You sit there in stunned silence before forcing a laugh. “Well, I hope the prince is a girl in drag, because otherwise, I’m not sure how this story is going to work for me.”
“No.” May gazes at the castle, bemused. “The prince is a tall, handsome young man, passionate yet kind. Needless to say, he’s the heartthrob of the nation, and all the local girls are clamoring for his attention.”
“Then, they can have him,” you state, getting to your feet and eyeing the side of the road whizzing past. “There’s been a mistake here, and I’m not sticking around for the embarrassment. Is there any way to stop this carriage?”
May suddenly darts over in front of you, her glow brightening a bit. “I’m sorry, Cinderella, but I can’t let you leave. Not when your dreams are about to come true!”
“I’m not Cinderella. And I never dreamed of anything like this. What’s wrong with you?”
The fairy hesitates, her focus a bit blurry. “I have no idea. But…But something in me just can’t let you ruin the story. I’m sorry, but this is how it has to be. You ARE going to the ball. You WILL be Cinderella. And you WILL have a happily ever after!” Raising her wand, she blasts you with light.
“Gah!” You yell, falling back onto the seat as magic ripples through your writhing body. “N-No! This is crazy! Stooooo-AAAAAH-” Your voice rapidly rises in pitch to a beautiful soprano every bit as hypnotic as May’s. At the same time, your body shrinks and reforms, resulting in something delicate, silky, and very, very feminine. New weights jiggle on your chest while a disturbingly warm crevice opens up where your old equipment once sat. Body hair evaporates while head hair, lush and ebony black, tumbles down your back, past a waspish waist, to tickle your wide hips and heart-shaped rear. Invisible sculptors mold your face into a visage worthy of a lipstick ad, with sapphire blue eyes, tiny pert nose, and blood red lips.
Even as you lose all traces of masculinity, your clothing alters to match. Lacy undergarments materialize to hold in your new girl-bits. Shirt and pants melt into each other to form one garment that lightens into a glittery pink color. Pantlegs join and billow out into a skirt that settles into a bell shape thanks to several layers of petticoats. Your sleeves shrink back nearly to your slim shoulders before puffing up. Gloves encase your hands, and golden slippers prop up your miniscule feet on three inch heels. Tasteful jewelry adorns your neck and ears for a simple yet elegant touch. Finally, your hair pulls back into an elaborate updo interspersed with crystals and supporting a small tiara. Hardly any makeup covers your face, as your natural charm takes care of the rest.
Despite your panic, you find yourself righting in your seat, your hands folding demurely in your lap. With head high and back straight, you are the ideal picture of maidenly grace, like a princess.
“My, you turned out gorgeous!” May gushes, flitting this way and that to inspect her handiwork from all angles.
Your pale skin flushing prettily, you drop your long-lashed gaze, open your lips, and whisper, “Help me…”
“Relax, dear,” the fairy soothes, perching on your shoulder and stroking your cheek. “Things will work out just fine! You’ll see.” After a pause, you hear a murmur, almost too quiet to hear. “I hope.”