---Katrín’s perspective---
---2714 Terran Calendar/11 months AF---
Sat by the fire, in a now almost entirely empty meadhall, I raise an eyebrow at the dark skinned, violet eyed woman, with jet black ringlets.
She’s the first Tshwane ever to set foot in my home… unless you count the husband in the diplomatic couple from Odo Tuntun, who was half.
Buildwise, she very much reminds me of a Don, tall and slender.
“What you have, dear… is called ‘dysphoria’…” I say, carefully.
Her face screws, not quite in ‘anguish’ but in mild distress, as if she thinks I’ve not got it quite right.
“No, but I don’t…”
“Want to be a man?” I finish for her.
“No, I don’t!” she confirms.
I smile “Dysphoria is not defined as ‘the wish to be a man, when you were assigned ‘female’ at birth, or woman, when assigned ‘male’ at birth’, rather, it is the misery caused by simply not being happy with what you see when you take off your clothes and look in the mirror!”
“But… if I only want a dick for a fetish…?”
“If you only wanted a dick for a fetish, you’d be satisfied with your cyber, wouldn’t you?… You’ve put it on, felt what it feels like to have a phallus between your legs… but it wasn’t enough, was it?”
She shakes her head, her eyes narrowed, appraisingly.
“You feel like it needs to be part of you, don’t you?” I ask.
She nods.
“As if you’re not whole without it?”
Another nod.
“Yeah… that’s called ‘dysphoria’, honey!”
This time, she does not object, just considers.
“Listen…” I say, trying hard to convey sincerity “…to me it was really important that my Ys become Xs, that my pronouns become ‘she’, ‘her’ and ‘hers’, that my face soften and lose its hair, that my chest fill out… To me, the compliments I received regarding my masculinity steadily lost their charm, over the years, it stopped feeling like ‘Yes! I’m manning so well!” and started to feel like the person complimenting me just didn’t know me at all!… But that’s me! And I am not the blueprint for how to be a trans person! What worked for me won’t necessarily work for you! You might be perfectly happy with your Xs staying Xs… with your pronouns, face, chest etc. staying as they are! If your idea of the person you want to be is ‘you+dick’ and if it is causing you distress not to be, then that’s dysphoria and the UTCHS will cover some portion of the cost of alleviating it!”
She says nothing for a while, seeming to just need a little time to process what I’ve told her.
Eventually, she says “I don’t know… I could just save up and pay for it myself… I mean, I’ll definitely have enough after this deployment is up… Maybe I should just pay for it myself… not bother the Health Service about it?”
I shrug “You could… if you have the means to pay for the whole thing yourself (without being bankrupt afterward) then I think you’ll definitely be entitled to a lower percentage of the procedure being covered… When I had mine, the first time, my wife and I were well off enough that Earth’s local government covered a single, symbolic credit… you know, ‘we approve of this but you’re filthy rich, so don’t take the piss!’”
She frowns, confused “The first time!? What does that mean?!?!?!”
I laugh “Oh! My wife and I were some of the earliest guineapigs for Terran regen… The bugs hadn’t been ironed out, yet… It wasn’t until we had a scan of our fourth son that we realised one of the things my regen had decided needed to be ‘fixed’ was all of those missing Y chromosomes(!)… The Health Service covered that time, in its entirety, as both a makegood for having fucked up in the first place and as a ‘thanks for allowing regen to be tested on you’.” not that I was competent to ‘allow’ a damn thing!
She gives a sympathetic chuckle “I know someone who encountered a similar situation with early regen… she liked the ‘bugs’, though, so she kept them.”
I chuckle “I’m happy for her… But never mind all of that! There’s someone you need to talk to more than me, about this!” I gesture to the intimidatingly muscled Neanderthal, passed out, slumped over the table “Brokkr tells me that’s your girlfriend?… Does she know you feel this way?”
The girl’s wide mouth twists into a frown above her flat, vertical chin (which neither slopes back, like a Neanderthal’s or Denisovan’s, nor juts forward, like a Sapiens’ or Longi’s).
“I mean… I would say she’d have figured it out from the glee and regularity I use the cyber with… but…”
“She’s a little oblivious about that kind of thing?” I suggest, with a mirthful smirk.
Her ringlets bounce as she nods her head in agreement.
I clap her shoulder and say “Talk to her about it. If it’s a dealbreaker for her, you would rather know that now than later, I promise!”
