The Faerie Skin

by Vicki Mock

 

 

I walked down the forest lane with a heart heavy as stone.  I had dismissed my coachman, telling him I preferred to walk the few miles to my hosts’ estate.  More than fresh country air, I needed the solitude to cry without embarrassment.  My betrothed had been false, her promise a lie, and my life was now dashed to pieces.

 

I cannot say how long I walked as my thoughts were given up entirely to her, but I looked up from my reverie to note that the sun was showing its red and golden hues. In a few moments the forest would begin to darken, and I quickened my step in anticipation of finding my host’s home around the next turn.

 

Time passed with no sign of the estate, nor of any sign of human habitation, and I was beginning to feel fatigue and the heat of my exertions.  I remembered my coachman had been most insistent that I remain in the cab, stating that this country was not one to be found alone in after dark.  I asked what he meant by the remark, assuming that he referred to highwaymen who would show no kindness to a gentleman of rank found without shelter and protection for the night.  No sir, he said, I speak of other things that are known here.  Wild beasts? I asked, and he declined to answer for he said I would think him a fool.  Speak, man, said I; what danger does this wood hold for a man on an afternoon walk?  This is a haunted wood, sir, with faeries and other devilments, said he, and I laughed heartily.  Well I am a modern man, said I, and spooks hold no power over a scientific mind.  Be gone and tell my host I will be along, and I pray he will not be inconvenienced.  Very well, sir, said he, but I beg thee be not caught in the forest after the sun sets, and stay to the road.  I laughed again as he drove away, waving my cane derisively.

 

Now I did rue my actions, not because I feared the coachman’s warning, but because I was beginning to catch a chill and my boots chafed.  I kept hope that my destination lay around then next turn, but I could not help but grow angry as my eyes met only the dark and inhospitable wood.

 

After an interminable time in the deepening gloom, I spied a light through the trees and my relief was so great that I gave a little shout of joy.  I threw myself onto the thick woods in the direction of the light.  In my haste I did not care that the branches knocked down my hat and ripped my coat sleeve.  Through the woods I could see the bright light of my host’s home, blazing with many candles to help me find my way.  A caution went quickly through my mind that I should have stayed on the safe road as I would presently encounter the estate entrance, perhaps even with a servant awaiting, but I flew the faster with the thought of a fine meal in my belly and a feather bed.  I noted, with some gratitude, that in this interlude of worry and now glee that I had not thought of my fiancé, yet I knew I would resume my grief as soon as I lay my head to sleep.

 

My disappointment was too terrible to describe as I stepped into a clearing to find an open meadow lit by a gigantic full moon.  I walked; panting and cursing to the top of the little hill and threw myself upon the ground under the large tree that crowned the top.  The field was so brightly lit that I lay in shadows cast by the moon through the branches, and even in my agitated state I could not help but marvel at the clear sky, deep blue with countless stars.  I resigned that this spot would be my bedroom, and I regretted that my host would worry for my safety, but what could I do save wait for daylight to find my way?

 

With a root for a rude pillow, I endeavored to sleep.  As I knew it would, my mind cast upon its woes and for hours the image of my love remained, lit like the moon, in the window of my imagination.  I could not tell I if I was awake or in sleep’s embrace as I saw her before me, her skin white as milk, her hair jet black and draped about her soft shoulders, her cheeks and lips red as a summer rose.  I heard her sweet voice faintly calling to me, and though I knew my dreams were speaking, I prayed with all my might that she might somehow visit me here.

 

And a thing happened that I knew could not:  I heard her speak my name aloud.  I opened my eyes in surprise, knowing that I was truly awake, but doubting what my eyes beheld.  There she stood before me, just as I had imagined her, as real as any object before me.  She wore a gown of light blue that the moon lit like a ghostly shroud, and it billowed in the night breeze as softly as a moth’s wings.  She called me again, louder, in a voice full of longing.

