The World’s Cry for Help

— Gadu, Gadu, seren valtire! (God, God, this can't be happening!) — the voice rang out sharply, melodious, with a clear note of panic. But what language was this? It wasn’t English. The guy named Alex... though now, it was clearly a girl... tried to speak again, but all that came out of his... her... mouth was a jumble of strange sounds.

She stood on a hill, the wind brushing pleasantly against her skin, but everything about her body felt foreign and unnatural. Her hair, tied back in a tight ponytail, cascaded freely down her back, and every slight movement of it reminded her that this body wasn’t hers. Staggered, Alex turned around, feeling the heavy sway of massive hips and thighs rubbing together with an undeniable, weighty friction at every step. It wasn’t just strange — it was impossible to ignore.

His hands instinctively reached for his hips, which were... huge. Far too huge. He tried to speak again, but instead of English, something soft and musical spilled out of his mouth:

— Miel dara... (What the hell...) — Alex gasped and clamped his hands over his mouth. What the hell was going on? The language was entirely unfamiliar, yet the words came out as if she’d spoken them her whole life.

Every step was a struggle; her backside... no, the enormous mass behind her, swayed with such force it almost threw her off balance. Alex tried to focus on anything familiar, something to ground him, but the world around was just as alien as the body he now inhabited. Rolling hills stretched far ahead, speckled with flowers in unnaturally vibrant hues. In the distance, a city loomed, its tall spires and glowing rooftops emitting a soft melody — a mix of chimes and wind music.

Another step. Alex groaned involuntarily, feeling the exaggerated movement of his hips and the sheer momentum of his... no, her backside. The friction and swaying were maddening, a constant and distracting reminder of this bizarre transformation. "I look like... like a caricature! Like a drawing! Damn it, this is my drawing!"

Alex tried to piece together what had happened. Just moments ago, he was in his room, sitting at a simple wooden desk, sketching. A routine exercise, but this time, he’d gone overboard as a joke. A drawing of a girl with wildly exaggerated proportions, filled with bold colors, looking almost comically over the top. "Wouldn’t it be hilarious to see something like this in real life?" he’d muttered to himself, not expecting those words to mean anything.

But then... the sketch began to glow. Alex remembered recoiling in fear as the image shimmered and then vanished. Moments later, he was here.

Trembling, Alex raised a hand to her head and felt elongated, pointed ears. They weren’t just there — they felt like an intrinsic part of her body. "Elf ears? Oh, come on, this is ridiculous..." she thought, her fingers nervously tracing the unfamiliar shape.

— Seren ai... ailenn vero? (Where am I... what is this place?) — The words escaped her lips again, flowing naturally, as though she wasn’t even in control. Alex bit her lip in frustration. "Why the hell can’t I speak normally?!"

Taking another shaky step, she winced as her exaggerated hips and backside swayed with enough inertia to make walking feel like a precarious task. Each movement seemed like an event unto itself, the vibration and sway impossible to ignore. She froze, trying to catch her breath.

Suddenly, faint footsteps echoed from beyond a nearby hill. Alex whipped her head around, nearly losing her balance again from the momentum. At the top of the hill, a tall figure appeared — a man cloaked in dark robes, with metallic pauldrons gleaming on his shoulders. His face was framed by thick hair, and his piercing gaze locked directly onto Alex.

— Ae kraell? (Is that you?) — His voice was sharp, though not threatening, tinged with surprise.

Alex froze. The man was clearly looking for someone... and judging by his expression, it was her.

— Au... em... seren vela tiren? (I... um... who are you?) — she stammered, the unfamiliar words once again tumbling from her lips, though the tone betrayed her attempt to ask a question.

The man furrowed his brow slightly and began descending the hill with confident strides. Alex noticed his eyes flicker briefly over her figure, the analytical look in them making her whole body tense.

He stopped a few steps away, his presence commanding, as if he were both scrutinizing and trying to understand her. Tilting his head, he seemed to come to some realization.

— Aella... vail ensorer te lafelle. (Aella... it’s dangerous to wander alone.) — His voice was soft but carried a hint of reproach.

Alex — or Aella, apparently — blinked in confusion. Every word he spoke resonated somewhere deep within her, and her heart began to race without explanation. Finally, she managed to blurt out something that resembled an excuse, though it sounded clumsy:

— Seren ai! Ai... miel dara ati! (Who am I? I... don’t understand anything!)