She smiles a joyless smile “I will… thank you for talking to me about this… I know I barely know you…”
“Nonsense, dear! I’m happy to lend the benefit of my experience to any who ask for it! And you are not just anyone, you’re a friend of my daughter’s, so I’m doubly happy!… It is a slight shame that I still don’t pass after all this time but, well, I’ll probably never pass to anyone who gives it any thought at all!”
She gives an apologetic smile “If it’s any consolation, I can’t parse you as anything but a woman… you being trans is something that feels like a detached truth… Something I’m only able to work out academically, not something I can feel, you know?”
I laugh “I appreciate the reassurance, dear, but it’s quite unnecessary!… I’m very secure in what I am and, mercifully, I’m not living in a time when openly being what I am would get me committed, lobotomised or murdered! Don’t worry about it!”
She nods appreciatively.
I take out my holo, gather up my contact info and flick it to hers “Drop me a line if you have any more questions. I’m not sure of the ins and outs of navigating the process on your planet but I’m sure I could find someone, who is, that I can put you in touch with.”
She beams “Thank you again, Katrín.”
“You’re most welcome, dear! Now, however, I have a cosy bed and a beautiful wife to sleep in and beside, respectively(!)… I suggest you get some rest, too!”
We stand and I’m, momentarily, shocked by the fact that her face keeps travelling another 5cm or so after mine stops… Then I recall her lineage.
Of course, I’m used to women who are taller than me, from my dealings with the Don (mainly Tuun, Baasa and their mother).
What I’m not used to, however, is Human woman who are taller than me!
I think she’s the first!
I open my arms and, after a moment of hesitation (she’s clearly from a moderately less physical culture than me), she gives me a hug.
I feel her large breasts squash against mine.
Knowing, now, the reason that I find busty women a turn off does not change the fact that I do.
We break from the hug and, after one final smile, she goes to wake her girlfriend, I head to the stairs.
After a brief exchange with my daughter’s R’qali boss, admiring a photo from my service, (who comes dangerously close to being the second person, tonight, that I have to have a 'trans conversation' with) I find myself stood outside the doors of my and my wife’s bedroom.
I crack the door, very careful not to make too much noise.
I look to the enormous bed, dominating the centre of the room.
Rather than seeing a woman sleeping soundly, the way I expect, what I see is a Valkyrie clad in gold and silver armour, a gold and silver halfhelm with a guard that covers her eyes and nose, bearing a gold and silver spear and shield. She has enormous wings on her back, one gold and one silver, which she extends to their full width, slamming the butt of her spear on the ground.
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“Enter, brave Einheri!”
---Heidi’s perspective---
The flaxen-blonde woman slides through the door, furtively using her enormous body to occlude the view into the hall, before locking it and putting up the privacy field.
She and I are, contrary to what one might expect, both versatiles who favour submission.
I think if someone were told that the 213cm giantess who is Gyðja to nearly two thousand rowdy Pagans and the woman whose wrath even she is apprehensive of, with the epithet ‘Valkyrie’, were either both submissives or both Dominants, most would guess the latter!
Early in our relationship we had many mirthful arguments caused by both of us trying to push the other to take more control in the bedroom.
The solution naturally presented itself when she bet me a sub session that I wouldn’t be able to finish a large plate of food I had served myself (a bet I won… and earned a session with her as a fierce Viking warrior on her way into exile, in Iceland, and me as a helpless, Hebridean milk maid she was carrying off into concubinage… After I'd recovered from indigestion, that is!)
Since then, we’ve made bets on anything and everything, each competing to wrack up tokens that we can spend on sessions where we’re the submissive.
It’s just the right amount of jeopardy to make gambling fun! If I lose, all it means is a session where I’m the Dominant… hardly the end of the world(!)
This fantasy has always been her favourite (though she's also partial to Witch×Witch Huntress).
It amuses me to no end that her ultimate sexual fantasy starts with her being dead!
The golden haired, ocean blue eyed woman steps to the wall where hangs her bearded axe, Lævateinn, which lay beside her as I stabilised her wounds, more than a century ago (though, with the number of times it has needed to be refurbished, I wouldn’t like to hazard how much of the original axe is left(!)). She picks it up and approaches me.
At five paces, she stops, drops to one knee, plants Lævateinn at the ground, head down, with her hand at its pommel, and bows her head, as if in awe.
