You never expected to find a weapon in your bedroom closet. After all, right now you’re surrounded by the very mundane markers of your daily existence: the gently humming computer, the faded posters, the soft sunlight coming through your apartment window. You’re supposed to be organizing your old clothes, not discovering something out of fantasy. Yet there it is—a sword, shimmering with a kind of blue light, its hilt elegant and unfamiliar, a scroll tied to the guard.
You reach out to grab the sword. As soon as your fingers brush the cold metal, a surge of energy ripples through your body, winding up your arm, across your chest, and flooding into your head.
“Uhh… what’s… happening—?”
A blinding blue-white radiance spills out of the blade, engulfing you—roaring in your ears so loudly you cannot even hear yourself scream. The air thickens, impossibly heavy, holding you fast as your body seizes. Clothes constrict, skin tingles and crawls. Your bones thrum, like hundreds of tuning forks vibrating in unison.
First, you feel yourself shrinking, the world looming larger as you dwindle down—muscles tightening, limbs slimming. You feel your legs slim and stretch, growing smooth and strong, your stomach flattening as something deep in your core shifts. Your hands pull to your face, smaller and softer now—nails perfect, fingers elegant. Your face tingles; your nose narrows, jaw softens, skin becomes perfectly smooth.
Your hair spills down your back, impossibly long and, as you glance with peripheral vision, the color deepens into a vibrant blue. A few errant strands tickle your cheeks. Eyebrows and lashes darken to match.
Clothing suddenly ripples over your form. You watch in mute disbelief as your t-shirt and sweats unravel into threads of blue, black, and gold, weaving themselves into an ornate uniform. Black tights hug your slim legs, blue boots rise up just above your knees, a black long-sleeved top and the armor-like blue uniform cinch around your torso. Leather belt and sash, gloves and bracers flash into place, marked with shining white X’s. Something settles on your brow—a gold tiara. The weight of a blue cape tugs at your shoulders, cool beneath and scarlet underneath.
Your heart hammers as something inside your chest stirs—swelling, swelling—then, suddenly, you gasp as your chest pushes out into soft, round curves beneath your fingers. Your skin prickles with warmth. Instinctively, your hands fly downward. Where something was, now—“Ah!”—it’s… not. Instead, you feel a gentle, wet *pop*. You recoil in shock, hands trembling.
“Is—am I a girl?” you stammer, voice cracking—except, it isn’t your voice at all. It’s higher, nobler: “I—I’m a girl?” you repeat, softer.
**Yes. You have always been a girl. Always Lucina,** whispers a gentle, but firm, voice inside your mind. Your panicked thoughts tumble into confusion.
“No—no, this isn’t right—I’m—my friends! My family! My name—” You choke, clutching your head, shaking it from side to side. “I’m—”
**Lucina. Your name is Lucina. Try to remember, Lucina. Let the truth fill you.**
“No! I—” But new memories crash over you. Names you should not recall—Chrom, Robin, Lissa, Frederick—people who feel achingly familiar. Swordsmanship drills, the clash of steel, the scent of grass on a battlefield. You reach for old, mundane images—bedroom, television, laughter with friends—but they slip away. You call desperately:
“Mom! Dad! Please—help! My name is—Lu—Lu—” You dig in, refusing to let go, but images of a blue-haired princess, a blade called Falchion, and the grim shadow of war build behind your watering eyes.
**Your home is Ylisse. Your destiny is to fight fate. Please, Lucina, remember the truth.**
You squeeze your eyes shut, fists clenched. “No—I won’t forget—!”
But now, the walls of your home dissolve into painted stone, banners fluttering overhead, stained glass spilling color across polished floors. The desk and computer melt away, replaced by a war table strewn with maps. You catch your own reflection—anime-bright blue eyes, serious gaze, the air itself colored by dazzling shades and precise lines. Your world is no longer dull and soft, but sharp, animated—a living tapestry.
Your mind churns. You scrabble for your old name. What was it? It teeters at the edge of memory—then vanishes. In its place: *Lucina*, heir of Ylisse, daughter of Chrom.