 

A man of rational thinking could only dismiss this as a dream, but I could not, for I was awake, my arms bristling with goose bumps.  I knew it was inconceivable that my love could be standing in a meadow in a nightgown when I knew her to be in London, and further, no one knew where I was, myself included.  If this was not a dream, and it was not my flesh and blood lover, then only one possibility remained.  My heart turned cold with fear.  Could this be a demon, a thing that had taken her appearance?  What designs had it upon me, alone and lost in the forest?  Try as I might, I could divine only evil intent from this sweet face, now looking so longingly upon me.

 

Take me, it whispered, I am yours.  I felt the prickles renewed upon my back and arms, but I could not answer, as my mouth refused to move.  It held out a white hand, its head cocked beseechingly to the side, and it called even more boldly:  Please, take me now and let us be lovers forever, it said.

 

No, I croaked, even though I wished with all my heart that I could put aside my fears and fall into the arms of this specter that knew my most secret desires.  Please, I cannot touch you without your consent, it said; do not tarry, for I have only a few more moments.  Come to me, my love!

 

No, I mouthed, for my voice had gone out of me, and the thing looked so sad that I almost quit and came to her.  I held my breath to wait her next word, but she said nothing as her gown moved in the wind, and the silence lasted as long as I held my breath.

 

Then another thing happened that caused my heart to leap into my throat:  in an instant, the eyes, gleaming with tears, became empty sockets, and a bright light, like a large firefly, flew out of her open mouth.  I cried aloud as she crumpled to the ground like an empty husk.

 

I ran away from the tree like a man on fire, but I stopped only a few paces into the dark wood with the fear that even worse might befall me, that I might become hopelessly lost in the darkness and meet my peril.  After observing no motion near the tree for a quarter hour, I found a place halfway between the lone tree and the wood, and sitting in the light of the bright moon, I continued to wait to see what would happen.

 

For an hour, I listened to the wind stirring the trees, the insects and animals of the forest, but the crumpled thing did not move save for the billowing gown.  Somehow, I gained my courage to go back to the old tree, and there upon the ground lay the skin of my beloved, as perfect and real as I could imagine it, but it was completely empty of life.

 

I cannot imagine what possessed me, but I decided to touch it, and within a few moments I was holding the thing in my hands.  It was as soft as silk, and very light, yet it had great elasticity and strength.  It rustled lightly in my hands, and I could not contain my amazement at its very existence.  Cautiously, I put my hand into the mouth of the skin and it stretched to admit it.  I took both hands and pulled the corners of the mouth and to my surprise, it widened with no resistance whatsoever even to the circumference of my head.

 

As improbable as it seemed, the small creature that had flown out of this open mouth was certainly a faerie or wood spirit, but where had it gone?  I was alone with the skin, and it was hours until dawn.  I wished the skin held a living creature that I could hold to assuage my loneliness and grief.

 

I looked into empty eyeholes and touched the soft eyelids and lips.  I began to wonder if this skin was a gift, and if so, did it have a lesson to teach me?  Here was my beloved in form but not body, and I longed to hold her in my arms instead of this empty husk.  I imagined, in a fantasy, that I would ask another woman to don this skin and act the part of my beloved, but I knew no woman of any substance and worth would do such a thing, and I would not have truck with a woman who would sell her body to satisfy my desires.

 

At that moment, an answer came to me--a simple medicine for my pain.  Without thinking twice about the consequences of my actions, I began to remove my clothes.  I examined the skin closely and could find no opening save those for the senses and other bodily functions, although I was quite shy to look at the latter, almost believing that I held my love in my hands instead of a magical skin.

 

I considered using the knife in my boot sheath to slice the back open, but I somehow knew I would destroy it.  The only solution, it came to me in a flash, was to allow myself to be swallowed up within.

