The Throne of Swapped Desire
Copyright© 2026 by PHNXpiyush
Chapter 2
Fan Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 2 - When college roommates Zack (a gym bro) and Aryan (a Game of Thrones nerd) get struck by lightning, their souls are pulled into Westeros by the Three-Eyed Raven to fix a glitched timeline. To do it, they must inhabit the characters and force them to commit the exact scandalous deeds required to set history straight.
Caution: This Fan Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa mt/ft Fa/Fa Ma/Ma Ma Fa Consensual Drunk/Drugged NonConsensual Romantic Gay Lesbian CrossDressing Fan Fiction Historical Humor War Alternate History Isekai Body Swap Paranormal Ghost Magic Cheating Incest Mother Son Brother Sister Daughter Uncle Niece DomSub Rough Spanking Interracial White Male Indian Male Black Couple White Couple Double Penetration Oral Sex Safe Sex Big Breasts Public Sex Small Breasts Transformation Illustrated AI Generated
Your Grace, please,” Catelyn whispered urgently, her grip on my wrists firming as she forced a tight, rehearsed smile for the benefit of the staring lords below. She leaned closer, her voice lowered to a frantic murmur. “The journey from King’s Landing has been long and grueling. The Northern cold can be ... deeply unsettling to those unaccustomed to it. Sit, I beg of you. Let us take a moment.”
I just stood there, completely lost in my mind cupping those breasts. I looked at the woman beside me, totally confused and then I glanced around the room at all the people staring at me. I didn’t even know who I was supposed to be—the Tv series had shown so many different chicks at once.
Suddenly, I felt a pull on my hand. The lady beside me forced a fake smile for the crowd and tugged me back down. My knees gave out and I plonked back into the chair, finally letting go of “my” breasts. I just stared down at my new, dainty fingers and all the weird rings on them.
Catelyn quickly shifted her body to block the view of the nearby tables, leaning in with intense, quiet concern. “What is wrong, Your Grace? Are you in pain? Is it the food?”
I looked at her, knowing I had to say something. “I am...”
Woah. My voice was so high-pitched. The sound of it shocked me so much I stopped speaking right then and there.
“You are what, Your Grace?” she asked, leaning in closer. “Should I call your handmaiden, or perhaps a Maester?”
That snapped my attention back. I didn’t even know what the fuck a “Maester” meant, but I knew I didn’t want to talk to anyone who might clock me. The only real option I had was to try and play along.
“Uh ... no, no ... I’m fine,” I said, forcing a smile.
It felt so fake and completely wrong. Man, what did that old raven dude put me into? And wait a second ... where the fuck was Aryan? I think to myself looking around the crowd he could be anyone from these people.
Catelyn was still unsure, staring at me like she didn’t quite buy it, but suddenly we were interrupted by a young girl.
“Mother? Is Her Grace quite well?”
I blinked, my gaze shifting to the young girl who had just stepped up. She had long, reddish-auburn hair pulled back in a half-up style, with thick strands falling over her shoulders, and was wearing a heavy, dark gray northern dress with a weirdly high, ruffled cream collar.
Wait ... I actually recognized her face from the split-second flashes on the TV screen back in the dorm. Seeing her standing right there made my stomach drop all over again—this whole thing was getting way too real.
Catelyn turned slightly, offering a reassuring nod to her daughter. “She is merely weary from the road, Sansa. Go back to your seat, darling.”
Oh, so that’s her daughter, I thought, trying to piece things together.
Before turning around, Sansa dipped down into a neat little curtsy. “Goodnight, Your Grace,” she murmured politely.
Seeing a random girl bow to me like I was royalty felt completely bizarre. It made my head spin even more, making me wonder whose body I was actually in to get this kind of treatment.
Once Sansa walked away, Catelyn leaned back in to keep talking. “She has dreamt of nothing else since the raven arrived, Your Grace. The union of your Joffrey and my Sansa will bind our houses beautifully. I am certain she will make a lovely bride for your son.”
“My son?!” I blurted out.
Catelyn blinked, looking totally confused again. “Yes, Your Grace. Your son, Prince Joffrey. Is ... something wrong? You seem deeply distracted tonight.”
