the earth.

He shook as cramps started all over his body. He felt himself grow weaker and his muscles went soft and slender, almost elfin. Any onlookers would see a blue blurring effect as time and space warped around the victim. Atoms began to rearrange at imperceptible speed. His breathing became ragged as a weakness overcame him, and he was forced down to the frosty ground. His back arched and cracked as his skeletal structure transformed. His hands flew downwards as he felt his pecs grow softer and begin to bulge as two bumps appeared on his chest.

“I need to cum?” He thought. His rational thoughts were burned away like morning mist. His changing brain ached with confusion. His life-long male scent slowly dissipated, replaced with another set of pheromones. A wave of arousal came over him. He could smell a woman, but he was the woman. His cock tried to go hard, but there was no more testosterone to fuel it.

This was the death knell of his masculinity as is penis shrunk away leaving a hood of skin and then a sensitive nub. He let out an uncontrolled excruciated scream. The mess that used to be his sack was swallowed inside and was pulled up the tunnel that was currently gouging out his insides. Her hips swelled. Organs squished and slid around to make way for a womb. New psycho-chemical processes took root in his brain. His former testes became ovaries and oestrogen began flowing around his body. A small mound of fuzzy well-kept hair settled around his groin.

He tried to lift himself up but felt back down a few times he tried to control this alien body. He stumbled towards the central slab and leaned on it for support. Fat began to deposit into the two bumps, and then his thighs and arse. His hair billowed behind him from the bracing north wind. With moments two foreign mounds hung on her chest. Nipples stood at attention proudly displaying her new status as a breeder. She was like Yggdrasil, the tree of life.

Her face crunched and she immediately ran his hands up along it. Everything felt numb now, like her face wasn’t even there. His emerald eyes turned crystal blue, changing into a wider more captivating feminine shape. His slightly bent nose became smaller and upturned. Cheekbones heightened and bone grinded away at his male skull, shaving off inches of bone to make it female. It nearly sent him unconscious. He now looked truly of Nordic blood.

Thread began to weave itself over her skin as it formed into a sky blue apron dress with a knot work trim of Oseberg silk. Two silver oval brooches dress fasteners appeared on either side. Smoky eye paint and blush made of berries shimmered onto her face, leaving her with red lips emboldened by the cold. Glass beads fell around her neck in layers. A pale blue rock like a wyrm egg held two parts of a statement necklace together.

His blood froze. No.. way. He had looked down at his body and fumbled for words. Panic overcame him again. That special something was creeping at the edges of his mind again… his legs felt so weak. He grabbed at the heavy jewellery that hung like shackles around his neck. Don’t do that… it’s expensive. Husband has treated you well… adorned you like a Queen even. Not that you deserve it.

He heard the rustling of branches and the heavy din of male voices. Something within him reacted instinctively to the sound of a group of unknown men. They seemed bound to pass by her as they secured their hunting spoils on their backs. She ran in front of the group.

“Where I am?” She screamed in Old Norse. The sing-song intonation was strange to him, but not unpleasant.

“The land of more snow than treasure, but the streams run with mead. That’s why we stayed.”. They snorted a horrible laugh.

“I’m serious!”

They paused. “This is Vestfold you she-wolf. “ The group of men chuckled. “Did the boy suck your brain out your tits along with your milk?”

He wanted to say fuck, but instead she said “By the death of Thor…” This…no… I have to get out of here. “This isn’t my body”

The men raised a brow. “Are you alright Inga…? And where is your child. Did you… did you leave him alone?”

“Inga? My name is Dean right? What… Who… am I?” She said her arm outstretched towards them.

One of the men drew his sword. “She sounds not herself… an evil spirit?” One of them whispered.

Dean went to speak but someone immediately took control of his mouth and eyes and she looked as if she might smite them all down. “How dare you draw a sword to me Rangvald? Have you gone mad?”

“Have I gone mad?” He stared dumbstruck.

Her entire body shook and she stared with fixing insanity at the group.

“Griping bitch.” The other two men drew blades.

“Dribbling coward” She smirked.

Dean let out a whimper of frustration as he tried to speak for himself.

“Who am I?”

She asked the question and the Universe answered. A lifetime of memories flooded in. What was there to know about her? She was a good Norse woman. She had birthed a son, she prayed to the gods every day and she loved her husband, even though she complained about him constantly. She had been a thrall, but her Geatish master sold her quickly before he had time to grow tired of her.

“I am a slave?” She asked herself.

The time stream was already influencing the men in front of her, who simply stood as if turned to stone. Their minds rebooting over and over.

Near enough…

“Hello Inga. Nice to see you at the grove.” The same man… Leif… who was confronting him just moments ago said.

