Another day in 2022, another day of Ukrainian propaganda.

All TV channels, all mainstream media, were constantly blabbering about poor
Ukraine and how much they suffered and needed our help.

This was insufferable for Matthew. He had always liked Russia, its culture, its
history, and also Putin.

That was a true leader, manly, strong, virile, nothing like the wimps we had in the
west.

After bombing the Donbass, which was rightfully Russian, for 8 years, why did the
Ukrainian nazis complain about being bombed themselves? As far as he was
concerned, this was a rightful penance for the crimes of the Nazis in the Ukrainian
army, and the Azov regiment in particular. He had watched in glee as the would-be
genocidal militia had been cornered inside Mariupol, unable to escape, until they
had to surrender.

Sadly, things weren’t going that great for the Russian army anymore, and they had
been retrea… no, strategically redeploying under the strain of renewed attacks
from the Ukrainians, who after all employed thousands of foreign mercenaries and
received weapons from the whole world.

Why would the Ukrainians not want to join the Russian federation, anyway? That
way, they would get to be truly free, not under the grasp of degenerate Western
governments. Their culture was practically the same as Russia’s!

It didn’t matter, Putin would triumph in the end, as he always did, of this he was
certain. He’d then travel to Kiev, now free of NATO occupiers, and get himself a
Ukrainian girlfriend, a good looking and submissive one if possible.

Being na American, it wouldn’t be too hard, he’d just have to show some money to
bag her.

Then maybe he would settle over there, they’d need the help of clever and
educated men like him.

His 23andme did indicate that he had 4% slavic blood after all, so he would be
able to fit in in fine.

But first, Putin would have to win, and he hoped it wouldn’t take too much time. At
22, he really wanted to finally lose his virginity.

His job as a programmer, working from home since COVID, had made him a little
too sedentary, and he had taken some weight during the quarantine that he never
managed to lose, but he would soon start hitting the gym anyway.
Since he was living alone, most of his time was spent on the internet browsing
various seedy websites and imageboards. Through them he had discovered the
works of Alexander Dugin, which he adored, espousing Eurasianism and the fourth
political theory: the corrupt elites of the west couldn’t fall soon enough, and it was
clear that the mighty Russian bear and Chinese tiger were ascendant.

Due to his fringe beliefs and lack of socialization, he didn’t have too many friends,
but that was the price to pay for being enlightened.

He was even planning, through he didn’t believe in the existence of a God, to

convert to Russian Orthodoxy, as it was a religion that had kept its perennial
Tradtions.

Many would have considered a life of working on a software, making pro-Russian

memes, eating pre-made food and engaging with other terminally online people
sharing his opinions to be a less-than-perfect, but he was fine with it.

Recently, he had been using his multiple fake accounts to launch a large anti-
Ukrainian campaign on several social media. He really enjoyed the offended cries
of the self-righteous normies as they complained about his creations. And, who
knows, maybe they could convert a few people to his cause?

This night, he had managed to get more than a dozen of people on various
platforms angry enough to send him scathing messages, much to his delight.

However, his actions had caught the ire of a powerful entity, and it certainly wasn’t
happy with what this young man was doing with his life.

Saint Olga of Kiev, patron saint of Ukrainian vengeance, was standing behind him,
and she wasn’t exactly the kind of saint one should offend.

Everything about him appalled her, from his general attitude, his Godlessness, his
lack of real love for anything and anyone, his view on women and her native land,
the way he seemed to enjoy the suffering of innocent strangers.

Something in his soul seemed to be rotten, and she would have to clean it up
drastically.

But first, a change of scenery was in order.

At first, Matthew couldn’t see anything, as the transition from the dim light of his
bedroom in the middle of the night to that of the midday sun was just too abrupt for
his eyes to handle.

In na instant, everything around him had changed: gone was the gloomy
apartment, gone was his computer screen, gone was the roof over his head, gone
was his chair.
With nothing to sit on, he fell on his backside, completely disoriented.

He was in the middle of a busy street, in a European style-city he couldn’t

recognize. Weirder still, everything appeared frozen.

Was it a dream? Had he died and been reincarnated? Pinching his arm, the pain he
felt revealed that it was, indeed, very real.

