Aenavel awoke to the loud, serene call of a Woka bird announcing the sunrise. He instinctively sat up, letting his silken sheets fall off his naked body. Stretching, he reached high above his head, enjoying the feeling of his body unwind after a wonderful night’s sleep. As he twisted his pale body, letting his long elven hair caress his soft skin, his mind started to wake up too. Like a child on the morning of the winter solstice festival, reality slowly dawned on him.
The thought struck him hard: Today’s the ceremony! In an instant, Aenavel bolted out of bed and began throwing on his clothes. Giddy like a school girl, the young elven boy felt his heart exploding in his chest. As he slid his colorful tie-dye tunic over his head, he grew increasingly concerned that a swarm of flutterflies had taken residence in his stomach. But, he did not let these things perturb him. After looking forward to this day, practically dying with anticipation, for several years, his mind was dead-set on one thing:
Today was the day he would become everything he had ever dreamed of being.
His door slammed against the wooden walls as he burst from his hut, emerging from within like it was a cocoon. From the vantage point of his doorway, which like all elven buildings was securely perched high on the trunks of great trees, he was greeted by the majestic fiery of the sun peaking over the dense canopy of the forest Erogenaila.
As tears welled in his crystal blue eyes, his attention was interrupted by a voice from below. Looking down, Aenavel saw his lifelong friend, Syllia, waving at him from the ground. From way up here, she looked like an insect, hidden in the jade, cyan, and ochre menagerie of foliage and flowers that littered the forest floor.
Aenavel waved back to her and yelled that he would be down in a jiffy. Taking one last look at the glorious morning sky, the young elf took note of how the dawn resembled a phoenix being reborn before skipping to the long pole and gracefully sliding down, enjoying the ride.
At the bottom, Syllia greeted Aenavel with a wide, beaming smile, showing off all of her perfect, pearly teeth. Before he could get a word in edgewise, she jumped on him, wrapping her arms tightly around his slender frame. Being his best friend, she was the only one whom he confided in about what he would choose at tonight’s ceremony.
Pulling back, the glow in her face and emerald eyes revealed that she was as excited as he was. There was a moment of silence, where the two shared a moment of near-telepathic exchange of giddiness. Finally, she broke the ice.
“So, have you decided a name yet?”
Aenavel shook his head, silver hair bobbing as he did so. “I’m still not sure. It’s an important decision, so I’m really thinking it through. I mean I’m going to be stuck with it for the rest of my life, so I want to make sure it’s who I am.”
Syllia placed her hand over her friend’s heart. “When the time comes, don’t think. Just feel, and you will know who you are meant to be.”
The two began walking to the lake, to clean up and catch something for breakfast. On the way, they passed elder Rhunkadi, who was busy gathering herbs for the night’s ceremony. The ancient elf smiled at the two budding adults, beckoning them over with his well-weathered hand.
“I was hoping I would see you two before tonight,” Rhunkadi announced as they came closer. “What plans do you have for your last day as Aenavel, Aenavel?” The elder chuckled at his won words.
The coming-of-age elf looked away and simply shrugged. “I don’t know, Rhunkadi.” He looked at Syllia. “I was thinking we would just relax. I’m nervous…”
The wise old elf smiled, knowingly. There was a glimmer in his eyes that gave away how well he could read Aenavel. “Whatever tonight holds, know that there is nothing to fear.” He placed his hand on Aenavel’s shoulder. “Just be you and the tribe will take good care of you.”
The advice made Aenavel feel less anxious. He knew there was nothing to fear. Yet, keeping a secret like this was not something that could come out easily. And just tonight, everyone would know.
The two youngsters waved Rhunkadi goodbye and continued on to the lake. As they stepped out of the edge of the forest, the glimmering surface of the water nearly blinded them. The sun had risen high enough to shine its full brilliance without hiding or anything standing in its way. Taking everything in, Aenavel stood still, the reality of what was at his fingertips still coming into focus.
He watched as Syllia slid out of her clothes with the grace only a woman could muster. With her coming-of-age ceremony being well behind them, Syllia had come to learn to enjoy her body. The morning after she had chosen to be a fisher and stepped into her womanhood, she discovered what it was like to have the attention of every man in the tribe on her. She also discovered how much she liked it, and in the months that followed, she had learned just how to move her body to make every man pine in agony behind the customs they had to follow to court a woman.
Aenavel watched Syllia sashay her petite, pale body into the water, her rear flexing and jiggling with each step. There was no lust within him for her; he merely enjoyed admiring the beauty that women radiated. Eventually, Aenavel snapped out of his trance, and followed suit. His clothes came off just as effortlessly, and he followed her in.
They swam for what seemed like hours. The sun climbed high overhead, watching every splash they made. Every now and again, Syllia would dive under the surface and emerge with a wiggling fish in her hands. She would exit the water and hang it on a nearby rack, and Aenavel would marvel at the shimmering beads of water as they danced off her body.
As the morning winded down, and their swim came to an end, the young duo laid out on the shore, letting the sun dry them with its warmth. A gentle wind caressed them, and Aenavel watched as Syllia’s pink nipples grew hard in response. This brought his attention to her soft breasts, which had flattened as she laid on her back. He wondered what it would be like to have such delicate features on his body.
While he contemplated this, the tribe’s hunters marched victoriously out from the edge of the woodline, carrying a think log, from which a fat hog dangled. One of them called out to the two that they had caught dinner for tonight’s feast.
Aenavel felt his stomach turn upside down as his eyes fixated on the glistening, sweating bodies of the men returning from their hunt. Instinctively, the blood began rushing into his member, and with each beat of his heart, it pulsated, growing harder. Lost in their chiseled, tanned abs, he didn’t even notice his erection until it was rock hard and lightly touching his navel.