“You have fought, long and hard, all the days of your life, Einheri… Lay down your weapon, that I may give you succour.”
Whether she believes Valhǫll discriminates or not, this woman has a reverence for weaponry that her culture has hammered into her. Consequently, she does not drop the axe, allowing it to clatter to the floor, she lays it down, respectfully.
To show respect to me, however, the head is at her dominant right, the handle toward her offhand and the blade faces in, toward her, not out toward me.
“Undress, Einheri… you need not your vestments.” I order.
I did not instruct her to stand, so she begins unfastening her tunic while still kneeling.
I feel my pussy ache as I see her mountains exposed.
I’m quite glad that her distaste for large breasts did not extend to herself… I, personally, like my ladies to be stacked!
As she slides off her lowers, I see her panties, bulging with her engorged womanhood!
I reach out my shield hand and she stops undressing without me needing to give the word.
She knows what I like.
Dementia wiped out large portions of her memory of the life we had together, before the War.
Regen was able to restore her brain to functionality but her memories, on the other hand, were not all recoverable.
Despite that, she never needed to be reminded of my preferences.
I slide off my gold and silver slippers and push my left foot forward.
“Kiss my feet, Einheri.”
---Katrín’s perspective---
My eyes cast down before my Valkyrie, I reach out to grasp her left foot by the achilles tendon.
I bring it to my mouth and begin kissing it.
It’s so adorably dainty that I almost entirely forget the woman its attached to, for a moment… That is until the foot is yanked away and, lightning fast, the sole is planted at my face.
Being only just over half my weight, she would simply lack the power to overcome my inertia… except for those nervejacked wings on her back!
With a great *FWOOSH* of her blasting several cubic metres of air backward, she powers her foot forwards, into my face!
I’m knocked flat on my back on the hard wooden floor.
I don’t expect she would allow me back up so we can move proceedings to the comfortable bed.
Advancing between my legs, she drops the spear and shield on the ground, disrespectfully, and brings her foot to my crotch and rubs me with it, through my panties.
I moan from the contact and she looks down with a smug smirk twisting her lower face.
“My Valkyrie, I-*ooof*!” I start, eliciting a swift stomp to the diaphragm.
“I permit you not to speak, Einheri.” she commands, imperiously, driving her foot into the soft flesh of my stomach.
I nod, giving an exaggerated wheeze as I do.
More smirking coupled with her eyes flashing, beneath that guard.
She lifts her other foot, putting her entire weight onto me.
That’s right… step on me, Queen!
Her foot comes down between my breasts and I feel her transfer her weight from my stomach to my solarplexus.
The foot that was at my stomach is moved to my throat and presses down until my windpipe is squashed closed.
She looks down at me and smirks “I think you shall be my footstool, in Valhǫll, every day from here until Ragnarǫk… Would you like that, Einheri?”
Unable to speak, both physically and in the sense of being forbidden, I nod my head.
She gives a high, cruel laugh.
She steps off me, returning to her position between my legs.
Her unobscured lower face is twisted into a mocking sneer.
“You warriors are all the same, aren’t you!… You pose and posture, you flex and preen, you declare to all the Realms ‘I am here! I am strong! I am powerful!’… but this is where you belong, isn’t it? This is where you want to be! On the floor, at the feet of someone more powerful than you… Answer me, Einheri!”
Permitted now to speak, I answer “This is certainly my rightful place, here at your feet, my Valkyrie!”
Satisfied, she bends down and brings her hands to the hem of my panties.
She liberates my cock and, with the same look of surprise she wears every time she sees it, says “What an obscenely large cock you have, Einheri!”
“Yes, my Valkyrie.” I smile.
She just chuckles before opening her mouth, sticking out her tongue and licking up my length.
I feel her hot breath, juxtaposed wonderfully with the cold silver of her nose guard, against my shaft, as her head moves up and down to coat me in a lubricating layer of her spittle.
When she’s fully wetted me, her mouth moves up to my head.
She takes a deep breath and begins working my length down her throat.
I feel her throat muscles fruitlessly attempt to clench, as they’re stretched by my cock.
She holds me down her throat for several seconds, maintaining unflinching eyecontact as she does, before she begins relinquishing me.
I feel her take a greedy inhale, the instant her windpipe is cleared, while trying to seem as if not being able to breathe for so long was no big deal.
She begins crawling up my trunk, allowing the bottom of my cock to drag against her front as her head approaches my face.
