Bimbo Emblem Chapter 3 - (Lissa)

Elsewhere in the castle, a very different scene was playing out. After Robin’s departure, Tharja had followed her orders to the letter, pausing only to shlick herself silly with the aid of her obsession’s discarded panties, before heading out to see her own target converted.

She crept through the castle with the aid of several quietening curses, clutching the new, hastily-bound bimbofication tome to her ample chest. It occurred to her as she walked straight past a guard, completely unseen, that she had neglected to give the hex a name. It had been irrelevant at the time, with her plan to use it only on herself and Robin, but it seemed just as irrelevant at that moment too. Why name something that was soon to be a status quo?

Although, to be honest, she couldn’t have said she was completely happy with Robin’s plan. She’d have much rather kept the tactician all to herself, rather than letting her leave to share her new body with Chrom and who knew how many others. But she simply couldn’t disobey... Probably a side-effect of the hex. Or maybe that submissive side had been inside her all along and just had yet to be brought to the surface? She would have to experiment later.

She soon arrived at the door of her quarry, the bedroom of Princess Lissa, sister to Chrom and, for lack of a better word, mascot of the Ylissean army. A quick curse, and the stationed guard was sound asleep in his chair, letting her knock on the door with impunity. Much mumbling and groaning on the other side of the door later, it creaked open, revealing the infamously intractable Lissa. She seemed to be partway through her morning grooming, blonde hair done up in her signature messy twintails, but missing the headdress that usually accompanied them. To boot, she was still wearing nought but a nightie and slippers, like she had been planning to remain undisturbed for a while. Good.

“Yeah, I’m up, I’m up... Who is it- Uhh, Tharja?”

As her eyes looked up to scan Tharja’s new form, the dark mage slapped a sealing charm onto her forehead, halting her in her tracks. Her jaw went limp, her posture slumped, suddenly zombie-like. Tharja was not in the mood to entertain Lissa’s notoriously long-running mouth on the best of days, so she simply stepped past the girl into her room.

The young royal’s chambers were quaintly cluttered, queen-size bed decorated with embroidered sheets and a good dozen well-loved plush animals. On every free surface between the opulently decorated walls were half-finished craft projects. Sewing kits, patchwork quilts, cookbooks, more tasks than Tharja cared to count. She sat at the princess’ ornate boudoir opposite the bed and snapped her fingers, prompting the spellbound Lissa to close the door and approach.

As Lissa dragged her feet across the floor, Tharja made the chair ready for her. She scooched back, making space for the princess to squeeze between her legs so she could also face the mirror. Robin’s reactions to her transformations had been a thing of beauty, and Tharja wanted the best possible seat this time.

Lissa almost collapsed onto the seat, the magic of the charm wearing thin, and Tharja had barely managed to maneuver her snugly between her thighs before it faded entirely. The paper seal fell from Lissa’s forehead, fluttering softly to the ground, and the glassy look in her eyes faded.

“Wha- Where am- Tharja!” Lissa glanced around in confusion before settling on the Dark Mage’s face, grinning evilly behind her. “What are you doing? This is really weird, even for you!” She attempted to stand, only for a gossamer stocking-clad arm to wrap around her belly, gently restraining her.

“Just wanted to come by and give you something, Princess...” Tharja drawled seductively into her captive’s ear. “Courtesy of Robin...” In her spare hand, she raised the tome, paying no heed to Lissa’s bewildered questions.

“What do you mean, something? And why did you have to curse me or whatever that was?! Why couldn’t Robin- Wait, what are you doing with that tome- Ohhhh!”

Tharja felt the dark magic coursing through the both of them, from her own fingertips into Lissa’s body, the power swirling and spreading through her, sending wonderful transformative heat rushing through every fibre of the princess’s being. She giggled maliciously as the girl twitched and moaned in her lap, finding some kind of sadistic glee in watching one of, if not the, most powerful women in Ylisse shudder and moan in her arms. It may not have been exactly what she had been looking for, but Robin’s new world order would certainly be a lot of fun either way…

+++

Lucina had been running for a solid minute before her burning lungs eventually forced her to stop. She collapsed against the wall, not even sure where in the castle she was, shoulder-length cobalt hair framing her still-crimson cheeks. Unbidden images flashed in her head of the scene she had just witnessed. Her father and Robin, bizarrely warped and debauching together… It was still difficult to process, even in a purely clinical sense. Embarrassment, shock and curiosity duelled in her head, all the while she strained to make sense of the scene she’d witnessed. Just last month, Robin had told her she had no romantic interest in her father, that she wasn’t even attracted to him! And when the two of them bumped into each other the day before, she certainly wasn’t that… Big!

