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When In Rome(Fate Nero Tg)
🕑 Added 2020-08-07 17:02:50 +0000 UTCNoah was hopelessly bland, his years as a middling university professor producing little more than unread theses and students who spent more time asleep than awake in his classes. It definitely didn’t help that so many of his best papers were scavenged by his more energetic cohorts. Cohorts wasn’t the right word, they were bullies plain and simple writ in university ink and stuffed in trendy suits. He had never learned how to properly confront anyone, his usual mode of resistance him stuttering out a lengthy version of ‘no’ while his work was taken. They all respected his research acumen, but none let him submit it for his own work. At least this trip was the one bright spot in his life, his specialty in Roman history at a mid sized university leading to easy access to books, but never for travel. This was also where he decided he would end things, the last day of the senior trip upon them, his own knowledge of the language thankfully ensuring he could see the sites and sights of his dreams.
Yes he had brought a special heirloom he was sure had been a fake, but it was a good enough replica to fit the style of its supposed history. The chalice that Nero had used to kill herself, with traces of the powdered poison still stuck to it. That was most assuredly dust and some of his colleagues would have laughed if they heard him use “her” instead of “him.” That research paper had made it clear they saw him as a hack trying to find relevance with an absurd theory, none of them willing to pore over the various journals and entries he had found with conflicting gender descriptions, most of the official ones having their gender in ambiguous terms. And then there were the sketches that- No no, work was behind him, this would be his last hurrah. But first, a trip to the steam baths of the kings, freshly refurbished and open to private rooms where he’d drink some wine and end it all.
He had a strong red wine, some milk and ovaltine, the latter mixed with drafting cyanide along with a pen and paper to leave a note making it clear not to try mouth to mouth. It was a darkly comic way to do it in reference to one of his favorite books. Hey if he was going out anyways, it might as well be like his life, darkly comic and in homage to histories no one would notice despite a shit ton of effort. It was a conscious decision to not even wipe away the old dust, figuring what harm could it do now even if the past owner had been honest. The flecks dissolved well into the wine, Noah holding up a toast to empires past and present, and the history he was blatantly plagiarizing with a death in the baths via poison. Surely they’d talk of him as an urban legend of the baths, this his only act of resolve in a bland lifetime. And with that he drank the whole cup, preparing to pour another cup when the flavor hit, the bottle shattering on the stone steps, his body stumbling into the hot, bubbling waters.
The wine was stronger than it should have been. Much, MUCH stronger, going down more like whiskey than wine. He could feel the heat running down his throat, boiling in his stomach, the warmth intermingling with the heated bath as his head swam. It was too strong for him, much like most people in his life, yet did that have to be true? The question struck at his core, his wrinkled skin starting to steam out, wrinkles fading, moles and sunspots melting away in chocolate rivulets that dispersed under the crimson tide of wine. Noah was sinking lower and lower, caught under the gentle lapping of the bath, his ripples returning to drag him down. The heat masked the prickles of hair loss, the shrinking of pores, yet nothing could hide the slow uptick in sensitivity across every square inch. It was as if the process of dewrinkling was removing some internal blocks on feeling, pleasure radiating through as his sallowness creamed, the valleys and mountains flattened to a silky smooth plateau of youthful exuberance.
Red wine spiraled into bloody vortexes, aimed directly at his swim shorts, lily white in color, just as bland as him. The red made quick work of that, as if denying him this timid lame color, red stripes candy caning the shorts as a few violent riptides tore at the hem and groin, leaving strips of dyed fabric drifting upwards, contorting and sewing together into some form of thin bikini top, the strips barely wider than the stripes of its festive pattern. But none of this mattered much to Noah, the inexplicable phenomena drowned out by the hazy comfort of the bath, his body feeling relaxed for the first time in decades, and all sorts of new ideas and feelings were flowing in and out of his head.
Why did he never fight back against their bullshit? Why did he ever let them walk over him? What was meant to protect him? Of course the system wasn’t supposed to allow this. Academia was meant to be unbiased, charisma a non factor, the only thing mattering being the work. He had bought into that for decades and what did he have now to show for it? He had poured his all into the students, the masses and once again his love hadn’t been enough. Had he learned nothing since the last time?
“Hmm? What does, ohh~...” The last point didn’t make much sense, yet he didn’t mind, a warm, soothing pleasure running through his cock, the wine pumping into every extremity as it almost felt like liquid velvet was stroking him internally, the softness encompassing his groin as his hardened shaft shivered, a messy stream of white dribbling out as his balls tightened and shrank. The releases felt empowering, his moans quivering, his voice youthening further than the rest of his body as it cracked like his teenage years, the obvious bulge of his Adam’s Apple pulling in slightly as the liquified parts added to the drunken haze of the wine.
