A Potion Gone Wrong Read online

  Table of Contents

  Copyright

  Chapter 1: Festival of Revival

  Chapter 2: Potion

  Chapter 3: Unexpected Morph

  Chapter 4: Self Exploration

  Chapter 5: Disgusting or Intriguing Plans

  Chapter 6: New Friend

  Chapter 7: Seduction of an Elf

  Chapter 8: An Old Friend

  Chapter 9: Orc Orgy

  Chapter 10: Friends Forever

  Chapter 11: Betrothal

  Chapter 12: Oh, You've Got to be Kidding

  Chapter 13: Seduction of the Master

  Chapter 14: To Potion or not to Potion

  Epilogue: Swapped

  Other Stories by L.M. Gregory

  L.M. Gregory

  Copyright

  A Potion Gone Wrong

  A Gender Swap Fantasy Story

  By

  L.M Gregory

  2020 Copyright L.M. Gregory All right reserved

  All characters in this story are at least 18 years old. Any similarities to real or fictional people are accidental.

  Chapter 1: Festival of Revival

  Overhead, the yellowed sphere of the full moon hung low in the sky, providing more than enough light for me to work my way to the village. Why my master had placed his tower so far out of the city was something I had never figured out. Nor had my master given a straight answer when asked, just something about needing space. Needing space from the people he served? That seemed odd.

  Then again, the people hardly respected the wizard. As his apprentice, the derision carried over multiple times, even if I had born in the small village of Farbarrow. People forgot my roots within the town, which made for a lonely existence. Well, except for Tom, he'd remained my friend.

  The lack of respect might be changing if my luck could just hold. The overhead, full moon, was said to be a good luck symbol when it blessed the Night of Revival. Especially for wizards, though my master didn't believe in luck. "We make our own luck, I," he'd said just that morning.

  As if it were that easy.

  The village glowed from the bonfires of The Festival of Revival. Silhouettes danced in the shadows, visible from even the mile I had left to trek. Why had my master built so far out? Ugh.

  The Night of Revival was not just a night for renewal, but a chance for everyone to... explore. Bounds that were otherwise unbreakable, were removed for a single night every year just for the purpose of allowing people to meet with others for a single night of guiltless fun. Legend said that by allowing for the revival, people would be more thankful for their bonds the rest of the year. If that were true, I hadn't seen it. Peasants still complained that they couldn't leave the land. Husbands and wives gossiped over laundry or ale, complaining of their marriage, their children, their lives in general.

  Maybe Revival brought sanity.

  Or, as my master suggested, it merely allowed the nobles more control when they were able to point to the one night that people could celebrate being alive.

  I should have stayed in the tower as my master suggested, but I couldn't. Since technically becoming a man just a few years earlier on my 18th birth year, I'd tried losing my virginity but failed.

  No one wanted to be with the wizard's apprentice. Even my master, who possessed more wealth and power than most, lived alone. Well, except for me. Then again, that might be because my master didn't allow women into his tower. He'd even insisted on a second building just for seeing clients, all to avoid having the taint of femininity in the tower.

  I had come to suspect my master was an asshole.

  But he was a powerful wizard and had taught me a lot. Enough that I would soon be able to set out on my wizard-journey. A journey of self-discovery and cheap labor. Then, when I found a place to settle down, I'd raise my own tower and start the process all over again with my own apprentice. Such spread the scourge of magic, which everyone hated, but no one was willing to do without.

  My depressing thoughts slipped away as I entered the village. Laughter and screams of joy surrounded me, even my dejected thoughts couldn't keep me from stepping livelier. It was a night of celebration. Of rebirth! Even a wizard could dream. Right?

  A guard nodded at me, one of the few people who weren't allowed to celebrate on the Night of Revival. Probably a punishment detail. Once I had aspired to be in their auspicious ranks, the baron's guard was as high as a peasant dared dream. And I had dreamed. I'd practiced with a long stick that I'd sharpened into a spear. Every moment I could spare from the fields that were my life before being apprenticed, I'd spent trying to stab things.

  It hadn't been enough. Not when most of the women in the village stood taller than me. Not when even my long hours in the fields couldn't build the muscle necessary to stand in a shield wall or to pull back the string of a bow. When my manhood year had passed, the Baron's recruiter hadn't even given me a second look. That left my parents thankful when the wizard had accepted me as an apprentice. I worked hard in the fields, but my minimal strength just didn't allow me to thrive. One less mouth to feed was a relief to my parents.

  So, I had spent the next four years training to do magic. And loved it. But I never entirely lost the hope of joining the guard. Or at least the respect that the stature of a guard carried.

  I nodded back at the guard and entered the village. The younger adult bonfire would be near the edge of town, so I hurried that way. Maybe Tom, my one friend, would be there.

  Probably not. As the blacksmith's son, Tom towered over the rest of the villagers. Women arranged to watch when Tom was hammering on the outside anvil. Even women old enough and married enough to know better. No. Tom was likely being dragged off into the hay piles whenever he managed to get a breath.

  Couples danced around the fire when I arrived.