 

With some fear, I opened the mouth as wide as my hips and slid my foot down the throat of the faerie skin.  I cannot describe the silky softness as my toes moved easily and completely to nestle into its toes with nary more than a whisper of feeling upon my leg.  It felt so cool and light that I threw all caution to the night wind and sitting naked upon the roots of the old tree, I pulled the skin upon me like a pair of human trousers.  The waist, or mouth, put no constriction upon my hips as I easily pulled it upwards while the long black hair hung down to the ground.  In a moment, I was half a female.  I stopped to reflect in that moment of clarity:  I was transforming myself into the woman I desired.

 

Looking down upon the naked loveliness of the one I wanted to marry produced feelings of a strong, erotic nature, and though I blushed with shame, I knew that I was not violating any person’s privacy, nor would my actions on this evening hurt another soul.  I was alone in the forest, free to indulge myself in a way that would not be possible in the light of day.  A voice told me to go onward, to enjoy this moment of magic, and I resolved to do so.

 

I continued to pull the skin easily upward, and I again marveled at the elastic character of the mouth and throat.  I put my arms into the arms of the skin, cool and soft, and my fingers went to the tips of the slender gloves of flesh.  I had transformed my arms into the milky white arms of a lovely woman.

 

I looked down, as if in a dream, and touched the full breasts that somehow had grown from the thin skin I had pulled onto my chest, and felt the fullness of my beloved’s bottom and thighs.  Beneath the thin skin below my waist, I felt myself erect, and I reached between her legs and easily pulled myself out.  The feeling of seeing my manhood protruding from my love’s nether lips was indescribable.

 

I was ready to complete the transformation, and my feminine fingers took the lips that encircled my throat and pulled then easily upwards with a whisper of effort.  This mask, so real in every aspect, presented no resistance or discomfort even though my beloved’s features were more petite than my own.  It must be magic, I thought, as the skin lightly and sweetly conformed to my head.  Within a few moments, I had arranged the face of my love upon my own. Her lips were nestled upon mine, my nose and ears within hers, and my eyes looked upon the world through the openings that held her eyes.

 

I touched the body I wore with my love’s hands, reveling in a curious sense of feeling where I should have none whatsoever, but I was beyond fear or surprise for I was no longer in control of myself.  I was now my love, and my love was I!  My manhood reached for the sky as urges awakened in me that I had never known to be so strong.  I looked down, reflecting that instead of it being the part of my body that would enter her during our passion, it was the only part without, and I myself was entirely within!

 

Abandoning myself to the moment as my inner urges suggested, I danced in the brightly lit meadow, whirling and prancing like the magical creature of the night that I had become.  My long black hair was swept before my vision, and then tossed away as I threw my head back.  With arms in the air, I reached for the heavens, believing that if wearing a skin of my beloved were possible, might it be possible to fly as well?

 

As each moment passed in the whirling starlight, I became aware that the touch of the faerie skin to my own body produced a growing joy the likes of which I had never known, even in the arms of my beloved. How long I danced, I cannot say, but the longer I wore the skin, the more my joy increased until it could not be contained.  I moved my petite hands over my soft bosoms, belly and bottom, and while my mind told me that I should not feel the sensations that blazed through me, I would not have stopped for the devil himself.  The feelings within me grew and grew and finally I felt a wave of indescribable pleasure overcome me.  With a high-pitched scream, I spent my seed upon the ground, as I held on to the old tree for support, dizzy and exhausted from my climb to the highest heights of joy.

 

As I lay panting upon the soft forest loam, my mind became busy with the reality of my predicament.  I was still lost in the woods, I had encountered something no rational mind could accept, and I had just experienced a happiness and joy to make the angels weep.  Nothing would have pleased me more than to remain in the forest and prolong these moments of bliss, but I knew I could not.  It occurred to me that dawn would break soon and I would begin my journey to the home of my host.  How would I travel in my present appearance?  As much as I hated the mere thought of returning to my life as a man, I knew I must.  It was time to remove the faerie skin.