Your body feels right. The confident weight of the Parallel Falchion balances perfectly in your grasp. Your voice—high, smooth, unmistakably womanly—commands authority as you repeat, “I am Lucina. I… I must ensure father’s safety. I cannot let Grima bring ruin upon us all.” For a moment, you startle at the words pouring from your lips. Who are you talking about? Grima—yes, the dragon of nightmares. Chrom—your steadfast father, your greatest role model.
The old life, just moments past, seems distant. You try to recall the face of your mother, the sound of old laughter around a kitchen table, the shape of your room. But they're slipping—quicker, quicker—until a thought rises: *Why would I think I was ever anyone else? Why would I ever be… lesser?*
Disgust prickles at the bizarre notion—you, a man? The very idea is bizarre, an unpleasant shudder. The image of a masculinity—deep voice, rough hands, the unfamiliar weight between your legs—feels obscene. Why would you even imagine such a thing? You run a gloved hand along your cheek, elegant and feminine. Of course. This makes sense. *This is the only truth.*
You shake off the strange, fading dream. Whisper, “That was just a dream. I was never… I was never anything but Lucina.” A smile finds your lips—one edged in firm resolve.
Just then, a familiar voice behind you—Chrom’s—calls, “Lucina! Are you all right? You look troubled.”
You turn, your cape whispering, and answer, voice clear and composed: “Forgive me, Father. I must have simply been lost in thought.”
He grins. “With all your responsibilities, I’d be surprised if you weren’t. Come, let’s train. The Shepherds need their leader at her strongest.”
You nod—because that’s who you are. Lucina, daughter of Chrom, inheritor of the Falchion. The past is a faded shadow, a fragment of another’s dream.
*I am Lucina. I have always been Lucina. This is my reality. This is my truth. And no fate shall stand in my way.*
This story was generated by user DylanVsFizzarolli7 with assistance by one of OpenAI’s large-scale language-generation model; prompts used to help generate the story are shown below.
Images were generated with OpenAI's AI system, DALL·E 2, or uploaded by the user.
Prompt: Write a POV second-person transformation story of a male human turning into Lucina (from the Fire Emblem video game series), complete with gender change (the reader turning from male to female), instant clothes change (his clothes instantly turning into Lucina's outfit), height change (shrinking from his height to Lucina's 5.5 foot height), age change (changing from his age to Lucina's early 20s age), voice change (losing an Adam's apple to make his voice higher and feminine until his voice becomes Lucina's voice), art style shift (his world becoming more anime-esque while he becomes an anime-like character), reality change (his real world becoming the world of Fire Emblem), and mind/mental change (with his (now her) personality and memories replaced with Lucina's personality and memories, despite her best effort on fighting them off and despite her best efforts on keeping her own memories or personality (she is scared of losing herself and her life/mind/memories), making her forget all about being a mundane person (which was not real), she genuinely remembers that she has always been a warrior as well as a woman and her name has always been Lucina (which is her true self)). The transformation is permanent (meaning it its forever) and is completely irreversible. Here is Lucina's appearance; she is a young adult light-skinned (human) woman with long vibrant blue hair and eyebrows, as well as a beautiful face. Lucina is also athletic with very light/slim yet strong muscles, allowing Lucina to be an excellent sword-welder. She also wears a blue noble warrior uniform consisting of black tights, a pair of blue boots that is just above the knee in length, a black long-sleeves top underneath the dark blue warrior uniform with thin gold rims, a brown leather belt that keeps her uniform in place, a brown leather sash that wraps around her right shoulder to her left hip, a pair of fingerless gloves, and a couple of white loose bracers on both wrists that contains a big X. Lucina also has a gold tiara-like headband/headpiece on her head and a blue cape over her shoulders that is red underneath and reaches down to her knees. She also has a Parallel Falchion sword. Here is Lucina's personality; she is a strong willed, pragmatic, and serious woman, who is determined to defy fate to alter the dark future she came from. She admires historical figures and her ancestors, showing extreme reverence to her father, and trying to emulate how she thought her ancestor Marth acted, to lend her the strength she needed. Due