Simultaneously glad and disappointed that she had not been followed, Lucina slowly righted herself. She needed to know what was going on, she owed it to her father to find out if some malicious schemes were at work. The bodily changes she had seen were clearly not natural, likely the fault of magical interference. She needed to talk to someone who she could trust, preferably one who knew a little about magic and a lot about her father. Aunt Lissa!

Her breath back under control, Lucina strode onward towards her aunt’s quarters, resolve unflinching. She didn’t know who was behind the disgusting scene she had unwittingly barged into, but whether it be Robin’s, someone else’s, or Grima’s itself, she was going to put a stop to their plans.

+++

It took a few moments for Lissa’s thoughts to return, climbing slowly to consciousness from the deep, pervading sensation of the hex taking root in her. She breathed deep, head turning back to Tharja, who now held both arms around her stomach in a curiously affectionate embrace, the tome placed on the boudoir surface.

“Wh… What was that…?” Lissa replied, still in a daze. Tharja giggled again.

“Something wonderful, Princess…” She grinned, one hand snaking between Lissa’s meager breasts to seize her chin. “Watch closely. Soon you’ll be just like us...”

The words sent alarm bells ringing in the rational part of Lissa’s head as her chin was twisted towards the boudoir mirror, directing her gaze toward her own reflection, but she paid them no heed. She felt so warm and soft, like she was wrapped in thick, cozy blankets. How could anything bad be about to happen?

As such, she barely reacted when Tharja took hold of her nightie’s neckline and tore it clean in two. She let the soft cloth slide under her body, leaving her naked and at the mercy of the dark mage. Immediately, Tharja took hold of her legs, hoisting them up and letting them hook over the armrests of the chair, exposing the princess’ cute, virgin slit. Lissa’s thighs clenched, cringing from the exposure of her most intimate spot, but she didn’t move. She just stared ahead at her reflection, watching her own chest rise and fall with her breath, entranced by her aide’s sinister smile.

“The changes should start any moment now...” Tharja mused, fingers slowly sliding down Lissa’s inner thighs.

“W-what’s gonna happen? I- Haaahhh...” Her nervous questioning was cut short by a low, breathy gasp as she began to feel her flesh reacting, buzzing with activity under her skin. Before her very eyes, she began to grow, her breasts slowly filling out, thighs swelling under Tharja’s fingertips. It all felt so warm, so good… She began to lean her head back, allowing the sensations to wash over her, only for a long-nailed hand to grip her by the chin and force it back down.

“Ah-ah-ah...” Chided Tharja in her ear, voice whisper-quiet and smooth as velvet. “You’re going to watch every moment of this...”

Lissa could only obey, her will weakened by the spell, mind soft and suggestible in Tharja’s grip. She stared into the mirror as her transformation continued, her breasts and thighs now joined by her hips, widening in her chair until their cushy sides pressed against the sides of the armrests.

“Mmm… You’re starting to look delicious, Lissa...” Tharja licked her plump lips suggestively, one hand squeezing the softness of the still-growing girl’s thigh as she did. “By the end of this you might look more like a milkmaid than a twiggy little princess. Though I’m sure all your suitors wouldn’t mind...”

Enraptured by her changes, Lissa couldn’t reply, but the words filtered through her mind all the same, bouncing around and conjuring vivid fantasies. All the men she’d seen her big sister Emmeryn turn down over the years were assembling around her, staring with hungry eyes and bulging groins, just aching to ravish her.

Her arousal only seemed to fuel her transformation, her body growing ever more voluptuous, hips and thighs pressing against the confines of the chair as her lips began to fatten into a pouty O-ring. She watched her own body become steadily more unfamiliar, and although her mind may have not had the capacity to process it, her body very much did.

A bead of moisture slipped from her slit, dripping onto the chair’s upholstery. Tharja glanced down at the errant droplet and smiled.

“Seems the princess is enjoying her transformation into a plush little fuckdoll… Or maybe you like the idea of being eye candy for a room of lecherous lords?” She murmured into Lissa’s ear, slipping a hand towards her captive’s nethers. “I bet you’re just aching to get out there and spread your legs for them...”

In her mind, countless men descended on Lissa’s perfected body. Hands groped at her breasts, her ass, some slipping between her thighs to tease her. None were unwelcome. She wanted to be touched. To be the center of attention, the object of mens’ desires… Her visions only intensified as she felt Tharja’s fingers sliding into her, coiling and rubbing her slick, sensitive folds. Dozens of handsome, muscled men surrounded her as she bounced atop one more, his manhood sawing in and out of her. She felt their stares, their lust and adoration towards her, and it stirred something within her mind.