  A cute peasant girl, her hair in braids, stood nearby. We were the only two not dancing. I made my way towards her determined to break through my shyness and just ask her to dance. What was the worst that could happen? She might say no. Might run screaming. Push me into the bonfire? Okay. None of that was likely beyond the first and even that not on Revival Night.

  "Would you care to dance?" I asked, surprised the words came out of my mouth. I think she was too.

  The girl's smile flickered when she saw who it was asking, but Revival Night tradition said refusing a first request for a dance was terrible luck. She shrugged, and we made our way closer to the fire. I wish I could say hand in hand, but we didn't even walk close together.

  I didn't know the dances very well; I'd never had the opportunity to learn. But I tried hard. The young woman, whose name I couldn't quite remember, didn't dance close to me, but at least she touched me. Even if she did wince when she touched my sweaty palm. That was a start. And on a night like Revival Night, anything could happen. Anything.

  We moved around the fire, trying to keep from smacking into other couples. Not an easy task, when half the people were drunk on ale and the other half-wild with the excitement of the night. Some said the Wild Ones themselves entered the villages on Revival Night. As a wizard, I knew that was nonsense. Wild Ones required a specific set of enchantments to summon... my mouth snapped shut. I'd started to tell the girl about it. That was my problem. I tended to blurt out things that others didn't care about. Maybe I'd have more luck if I just kept my mouth shut.

  As the dance ended, I wanted to ask her to slip off with me, but she hurried into the arms of another before I could even speak. Looking around, there were no other unpaired women at the bonfire.

  Okay, maybe keeping my mouth shut didn't work either.

  I didn't want to leave on my journey as a virgin. I wanted some experience. Something I could point to as mine. Was that so much to ask?


  Maybe the older fires? Some of the widowed or even married women preferred slipping off with a young stud.

  Speaking of which, a giant shadowed silhouette moved across the spaces between the village huts. Only one person in the village was that big.

  Tom. His brown hair, longer than most of the other villagers despite working in a smithy, was tied back in a short tail and he wore only tights, leaving his chest bare. Probably attracting every woman's eye, lucky man.

  If I couldn't find a lover for the night, maybe I could at least share an ale with my friend. I chased after the giant blacksmith's apprentice. After a few steps, my footsteps faltered.

  A second figure was leading Tom away by the hand. A more curvaceous figure. A woman. Tom wasn't alone. My friend was the luckiest man in the village. Some people claimed there had to be giant blood in his family background, even Tom's father was a towering man, though he fell short of Tom's height.

  I followed at a slower pace, just in case they might be going to grab ale and not... each other.

  Giant. With that body, I could have made the guard. For certain, I'd be leading a young woman into the hay myself. If only my body hadn't betrayed me.

  I frowned.

  Something tickled the back of my mind. Something I'd read recently.

  Enchantment?

  No. Not enchantment.

  What?

  Potions?

  That seemed right. I tripped over an unseen lump in the ground. That was it! Morphing. Or Morphism. It was possible to create a potion that gave attributes of another person or animal to the target person. It was often used by armies to make their warriors fiercer. But it was hard to make as I recalled. I'd have to look at the full ingredient list to remember why. But one thing stood out. A single ingredient.

  The hair of the person who you wanted to imitate.

  My pace picked up. This could work.

  * * *

  The results of the potion were variable; it depended on the ratio of the mixture. The more of Tom's hair, I put in, the more powerful my new body would be, but the more like Tom I would become. Why hadn't my master ever mentioned this when I had complained about my height and strength? The solution seemed obvious in hindsight. Demons, why hadn't my master used it himself? How expensive could the ingredients be? Or had my master used it? He was surprisingly fit for a wizard.

  Maybe I shouldn't get too excited. There might be side-effects I don't know about. Like the whole becoming Tom thing. I wanted to be similar to Tom. Not a twin.

  I trailed after Tom and his lover, whoever she was, she was eager, leading Tom quickly through the village to an abandoned hay pile placed in a dark shadow for just the purpose Tom and the girl clearly intended. I was certain Tom would allow me a few locks of hair without issue. If I just waited until he was done. As much as he complained about the attention from women, I knew he loved it.

  I'd have to be careful, though. As much as a powerful body would be helpful, Tom wouldn't appreciate a double any more than I wanted to be his twin! But he'd help. I knew he would.

  This could work! A substantial body, broad shoulders, and back, combined with my abilities... maybe I could bring wizardry back into fashion.

  It would be a considerable change. I wouldn't even have to stay as a wizard if I didn't want to. But I did. Despite the lack of respect, the wizard profession offered a lot. A steady income, mainly. There were always people who needed wizards for healing, or as my master and I had recently finished, to increase the fertility of the fields. A village with a wizard was more prosperous. It was just that people didn't want to admit that.

  I turned the corner and stopped.

  A bare back faced me, pale in the moonlight with spots that might be freckles, and a figure that reminded me of the hourglass in my master's tower, it was as close to a naked woman as I had gotten in some time. I didn't even realize women had waists that small. Or hips that widened like that. Well, I did. But it was academic knowledge. Some of my master's books were quite explicit.

  I swallowed.

  Damn it. How had Tom’s lover gotten so naked so quick?

