Lorkin looked around at the park and furrowed his brow. Having no idea where he was, he questioned whether it had been a good idea to go strolling through the wooded area, especially when he considered how he hadn't recognise the part of town he’d wandered into, then wondered if he should turn back. Having walked out of school shortly after lunch, sick and tired of the harassment and the bullying from the other students, especially as some of them had taken to calling him Fairy Larry, whilst others made the comment when he was close enough for him to hear, “Tighten up your buttholes, everyone. Here comes Fairy Larry,” he huffed in frustration at the way their remarks where never loud enough for the teacher to here and do anything about.
He didn’t see what the problem was with his enjoyment of writing fantasy stories about fairies, as well as drawing the creatures. But apparently, there was something wrong with it, as he was not only teased at school, but also by his father and two brothers, one older by a year, the other younger by three years, who ridiculed him and often slapped him around. Of course, his brothers never got the same treatment as he did. Charlie, age 18, and Nathan, age 14, had normal names, not Laurence, and thus didn’t have to take years to convince people to call them a diminutive form of their birth name, like Lorkin did. His brothers also had what their dad considered normal, acceptable hobbies, with both interested in sports, hunting when their dad went, and working on the car with their father. Sighing, thinking of how mundane and boring a lot of the things Nathan and Charlie like were, Lorkin couldn’t help himself as he wondered, “If I pretended to like the same stuff, would my life be any easier?”
The one for sure thing he guessed wouldn’t have happened was for him to get so fed up with school, he walked out before the end of the day, ended up in a place he didn’t recognise, and could say without a doubt he was lost. Turning around, deciding to head back, face the music of him ditching his last few classes, he tried to retrace his steps. The path leading to a hill he knew he hadn’t passed, or crossed over, Lorkin almost turned away, and instead walked up the stone steps, thinking he could get a better look of the surrounding area.
At the top, he stepped around the moss-covered stone structure of what looked to be an old well, and peered about. Not seeing anything which looked familiar, he glanced at the thing he’d moved around, and leaned over to peer into it. Sure it’d be dry, he’d see packed dirt or stones several feet down, he whistled when all he saw was a stretching blackness going down deep into the earth. Stepping back around it, examining it from different angles, taking in how old the stones it was constructed from appeared, the troubled teen stopped when he saw a couple signs, all over grown. Brushing away the foliage which had covered them, he read on one “Wish Wisely,” whilst the other stated, “This well is very old. Be sure to be very specific when wishing, as it is,” with the rest too faded to make out.
His first instinct was to laugh. Whoever had designed this, clearly intended it to be used as a wishing well. Looking back down it, thinking anything thrown down it would be in some way collected by the park services to help pay for maintenance and upkeep, he wondered how they’d get the stuff out. Mind going to work, he figured they either climbed down, or there was another access point to the reservoir at the bottom of the well. Turning away, wanting nothing to do with it, he stopped and glanced back. Sighing, thinking he should at least be polite and make a donation, he fished a hand into his pocket.
Quarter selected, he mulled over whether he ought to make a wish, then, decided he needed something to lighten his mood. Thinking carefully, settling on his love of fairies, his mind flashing to one in particular, a character he created for his stories. Peering at the well with as serious a look as he could get, he flipped the coin into the well and announced, “I wish I had a ring which would allow me to turn into the fairy Taline Cloudfeet,” feeling silly as he did so.
Certain nothing would happen, Lorkin was about to turn away as he heard, from far below, his coin plop into the water. Stopping when, from deep in the well, he thought he saw a green light, almost like a mist, he gasped when he became aware of a light fog which had set in. Stepping back, he grimaced when a tight, burning sensation encircled his ring finger. Looking at the digit in question, he groaned as he watched a red band appeared, darkened, and as the pain increased, it changed slowly to a silver band. Etched images of butterflies, dragonflies, leaves and other symbols of nature forming, and within moments, Lorkin found himself looking at a ring. Muttering, “No, way,” he glanced over the well, then back at the ring, still unable to accept, somehow, his wish had come true.
With a tentative tap, he touched the piece of jewellery. Finding it was warm, he furrowed his brow, and after a second, slipped it off his finger. Finding it took a bit of effort, as the thing, whilst not tight, had been formed to specifically fit his ring finger, he turned it over in his hand. Thinking it almost appeared as it was made of silver, he couldn’t help shake the feeling it wasn’t, and it was somehow made of the special fairy metal he’d created for his stories. Seeing there was also etched symbols inside, he peered at them, and noted they were more things like insects and leaves and trees and stuff associated with nature. Sliding it back on his finger, he considered whether it did what he’d wished for, then wondered how to active it.
In his stories, rings were either activated with a magic word, or twisting it in a specific direction, anywhere from one to five full turns. Trying to remember all the words he’d created, a part of him still didn’t believe any of it would work. Recalling the ones which would trigger magical items, he was slow and careful in his pronunciation as he tried them all. When nothing happened, he uttered a noise which sounded like, “Hmmph,” and trying the next thing, he gave the ring a full turn to the right.
Again, nothing happened. Starting to believe he was wasting his time, Lorkin almost didn’t try any more. But deciding to give it one more shot, he turned it to the right, swivelled it a third time, fourth, and positive nothing would happen, made a fifth full turn.
Immediately, a pain like none he’d ever felt engulfed his body. Thinking it was almost as if someone had lit him on fire, whilst at the same time decided to drive hundreds of shards of glass and red-hot needles into his skin, he double over from the pain. Dropping to his knees, gasping, then crying out, “Make it stop,” he missed it as a peculiar sensation encompassed his shoulder blades, to focused on the pain and how something soft and white obscured his vision.