“No.” he screamed. It’s not possible. He was becoming one of them. He wasn’t going to become a part of history like this. He ran off into the woods. She ran and ran, following a path she knew by instinct.

Every second that passed the memories grew more urgent, more demanding. The Universe demanded a sacrifice. Time demanded a Norse woman in the place of a modern man. These memories needed a host to occupy.

She had indeed been a thrall, but her beauty had been too much for him… he released her and made her his wife within a month. But she hated him for as long she could force herself to. She spat at him, she threw his trinkets away… but he did not even strike her. He shouted and grumbled but eventually she was the one who thawed. She turned to him one night and offered herself up. It would be a good life, a secure life, this village would last through time.

He ran through the very same village in a fluster, dodging traders and housewives. The sounds of the Norse language had quickly become lacking in novelty. He cursed in it as he ran, its sounds as present as the swell of the sea. He barely paid attention to his surroundings, but he didn’t need to, the invisible hand was guiding him to where he needed to be.

He sought shelter in the one house that looked comfortable. He walked up swaying his hips like a pretty little housewife. The house that was of course, his. The moment he stepped through the door, he felt possessed with a sense of urgency. She had to feed the baby, she had to cook, she had to clean. That’s what women did, that’s what her mother did before her. No... he’d not been trained to do those things… he played football with his dad. It’s a game… where you… kick a sack… like a hard bladder? He grabbed his own hair in frustration, determined to rip clumps out. Then he heard the cries of a baby…

He felt drawn to the child. It….it needed feeding. Even though the act was so alien to him he felt a rush of pride, giddiness and material instinct. He was opening up. I…. love… you. 

She ran over to it and made some comforting sounds. She popped open her dress and let the suckling have his fill. He tried to hate it. What was he doing? This parasite was using him. It had grown in his body and now it wanted more. Yet every hateful thought quickly turned to one of love. The proud mother he was becoming couldn’t wait to see this child grow tall, fierce and handsome. To see him wrestle in the mud pits with his father.

She fought with memories in her mind. Were they visions from the gods? Shadowy figures and faces. Her parents? But they dressed so strangely. And she had only ever known her mother. She rocked the baby violently. She tried hard to paint features onto the darkness, but… soon even those shadows were gone. The baby started to cry as she realised she was shaking him half to death.

 

She wasn’t well… something was wrong… she needed to rest, yes… that was it. Inga immediately thought of the baby and laid it down in the cot. She stumbled from dizziness. A man’s voice echoed desperately in her head. The gods were speaking to her now? She crawled down to the floor and laughed with madness. She felt something hanging from her lower lips. A phantom feeling, disappearing. His fading mind tried to will it back. But she had never had a man's tool, she never would have one. She placed her hand on her sex. This was her lot in life. Because of this, she had suffered so much. Dean tried to assert himself once more, but it was a losing battle. He cried… he didn’t want to become this woman. A former slave… in that moment it was a wish they both held. She wished she was a man, and he did too. But slaves didn’t become Shield maidens. This was a man’s world. She was sealed in, and Dean had been converted by the space-time continuum; reincarnated as a Norse woman. His Hugr rewritten as Inga’s. She crawled back up to the chair and sat there in silence

.The door burst open, the sounds of the village came rushing in. Gorm was home.

“How is the boy?” He threw his cloak and gear down onto the floor.

“Greedy. He treats me like a heifer.”

Gorm took a swipe of mead that had been left on the table and gave her a fierce look. His blonde beard was splattered with mud.

“Settle him down in the cot round the back.” She tickled the boy and cooed as she did so, then came back and sat next to her husband. He placed his hand on her thigh. She stared into his amber eyes and gave him a weary look.

“You need a bath.” She said.

He grunted. “Come woman. I won’t ask again.”

She placed her hand on his shirt and applied pressure. Somebody was telling her to run. This didn’t feel right. She… didn’t like men? Why was she encouraging him? She closed her eyes and smiled. What a silly thought. She half turned her neck towards him. He was filthy but… she could smell his musk. The smell of a man. It had been such a long time, she needed some relief, and he needed a soft woman.

Her husband laid her down and gently pulled her hair around the base of her neck. Then gently stroked her forehead. They scrambled to take off their clothes. The cold pinched her nipples and as she waited to be ravaged. He slowly moved down to the breasts and began to massage them. Her skin came alive at his touch, she let out some needy excited whimpers. Her husband expected his reward for his weeks raiding.

 

 

 

 

His marauding hands sought for heat that was coming off her cunt in waves. He groped away slowly and let out a grunt, she was sopping wet for him. She gave him a smile and he kissed her, their tongues forcefully meeting. She turned over into her front and pushed her groin towards him like a true bitch. He wasted no time thrusting his sword in her cunt. This was how a warrior fucked. He let out some low grunts as she held onto the thick fur quilts and worked with his shaft. Her heart was fluttering like a bird in a cage.