Coltys, the leader of the bunch, noticed Aenavel’s aroused state a moment later. “Hey, Aenavel! I know it’s your Ascension Day and you’re not allowed to work, but it looks like you have something to take care of!”
Aenavel laughed shyly, not knowing what to say. He felt his face burn from blushing and turned away, embarrassed. Syllia giggled at Aenavel’s predicament. “Don’t worry about a thing. You know they’re all going to love you,” she said with a wink.
Later that evening, Syllia stoked a fire to cook the fish with while back in Aenavel’s house. The sizzling meat filled the room with a strong aroma, which caused Aenavel to wrinkle his nose. Noticing this, Syllia laughed and asked if he would eat any of her fish.
Aenavel rolled his eyes “You know what I like,” he responded, picking up a carrot instead.
At that moment, a rapping at the door caught their attention. There stood Hadriel, one of the village matriarchs. She wasted no time in addressing them. “Hello, Aenavel, Syllia. Are you prepared for tonight?”
Syllia nodded her head. Aenavel did so too, but added “I don’t think I’ve ever been more ready.”
“Excellent!” the matriarch commended. “Then after your supper, will you come down to the grove?” The two agreed and Hadriel disappeared as swiftly as she appeared. The two hurried their efforts to prepare.
About an hour later, the two teenage elfs walked into the clearing where the ceremony was to be performed. Several elders were there, but most of the tribe had yet to arrive. Everyone that was there had their face and bodies painted in their unique styles, and wore the exact clothes that expressed their true selves. There were elves wearing fur and feathers, others that wore sleek and shiny armor, and others still that wore nothing at all.
Aenavel wore a silken robe, and nothing else. He knew it was going to come off soon enough, and wanted to burst out of it into his new role with as little resistance as possible.
The ascending elf felt that the final preparations came together in a blink of an eye. The flutterflies in his stomach were doing loop-de-loops. As the crowd grew, so did his anxiety. Syllia, in her bright dress, reassured him once again that there was nothing to worry about.
Eventually, it was time. Rhunkadi stepped forth into a stone circle in the center of the grove. His decorative display of colors, mostly blue, shone brightly as the fire in the very center of the circle roared furiously. He carried a gnarled staff that was made out of an ancient tree, far older than any elf alive.
As the crowd hushed, he began speaking. “We gather here tonight to celebrate one of our own reaching the age of adulthood. For generations, we, the elvenfolk of the sacred forest of Erogenalia, have lived by laws which have ensured that our people would always be prosperous, and our mother Earth would be cared for properly. It is in this tradition that we each choose our role within our tribe on the 18th passing of the stars under which we were born.”
He continued. “Aenavel, will you come forward, please.” The young elf nervously stepped out of the crowd and into the center of the stone circle.
“You kneel before your tribe a child. When you next stand, you will be an adult with all the responsibilities that come with that title.” The elder rose his staff and pounded it on the ground, creating a loud booming echo through the grove. Everyone was silent. Even the animals of the forest followed suit. Not a cricket chirped.
“Aenavel, listen to your heart. There is a voice that speaks from that sacred space. Hear what it says and let us all know what your desire is.” Rhunkadi paused, taking a breath. “To protect our sacred forest and tribe, do you serve the needs of our armies, to ensure evil never reaches the heart of our world?”
Aenavel kneeled silently, feeling the eyes of the entire tribe focused on his every breath. Giving no response, Rhunkadi continued. “Then do you take up the bow and spear and act to serve the needs of our stomachs, to reach out into the wilds and bring back what beasts lie there?”
Again, Aenavel remained perfectly still. A bead of sweat dripped from his brow, the heat of the fire was beginning to make him uncomfortable. Still he waited patiently for his desired role to be revealed.
The elder moved on. “Do you feel the call of the waters and desire to reach into the lakes of the forest and pull out the feasts that lay hidden within their depths, while using that same water to tend to the plants of the land?”
Again, nothing. “What of the duties of the village? To build and sew and mend wounds? Do you feel the call of the crafts and trades that keep our ship afloat in our green ocean?”
The crowd began to get restless hearing no response from Aenavel. There was only one choice left, outside of being exiled and living as a hermit. The crowd knew what Aenavel would pick.
Finally, after an extended period of silence Rhunkadi asked the final question. “Or to so selflessly serve the needs of the forest and our mother Earth, do you choose to become a servant to the desires of men, to ensure their seed does not overpopulate our beautiful forest?”
The answer practically burst out of Aenavel the moment the question was aired. She could feel the transformation as she rose. As she leaped forward to accept this newfound duty, her robe fell off her, revealing to everyone her soft, pale body, ready to be used for the greater good.
There was a ruckus within the crowd. Clearly, this decision was well liked among the Elven men. Some hooted, others hollered. Aenavel looked around, and saw many of her fellow tribe eagerly looking her over. She couldn’t wait. She had to only choose a name and then she would be at the whims of every elven cock in this forest.
“Then it is decided! Aenavel, with the sacrifice of your body, identity, and dignity, you have chosen to give yourself to the greater good. From now on, you will no longer be known as Aenavel, nor will you be seen as a male by our society. Likewise, you will no longer be the one deciding what, or who, you do. Taking on the role as a woman servant, you will be used at the will of the men as they desire. With these duties known, what is your new name?”
In that moment, with the full weight of her new duties weighing on her mind, combined with her innate desire to serve, the newest woman of Erogenalia knew exactly what she wanted to be called. The word slipped out of her mouth with absolute certainty: “Slave.”
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/9clrkd/phoenix_of_the_forest_pt_1