Oh, right. Of course this body has a son, I realized, my brain trying to connect the dots. If I’m a grown woman here, of course I’ve got kids. Duh.
I looked past her toward the big wooden exit doors at the far end of the hall. This dress is getting way too tight, I thought, my ribs aching under the corset. I need to get out of here and find Aryan.
Catelyn opened her mouth, clearly about to start up another topic, but I was just so done with how talkative this woman was.
“Excuse me,” I said, cutting her off completely.
I stood straight up from the table and didn’t even wait for her reaction.I hitched up the heavy gold-and-olive skirt and began making my way through the crowded dining hall toward the exit.
Finally, I reached the huge dining hall doors and pushed against them, instantly realizing how weak this body was compared to my own. Before I could struggle too much, a knight in full armor stepped in and opened the heavy door for me.
“Here, your Grace,” he said while bowing to me.
Why the hell are people bowing to me, I’m not even the fucking king, I just ignored him and walked straight out.
As soon as I stepped past, the massive wooden door shut behind me. I walked straight outside, completely mesmerized. I was really, actually in the show. The view outside was beautiful—the black walls of Winterfell were entirely covered in snow, glittering faintly under the moonlight.
“Woah ... this is unbelievable,” I whispered to myself.
Suddenly, the door behind me creaked open. The sound caught me completely off guard, and I whipped around on instinct.
Standing there was a white dude, smirking at me with a charming smile and short, golden hair.
Wait a second ... My brain scrambled to remember the details from the Tv series. I couldn’t place his name, but I recognized that smug on his face. According to what Aryan had told me, wasn’t this guy supposed to be the egoistic brother of that main golden-haired chick?
“Tired of the Starks already?” the golden-haired guy asked, his tone dripping with easy amusement. He strolled out into the cold, completely unfazed by the snow, keeping that casual smirk on his face. “I can’t say I blame you. The North doesn’t exactly roll out the red carpet with much warmth.”
I just stared at him, my heart hammering against that suffocating corset. Great. Another person I’m supposed to know. I had to say something before he figured out I was totally clueless.
“Yeah,” I mumbled, “Just needed some air.”
His smirk widened a bit, and he started walking closer. But he wasn’t just walking—his eyes dropped down, scanning me from head to toe in a way that made my skin instantly crawl.
He stopped just a foot away, leaning in close enough that I could feel his breath in the cold air.
“What’s really going on, Cersei? You looked like you were about to execute Lady Catelyn right there at the high table.”
I took a sharp step back, trying to get some breathing room. “Nothing’s going on,” I said, my voice tight. “I’m just tired.”
He just chuckled, a low, smooth sound, and stepped right back into my space. Reaching out, his fingers brushed a stray lock of hair away from my face, his thumb lingering just a little too close to my cheek.
What the fuck is he doing!? I think to myself
“You’re always making excuses,” he murmured, his voice dropping into a teasing, intimate whisper. “But now that we’re finally away from the crowd, I thought you’d be happier to see me. Since when does the Queen play hard to get with her own brother?”
“Queen?” I muttered, completely thrown off. “Where?”
I actually turned my head, looking behind me into the snowy, empty courtyard, genuinely confused.
The guy chuckled, but his smirk faded into a frown as he grabbed my shoulder to pull my attention back to him. “You are the Queen, Cersei. What is wrong with you tonight? Have you had too much wine?”
You are the Queen. Cersei.
The pieces suddenly slammed together in my head, and my heart violently dropped. Cersei. That blonde woman from the first episode. The cunning one who gave off that heavy negative energy, acting like a textbook rude queen. I was her. This body belonged to her, I was stuck inside her, and ... oh my god.
A sudden flash of memory hit me from the dorm room—watching the guy in front of me interact with his sister on the screen while Aryan chuckled beside me.
“Why do you keep doing that? Do they have some weird history, dude?” I had asked.
Aryan had just waved his hand, teasing that it was way worse than I thought.
Way worse. This was what he meant.
“C’mon, Cersei,” Jaime murmured, his voice dropping low as he brushed off my weird reaction. “There’s no one out here.”
Before I could even process the horror, he stepped in tight. His hand clamped firmly around the back of my neck, pulling me forward as he tilted his face down. His lips smashed right against mine.
What the actual fuck!