to the countless deaths and horrific events of the future, she dislikes any form of death, even "noble" ones. Her stoic personality and lacking sense of humor are results of her feeling responsible for the surviving children of Shepherds, so being their leader, she believes there's no place for herself to lighten up. She cares for comrades deeply and has a sense of justice. Lucina also is humble of her swordsmanship. Despite being noted to be a very skilled fighter by the likes of Chrom and Basilio, she feels that she pales in comparison to them and even doubts if she was worthy to use the name of Marth despite their many similarities. Her main motivations come from her love for her parents, especially Chrom. Lucina is willing to do whatever it takes to see that Chrom stays alive, even if it means going against her wish for no needless deaths. Nevertheless, she is obedient to her father and puts her trust in his judgements, showing a strong bond of trust with him. Bearing a keen resemblance to Marth, it even leads to her being mistaken as him by Tiki when she is introduced, with the latter remarking that her involuntary actions when helping others further likens her to Marth himself. Furthering that point, she even speaks in a very formal and polite manner more reminiscent of him, contrasting her father. Despite that, she seems to have inherited some of her father's traits as well, as she enthusiastically loves to train with her father and has stated that she inherited Chrom's recklessness when training, often destroying training dummies. Like her father, she has a strong belief that fate can be changed. Much to her disbelief, many of her interventions during the Ylisse-Plegia war resulted in only minor changes that ultimately still lead to similar results as in her time. By the time-skip, Lucina's actions became much more drastic and open such as pleading to Basilio to not to fight Walhart and later nearly making a choice against the will of her father. Ultimately, she relented on her plan when her father intervened and was nearly driven to despair when her father was seemingly killed. However, witnessing fate literally change before her eyes renewed her belief that destiny could be overcome and placed her full trust in Chrom and his allies to overturn the grim future. As a result of her childhood tragedies, Lucina desperately tries to reclaim as much lost time she had with her parents with their younger versions of the current timeline. She resolves herself to quietly depart from her present parents once peace has been restored to the world as to not take away from her present self. To her relief, both assure her that they would always welcome her with open arms. In some of her endings, especially her solo ending, she follows through and departs without a trace. She treasures her Falchion because of it being the last possession left behind by her father, as she gets angered at her sibling using it to cut apples. She also has a paranoid streak. Said behavior goes so far as to be paranoid of Female Robin if she is not her mother, because of her close relationship with Chrom, only to irrationally demand for Robin to fall in love with her father when the former claims to not consider him gallant, much to their mutual confusion. Despite her serious and stoic persona, Lucina has light and unintentionally goofy moments around the ones she is close with, especially her parents and sibling. One of her most bizarre traits is her odd taste for aesthetics, as it is shown most prominently in her supports with her mother, where she goes from purchasing a dress featuring pictures of Emmeryn to attempting to pick several other options while shopping with her (which goes from uncommon to literally being only strings). This is further proven by the fact that she wears bizarre Groucho Marx glasses in the official Awakening comics and drama CDs, and buys and owns numerous bear hats in both the drama CDs, and in her appearance in Fates. In the Hot-Spring Scramble, Lucina was hellbent on purchasing a wooden carving of Chrom (or Robin if she is her mother), believing that other people were likely to buy out the product even though Robin commented that they were not particularly noteworthy. In "Fire Emblem Engage", Emblem Lucina's taste for fashion is further displayed when she excitedly remarks to Anna in a Bond Conversation that she loves a selection of shirts with Anna's face on them, and that she would buy ten even though Anna was not happy with how the shirts had turned out. When she tries to emulate Owain's flair for theatrics, she nicknames Falchion "Pointy Demonspanker" in their Support Conversation, causing him to reel in confusion and amusement simultaneously. Lucina has