Slowly but surely, she leans in. You place your hand around the back of her neck, close your eyes, and feel her gloved hand on the back of yours. Your lips touch, and the air goes deathly still.
Mid-kiss, you realize the sounds of the fair have stopped. The children playing have gone silent, the grunts of jousting are mysteriously gone, even the wind seems to be stopped in time. Opening your eyes, you look back at a familiar face—your face, with tousled brown hair, a bit of a five o'clock shadow, wearing a ratty old red t-shirt and jeans, with a gloved hand on your neck, attached to an arm with a long green sleeve.
In front of you are the curtains from which the princess was behind. Time has stopped, and you are in the princess's place.
Your old body opens his eyes. With a gasp, he looks around at his new surroundings, most likely thinking the same thoughts as you. Before even a moment has passed to process the strangeness, your old body begins to change. The tousled brown hair shimmers in the sunlight, straightening into a silky blonde that begins to grow down to his shoulders. He blinks, and his eyes turn a pale green. The t-shirt morphs into a cream crop top, only a few shades darker than the porcelain skin. The jeans roll up and sew together into a light blue skirt, revealing shaved legs and flats with no socks. The face becomes softer, with high cheekbones and—is that makeup? With eyeliner and a bit of blush, what once looked like you now has a slight resemblance to the princess—who you now are. Perhaps that's why it didn't surprise you when from the crop top, two mounds appeared, held up by a push-up bra, completing the appearance of a 21st century female.
Before you could even process what had happened, you felt a change on you. In seemingly reverse order, your breasts sneak back in, flattening and widening into a pair of pecs that most certainly do not fit the dress. As your midriff widens, with obliques and abdominals appearing in spades, the tight corset explodes, revealing your newfound musculature. Your arms and shoulders, once dainty and fragile, strengthen and broaden until you have to bend your elbow to keep your hand on her neck. Your hips thin, and your rear flattens, retaining a more solid shape than before. The dainty legs barely supporting you almost inflate, strong, bearing legs that could run a hundred kilometers. "Kilometers," you think, "but I use miles." But somehow, kilometers seems right—it's hard to even envision a mile now.
Your face, dainty and cherubic, hardens, with an angular, muscular chin and a jawline strong enough to cut steel. The long blonde hair atop your head and all down your exposed back retracts, with a tingling scalp. Your nose, small and pointed, grows to fit your larger head, as your hair turns a stiff brown and flows off to the side. With an incredible itch, a 5-o'clock shadow grows onto your face. You try to scratch it, but you cannot remove your gloved hand from the girl's neck.
Upon staring at the glove, it changes from an off-white to a shimmery gold, growing to fit your expanding hands. The gold material spreads down to your elbow, and then as cotton, grows back up to your wrist in a bright red. The scarlet fabric continues its journey up to your shoulder and around your neck, where a white undershirt appears, collaring over in a perfect crease. Atop the shoulder, a golden shoulder pad appears, with a light trim around the edges. The scarlet fabric spreads across your entire midriff, removing the destroyed green dress. Another gold shoulder pad appears, and the red spreads down your other arm—a gold glove appears. You try to take off the two layers, but you cannot bring yourself to do it. Something feels right about it being on, and even though it is incredibly warm, you are growing accustomed to it, even beginning to like it. A golden sash crossed from your right shoulder to your left hip, and expertly, you tuck it into the dark blue slacks growing along your powerful legs. They grow down to your ankles, where white socks tuck into your shoes—golden dress shoes, sized for a man with very large feet.
You try briefly to fight it, but it is useless—this just feels right. You are a prince. You re-adjust the crown atop your head, and close your eyes. When you open them, they are a striking electric blue. The wind picks up, and blows through the girl's long blonde hair.
She breathes a sigh of excitement. "I'm free," she exclaims. "Finally free, goddamnit, I'm free!" She scampers off, away from the rest of the faire.
You ponder what in Heaven's name she could be on about. All you did was share a passionate moment, one of many to see which of these women might be enough to be your bride. Had you freed her, somehow?
Another beautiful dame walked up, her fair hair gold like your sash and shimmering in the sunlight. "Are you my princess Aurora?" you say. "Find out with a single kiss..."