It just made no sense, how could he just change location this way? Why was
everything still? How could he explain the unnatural lack of any sound?

Suddenly, as if answering his thoughts, a booming, disembodied female voice, full

of authority and harshness, started speaking, as if from inside of his own head,
with a strong Slavic accent.

“Mortal, you have committed many actions that I find reprehensible. Your sins are
unforgivable, if not for God, at least for me. I, Olga, am a vengeful lot, and it is not in
my habit to leave crimes that touch me personally go unpunished. Striking you
down to have you face your Maker right away would be uninteresting. Instead, I
will, through my powers, both punish you, and give you a second chance in life, to
purify your soul.

Today, I will change your body, and infuse both your mind and soul with more
amenable characteristics. But the rest will be on you. I am unable to take away
your free will, no one can, the final decision on how you want to live your new life
will be up to you. Now farewell, your very presence fills me with disgust and
righteous hatred.”

Olga? Vengeance? Free will? New life? What the hell was this voice even saying?
Was he simply going insane? Yet everything looked so clear and real.

As he was pondering these questions and dealing with the surprise of these
disconcerting events, Saint Olga’s curse started to take effect.

It all started with a strange numbness in his feet.

They had always been quite large, size 12 men to be exact. But now, as he was
taking his laces off, he realized they were just floating inside. What the hell was
happening?

He couldn’t suppress a cry of consternation upon finally removing his socks: they
looked… female?
They were small, no more than size 7 and devoid of any hair. His toes looked now
much thinner and daintier, and while not exactly neatly manicured, they looked like
they were regularly trimmed and taken care of.

Just what could be happening? Was that what the voice meant with “new life”??

He didn’t want a new life, and certainly not one as a woman! These small feet just
looked so ridiculous on his slightly pudgy, very hairy legs anyway!

He immediately regretted uttering these words, as the feeling of painful,

constricting numbness progressed to his calf.

He could only watch as they became smooth and hairless, taking on a cute female
shape, devoid of much fat but also of any muscle. His hairy, wrinkly knee also
smoothened up, becoming small and elegant.

But things were only getting started: suddenly, without any warning, pain invaded
his whole body.

It was as if each of his structural bones was producing electric shocks that were
radiating through his flesh.

The pain was horrible, and after what felt like na eternity, it slowly started to
subside.

At first, he felt like nothing had changed. Yet something really seemed off. Then, it
downed on him: everything appeared much bigger. He probably wasn’t any taller
than 5’3 now, having lost around 7 inches!

Life as a manlet would have been insufferable for Matthew. Thankfully, the “man”
part was not going to stick around for long.

Wiping the tears in his eyes, both from the pain he had felt as his bones were
literally melting away, his general confusion, and the humiliation of now having
such a short stature, he felt his sitting position shift as his thighs and buttocks
were changing drastically. Gone were the hairy, fat thighs, gone was the equally
hairy ass. The thighs he sported were now much narrower and hairless, smooth
and gracious. His ass now looked much more dignified, it was rotund and
somewhat plump, though cute rather than glamorous. And obviously, as a quick
grasp in his back-pant showed, it, too was devoid of hair.

Matthew thought of fleeing, but he once again fell over trying to stand up: he just
wasn’t used to his new feet and legs. Not that attempting to flee would have
changed anything regardless.
His hips and pelvis were the next to change, becoming wider. Through they weren’t
that much larger than what they used to be, they were significantly larger relative to
his new body size, giving him the first trace of na hourglass figure.

Matthew was now sobbing uncontrollably. He excepted the next change to be

around his torso, but instead, the numbness appeared in his previously-spared
hands. Starting from the tips of his fingers, they started becoming thinner, losing
their hair and their fat. His new hands were graceful and feminine, a far cry for what
they had been. He felt his carpal tunnel syndrome, that had been plaguing him
since his teen years because of heavy gaming, disappear in a heartbeat.