a rather dry sense of humor, and in her Awakening profile is described as the least likely to get a joke out of everyone in the Shepherds. However, her sense of humor and what she personally finds funny can be disarming to others. In Engage, when Jade asks for feedback on one of her novels, Lucina says she cracked up at a scene that Jade had intended to be emotional, and in a subsequent conversation, Lucina again surprises Jade by remarking that she found the ending hysterical when it was not meant to be. The story is that the reader has found a sword (belonging to Lucina) in or around the reader's room (either in an apartment or suburban home), and as he held the scroll, the blinding light engulfed him, causing the whole transformation to occur. After the physical transformation, the reader checks her private parts and her chest by touching, shocked to find that they had been replaced by their feminine counterparts (with her chest now having breasts and her privates already inverted itself with a wet "pop" noise into her female parts (vagina, ovaries, and uterus)), making her realize in shock and confusion that she was now a girl, and she even tells herself that she's a girl in both shock and confusion (the voice in her head then confirms "yes" and says that she had always been a girl). Following the physical changes (with the voice telling new truths to the reader), the reader tries her best on fighting off the new memories and personality (such as calling for her friends/family and/or shaking her head in a vain attempt to loose those new memories/personality), but to no avail (since the voice inside her head is helping the reader remember her true self as Lucina, the reader tries to remember/say her old life and her old name but then the voice in her head interrupts by saying "Lucina" to help her remember her true self (which her real/true self is Lucina), and the reader then fully believes and trusts the voice in her head) as she begins to forget all about her truly mundane (and boyish) life and remember her new life as Lucina (as the voice in her head fully intended). Near the end of the story (and long after the transformation ended), Lucina would briefly thought of her previous life as a mundane person, but she soon forgets about it as she knows that she had never been a man and that she has always been Lucina (meaning that her mundane life as a mundane man was all just a dream, not reality, since she has always been a girl (not a boy) and she had always been a warrior woman; she knew that she was never a man, and a thought of being a man disgusts her (since she doesn't want to think about having a penis or testicles), she was confused on why she dreamt that, so she is glad that it was only a dream and not real), and Lucina is content to know that her life as Lucina is the only true/real life. There should also be quotes from the characters in this story so we know what they're saying and what they're thinking. Also, it is a POV reader story, so it should not be in an author's point of view (my, I, mine, etc), and it should be from the point of view of the reader (you, your, etc).
Response: You never expected to find a weapon in your bedroom closet. After all, right now you’re surrounded by the very mundane markers of your daily existence: the gently humming computer, the faded posters, the soft sunlight coming through your apartment window. You’re supposed to be organizing your old clothes, not discovering something out of fantasy. Yet there it is—a sword, shimmering with a kind of blue light, its hilt elegant and unfamiliar, a scroll tied to the guard. You reach out to grab the sword. As soon as your fingers brush the cold metal, a surge of energy ripples through your body, winding up your arm, across your chest, and flooding into your head. “Uhh… what’s… happening—?” A blinding blue-white radiance spills out of the blade, engulfing you—roaring in your ears so loudly you cannot even hear yourself scream. The air thickens, impossibly heavy, holding you fast as your body seizes. Clothes constrict, skin tingles and crawls. Your bones thrum, like hundreds of tuning forks vibrating in unison. First, you feel yourself shrinking, the world looming larger as you dwindle down—muscles tightening, limbs slimming. You feel your legs slim and stretch, growing smooth and strong, your stomach flattening as something deep in your core shifts. Your hands pull to your face, smaller and softer now—nails perfect, fingers elegant. Your face tingles; your nose narrows, jaw softens, skin becomes perfectly smooth. Your hair spills down your back, impossibly long and, as you glance with peripheral vision, the color deepens into a vibrant blue. A few errant strands tickle your