Before, she might have rallied against the idea of being a sexual icon, finding it degrading or some such nonsense. But now, being desired by so many seemed empowering. She found a new, deviant satisfaction in the idea of arousing such feelings. Imagining she could keep men straining against their clothes with but the slightest bit of skin, provoking unquenchable lust with merely a look…

Lissa’s eyes peered from her fantasy world for a moment to see what she had become, and gasped at her own beauty. Sparkling eyes and a sultry, kissable mouth dominated her elegant facial profile, the smooth gradient of her neck leading down into flawless, cantaloupe-sized breasts. All her years of wearing a corset seemed redundant in light of the impossible pinch of her waist, bursting into massive child-bearing hips and thick, creamy thighs, between which Tharja’s digits worked at her gushing, clenching honeypot. She was a walking sexual icon, the very essence of feminine maturity, and she loved it.

But her transformation wasn’t quite over. Blazing heat from the fire Tharja was stoking in her core seemed to bubble to the surface, licking over the area just below her womb. Her skin felt like it was burning, set alight by prickling flames. Before her very eyes, dark, curving patterns emerged in the space between her navel and her clit. Her pounding heart skipped a beat when she recognised the famous shape: the Brand of the Exalt. There it was! After all these years of secretly doubting her own legitimacy, working as hard as she could to be seen as an upstanding and worthy princess, the proof of her heritage was right there on her crotch. Her spirit soared, over the moon at the revelation, only to be boosted yet higher by the continued ministrations of her companion.

As Tharja’s furious fingers composed the pleasures of her growth into a thunderous crescendo, her fantasies reached their peak. Dozens of men around her came in unison, showering her perfect body and new Brand in their sticky liquid love. At that moment of teetering climax, she couldn’t imagine possibly feeling more adored, more worshipped, more royal… The feeling of composure, control and belonging was simply overwhelming.

She was finally the princess she had always dreamed of being.

And in that fantastical moment of realisation, she came harder than she ever had in her life. She let loose a wailing, wavering scream as her hips ground and squirted into Tharja's palm, her soft new body quaking with joy. To the princess, it was the greatest revelation she’d ever experienced, mixed with a heavy shot of sexual satisfaction and served with the promise of oh so much more. If she had been in any other state than this epiphanic, narcissistic euphoria, she might have registered the blue-haired girl bursting through her doorway, and the subsequent cry of:

“OH, GODS DAMN IT!”

+++

Lucina had not been thinking clearly when she approached her aunt’s quarters. In fact, she had been avoiding doing much thinking at all, deliberately clearing her mind to avoid images of her grimacing father or his seed-splattered strategist leaking through the mental barrier she was building around the memory.

So when she marched past the napping guard, stepped up to Lissa’s door, loudly announced she was there and waltzed in without so much as an affirmation, she immediately came to sorely regret doing so.

Her first sight was the distorted form of her aunt Lissa, her once petite body replaced with an ultra-curvaceous mockery of the female form. In the mirror, Lucina could see every detail, from the plush jiggle of her breasts to the ecstatic expression on her face as the dark-haired figure whose lap she sat in brought her to the peak of pleasure. Truly, those four short words couldn’t have encapsulated her feelings better.

The vast majority of her wanted to look away, but her eye was caught by a turning head, that of Lissa’s companion. A pale, lush, but heavily skeptical face came into view, and it took only a moment for Lucina to match it to one she had seen before. Tharja, the Plegian defector who had been spotted stalking Robin soon after her recruitment. Now she bore the same exaggerated features as Robin and Lissa… What did it all mean?!

The light of recognition came on in Tharja’s eyes as well, with not a hint of shame to go with it. Her pillowy lips twisted into a cruel smile, and even as she cradled the cooing, shivering body of Lissa, she looked ready to pounce on her next prize. Lucina felt a sudden urge to keep her gaze anywhere but on her, and so it darted to the nearest distraction, which happened to be a spot of pink on the boudoir.

A book. A book she’d seen before, sitting on the bed next to Robin as she knelt between her father’s legs. What was this conspiracy, and how had she not caught it before now?!

As Lucina stood there, frozen in shock with her mind whirring, Lissa finally recovered from her post-orgasmic stupor. Her long eyelashes fluttered and parted, revealing the intruder in her room. Her refined features registered surprise, the wide eyes and thick lips making her look almost vapid for a moment.