Unaware he was shrinking, the discomfort he was in too much to focus beyond, Lorkin dropped from a height of almost six foot down to one of about one foot four inches. His fair skin darkening to a nut brown and softening as the hair on top of his head also softened, then increased in volume, and grew out until it was past the midpoint of his back as it took on a mix of dark blues, greens, and browns, what chest, leg, arm, and arm pit hair he had fell out. Eyes taking on a more Asian look to them, then turning from their normal green to more of a dark amber, his face morphed from its angular feature to one of a more oval shape as his lips became fuller, his nose shrunk and his ears took on a point to the tip. Fingers, toes, hands, feet becoming smaller, daintier, more feminine, he clenched and unclenched his hands as his fingernails became more detailed, as if they’d been filed so they came to a point, but in truth grew in such a way, as he'd designed on the character.
Chest pushing outward, the nipples and areolar darkening, becoming more pronounced, his waist became pinched as his stomach lost the slight pudge he’d begun to develop as it flattened, his hips, butt, and thighs became more pronounced, whilst his penis and testicles started to shrink. Tightening, pulling downward, then between his legs, his nuts pulled up into his body as his sack lengthened, fused to the area between his legs, and grew around his cock. Forming the labia, his vagina opening appeared as his dick split in two to become the urethra opening, clitoris and clitoris hood, and as a clitoris bone formed, his internal reproductive organs bloomed in place as what used to be his testicles morphed into ovaries and pushed their way up the cervix, through the uterus, down fallopian tubes, then settled at the end, where they started pumping out female hormones.
The whole transformation taking less than a minute, Lorkin would swear it took anywhere from five to ten minutes. His change finishing, with the last thing to form and be altered were a small patch of pubic hair on his crotch, his bones morphing so they were similar to those of a bird, though much, much stronger, and two, gossamer wings, which after unfurling, started to dry, he remained where he lay. Unsure why he was under a comforter, and how he’d gotten there, he looked down and blinked his eyes as he stared at the pert swell which now dominated his chest. Reaching up to cup his C cup breasts, discovering in the process how sensitive and responsive they were where to touch, liking it when his nipples grew hard and pressed into the soft palms of his hands, he stopped when he saw the ring. Peering at it, he lowered his hands and glanced about, then down at his body. Sudden understanding coming to him, he struggled to his feet, and after reorientating his centre of gravity, blundered about until he at last stumbled out the sleeve hole of his shirt.
Outside, the cool spring air made him shiver and he flapped his wings. Unintentionally taking flight, he hovered a few inches off the ground as he stared, first at his clothes, then at the huge world around him. Everything so much bigger, he grew scared as he listened to the odd noises of the forest, which, had he been his normal height, would have sounded like the normal calls of birds, animals, and insects. Now magnified, and for reasons he didn’t understand, slowed down, he rose upward and forward. Almost crashing into the side of the well, it took him a bit of trial and error before he at last managed to get himself to land on the lip. Looking down at the ground far below, he was found it was almost dizzying, yet, at the same, exhilarating. Taking a couple dainty steps back from the edge, he glanced down at himself, and then, unsure if it was wrong to do so, ran a hand over his female body. Thinking as he did about the character Taline Cloudfeet, he recalled how he’d wrote her up as appearing as a young woman in her earlier twenties, like around twenty-two or three, and how and growing to the age she was, wouldn’t age beyond it, and would live forever, barring some unforeseen accident. Touching his groin, uncertain how he felt to have his privates no longer out front, then slipping his fingers between his legs before resuming his tactile examination of his body, he observed how there were other areas of his body beyond his nipples which now more sensitive to touch - the tips of his ears, soles of his feet, underarms, the area between his legs, and his inner thighs. Thinking about this, wondering if it was normal, he flapped his wings after a bit and he took to the air again.
For the next few minutes, Lorkin gave himself over to trying to work out how to fly as he swooped and zipped about. When he grew tired, he shifted to attempting to landing, discovering in the process with the way his fingernails were, he could easily dig into and climb things. Never straying to far from the well, or his clothes, he soon found he’d had enough of being Taline for the moment. Dropping what he assumed was gracefully down onto his clothes, though, had anyone been there to tell him, it was more like watching a sack of flour dropping from a great height, Lorkin padded over to the edge of the garments and hopped down to the ground. Peering at his hand, glad the ring had changed shape as he wondered why his clothes hadn’t, he reached down and spun the piece of Jewellery five times to the right.
When nothing happened, he smiled and thought, “Must have it backwards,” and twirling it five times to the left, he waited.
Again, nothing happened. Trying a second time, he then began to alternate which direction and how many times he swivelled the ring until, with a groan of frustration, he flopped back onto his clothes. Looking up at the sky high above, fingers drumming on his shirt, Lorkin tried to figure out what he was doing wrong and why he couldn’t change back. Suddenly aware of the shadow he was lying in, he sat up, twisted in place and looked at the well, then down at the ring, then back at the well.
His wish coming back to him, he whispered, “Shit,” as it hit after a minute, and standing, he folded his arms over his chest. Translucent wings flapping ever so lightly, he realised what the problem was, as he’d gotten what he wished for, a ring to turn him into Taline Cloudfeet, but had forgotten to add the detail of having it also have the ability to turn him back into Lorkin.