The Fairy quietly moved to the pool, the water rippelling in the gentle breeze, and gasped at her reflection. She saw what Wishton had given to her, she had wished for bigger boobs, and Wishton had said that they gave her perfect ones.... but she couldn't really see, not here, not with her clothing still concealing her body in its modesty. So, she decided to walk back to her treehouse.
It was getting late anyway, the sun was starting to set, the fireflies to come out, the stars would be seen soon, the silent watchers of the forest, sometimes ready to fly into the fountain and be born as creatures of the forest, sometimes staying distant and silent, either afraid to enter, or just listening, learning, drawing on the wisdom of the forest meant for all who can listen, to hear.
As she walked up the path, she was excited about what she had done... she wondered how this was going to go. It was late. The ciswoman would be coming into the treehouse by way of the diamond tightrope that connects the worlds for the fairy.
The fairy began to get nervous.
What had she done....
She thought about it. She had gone to Wishton with high and lofty desires, wanting to better the world, and then, in a moment of dysphoric pain, she had asked them for the first thing that popped into her mind. Bigger boobs. How foolish of her, she thought, yet, her desire for that perfect female body was so strong, so blinding, that she would do anything to get it, even to kill the other component within her, the almost-he that watches out for her and takes control when she feels threatened or hurt.
She continued to walk and her walk started to stumble. Nervousness became anxiety, anxiety grew to fear, paralyzing fear all too familiar to the fairy, fear of what the cis-wife would do when she saw the sudden transformation, fear that the promise to remain only on the hormone nectars was broken, fear that she was going to lose it all in a moment of dysphoric impulsivity, not well thought out, something done out of deep need, something that came flying out of her mouth in a moment of time, her guard having been let down.
She thought of the path she had walked now for 20 months up the path of transition on the mountain, accompanied by her guide and her doc, one a doctor of the mind, the other a doctor of the body. She thought of the 4 month wait for her letter proving she was a transsexual, the surprise when it said she was not, but that she was not otherwise either, she fit no definitions, there was no box, there was only a letter validating her nonbinary diagnosis, and then in the end, saying that she needed hormones to remain sane and alive. To end her chronic and awful pain. She though of the investment, of the money, and the agonizingly slow changes in her body, creating the female, yet leaving many hints of the almost-male that was.
Now more than fear she began to feel sick. She had jumped the wisdom of her guides, she had skipped on the course of the paths, with its needed milestones.... she had not prepared the cis wife. She was terrified.
She reached her tree, and did not want to fly, she could not do it. Her wings are powered by hope and passion and love, she felt only remorse. She found the golden rope that led to the treehouse, one that only the elf and the shadow knew how to climb. She heard a rustle in the leaves, she knew they were close, they always are, as is the green warrior woman that protects her, and who keeps a place in the city should she fall.
So up the rope she went, holding her breath as she entered the beautiful treehouse, the night beginning to fall. The sun still bright high in the air, she walked to the mirror on the wall, the mirror of truth, how could she hide from it. Her wings were spread wide, facinating things these, not visible to the cis, only to the forest, and later in the world to come, visible forever, out and andro, a promise of joy.
Slowly she began to disrope, on layer after another. She closed her eyes, fearful of the next step, fearful of seeing Wishton's granted wish, her wish for bigger boobs.
She let herself be bare, she does not like this, it tells too much, to much is revealed.
Her eyes filled with tears. She must open them. She must face the truth of what she had done.
As the hot tears fell, she forced herself to face it, excited but terrified to see the big changes she had asked for, a mess of conflicting emotion.
Her mouth fell wide open, her eyes opened even wider, as she saw what Wishton had done.
There in the mirror she was, her unaltered breasts as they still were, her transitioned body the same, she had not changed.
She began to laugh. What had Wishton said? "Perfect breasts." Her own, natural breasts... Those the hormones she should have had at birth had finally brought to reality....The wisdom of the snail. Incredible.
Night fell, and she wanted a special one after this, after the emotions of the day. She turned to her clothes, no longer hidden from the cis-wife, and decided on her choices, nylon and lace, garters and stockings, and over it, only the thinnest of androgyne nightshirts, not fully hiding the truth of who she is. She gently removed her outer hair, revealing the androgyn cut beneath it, and placed it upon the throne of its pedestal, a monument to who she is when she is she.
Taking a last look at her authenticity, she breathed and relaxed, feeling the release of the fear. Instead of big breasts, Wishton gave her perfect ones. Authentic to the core, she could hold her head high, and be free.
She quietly walked in her special presentation, one that is reserved for only one person in the universe, a presentation of truth, all of the components there, unvieled, as real as the day is long. She moved slowly from candle to candle, incense to incense, the scent permeating the forest.... Her guardians noted it, and were pleased, happy that at least one creature had been freed.
As she lit the last candle, a warmth upon the back of her neck, a breath, then long and beutiful hair brushed her back, a head dropping upon her shoulder, arms embracing her, though never touching her breasts. A moment of fear, a moment of decision, and the fairly let go, she released the she within her, she unleashed the passion that had been withheld and chained for 55 long, long years. Turning into the ciswife's embrace, she folded herself in, pulling her to the bed, thowing her on top of her, wrapping herself into a knot of body and mind never to be broken apart. Leg upon leg, nylon on nylon, and breast to breast, they locked in loves embrace, and held each other, the ciswife holding the old that she knew and more, and the fairy holding on for dear life, letting her female self flow through her in wave after wave of passion and joy and raw sensual pleasure. And so they sleep, for what else can they do, sleep entwined, two bodies as one, two hearts joined, souls united forever and ever.
Later in the night, she wakes and gently untangles herself and slides over to the window. She looks out over the forest, her sharp eyes see the elf and the shadow with them, the powerful story of the elf having helped so many, the mysterious shadow constantly looking for those they can free. In the wind she hears the joyous laughter of the kittychild, brining a smile to her face, and the eagle flies above, seeking those needing their help. Far off there is a pile of fur and scales and all kinds of flesh, heaped in a huge pile of warmth and cuddling, cuddling of the unicorns, rare.... the unconditional love of the forest, never to be taken lightly, always protected, and not trivial at all.
So this is the true story of Satinjoy the fairy. This is the story of a miraculous life, in what was thought to be a fairy tale forest, but it is a place of so much more than that. This is a place where dreams sometimes really do come true, where the chained are set free, where authenticity reigns supreme. Far from being a game, it is the place where we reveal our deepest selves, where we can tell our stories, in ways that could never be expressed anywhere else.
That is the dream of Satinjoy, the truth revelaed of who we are, the life we live here, a forest of visions and dreams, of pain and anger, of joy and gladness, lonliness and fear, love and passion. A place of the truth.
Love to all here-- Satinjoy.