  I ducked back behind the corner, but the sounds chased me. Tom's low grumble. The girl's higher moans.

  "Tom!" she cried. "Right there! Don't move."

  I snickered. For all of Tom's power, he still was being ordered around by a woman. Of course, he was also getting sex, something I hadn't managed, so maybe laughing wasn't the right reaction. I've spent too much time with my master, he's giving me the wrong ideas!

  I tried to block the sounds of their pleasure out. No one would mind me listening, not on Revival Night. It was expected even. Hell, some of the older men and women went around giving tips to the younger. Much to the younger one's disgust. They listened though.

  And so did I. I couldn't help it. The key trait of a wizard was curiosity. Every wizard had to have it, or they would fail. I had been discovered because I'd been known for exploring beyond the fields of the serfs, into the forests surrounding the village. I'd often brought back strange flowers, demanding to know what they were. My poor parents hadn't had a clue what to do with me except put me to work. Somehow that had gotten back to the local wizard, and at my majority, he'd chosen me as his apprentice. His first in all the many years he'd been the village's wizard.

  Her growing sighs interrupted my thoughts.

  His grunts filled the night air. Come to think of it, they weren't the only noises in the village. Sex surrounded me.

  The rustle of the hay from their movements drew my attention.

  My cock grew under my robes. I flushed. Another advantage of being a wizard was not having to wear pants. It made hiding things like my erection easier. Helpful given how often my cock popped up at the worst times.

  Her sighs grew into louder moans. They came faster. Part of me wanted to stick my hand into my robes, but I still had a small hope I might get lucky later. I didn't want to waste my seed on myself.

  Not yet anyway.

  Maybe in the morning if I was still alone.

  Faster, the noises grew in sound and frequency. Their breathing merging into a mixture that enticed me to peek around the corner. The moonlight glistened on the woman's back. Her long hair trailing down in waves.

  Long hair? Anna. It had to be Anna. Few women kept their hair that long as it interfered with work. But Anna was the village bailiff's daughter. Not quite a noble, but with far more freedom than anyone else, the bailiff's daughter was famous for her beauty and infamous for her appetites. Looked like she'd caught Tom in her web.

  From what I knew, I envied Tom. Anna was said to be quite the sexual conquest. Her rare red hair and pale skin made her exotic among the brown-haired peasant stock of the village. Supposedly her mother had been from another kingdom, but she'd died long before I remembered. I had no idea if the rumors were true, or just that. Rumors.

  "Tom!" Anna cried.

  Tom's roar shook the foundation of the hut I leaned against. Or maybe that was just my own repressed sexual desire. I wasn't sure.

  "Gods, Tom. Fuck. How long until you're ready again?"

  "Anna," Tom groaned.

  A throaty laugh drifted on the night breeze to me. Apparently, the rumors of Anna's insatiability were true. Some said she was a man in a woman's body. My master claimed that was nonsense that women were just as wanton as men, if not more so.

  Shaking my head and sighing, I settled in to wait for a quiet moment. I loved my friend, but maybe part of Tom's appeal was that he didn't think much, and he seldom opened his mouth. Whereas I tended to constantly be sticking my foot in my mouth. My master claimed I would have been strung up before I reached 25 years had he not taken me as an apprentice.

  That was an exaggeration.

  Probably.

  I slipped from the village in the early morning. The dawning sun washed out the last dim embers of the bonfires while the waking animals drowned out the last of the passionate play.

  None for me, sadly. I'd waited all
night for Anna to tire Tom out before finally managing to grab some hair from the sleeping blacksmith. I'd also gotten a closer look at the gorgeous Anna and had to agree with the village sentiment. Tom was a lucky man that night.

  Squeezing the little pouch of hair—I never left the tower without some sample bags—I grinned. Maybe my luck was about to change.

  Chapter 2: Potion

  The one advantage of having a night owl for a master was that he tended not to be up in the early hours of the day. It had made sneaking out of the tower the night prior more difficult, but I had managed. Not that I had any illusions that my master didn't know. The man had the tower so covered in magic that a flea couldn't get in or out without my master knowing.

  Despite his disdain of the festival, my master had likely decided it was okay for me to go. At least that's what I hoped had happened. Otherwise, the door to the tower might not open. In which case, I was pretty much screwed. I needed my master to approve of my journey trip; otherwise, no one would accept me, except under very precise circumstances, none of which applied to being kicked out of my apprenticeship for disobeying my master.

  But the door opened.

  Maybe my master wasn't as heartless as I'd feared. Or maybe he figured I wouldn't get lucky.

  Despite the cool air of the morning, my cock hadn't gone down on the trip back to the tower. It stayed at full attention and a distracting attention at that. There was no way I could manage the spells without removing the obstacle first. Potions required spells and spells required concentration.

  My little room was on the first floor of the tower, tucked away against the wall. A small window allowed some natural light in, but when I had first arrived, I'd been given nothing more than a pallet and a blanket. Everything else I'd had to conjure or earn myself. Now my room was warmed by thick tapestries and had magical lights for night reading that would make a noble envious. Being a wizard had perks.

  I flopped onto my bed, much softer than the wood pallet I'd started with.