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Cross the River emptystar emptystar emptystar emptystar emptystar

You sigh a breath of relief as the river comes into full view. The genie hadn’t mentioned all the potential obstacles you had faced thus far and you wondered if he knew you would be inconvenienced by a pixie and a tiny boar or not.


“Now is no time to get distracted,” you tell yourself. You’re almost there. Just cross the river, make your way through the brush, and move towards the center of the meadow. Now that you know how to fly and you’re more comfortable than ever in your new skin, getting to the fruit at that point should be a breeze. You smile, pride and confidence filling your chest. On the inhale, your breasts push outward as you hold your head high.


“Easy peasy,” you say aloud.


You decide that flying across the river would be much simpler than any other path you could take. You think you may be blushing a little as you internally admit how eager you are to take to the air once more. You even find yourself pondering how attractive you might look, female form and all, gliding triumphantly towards your goal. Then your mind ventures to other details. You wonder if you are beautiful and if the pig had been so pleased because he thought so. That notion sends flattering shivers through you and you have to shake your head to clear it of the vanity so that you can focus.


You spread your wings and start to flap them. You wince and scream from the sudden pain of a cramped limb that strikes you. Your wings, it seems, are more exhausted from that short flight than you had thought. “ Oh well,” you say with a sigh. At least you already know of a way to cross the river. “Now, where are those stones?”


You remember vaguely that there are supposed to be smooth rocks to jump across the river on. As you look from side to side, you don’t see anything but the quickly flowing waters. This part of the river is anything but still. You think, perhaps, that you could simply swim across. After all, you are a huge sphinx with powerful legs and large wings. Tigers don’t have any trouble swimming, right? So why should you?


A chill runs through your body as you dip your paw into the water. The current tugs on your arm, but you don’t think it could do much against the entirety of your form. You laugh. “Who needs rocks?”

Written by on 01 April 2019

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