God he was such a weak willed idiot wasn’t he? All these years wasted because he had never grown a spine strong enough to take these other assholes on. If he had played his cards differently, they would all be in the palm of his hands by now. Speaking of, his right was currently stroking his erect shaft, his palms slapping against his balls as the shakes sent more slivers of cum tumbling out, his testicles pulling tighter to the base of his cock as they jettisoned their mass out, becoming increasingly unnecessary. Each stroke was more assured than the last as well, his fingers strengthening as they slendered down, palms small and soft and strong as they wrapped more fully around his cock, pleasuring him in ways he hadn’t felt for decades, a new desire requiring his other hand as it shrank too, nails digging into his shrunken family jewels as he gripped the flimsy sack in his left and vigorously stroked with his right.
Yes this was more like it, the threat of a staff member barging in or someone seeing him despoiling the ancient bath mattering less and less. It felt good, therefore he should continue doing it. What others cared mattered less and less to him, much like the masculine trappings of his form. What good had his balls done for him anyways? They had just dangled there for anyone to step on, and he had no need for something so weak and malleable, he had to CRUSH his opponents into submission, squeeze the, th-the…
“NNGH! Yeeeeeesssss~!” He hissed it out as his left hand clenched, squeezing his balls down to smaller and flatter lumps until his fingers could feel something opening up, the water stained with the weak sperm in them as his cock pumped it all away, his pointer shoving his left up into a growing emptiness, his thumb pressing down until the whole thing was thrust inwards, the rubbery sacks squeezing into new shapes and purposes as he moaned happily. He could feel them shift and twist inside his hips, pumping out sweet ecstasy, an invasion of estrogen matching the warmth of the wine as his pelvis wobbled and spread apart into wide, curvy hips. Screw suicide, this was his second chance, his revitalizing. This was where he would be reborn and regain his seat of power.
At the thought his ass swelled, bouncing him against the marble as it dug into the perky flesh, his moans rising as his growing rear pulled the bikini tight against his masturbating fingers, cock straining against the striped bottoms. Looking down, Norah could see his body changing, his moans confused as his thighs began swelling around his tight erection. This wasn’t normal, this was bizarre! H-How could he, wh-why did he, oh god what was a cock doing between his legs?! It did feel good he had to admit, moaning as something hot and slippery poured from the tip, his fingers happily playing with something he had desired for much of his life back… when had he last lived?
No the past… 50? 30? Whatever it was didn’t count, that wasn’t a real life. No he had a more important past didn’t he? So many old dusty texts were coming to life with each release, like history was fucking him into reality, his hand going from storking to pushing. Yes it was a fun curiosity to have a cock for a bit, but she really didn’t need one, at least not one this small, though she’d enjoy its final moments greatly. Nerah squealed as she compressed the rubbery tip, feeling the circumcised head spurt weakly under the hot water as it slid into the rest of her shaft. A nail slipped into the widening tip, spearing the muscle as she forced in more and more, convulsions wracking through her shifting groin as she groaned, screaming in ecstasy as she pressed in deeper and deeper until the entire shaft inverted, hot water entering her new cavity as the first of many female orgasms to come jolted through her body. The heat was marvelous, melting down her prostate and making each fingered thrust all the more potent as pent up want and desire shot out, the water above her groin bubbling from the releases.
Now that was more like it, some part of Nerah thrilled that she had been right, that she was always a- Actually no that was idiotic. Who cared what gender she was? That desire to learn and live through the past faded quickly, her mind set on the future as she giggled. But this form was still imperfect, she would never attract attention half formed as she was like this. The first thing to dominate was every inch of this vessel, not allowing a single inch to go unchanged.
Raising a large foot from the bath she focused, blushing as pleasure filled the twitching appendage. Her will reshaped it, crushing it down, forcing the arch to snap, the heel to soften, each toe wriggling as they grew to cute curvy adornments to her greatness. The curves progressed to the calve as well, its flatness not mixing will with the thick softness of her thighs. It quickly sculpted to her desires, bulging in the back, tapering at her ankles, her other leg twitching as she moaned at the changes. Her lower half was now utterly perfect, not that it was a surprise to her. She was the best artist in all of Rome, it would make sense that her own body would be her greatest masterpiece.