Her hands grip my shoulders, and I feel the cold metal of her armour against my skin.
Her noseguard presses against my nose as she kisses me and I taste myself on her mouth.
I thread my arms across her back, beneath her wings and gently squeeze her against myself.
---Heidi’s perspective---
I feel my wife’s immense tits squash beneath my weight as I kiss her.
These wings, on my back, aren’t powerful enough to actually let me fly, even in, 0.86G, Fennoscandian gravity.
What they will let me do, however, is move my body around by flapping.
It’s astonishing how differently you think about movement when you have a set of wings on your back! How having a pair of wings makes you so keenly aware of air’s status as a fluid!
I flap downward, pulling myself out of the grasp of her muscular arms and to my feet.
I feel a thrill in my stomach as she looks up at me, with an expression of awe, as I stand overtop of her.
I reach to my, unarmoured, chest and pull down my top to bare my sweater puppies (to my wife’s great Danes(!))
I see her cock twitch as if it’s attempting to get harder, impossibly.
I smirk down at the broad shouldered woman, well endowed in muscle, chest and cock!
My hands slide down my front to a panel in my britches.
I unfasten it to expose my dripping pussy.
I can see that someone’s appreciative(!)
I lower my hips over my wife’s, lining up her wet glans with my lips.
We both moan and shudder as her girthy, iron hard rod splits me in half!
I place my hands against her abs and, with my wings, flap downward hard enough to lift my hips up, most of the length of her womanhood.
Given that my body is not being moved primarily by my muscles, rather, I’m swimming through the air, up and down, on her cock, it is much less exhausting than it was before I had access to skin adhering, nervejack wings.
That said, it’s still a lot of stimulus!
I have to process keeping balance as my wings pick me up and dump me down, the enormous cock and both the pleasure and pain it’s giving me and the gorgeous face of my wife as it twists and contorts with ecstasy…
She moans so beautifully!
After some minutes she seems to decide that my pace is too slow for her liking and grasps my hips.
Her abs tighten as she thrusts upwards into me.
I lose the composure one would expect of a Dominant as I shriek from the unexpected development!
I feel the raw power of a Warrior in her body as she turns my domination of her thick cock into her domination of my tight pussy.
“Katrín… Katrín… Katrín…” I moan, dropping the heavenly being persona.
When I asked her why she chose that name, when her religion is replete with women she might have named herself for, she answered that Katrín ‘just felt like my name’… At the time, I didn’t understand what she meant.
“Katrín… Katrín… Katrín… Katrín… Katrín… Katrín… Katrín… Katrín… Katrín… Katrín… Katrín… Katrín… Katrín… Katrín… Katrín… Katrín… Katrín… Katrín… KATRÍN… KATRÍN… KATRÍN… KATRÍN… KATRÍN… KATRÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍN!!!”
I scream, in a way that makes me glad of our infallible, postContact soundproofing, as she and I climax together.
I collapse against her chest.
More than a hundred years, and sex with this woman still blows my mind!
---Katrín's perspective---
“So what did you tell her?” smiles my wife, idly tracing an index finger against my areola, as we lie in bed, our marital swords crossed on the wall above us.
“I told her she was right: That he was a ‘brother long since departed for Valhǫll'.”
She frowns, mirthfully “So you lied to her(?)”
I shake my head “I wouldn’t say ‘lied’… whether I got there or not, I certainly departed for Valhǫll… twice in fact! Also…” I gesture to the room “…would you not call this a Paradise? I get to fight battles, drink mead and bed a beautiful woman, every day! I get to be the beautiful young woman I never got to be, the first time around! I’d call that Valhǫll(!)”
She cocks an eyebrow, mirthfully “And… calling yourself your ‘brother’(?!)”
“Ah… that’s a tiny bit harder to justify as not a lie…”
She chuckles and I stroke a hand over the bare side of the woman who, a quarter century ago, had to teach me half of my own life history, appreciatively.
“Oh… before I forget, I should burn one of my tokens.” I say, reaching for my holo.
She grabs my wrist, stopping me.
She smiles up at me “This one was a freebie, sweetheart. Don’t worry about it.”
I smile back “Alright then…”
She releases my wrist, closes her eyes, rests her head at my chest and says “Try and get some sleep, darling. We have a busy day tomorrow, starting with cooking pancakes for more than a dozen people!”