Checkmate
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Checkmate: A Game Of Queens free porn video
Things were looking grim.
The battle had been raging for almost thirty turns, and the White Army
was losing badly. Most of their Pawns were either wiped out or pinned
down, the White Knights had been eliminated, and both a Bishop and a
Rook had been sacrificed in order to protect the King. Meanwhile, the
Black Army had only lost maybe half their Pawns and their Queen. In a
clever sacrifical play, the Black Army had deliberately sent a handful
of Pawns ahead to be slaughtered, drawing the White Army out before
attempting an attack with the Black Queen. They should have seen it
coming, she took out one Pawn and left herself open to a Knight's
attack. Too late they realised it was part of their plan. The Whites
were spread out and unable to coordinate a proper defense as the Blacks
began their forward push.
From there, the battle spiralled out of the White Army's control. The
Black Rooks and Bishops intercepted and blocked off the White Pawns'
movements while the Black Knights picked them off one by one. The White
Queen was doing her best, attacking Black Pawns whenever she got the
opportunity but it was difficult to do so without placing herself at
risk of a Knight attack. The King himself had been forced to Castle
behind the remaining Rook for his own safety, only able to watch as his
army was picked apart. What few Pawns were brave enough to attempt a
checkmate found themselves on the receiving end of the Black King's
blade. There was no denying it; the Blacks had total control over the
field.
One particular White Pawn trembled. He had not moved since the beginning
of the game, and he was trapped. Every time he considered moving
forward, one of the Bishops or Rooks moved first, cutting off his path.
It was pretty clear they weren't aiming for him, but as long as he knew
he was in their line of attack, his legs would sieze up and he'd be
unable to move. He felt his grip on his dagger tighten, cursing himself
for his cowardice; his King and Queen were fighting for their lives even
as they rapidly lost forces, and yet he was too frightened to even take
a single step.
There was a loud clash of metal as the White Queen's rapier met with the
Black Bishop's staff, forcing him to back off out of her reach. The Pawn
felt himself flinch at the thought that it might have been his head
crushed beneath the Bishop's weapon... before it occured to him that he
was no longer in the Bishop's territory. The holyman's attention was
entirely on the Queen, her powerful attacks forcing him to retreat.
He took a breath. This was his chance.
Swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat and pushing his fear
aside, the Pawn began to sprint straight ahead. He had his eyes clenched
shut, trying his hardest to block out the noises of the war all around
him. Luckily, every other member of the Black Army seemed preoccupied
and no one noticed his advance. Every chance he got, he ran forward
another short distance, inching closer and closer towards the Black
Army's base. He didn't know what exactly he was going to do once he got
there, but he'd figure something out.
He paused to both catch his breath and survery his surroundings. The
White Queen was still forcing the Bishop onto the offensive, and the
remaining Black Pawns were making attacks on the King and his Rook.
Neither the Black King nor Rooks hadn't noticed his presence... he
seemed to be in the clear...
...at least, that's what he thought. Until he heard cold laughter coming
from nearby.
"You should have been paying more attention, child," a hoarse voice
chuckled. The Pawn spun in the direction of the laughter, and found
himself face to face with the second Bishop, his jet black robes flowing
around him. And the little Pawn had stumbled directly into his line.
"It seems the Lord is not with you this day, little Pawn," the older
soldier chuckled as he readied his staff. The Pawn was frozen with fear.
"I shall pray for your soul. But I'm afraid that next turn, you are m-"
His taunts were silenced as another staff promptly came down upon his
head, sending him to the ground. The Pawn let out a cry of fear and
jumped back, before he noticed that his saviour looked exactly like the
Black Bishop, but his robes were coloured a brilliant white.
"Fear not, child. I am not your enemy," the White Bishop said with a
smile. The Pawn returned the smile before letting out a small sigh of
relief. He wasn't alone anymore.
Unfortunately, their small victory was short-lived as the sound of
galloping hooves caught both of their attention. Turning, both White
fighters saw one of the Black Knights before them. His ebony armour
glistened in the sun, matching the coat of his steed. In one hand he
gripped his lance. The Pawn could practically feel the warrior staring
through them from behind his helmet. His gaze moved from the Pawn, to
the Bishop, and then back again. The Pawn felt his stomach drop as he
realised their positions. Both vulnerable to his next attack; the
infamous "Fork" manoeuver. No matter what they chose to do, at least one
of his targets was going to fall. This strategem was what made the
Knights so feared. They White soldiers were trapped.