With sculpting on the brain she grinned, leaving her snatch to focus on her core. It was so bland, so flat, doing nothing to compliment her heavenly hips. Flexing her nails her hands dug into her sides, meeting resistance from the muscle and bone. She flexed, her arms straining to match her hand’s power, each muscular throb shrinking them, rounding them, making them more feminine as her nails slid in. Half her waist seemed to turn to clay, shearing away easily to leave a slim tummy, some of the unneeded bulk of muscles and fat from inaction scraped off and added to the pile of leftover fleshy residue. Even with the lack of visible muscle, her stomach was harder than marble, yet soft to the touch, and her touch was most pleasing as she tweaked her curves to what she wanted. But that left a hefty amount of fleshy clay, throbbing with life in her free hand as if it was still connected to her body. She split it up between both hands, thumbs massaging the ends into raised bumps, pleasure writhing through her as she tweaked her new, pink nipples into formation.
In her hands were now two detached breasts, the fat sumptuous in her fingers as she slammed them down onto her chest. Neroh splashed about the bath, crying out as they connected, her bounteous bosom sparking through her frame as her ecstatic writhing sent her shoulders collapsing in, each one rounded as they struck against the bath steps. The last of her Adam’s Apple faded then, dribbling from her open, screaming mouth and disappearing under the bath’s heat, her new voice just as perky and domineering as her body. Unable to help herself, she plunged a hand down below while groping a breast, the pleasure magnified tenfold with a more complete body, her grey hair exploding out into blonde tresses, braiding and teasing itself into a perfect fringe even if her face was still that of a bland, meek male, one cowlick at the top curlicueing as she let her body bask in the heat of her bath, her pleasure.
In this moment of triumph, she figured this would be as good as any point to end it, stopping her gropes to grip the sides of her face like she was a child being scolded, her face’s shape refined to sharp elegance. It was fun going by touch, giggles and moans bouncing off the room’s walls as she curved her nose, pressed her forehead, plucked her eyebrows with a swipe. Her lips plumped up nicely under her bite, each pleasured suck pouting them more as arrogance became her de facto expression, her eyes angling as her irises turned to jaded emeralds. She was back, finally. Oh how she had waited to return, to gain glory, to play her enemies like a fiddle. As an added bonus, she no longer had to drink from a silver cup and nothing would drive her into madness and ruin this time. Nero pulled herself out of the bath, grinning until her feet slapped into something glassy. Looking down distastefully at her old self’s planned vehicle for suicide, she kicked it away. There’d be no need for that anymore.
Something was still off though, water dripping down over the white dress shirt she had worn to the bath and a basic wristwatch as she pondered what she had forgotten. Noticing the shifting fabric below her, she paused thinking to reclaim the rest of her wardrobe, the shirt a thin, white gossamer outer layer that did little to hide her form, Nero shifting her swimsuits straps to at least cover her nipples while the slipped on watch split into a blue gem bracelet and a white fabric bracelet. She also discovered what was still off, her back already sore from carrying her bosom, no curve to her spine. Damn, would she really have to give up the extra foot it gave her? N-Not that she cared about her height or anything, her personality towered over everyone else around her! ...though it was nice to be tall for once.
Oh screw it, it wouldn’t be her anyways if she was over five feet tall! Raising her hands she slammed them against her back, finishing her body shape as she pretended she didn’t care about the inches struck down with that hit. Still, she had to admit it was nice to be back amongst the living. She smiled, appreciating her own perfection.
But this was only a start. It wasn’t enough to be perfect, other people had to appreciate it as well. What kind of ruler is content to stay in the shadows when the love of the public was there, waiting. This time though, she would not rely on their love to get by. No she would dominate her competition, force them to beg to be in her presence. Somehow her resurrection had come free of any strings, no pesky Grail Wars to fight over, yet she still had her power as a Saber. She was no servant either, happy that there was no one she’d have to suck up to past herself. Now who to start with? First would come all those boorish plaguerizers who had so thoroughly loomed over her past life, not that she minded since it led to her revival, but Nero figured domming some history professors would get her caught up on the current day and age. Then maybe her old students. She was sure they would be much more keen to listen to her now in this form, and once she had fully figured out how the modern technology worked, she was sure to build her own media empire from there.
Of course, if that didn’t work then martial might it would be. It would be more annoying, but it did get her heart pumping imagining her skills versus a tank or jet. Hmm, with modern technology this would be much more difficult than she might be giving it credit for, but it didn’t matter. Whether through love or war, the world would be hers. Its inhabitants just didn’t know it yet.