“Lucina?” She wondered aloud, and her niece’s gaze turned back to her. In that moment, it seemed what astounded her most was the utter shamelessness with which Lissa held her new body, making no effort to cover herself in front of another, as if there was nothing there she didn’t want to be seen. Her heaving tits and soaking slit sat in plain view, unabashed in their obscenity. But what finally broke Lucina’s will was the sheer absent-mindedness of what she did next.

Eyes still glued to Lucina’s, one of Lissa’s delicate hands reached between her legs and began to masturbate, spreading her folds and curling two fingers inside herself with the same casualness one might scratch an itch. That alone had her primed and ready to bolt, but one last desperate glance at Tharja yielded something almost as bad. The dark mage’s sneer had faded, her eyes flicking back from watching Lissa’s display in the mirror to give Lucina a heavy, knowing wink. The message was clear.

She was on the list.

And for the second time that day, Lucina fled down the corridors of Ylisstol castle, traumatised twice over before she’d even had breakfast.

Left behind, the two bimbos watched the door swing on its hinges for a moment before turning to each other.

“What was she doing there?” Lissa said, her idle fingers still jilling away at her pussy. “She seemed upset...”

“Don’t worry about her.” Tharja dismissed the caring notion. “You have more important matters to attend to.” Lissa blinked.

“What are those, then?” The words were barely out of her mouth before Tharja shoved her out of the chair, her newfound plushness cushioning the impact on the carpeted rug beneath them. Turning around, Tharja had relaxed into the chair, head rested on one hand as she reclined, expression disdainful. Her other hand reached between her legs and plucked her loincloth between finger and thumb, revealing the rip in her bodystocking Robin had made the previous night. Through the ragged gash Lissa could see her companion was positively drenched, soaking the upholstery of the chair.

“Thanking your mistress for your new body, to start...” Tharja deadpanned, her intention obvious.

Lissa was struck dumb by the proposal at first. She’d never considered lying with another woman before, and yet something about this was undeniably alluring. But where to start? What was she expected to do? She had experience using her fingers on herself, but what if that was just how she liked it? Was she supposed to use her mouth? Or something else? How would that work? And what about…

Tharja watched as the brand new bimbo princess’ cheeks reddened, gaze fixed on her pussy. She was not amused. She’d gone through all that trouble teasing the girl up to a mountainous fantasy-fuelled climax, and now she was struck dumb at the prospect of returning the favour? Unbelievable.

Lissa got a sudden rude awakening from her storm of doubts in the form of a hand grasping the back of her head, forcibly shoving her mouth to Tharja’s stimulation-starved honeypot.

“LICK.” Came the command, and she obeyed with a nervous mewl. Her first taste of pussy was a tentative one, but after discovering that it was actually rather nice, she began to get more into it, tracing Tharja’s folds, probing deeper as she experimented. She squeaked when Tharja barked commands at her, faster, deeper, more on that spot, but soon found the desire mounting in her own core as well. Somehow… She just liked women as well now. Although, with a body like Tharja’s, it wasn’t hard to give in…

Tharja on the other hand, was not receiving any revelations. Lissa was quite frankly amateurish at best at eating her out. But she showed enthusiasm, and the sorceress had to concede that that did count for something. If Lissa was any one thing at all, it was determined. And if she wanted to become a first-class royal harlot, well, Tharja was only too happy to help…

+++

Lucina came to a halt in the corridors yet again, panting not only from exertion, but also from panic. This ordeal was driving her insane. The twin tomes, the threatening wink, and above all else, the unrelenting lewdness of it all!

She took a moment and managed to calm herself, allowing herself to think logically. Lissa had been compromised. That put the entire royal family bar her under the sway of whoever this obscenity stemmed from. But all was not yet lost. She could still find help! But who to go for first?

Perhaps Frederick? The royal siblings’ loyal retainer would certainly stand for none of this nonsense, and perhaps be able to knock some sense into her father and aunt… But if she arrived at his door with such a ridiculous claim and no proof… Perhaps not. He would undoubtedly find out in due time.

What she needed was to understand what was going on. Someone who could make sense of the magic at work, but with enough implicit trust to work with her on this. The latter point ruled out her fellow future child, Laurent and his mother Miriel, and the only other court mage she could think of, Ricken, was away visiting family. That just left-

Oh, dear… There wasn’t even any certainty that she wouldn’t be in on it, considering Robin’s involvement. Well, it was her only remaining choice, despite the connotations that the morning’s events proceeded. It seemed it was time to pay a visit to Robin’s own daughter...