The numbness kept progressing higher, to his wrist, his forearm, and finally his
arm, only leaving behind a refined and thin bone structure, topped by no muscle,
very little fat, and a smooth skin. Simultaneously, his skin all over his body was
also changing, not in texture, but in general appearance. A tingle had spread all
over his epidermis: his slightly tanned skin, a product of his Italian ancestry, was
getting lighter with pinkish undertones. This wasn’t the only modification: black
moles started to appear all over his body, in particular his face, giving him a fairly
atypical appearance.

But that was the least of his problems.

Instantly, a pain nearly equal to the one that accompanied his shrinking height
shot up in his skull.

As he was holding it in exasperation, it started shrinking and changing, taking on a

drastically different form: his skull was much more rounded, in a very Slavic
fashion.

As the pain in his skull started receding, his scalp began burning up, hair
lengthening more and more, eventually going past his shoulders. Not only that, but
his widow’s peak and male pattern baldness, that had only been kept at bay
through generous use of minoxidil, disappeared progressively, his hairline rounding
up above his forehead in typical female fashion.

His hair was also lightening, going from dark brown to dark blond. Or was it now
blonde?

Its texture also changed, becoming straight and lustrous.

The transformation of his scalp complete, the tingling sensation and heat rapidly
shifted to his face, completely transforming it.

His long, thin nose, became na endearing, stubby pug nose. The sensation
reached his bushy eyebrows, trimming them down, before turning toward his eyes,
which became a little slanted, once again in Slavic fashion.
Lower on his face, his jaw and chin started hurting, rearranging themselves,
becoming weaker and gentler than they once were,

Any trace of beard shadow and acne disappeared, though the moles that had been
added earlier remained.

His teeth became slightly crooked, but what they lost in straightness they gained in
whiteness, while the gum tissue expanded a little, making it so any large smile
would be beguilingly gummy.

His lips plumped and took a light pink coloration, while his cheeks retained some
of their pudginess, finishing a round and lovable, feminine face.

Unnervingly, his throat started to tighten. Was he going to choke?

No. After a few seconds, the sensation vanished. His large, ugly neck was no more,
replaced by a stately, pretty neck that complemented the head perfectly.

Then, the thing he had been fearing ever since the changes reached his hips finally
happened.

His groin felt like it was on fire, and, taking his pant off, he could only watch,
powerless, as his manhood recessed into his, now her, body, leaving in place
female genitalia, something he had never seen in person before, but that she
would see everyday from this day onward.

Now shaking with fear and despair, he, or she, could feel the sensation come back
to the upper part of her body, smoothing down the shoulders, leaving them narrow
and appealing.

His… her chest, too, narrowed, as two mounts of flesh started appearing. He tried
to push them down, but their growth was relentless. Thankfully for him, they
stopped at a reasonable size, fitting her petite body well.

Finally, finalizing the hourglass figure that had started forming a few moments ago,
and the physical changes in general, his torso thinned out while his pot belly caved
in, leaving her with a flat, girly tummy.

H- She was now, in body, entirely female.

The dazed state caused by the surprise of the transformation gradually ceasing, he
desperately tried calling for help, knowing it would change nothing, but all that
came out was completely new voice, girlish and high pitched with a clear Russian
accent, caused by the changes in his throat.

Or was it Ukrainian?

Yes, Ukrainian.
More and more knowledge of the country started coursing through Matthew’s
head, and he quickly realized the city around “him” was Kiev. No, not Kiev, that
word sounded incorrect? Kiyv, now that was much better. Kyiv?? But he hated that
word. Was his mind changing as well? He, no, she had been suspecting she had
been turned into a Slavic, possibly Ukrainian woman, ever since she heard her new
voice.

Was that the revenge saint Olga had been talking about?

A goddamned Ukrainian woman? This was beyond words! Getting on her knees,
she started begging Olga to come back and spare her, but to no avail.

Knowledge of life in Ukraine started pouring in. Its particularities, its highs and
lows. The language, too, gradually replacing English with Ukrainian, leaving only a
few English words such as “hello” and “thank you”.

The memory of growing up with na instinctive feeling of the imminent danger of a

Russian invasion also entered her mind.

None of these feelings were overpowering or painful. Rather, they were gentle and
caressing. He, now she, could have fought them off if he had chosen, and at first,
he did. But as more knowledge of Ukraine entered her mind, her guard gradually
broke down

All of his life, he had wanted to feel grounded, to belong somewhere, but he just
didn’t.

