1 What does it take?

'What does it take to change one's life? what does it require to make it for the better... what ignored makes it worse?'

This was a pressing question within the mind of a young man. This young man had spent all of his years toiling away at a remote farm, in a remote town, in a remote kingdom. He was a man in mind yet most would call him a lad... or lass in body.

He only stood at 5'4", he carried an androgynous face with little distinguishing features. Having a curved Feminine form with wide hips, almost log like thighs of smooth sun-kissed skin, above that rested a bountiful bubble butt that had lead many a man, woman, and others in between shaking under the burden of their desires. His torso a flat smooth surface without any imperfection or hair. That which he held beneath his loincloth was a modestly sized member... if a little small, and a pair of plump orange-sized orbs resting within an almost velvety or silken sack. The family scepter and jewels being hairless as well.

This man trapped in the body of a boy was known as Derric Kreshiom, nearing his 23rd year on the soil of Gaia. Most of his life was that of work and toiling away at the various duties upon the humble farm. He was lucky enough to earn a place there, being smaller than all of the other farmhands he worked twice as hard. Earning his keep with the rest of them but eternally feeling like an outcast, or as if he was kept around for the novelty of it. an inescapable sensation of being shackled or collared down by some great cruel figure or being that watched over him.

He questioned what it took...

'What it took to pry himself free from the wasting existence he felt consuming him?' He pondered, losing his focus on his current work of tilling the field. His mind racing and going over all of his day's duties and tasks, getting up every day and repeating it just to feel empty.

Banishing the thoughts from his mind and returning his attention to the task at hand, holding to whatever resolve he could find within himself. He went about the rest of the day as he had always done.

Returning to his chambers for the night and having spent time reading a few of his favorite books on forging and smiting, as well as a cookbook he wished to taste everything from once. He felt the thoughts return to him, the motive force of his existence grinding to a halt.

"Why do I feel this way at all... I work hard and have goals that I strive for... so why do I feel meaningless?" He said aloud, almost hoping he would receive some kind of answer out of the aether. Only to then be shocked when one actually did arrive.

"Oh don't worry hun... you'll find your meaning... possibly among the few cages of my crew!" The voice was amused by the current circumstance, a gruff yet Feminine tone emitted from a tall figure. With gusto and grace, the figure ripped the frail window off of its hinges and vaulted within Derric's room upon the first floor.

Derric would then turn to see the imposing 7ft figure before him, adorned in a black and red dyed set of studded leather armor. They were wielding a shield and mace of rather crude make. Being unable to derive much from the appearance of the figure, aside from the height, and elongated animalistic ears poking out from the top of their head. With a sudden gust of wind, the candle in the room blew out, leaving it in sudden setting darkness. Before Derric could react there was a brief chuckle, followed by a heavy thunk as the figure hit Derric over the head with the mace they held.

"Nighty night... hun" the same Feminine husky voice spoke down to the now unconscious Derric. placing the shield over their back and lifting the boy over her shoulder "We'll see what exactly you're worth back at the cart... don't have high hopes for ya though"

During that night the simple and quaint little town of Haven had come under attack by a group or traveling marauders, ne'er do wells who would rather take and pillage for whatever they desire. Derric now being one of the numerous captured folk residing on the outskirts the humble town. Most of the town would be burned down and destroyed for the enjoyment of it, many of the inhabitants being trapped in their homes as they were lit ablaze. By comparison, those taken should consider themselves lucky.

After all the destruction and mayhem was over it would be a smoldering ruin of a town, burning cinders and crumbling charcoal of whatever wooden remains there were. As the final flickering embers faded several large horse-drawn carts moved away from the amber lights behind them. Splitting into 3 main groups, each with 3 carts. The figure who captured Derric took some time to look over his form and found out they were to be exceedingly satisfied. The man before them... well lad or lass from appearance had a quality of plump rump they never had the pleasure of seeing yet. With a chuckle, she removed a specific set of bindings and hogtied the unconscious Derric. Using their authority to claim him for their own, without any room for debate

Still locked away within his mind, the surprising resilience of his form meaning there was no lasting damage but he would certainly feel it later, but for now, he was an unwilling addition to the flock the marauders had gathered. Heading towards the secret cove that served as a base of operations for them. It would only be a matter of time before the captured Denizens of Haven would wake, and if they were to regain their bearings they might turn rather loud... and that just wouldn't do now would it?