The flower - and the interior of its bud - wastes no time in commencing its task. By falling in its bud, or rather when the fairy threw you there, it was its cue and when these flowers do a job, they do it well. It doesn't care if you didn't get entrapped against your will. It only knows that you are a tiny humanoid creature and that as such, you are eligible to be transformed into a fairy. Which you musty want, or else you would not have entered its bud. Right? So it gets to work. You barely have time to pound on the petals and demand your being released to the fairy that you sense a pungent flowery smell that permeates the bud. Son, it overpowers you, making you dizzy and clumsy. As it senses your sluggish movement, the flower releases a honeyed nectar that floods the interior of the bud. It's sweet, sticky and you can't get if off your skin. In fact, the flower produces so much that soon you're almost drowning in it, just your face making it above the surface. It's hard to concentrate on your own survival with your head feeling like it's full of cotton. But before you get transformed for good, the flower enters its last stage in restraining you. It releases more of its perfume to get you to fall asleep. And not just asleep, as you fall in a hibernating sand lethargic state. You won't need air for weeks on end so you get engulfed fully by the nectar. A magical nectar. It molds you further. You get more curves. Rounder buttocks and boobs. As a former human, you'll get more curves than a natural-born fairy. Plumper lips. Shorter hair. With luscious locks still, most naturally. No body hair at all. Pointed ears. A round face with fine attractive features. Dainty hands and feet. Worthy of any male fantasy indeed. With the addition of bright hot pink wings, of course. It pumps new tastes and desires into you, to make sure you'll stop having those pesky male thoughts. Will that work fully? Impossible to know. Sometimes it does, sometimes it does not. And after seventeen days, in a wonderful sunlit and glorious late morning, the flower, done with you and having fulfilled its mission, opens up to reveal a sleeping nude form of pure femininity. The bright sunshine will rise you from your deep slumber soon enough, a new fairy to the world. And the world can always use one more fairy than a young human male.