+++

“Oh, hi Lucina! Great to see you! Why so early though? I don’t usually get lonely until noon, personally.”

The future-princess sighed, equal parts relieved that she had not walked into another sex scene and exasperated by the girl before her.

“Hello, Morgan...”

Morgan was another future child, though not one Lucina had any memory of. Nor did Morgan, for that matter, of anyone else other than her mother. Ironic for one who claimed to be Robin’s future daughter to also contract near-total amnesia. Not that it put any kind of damper on the young woman, who went through life with a jovial, simple-minded attitude that belied her fierce inherited intellect. Now she stood in the doorway to her quarters, clad in plain pyjamas and her signature coat, a carbon copy of her mother’s down to the purple eye motifs on the sleeves. Her short black hair was messy, though thankfully, not from any illicit activities within the room, as in her hand she held a half-eaten bread roll. Though the two of them didn’t really gel due to their greatly differing personalities, Lucina had to admit that Morgan was a strong and dependable ally when it mattered, if one could forgive her eccentricities.

“I was hoping you could help me with something. May I come in?”

“Sure!” Morgan chirped, stepping back to allow her friend in.

Entering the room, Lucina could only try to avoid knocking several great towers of books over with every step. The room was littered with them, not even for lack of organisation but for the sheer number within the confined space. Rolls of parchment were pressed thin between used-up magical tomes and tactical theses alike, an awe-inspiring testament to Morgan’s aspirations. She moved to a central position, away from any teetering pillars of knowledge, and waited for Morgan to follow. Her friend danced between the stacks and plopped down into a chair by her desk, on which a dirty breakfast plate sat atop a complex battlefield map. Morgan swallowed another bite of her bread roll, and looked up at her.

“So, what was it? Since you wanted to come in, I guess it’s a secret? Ooh, I hope so...” Lucina groaned uneasily at her friend’s eagerness.

“I think there might be some kind of magical plot against my father in place. Earlier, as I was patrolling, I heard strange sounds from my father’s room...” She paused, trying to find the best way to word what she had seen. Morgan’s rapt, attentive stare wasn’t helping. “And when I entered, I found him and your mother engaged in… Intercourse.”

Morgan appeared stunned, crumbs sticking to her slackened jaw.

“Mom and Chrom were bumping uglies?!” She bounced in her seat, eyes wide with surprise, frustratingly blind to Lucina’s embarrassment. “But… Does that mean...”

“Morgan, stay focused-”

“That you and me...”

“Morgan...”

“We’re sisters!” The black-haired girl cried out, launching herself at Lucina to tackle her in a bear hug. Barely staying upright, the stronger Lucina soon managed to pry the jubilant younger woman off her, grimacing slightly at the carefree joy that adorned her possible sister’s face.

“The implication has not escaped my notice, Morgan. It could well be that we are indeed related. But if it were just that, I would not have come to talk to you.”

“Right, sorry. Serious face.” Morgan patted her cheeks as she sat back down, suppressing an elated chuckle. Lucina continued.

“The two of them seemed different though. Their bodies were… Statuesquely morphed. Robin in particular was…” She gestured vaguely. “...Bigger. And on their bed was a strange-looking tome.”

Morgan had quietened down now, seemingly lost in thought. Lucina, glad she had her in an appropriate mood now, went on.

“I then went to see aunt Lissa, who I found in a… Similar situation, with Tharja, and the same book.”

“And they were all hottie-fied, too?” Morgan interrupted. Lucina didn’t appreciate her predicament being made light of in such a way, but nodded.

“Yes.”

“Hmm...” Morgan’s usually cutesy face scrunched up in thought. “That is weird. And Tharja doing the nasty with anyone other than mother is REALLY weird. It does sound like magic though, almost certainly dark magic, which lines up with Tharja perfectly, and oh my Gods, I just realised I’m a princess now-”

“Morgan!” Lucina snapped, berating the girl’s wandering mind.

“Sorry! Well, that’s all very weird, but what about it? Maybe Tharja just came up with some curse that makes you all sexy. It’s not the weirdest thing she’s done.”

“I can’t take that chance.” Lucina shook her head. “If magic is at work, and it has reached father, then I must be certain no harm will come to him, body or mind.”

“Well then, let’s go and have a snoop around her room then!” Tossing the remains of her roll away, Morgan leapt to her feet, seizing Lucina’s hand. “Come on, Sis! Let’s go save Dad!”

Lucina let herself be dragged behind the giggling girl, groaning inwardly. This was going to take some getting used to...