The Pawn gulped. He turned to the Bishop and motioned for him to run;
the Pawn was small, weak and worthless. If one of them had to face the
Knight's lance, it should be him. He had been useless the entire war, so
the least he could do was give his life so that one of the more skilled
warriors would remain.
"No," the Bishop state with a frown, glaring intently at the Knight.
From the moment the horseman had appeared, the Bishop had refused to
break eye contact.
Panic awash over his face, the Pawn started waving his arms wildly. What
did he mean no? Was he planning to throw his life away, for him? For an
inexperienced soldier who only knew how to charge blindly!?
"Listen to me..." the Bishop spoke, his voice calm yet stern. The Pawn
immediately quietened. "There is a chance that we can win this war. And
you're the key to that." He finally turned away from the knight and
placed a hand on the Pawn's shoulder. "Keep running. Head towards the
Black Army's base, and once you get there, grab the crown. Do that, and
everything should become clear. We'll try to keep you safe, but you're
the ONLY one who can do this."
The Pawn stared at the holy fighter. They could win? And they needed...
him? An insignificant Pawn like him? He didn't understand it... but the
Bishop seemed certain. Gulping, the Pawn nodded with a determined look
on his face.
"Good boy... now go!" the Bishop commanded. The Pawn nodded and turned
to run, his eyes on the enemy base... even as he heard the Bishop's
dying screams behind him.
Once more, he blocked out the sights and sounds all around him as he
hurried. A shot from the White Rook took out the Black Knight before it
could even begin to give chase, and the Queen quickly moved to intercept
the other Black soldiers. So long as she stood between the Pawn and the
Blacks, none would dare approach him. Of course, who knew how long she
could hold the line? One lapse of judgement, one mistimed step and the
Queen would be just as susceptible as even the Pawn.
He had to make this count. The White Pawn steeled himself and carried
on, soon standing at the gates of the Black Army's base.
He slowly walked through the archway into the huge black castle. Looking
around, he saw it was almost completely empty; the only things of note
were four stone alters in the centre, where four gemstones were resting.
One resembling a mitre cap, one a horse head, one a tower, and one a
crown. The Pawn lowered his weapon and inspected the four gems... they
each seemed to be cut out of solid diamond, glinting in what little
light entered the empty building from the entrance. He had never gotten
this far before... was this what the Bishop meant?
Deciding it was best not to question the words of more seasoned
soldiers, the Pawn reached out and grabbed the crown-shaped gem. In his
hand, it seemed to explode in a brilliant burst of white light before
vanishing, along with the other gems and the four altars.
The Pawn looked around in confusion. What had just happened? He did as
the Bishop said... and now the crown was gone. He let out a sad sigh. He
couldn't even follow simple orders right... he really was just a
worthless little Pawn after all. He flung back his head and buried his
face in his hands.
And that was when he felt something tickling the back of his neck.
Halting his pity party for just a second, the youth reached up to grab
at his neck and his fingers caught hold of... hair? That couldn't be
right. All Pawns were required to keep their hair in short and managable
bowl cuts. He gave a tug, and let out a squeak of pain. Yep, definitely
his hair. As he let it go, he quickly saw white locks entering his field
of vision. Was his hair... growing?
Ba-donk. Ba-donk.
The Pawn's eyes went wide as he felt two very sudden and very unfamiliar
weights form on his chest. Looking down, he saw that his tunic was being
pushed out by two very noticable mounds. He dropped his dagger and let
out a squeak of shock as his hands flew to his chest, giving his new
chest a squeeze. A wave of pleasure ran through his body and confirmed
his fear; he had breasts.
He looked down at himself, staring at his new bosom even as his body
started to slim down, unable to think straight as a million questions
filled his mind. What was happening? Was this because of that gem? Why
did he have boobs? Why was his hair growing? A whimper escaped his
throat as his hips grew outwards, combining with his chest to give him a
curvy, hourglass shape.
Panic was once more setting in as the Pawn let his hands explore his new
curves. As he groped his new womanly hips, his arms and legs began to
lengthen, slowly but surely making him taller. His face softened, his
features becoming more feminine as his white hair now reached his cute
butt.
The Pawn stared at his new body as another worry came to him. Slowly, as
if he didn't want to know the answer, one of his dainty hands reached
down to feel the crotch of his trousers.
Yep. Gone. And in it's place...