 

My delicate woman’s hands probed to find the edge of the skin on the underside of my soft red lips.  What happened next, you ask?

 

Perhaps I removed the skin only to the waist and wore it beneath my clothes, my woman’s broad hips and bottom hidden by my coat tails, the long black hair tucked into my undergarments?  Maybe I went to my host’s home only to tell him I was ill from my ordeal in the wood and had to return to London immediately.  The coach ride proved to be a pleasure I had not counted upon as the touch of the skin against my body produced a constant feeling of physical pleasure.  This coupled with the sensation of a woman’s body with all its wondrous parts below my trousers almost drove me mad with a sensation I cannot describe.  The soft, full buttocks provided a cushion to the bumps of the coach ride and in the privacy of my cab I allowed my man’s hands to explore the woman below my waist.  As soon as I entered my bedchamber I locked the door and became a complete woman again.  Though my servants wondered at my strange behavior, I insisted that my meals be left outside my door and that I be left alone until I emerged from my room, which I did rarely, and only because pressing business forced me to become a man again for short periods.

 

Could it be that upon returning to my estate I did find a lady who agreed to wear the skin, a sweet maid in my employ who loved me enough to give up her life and become another?  I took no notice of her while my mind was taken up with thoughts of the one, who ultimately proved false, but I began to notice her hopeful looks and sweet secret smiles and we started a discreet courtship.  A gentle love grew over time and one day I knew I could trust to tell her of the wondrous skin I had found in the wood. Leaving out many of the details that modesty demanded, I told her that it could be worn like a garment and bid her to prove this for herself.  Taking the skin with some fear and amazement, she did as I asked.  When she emerged from the room, no one on this earth could have known her true identity and later, in our most intimate moments, even I as her lover could not tell that she was not the woman she pretended to be in every aspect.  She came to my arms, as I knew she would, given the arousing effects of the skin on the wearer.  She was, to my great delight, reluctant to remove the skin in the morning, but I helped her remove it, marveling again at the elastic qualities that permitted the skin to be donned and removed easily.  Each evening I would allow her to put it on to enjoy each other’s company in my chamber, and each evening I would ask her to remove it until the wonderful day when she begged me to allow her to keep it on.  To this I agreed only reluctantly, pretending that I preferred her sweet face to the mask she wore, but my heart jumped for joy.  I sold my estate and moved to Italy where neither of us was known and we lived together as man and wife.  My wildest dream was met:  She was my true love in heart and physical aspect.   Because of the skin’s pleasant sensations, she needed my attentions constantly and I was happy to oblige her.  We enjoyed a life that one can only imagine, and one day she found, to no surprise, that the skin had become her.

 

Or perhaps it was I who moved to Italy, taking my fortune to another land to live as a woman because I found that evening in the wood that I could not remove the skin?  No matter how I pulled and tugged the hair, breasts and buttocks, the skin was stuck tight as if I had been born wearing it.  Putting on my own man’s clothes I pushed my long black hair into my top hat to disguise myself as a man.  With the money I had on my person, I took a coach to London and using my own hand, I wrote to my solicitor and transferred all of my funds into an account that I could use.  I lived at my own estate, calling myself a niece of my uncle who mysteriously disappeared in the wood.  I resolved to move away as there could not be two of my beloved in the town of London, but taking a slight disguise, I called upon her one day.  I delighted in removing my hat and veil to let her see her own face and before she could utter a word, crossed the room and kissed her with her own lips.  She fainted straightaway and I left quickly lest I be discovered.  The lovely face, tender breasts, slender arms and sweet voice of my beloved were now my own, and it was clear that my obsession with her had given me what I wished, but not in the manner that I expected.  I cannot say that I was disappointed with my new life, but finding a way to assuage my feelings of arousal proved difficult at first; but this story I will save for another day.

 

And which ending of this fantastical tale is the truth?  Which, dear reader, do you prefer?