Now that his body had changed, that he was genetically fully Ukrainian, and fully
female, his resolve was faltering. He started feeling pride in his people, something
he had never felt before. Pride in the culture and the history. Pride in the purity of
her Ukrainian roots. Pride in her blood and her body, even.

What had been a shame just moments ago, became a delight.

The final decision to let it all go and embrace her new identity came naturally.

As water cascading from na open dam, more and more memories and knowledge
entered her mind at once.

Her beloved parents, and her 4 siblings, including her dear departed brother, who
had died fighting the moscovite hordes.

Hatred for Russia, and all that it stood for, through defiance toward the west and its
decadence remained.

Her job as a saleswoman in a women’s shoes store here, in her hometown of Kyiv.
She also remembered her name, Myroslava, that already felt so much more hers
than Matthew ever did.

She remembered praying every day, for her homeland and her people to win this
war, and going to church every week. She was na Orthodox, but she would never
recognize the unlawful claims of the Moscovite Patriarchate: instead her loyalty
was fully with the Kyiv Patriarchate.

Saint Olga had managed to make her a true believer: after all, wasn’t she the
Patron Saint of converts?

Traditional Ukrainian songs, that she loved to sing, and dishes, that she cooked for
her… boyfriend?

Yes, her boyfriend, as she now remembered her interest in boys, and her darling
handsome, blonde, tall boyfriend with steely blue eyes, who had courageously
fought in Mariupol until the end. Captured in Azovstahl, he had thankfully been
exchanged with Russian prisoners, and was now in Turkey, not allowed to come
back to the fatherland until the end of the war, but safe. She had flown to see him
just a 2 months ago, during her vacation and they enjoyed 2 weeks together that
she could never forget.

The feeling of love for him, as well as pride for his courage, filled her, and she
remembered that she had just called him to tell him beautiful news on this very
day: she had not had her period, and the doctor had confirmed it, they were now
excepting their first child, the first of many to come.

Was it going to be a girl or a boy? It didn’t matter. Either way, she and her boyfriend,
soon to be husband, would raise them well, as a loving family, and they would
serve the fatherland.

She was, after all, a Ukrainian in body, mind and soul. Sure, she still remembered
what she had been before, na American, and a bad person as well. But it didn’t feel
real anymore, and she resolved to just stop thinking about it. She was still herself,
the person she had been before, but she was also much better. She would be ever
grateful to the Olga, whom she now recognized as queen-saint of Kievan Rus

Unfit for her body, her clothes lastly changed, his sneakers becoming elegant
feminine sandals, his dirty pair of jeans becoming a cute white sort, and his
sweatshirt and sweaty T-shirt shifting into a black bra and a beautiful Vychyvanka,
the traditonal Ukrainian shirt.

A red belt tied itself around her waist, and, as a finishing touch, her very much
unneeded glasses disappeared, replaced by a crown of flowers that appeared on
her head.
It made her look like a stereotypical Ukrainian girl, but she didn’t mind it at all,
quite the opposite.

After all, it came back to her now, she had come here with many others to
celebrate the liberation of Kherson from the bloodthirsty Moskals.

She saw a yellow and blue flag, her country’s flag, lying on the ground, probably
lost by a careless demonstrator.

As she grabbed it, time started running again, and Myroslava started walking
alongside the crowd.

The sun was shining over the great street of Kiyv, and she was happy.
Saint Olga smiled. What a beautiful transformation that was. Matthew, now
Myroslava, had only needed a few changes to her mind and soul, to become a
completely different person, and what a person! Gone forever was the Godless,
rootless, wicked man.

Because Myroslava had chosen to become a good woman by her own free will,
with only a light guidance from her, and would doubtlessly live a virtuous life from
now on, she was certain that she would be forgiven by the Holy Father for whatever
evil she might have done in her old life, and that she would enter the Garden of
heaven, not as Mathew, but as Myroslava, to live for eternity with her family.

Until then, she would make sure to protect this woman in this life, alongside her
future large family.