cheeks. Eyebrows and lashes darken to match. Clothing suddenly ripples over your form. You watch in mute disbelief as your t-shirt and sweats unravel into threads of blue, black, and gold, weaving themselves into an ornate uniform. Black tights hug your slim legs, blue boots rise up just above your knees, a black long-sleeved top and the armor-like blue uniform cinch around your torso. Leather belt and sash, gloves and bracers flash into place, marked with shining white X’s. Something settles on your brow—a gold tiara. The weight of a blue cape tugs at your shoulders, cool beneath and scarlet underneath. Your heart hammers as something inside your chest stirs—swelling, swelling—then, suddenly, you gasp as your chest pushes out into soft, round curves beneath your fingers. Your skin prickles with warmth. Instinctively, your hands fly downward. Where something was, now—“Ah!”—it’s… not. Instead, you feel a gentle, wet *pop*. You recoil in shock, hands trembling. “Is—am I a girl?” you stammer, voice cracking—except, it isn’t your voice at all. It’s higher, nobler: “I—I’m a girl?” you repeat, softer. **Yes. You have always been a girl. Always Lucina,** whispers a gentle, but firm, voice inside your mind. Your panicked thoughts tumble into confusion. “No—no, this isn’t right—I’m—my friends! My family! My name—” You choke, clutching your head, shaking it from side to side. “I’m—” **Lucina. Your name is Lucina. Try to remember, Lucina. Let the truth fill you.** “No! I—” But new memories crash over you. Names you should not recall—Chrom, Robin, Lissa, Frederick—people who feel achingly familiar. Swordsmanship drills, the clash of steel, the scent of grass on a battlefield. You reach for old, mundane images—bedroom, television, laughter with friends—but they slip away. You call desperately: “Mom! Dad! Please—help! My name is—Lu—Lu—” You dig in, refusing to let go, but images of a blue-haired princess, a blade called Falchion, and the grim shadow of war build behind your watering eyes. **Your home is Ylisse. Your destiny is to fight fate. Please, Lucina, remember the truth.** You squeeze your eyes shut, fists clenched. “No—I won’t forget—!” But now, the walls of your home dissolve into painted stone, banners fluttering overhead, stained glass spilling color across polished floors. The desk and computer melt away, replaced by a war table strewn with maps. You catch your own reflection—anime-bright blue eyes, serious gaze, the air itself colored by dazzling shades and precise lines. Your world is no longer dull and soft, but sharp, animated—a living tapestry. Your mind churns. You scrabble for your old name. What was it? It teeters at the edge of memory—then vanishes. In its place: *Lucina*, heir of Ylisse, daughter of Chrom. Your body feels right. The confident weight of the Parallel Falchion balances perfectly in your grasp. Your voice—high, smooth, unmistakably womanly—commands authority as you repeat, “I am Lucina. I… I must ensure father’s safety. I cannot let Grima bring ruin upon us all.” For a moment, you startle at the words pouring from your lips. Who are you talking about? Grima—yes, the dragon of nightmares. Chrom—your steadfast father, your greatest role model. The old life, just moments past, seems distant. You try to recall the face of your mother, the sound of old laughter around a kitchen table, the shape of your room. But they're slipping—quicker, quicker—until a thought rises: *Why would I think I was ever anyone else? Why would I ever be… lesser?* Disgust prickles at the bizarre notion—you, a man? The very idea is bizarre, an unpleasant shudder. The image of a masculinity—deep voice, rough hands, the unfamiliar weight between your legs—feels obscene. Why would you even imagine such a thing? You run a gloved hand along your cheek, elegant and feminine. Of course. This makes sense. *This is the only truth.* You shake off the strange, fading dream. Whisper, “That was just a dream. I was never… I was never anything but Lucina.” A smile finds your lips—one edged in firm resolve. Just then, a familiar voice behind you—Chrom’s—calls, “Lucina! Are you all right? You look troubled.” You turn, your cape whispering, and answer, voice clear and composed: “Forgive me, Father. I must have simply been lost in thought.” He grins. “With all your responsibilities, I’d be surprised if you weren’t. Come, let’s train. The Shepherds need their leader at her strongest.” You nod—because that’s who you are. Lucina, daughter of Chrom, inheritor of the Falchion. The past is a faded shadow, a fragment of another’s dream. *I am Lucina. I have always been Lucina. This is my reality. This is my truth. And no fate shall stand in my way.*
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