It began as a reward for violence. A token for my duty, and nothing more.
My captain picked up that wicked trinket between London and St. Augustine’s Bay. An ordinary ring. A ring of common tin. My captain had been swindled into believing it silver. After he repaid the merchant in blood, he tossed the trinket to me. I had aided him in that unpleasant but necessary affair of honor.
I wore it. It was a prize for duty. It was only when we crossed the equator, under the light of a full moon that the being in the ring spoke to me. She, or it, I still do not understand, appeared to me like a trick of Saint Elmo’s Fire one cold night on the deck. She was a woman who was as beautiful as the harlots who the Mohammedans hide from the Englishmen. Removing her veil, she spoke to me, and stated a rote words: “you’ve awoken the pact. What is your first wish?”
I wished for her at that moment. Any sailor would. She was finer than all the doxies that wait at the ports. She was even more breathtaking than the aristocrats and duchesses who sometimes call on us. But thinking her a siren of legend, I dare not touch the temptress for fear of going into the ocean. But wishes she said she could grant, per the terms the pact hammered into that ancient ring centuries ago. Laughingly, I told her I wished for my own ship.
A few wishes and more voyages later, the merchant company promoted me. A ship was mine. After more crossings at the equator, I found myself the expected heir of a great estate. It depended only on my marriage to an eldest daughter of a respectable family. I would no doubt take the place as the eldest son for terms of inheritance. As was my duty, I would no doubt honor her father with many grandsons. Perhaps my days at sea were behind me.
It was on the land, in the room of mansion meant to be mine someday, that my wish granter appeared as she often did, again out of the light of a full moon. Her skin glowed in the light my bedroom candles, contrasting with the pale night sky. The flowing of those oriental robes shimmied down her body like a slow waterfall. More and more, her beautiful skin showed to me, my phallus tented upwards as firm as the masts of the ships I’d captained.
“Wisher”, she spoke. “I have fulfilled my pact. Now you will fulfill wishes of mine.”
My night clothes whisked off my body. The bones in my body shifted in a sudden wrench of pain. Hair disappeared from my chest. The curves of my shoulders softened and weakened. Why did she weaken me?
“I will make you quite beautiful..” she whispered. The generous breasts of a woman grew from my chest. A prickle of the wind triggered a mad sensation. My nipples… they grew harder, and it felt both sinful and good.
This vixen from the ring now stood naked and regal before me. The hairs of her womanhood tantalized me, that enticing triangle. I covered my hands over my manhood.
“I am to be married!” I declared. I didn’t recognize that soft voice that spoke it. “To give children. To family… to be a worthy heir…”
“You are already married. For you bound yourself to me upon wearing that ring…”
She raised her hands lifting me off my feet and floating me in the air. My body continued its change. She sculpted me to her pleasure, making me gasp and wheeze as my soul struggled to adapt to this new body. My throbbing member remained, and I clinged to it, as if my last raft in a turbulent ocean.
“What’s you have is also mine. This house. This fortune,” she chided. “Even that aristocrat’s daughter who is to be given to you.”
Her hands caressed my changing skin. That unexpected touch felt so much… more… than anything else that had touched me. It was if a layer of hide had always been on me, and every doxie who I lay with had never touched beyond it. Now, as she caressed me, it was as if I was naked for the first time.
It was enough to make me forget my duties.
“And I would never take heirs from you,” she said. My manhood slipped away between my hand. I screamed no, only to have my hands touch a soft slit instead. Curious, I opened myself, and found a treasure I never knew I wanted.
“Oh is it that nice?” smirked the woman of the ring.
“Yes!” I sighed. That soft voice. It hardly bothered me now. Fingering myself, and listening to myself, I felt a spell cast on my mind. My mind would soon match my new body, and I welcomed it.
“Now look here,” declared the woman of the ring. Her magic yanked my hands away from my groin. Then I saw her. She had taken it from me. She had taken my phallus and now it belong to her. It rose from her groin now, as strong as a cannon.
“I promise you, our little bride will have many children,” she purred. “Now lie back, wisher, and spread your legs for master.”
