You were a black dragon, a terror that haunted the dreams of mortals, your presence alone enough to drive entire regions to despair. In other words, you did as a dragon does; you showed the weak why they ought to fear the powerful. And you took pride in it. Is it not a noble pursuit to teach those lesser understanding of the world?

As a tuition fee you collected all things beautiful. Not only gold and gemstones, but also fine works of craftsmanship, be they arcane or mundane. And, of course, beautiful women, and the occasional men too. Although the fleetingness of youthful beauty made you indulge. After all, they weren't objects to keep forever.

Of all things, it was that last fact that angered an elven goddess. You had always been under the impression that gods won't interfere with mortal affairs, and yet her avatar came to personally curse you.

You were transformed into a weak human, a woman. Impeccable smooth and soft skin, shoulder long and equally smooth black hair, supple mounds on the chest, and just enough fatty tissue on the arms and legs to show generous nourishment the likes of which only aristocracy or clergy can enjoy among humans. And, while you haven't been able to see your face yet, you know without a doubt that the elven goddess has chosen your appearance to mock you. A beauty that you would go out of your way to collect for your hoard.

That beauty is now adorned with leaves and twigs in her hair and scratches on her skin from traversing the forests undergrowth naked. You still think of this body as not yours, despite all the physical sensations to contradict it. The weakness, the cold, the pain. All sensations that you haven't felt in decades. You want your body back, and you want revenge on that goddess. You don't know how to do that. Informing the dragon god would be a big step, but right now you need to survive.