How lucky she was he was hung like a stallion, in the past, she’d been forced to have sex with Jarls during feasts and their dainty penises never satisfied her. This was a man of power. Gods, he was so far in. That thought seemed strange to her, in fact, everything felt more pleasurable than usual, as if she was experiencing it for the first time. Still, that was nothing to complain about.

“Taka mik” She said between strained breaths.

He bored in further and removed her of all senses as she yelped enjoyment. Her tits swung back and forth and her moans grew higher, it felt like he was going to split her in two.

“Are you there yet? I can’t go on much longer.” His face crunched up as he lost control.

“Just a little more.” She knew they were on thin ice.

Her body writhed as a slapping sound grew louder. Then she screamed in pleasure as her cunt clamped around his cock. It convulsed with the most spectacular feeling. She went bleary eyed as she felt like her spirit had been pulled from her body and flown away to Valhalla for just a moment.

He pulled out, but she sighed as she felt a little seed trickle around her cunt lips. She wondered if that would be another baby? She would have to pick some herbs just in case. She turned over and laid back in exhaustion.

He sighed. “I have something new.” The bed shifted as he jumped off and went over to his wool sack. He pulled out a small sword with a fine looking hilt. She sat up and touched the blade. She’d had enough of swords for the day.

“I bought it off a Frisian. Surely someone of modest talent made it. “

It could be as a blunt as a rock but she swore that her husband loved weapons more than anything in this life. She was worried…

“I’m guessing this cost a fortune. Do you plan to hang it up on the wall? I thought you were done with raiding…” She frowned and gave him a grim look.

“It’s just one more for my brother. He’s the youngest, so he needs taking care of.”

“It’s only been a month.” She punctuated every word. He stared at her and said nothing. She slapped his chest and then pounded at it with her fists. “Fine then, I’ll just wander the forests and fjords as a widow while you feed the ravens. She sighed and turned away from him.

 “You wouldn’t understand.” He tried to touch her shoulder but she slapped his hand away.

“Why did you have this child if you have no intention to raise him? What do you think?” She screamed.

“I love the boy. That’s why I’m doing this. He needs to know his father is a proper Víkingr. I need to be a proper Vikingr.”

“What about your trading huh? You’re making good money on those ships.”

“Nothing is free of danger.” He said exasperated.

“Selfish! I bet you lust for Christian gold! For stature… for those Irish women! If I was a proper free woman, I’d have divorced you three times over!” She said with a high heartbroken shriek.

He gave her a pained look then he laid the sword by her side. He rubbed his nose then stood up. He moved to go out, but hung at the doorway.

“Perhaps I’ve gone mad but… you keep it beside you. If you have a weapon then perhaps the Danish wolves will think twice about trying to carry you off… my beauty.”

Once she heard the door bang, she looked longingly in its direction and tried to stifle her tears. She awoke to find her husband had never returned. He was probably already off to prepare. She tried to go back to sleep. If he expected her to go see him off… she groaned as the hammering of the blacksmith and the running of the nearby stream kept her awake. Then, the baby started crying.

“Skita.” She huffed. She supposed she’d better fare him well. She would regret if something happened. “I’m coming.” She shouted at her son.

She stood playing with her hair at her door. Was she doing something she shouldn’t? Why did she have this nagging feeling something was wrong? Her stupor was interrupted by some boys play fighting around the fire pit. One of them was clearly a runt who was falling behind. She grabbed the young boy by the scruff of the neck and gave him a stern look.

“That’s it Elof. Don’t take none of that!”

“But he is a giant.” The boy frowned.

“The real giants are the size of mountains.” The nearby carpenter smirked.

“Will you say that at the doors at Valhalla? It matters not if you succeed; a coward suffers a thousand deaths.” She looked him straight in the eyes. She tried to hide the guilt from the talk with her husband. The boy didn’t need to hear more. He had heard the same from others before. He gave her a nod before running off. This was a tough land, and weaklings had a tough life ahead. At times, she was glad she was born a woman. Even though she had the burden of thralldom and childbirth, at least she could get away with only her beauty. Although she took nothing for granted.

She stopped on the dock and looked out into the fjord, her homeland. She waved to her husband as he unmoored the boat. She held onto the sword she had been given and nervously bit her lip. She had faith he would return… but she would protect their hearth and child with her life if the wolves came baying for blood first. “You better come back!” She hollered.

“I will haha!”

“Better!”

“I will” He laughed.

For her and her descendants, a new future awaited.