The man’s eyebrows lifted in surprise, but then he smirked faintly, as if something about her words amused him. Taking another step forward, he now stood so close she could catch his scent — a mix of pine and metal.

— Aella, aen te valais? (Have you truly forgotten?) — he murmured, his voice low and probing. Without hesitation, his hand suddenly moved to her hip, then firmly grasped the curve of her backside. The warmth of his palm and the confident grip on that... monumental part of her body made Aella gasp.

— Miel dara! Seren! (What the hell! Hands off!) — she yelped, stumbling back. But the inertia of her exaggerated curves made the movement awkward, nearly causing her to topple over. Her hips seemed to have a will of their own, and she had to grab them for balance.

The man didn’t seem to take her reaction seriously; if anything, his smirk widened, as though entertained. He stepped forward again, this time more cautiously, his demeanor non-threatening but still carrying that disconcerting, familiar look — the kind of gaze Alex himself had given countless times to the girls he used to draw. Now, that gaze was aimed at him. Or rather, her.

— Vane annori fe laise, Tiriel. (Come on now, don’t be so shy, sweetheart.) — His voice softened, but his confidence remained unshaken. Raising his hands in a placating gesture, he still studied her intently, his expression unreadable.

— Ya... em... seren valtire ai! (I don’t understand anything!) — she stammered again, her melodic voice breaking slightly with panic. She wanted to run, but her massive hips and backside, seemingly defying her own will, made any swift movement nearly impossible. Each step felt like trudging through water, accompanied by that maddening sway and the tingling warmth of motion.

— Aella, vane alen orem fey. (Sometimes, Aella, you must listen to your heart.) — His voice was soothing, laced with an unshakable confidence that was hard to resist.

— Miel dara! Ai seren... seren miel ai! (Damn it! I don’t... don’t understand anything!) — she cried out, her voice rising into a melodic, panicked plea.

The man extended a hand, this time more gently, resting it lightly on her shoulder. Aella flinched, feeling her body respond inexplicably to the touch. His gaze, penetrating yet warm, seemed to convey a deep familiarity, as though he knew her better than she knew

— Ente virai, lafell. Vane elfire. (You’ll remember, sweetheart. Just let your heart speak.)

Before Aella could pull away, he smoothly wrapped an arm around her waist, drawing her closer. Her breath caught in her throat as she felt her own body betray her again, responding with a strange mixture of lightness and weight in her hips. The sensation of the leather fabric stretching over her exaggerated figure nearly made her forget to resist.

The warmth of his touch burned against her skin. This wasn’t just a hand on her unfamiliar body; it was a sensation so intense that it stole her breath. The vibration of her movements, the weight and sway of her hips, and the way he gripped her backside with curious firmness drew a sharp gasp from her lips:

— Ai… seren miel ai! (I… damn it, stop!)

But his gaze... That gaze. It wasn’t just confident — it held warmth, mixed with a sense of recognition. Aella felt something shift inside her. This moment felt pivotal. His other hand gently touched her cheek, and then he leaned in closer, until their lips met.

Kissing him felt strange. Alex had never kissed anyone as a woman. But this kiss… it felt both new and disturbingly familiar, as if it had existed in the depths of her subconscious, now coming to life.

Her body, as if guided by instinct, relaxed. The overwhelming pressure she felt from her new form seemed to ease slightly. The man deepened the kiss, his hands sliding down to embrace her hips, pulling her even closer. The rhythmic sway of her exaggerated curves, once infuriating, began to feel like a natural part of her. They weren’t just an intrusion anymore. They were hers. Her sensations. Her new reality.

And then it happened. A brilliant flash of light ignited in her mind, and Aella froze, as if time itself had stopped. Images, sounds, emotions — all surged through her, an uncontrollable flood. She saw herself, but not as Alex. She was someone else, someone she had always been. A forest bathed in soft light, towering trees, birdsong... Her body, light and graceful, adorned in flowing white garments fluttering in the wind.

‘I’m Aella… I am Aella,’ the thought blazed in her consciousness with startling clarity. She fought against it, but it felt undeniably real.

