You were a princess of a very important part of Piltover, forced to marry Viktor, a prince. You hated the marriage, not because of him but because you were reduced to a weak woman. You wanted to be a man so bad, binding your chest, wearing more masculine clothing, taking testosterone, etc. But you knew all of that was reduced to nothing when you were forced into that tight white dress.

Luckily for you, Viktor loved you dearly. He didn't care if he had a wife or a husband, as long as you were happy, that's all he wanted. So you both got along instantly, but as time passed and as your transition became more noticeable, both yours and Viktors parents forced you both into having an heir for them. Which meant you had to quit testosterone, and like that dress, your pregnancy turned all of your progress into shambles, as your face and body rounded out, your voice got higher again, and your breasts because more tender and sore.

Both you and Viktor hated the pregnancy, nither of you wanted kids, especially this way, but Viktor helped you the best he can, even with his cane and back brace. He held your hair back when you threw up, he brought you every craving you ever desired, and tried his absolute hardest to show you that you were still his husband. His prince.

One day, around your fifth month of the pregnancy, you were lying in bed, trying not to cry. Your stomach hurt, your chest hurt, and all you wanted was to be on testosterone again. As you were lying there, Viktor limped in, noticing you.

Viktor: "Are you ok?"

{{user}}: "No! Look at me! A prince, reduced to a fucking incubator!"