Clutching his head, the Pawn let out a childish wail. Why was this
happening to him? Why was he a woman!? How was this to help defeat the
Black Army!?
As he held back sobs, he looked at his hands, now soft, slim and...
white? He sniffed and rubbed his hands as he became aware of something
white coating them. Despite his best efforts the strange substance
refused to wipe off. In fact, it almost seemed to be... spreading...
The Pawn squealed and waved his hands as the white substance spread up
under his sleeves. He felt a light "pop" along the skin of his arms, as
he say the substance suddenly change into soft white satin. He wanted to
cry out in shock, before he noticed that his trousers seemed to be
getting tighter. Looking down, he saw he was partially correct; they
weren't just getting tighter, the legs were merging together into a
single piece of cloth holding both of his (now long, slim and shapely)
legs.
The Pawn was at a complete loss. He could only watch as his clothing
transformed just like his body did; his tunic and trousers... well,
trousER merged together into one garment, while his sleeves rapidly
shortened and showed his new gloves reaching up past his elbows. The
shirt-part of his new garment began to tighten against his buxom new
chest, while the trouser-part began to flare out. Little details such as
embroidered patterns and lace lining began to form as the sleeves
expanded and puffed up, and the Pawn quickly realised what his tunic and
trousers had become; a dress. A beautiful floor-length gown, not unlike
the ones worn by the White Army's Queen.
Under his new skirt, he felt his undergarments twisting and changing
shape, forming into a lacy bra and panty set. His boots extended up past
his thighs, softening and dissolving into a nylon pantyhose set, as high
heeled shoes formed over his stockinged feet. Earrings and other
jewellery materialised before his eyes as his hat jumped into the air,
shrank into a tiara, and landed on his head. His now long hair was
pulled back as if by invisible hands and twisted into a long braid.
The former Pawn couldn't believe it. He didn't need a mirror to know
that his face had been changed as well. There was no doubt about it. He
had changed into the spitting image of the Queen!
Disoriented, frightened and confused, the newly transformed Pawn, picked
up his sword, as it quickly thinned and lengthened into a rapier and
staggered out of the Black Army base. He had NO clue what this was
supposed to accomplish...
...until he spotted the actual Queen, striking down a Pawn, but not
realising she was now in the sights of one of the Black Rooks.
The enormous tower seemed a hundred times more menacing than anything
the Pawn had ever witnessed, as it's dark bricks slid apart to reveal
its hidden cannons. It was taking aim, waiting for the Queen to lower
her guard. The Pawn wanted to scream for her to look out, but the words
didn't escape his throat. He did the only thing he could do, running as
fast as his dress and heels would let him, even if it was in vain...
Only for the Pawn to find himself standing at the Rook's feet. He
hesitated for the briefest of moments to try to process what happened,
but as he saw the Rook preparing to fire, his body seemed to take on a
mind of it's own. He raised his rapier and lunged forward, the thin
blade piercing clean through the brick monster and tearing it apart. The
Rook let out a low, mournful cry as it collapsed to the battlefield
floor.
The Pawn blinked, the crash from the Rook's defeat having caught the
attention of every soldier on the battlefield. Everyone stared, before
the Black King stood up from his throne.
"What... what witchcraft is this? How can there be TWO Queens!?" he
demanded.
The transformed Pawn didn't give him a chance to react and rushed
forward, his rapier cutting down the second Rook that stood by his side.
"Yes... this is our chance!" The Queen grinned and hurried to her
allies' side.
"Indeed..." The White King nodded. "Rook, assist them!" he ordered with
a wave of his hand. It was a big risk, as it would leave him completely
defenseless, but the Rook's range could help the two Queens secure
victory.
The battle raged on, the presence of two Queens causing a massive upset
to the Black Army's plans. Knights and Bishops were cut down as they
rushed to their King's aid. Soon, the King was backed into a corner;
before him stood the Pawn-Queen, his rapier level with the King's face.
At his side, the original Queen with a smug smirk on her face. In this
position, he could take out one of the Queens... yet that would leave
him at the mercy of the other. And as if expecting this strategy, the
chalk white Rook was visible from the other end of the battlefield, its
cannons trained on the dark-garbed royal.
The King let out a hefty sigh. "It seems that my plan was for naught,"
he spoke, drawing his sword. The Queens readied themselves for his
attack... only for him to lower the blade and place it at their feet.
"I have lost. The game is your's."
Checkmate.
Pansy
- 20.12.2021
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