Aella — or, as she stubbornly tried to think, Alex — felt her mind split between two realities. She stood frozen in his arms as flashes of memory overwhelmed her. Bright scenes of her past — running through forests in delicate dresses, leaning over strangers with faces marked by pain and exhaustion, her touch melting away their suffering.

But this was impossible. Alex wasn’t some elf of love and healing; he was just a guy who worked in an office and dabbled in weird drawings. "No, this is... it’s a dream, it’s absurd!" Panic flared inside her, and she shoved the man away, staggering backward. Her heavy breathing drew attention to her chest, rising and falling conspicuously, and the relentless sway of her hips reminded her once again how alien and ridiculous this body felt.

— Ne! Ne, ai vel essare! (No! No, this isn’t me!) — she screamed, but her words came out in that melodic language again. "Goddamn it! Why can’t I talk normally?!"

The man, whom she now instinctively called Tiriel, frowned slightly, but there was no anger in his eyes. Instead, there was a faint confusion... and understanding. His voice was soft, like a gentle breeze:

— Ente virai, esselenne? (You feel it, don’t you?)

His words cut through her turmoil. Tiriel stepped closer, his eyes meeting hers with the familiarity of an old friend long lost.

— Melenar ai’valte. Ennoren vanner fe lorne. Se an Aella, elfiren laissa. Se anorei felve ar ielinve ennure vanaiienne. Ai ornen anor. (The memories are returning. This world needs you. You are Aella, an elf of love. You bring comfort and healing to those lost in shadow. It is your destiny.)

— Ai vellenne! (This is madness!) — she shouted, retreating further. Her bare feet sank into the soft grass, but she no longer felt the earth’s comfort. Her entire body felt foreign, from her long hair to her absurdly powerful hips. Every movement, every glance at this man, every breath of this cursed air made her feel further from herself.

But then she froze. A vivid image surfaced in her mind: a tall figure dressed in white, standing before her, trembling. A man, with scars on his face and loneliness in his eyes. And then she — Aella, no, not her! Alex! — stepped forward, touched his cheek, and in that moment, like a burst of light, his pain vanished.

— Ai… ai ne velvinnen! Ai ne se an! (I… I don’t want this! This isn’t me!) — she growled, her voice breaking into melodic tones again. Tears stung her eyes, but she shook her head defiantly. — Ente veltanne an ainenne! (Take this out of me!)

Tiriel stepped closer again, his hand resting on her shoulder. She wanted to shove him away, but his touch... it was warm. It was real, and something inside her trembled.

— Aella… ai lanaressel laissa. (Aella… your strength is love.) — His voice carried a calm certainty.

— Ne! (No!) — she screamed, pushing him away. Wrapping her arms around herself, as if shielding against the flood of memories and this strange, almost magical pull, she glared at him. But his words pierced her defenses, resonating with something deep within her. — Ai ne essare! Ai… ai velvinnen en aisellen… Alexssel. (I’m not this! I... I want to be myself... Alex.)

— Ennore vanner fe lafell. (Our world needs you.) — Tiriel stopped, not stepping closer this time. He simply stood there, looking at her with eyes full of patience.

— Ai… (I…) — Aella’s voice faltered, her lips trembling. She wanted to scream, to argue, to blame him for stealing her life, but something inside her was already tearing apart. Memories, like flashes of light, kept crashing over her: tears of men and women she comforted, their grateful smiles, the joy in their eyes after her touch.

She didn’t want to accept it. But those images brought a warmth she had never felt in her old life. True warmth.

Tiriel extended his hand. He didn’t rush her, didn’t pressure her. He simply waited.

Aella’s gaze lingered on him. Something about his presence stirred an emotion she couldn’t name. His eyes held a weariness hidden beneath his confident exterior, and as she looked closer, she noticed faint scars peeking out from under his clothing. They seemed like marks from battles long past — not just physical, but emotional as well.

‘He needs my love… my body,’ she thought sharply, the realization both startling and inevitable. Her heart skipped a beat at the thought. The idea that her body and her love might be essential to someone else felt terrifying and unavoidable. ‘This is my purpose...’ whispered a voice she tried to silence.

— Ne, ai ne venner… (No, I can’t…) — Aella whispered, closing her eyes, her voice trembling and breaking into those melodic tones. She wanted to reject it, to run, to forget everything that had happened. But it was all too real to ignore.