What Cindersara really wanted was political power and she had heard that the prince was closeted… and horny. The FairyGodMother, sensing that two birds could be dispatched with one stone, disguised another gay prince as a mouse and lent Cindy some nifty glass slippers, sending her off to the ball. |
Anyone knows that you can tell the difference between men and women, simply by looking at their feet and besides, a woman is never at her best when her feet hurt, so Cindy's mind would be on her feet, whilst the poor prince bemoaned his fate, doomed to dance with every fat ass girl in the kingdom with her muffin top belly hanging out over the midriff skirts and cropped tops that passed for ball gowns back in the day.
So Cindy went to the ball and the prince's eyes were drawn immediately to her feet. Well, and why not? They were red and all scrunched together in the tight, see-through shoes. He felt pity for her, being a sensitive new age guy, and said, “Let's go sit in the garden. You can take your shoes off.” By then she would have agreed to anything, even taking it up the rear from her Wicked Stepmom with a strap on just to let her feet get a breath of fresh air, so she followed him into the yard.
They sat on a bench whilst she told him everything the king was doing wrong in foreign policy and the trouble that the lack of a national health care plan was wreaking upon the peasants, while she rubbed her feet. The clock struck midnight and she ran for it, because a future ruler should keep her campaign promises and she had faithfully sworn to the FairyGodMother to get the rented dress back on time.
The prince sat alone there, happy to be out of the welter of heat and sloppy purulent flesh when along came another prince, dressed all in black and gold. His dark eyes and hair set off his golden tan and his smile flashed in his face as he said, “Hi there, I'm Prince Nick from one kingdom over. I've been wanting to meet you.”
Our Prince Greg said, “Have we ever met? I’m sure I would have remembered– How– how did you know about me?”
“Oh, I'm the youngest son of a large family so usually I have to sit at the kid’s table at state dinners, but when you visited with your father I thought you were hot and I just wanted to bend you over the table and introduce myself. How about it?”
“Hell, yeah!” Prince Greg said enthusiastically. “I'm an only child and they're keeping me virgin till I get married. To a girl,” he finished sadly.
“I can take care of that,” Prince Nick said, with great confidence.
Prince Greg fell in love there and then, and said, “I trust you.”
Prince Nick took his hand and led him further into the shadows, where the silvery moon played over his new love's luminous skin. His beautiful dark eyes took his breath away and Prince Nick vowed, “I'll go easy on you, cuz it's your first time.”
“Thank you,” Prince Greg murmured tremulously.
Their lips met in a steamy kiss and Prince Greg found himself putty in his new prince's hands. He barely protested as his clothing was removed. It hurt at first but then he was comforted with a wonderful feeling of fullness. In time the discomfort changed to pleasure as his new prince ploughed a channel that had lain fallow for all his 18 years. (Prince Nick checked on Prince Greg's legality before he allowed himself to be mousified because he really was against anything smacking of statutory rape.)
The ecstasy grew inside Prince Greg and at last he cried out, his essence spurting silver over the darkened landscape and the world went black.
He awoke with dew on the grass to find himself fully dressed, all alone and with a glass slipper beside him. There was a note tucked inside that said, ‘Find the girl who wore this shoe and you will find me again. This will only work if you love me.’
Determined to find his comely prince again, Prince Greg clutched the shoe and made his way back to the palace. His father, King Gil, was pretty dang mad that he'd been missing since midnight and was determined to rebuke him in full view of the court, or at least fail him on his latest Knight Proficiency Test, whether he deserved it or not, but he relented when he saw his fey son clutching a woman's shoe. Hope sprang up in his breast, only to be followed by dismay. What if Prince Greg had taken up cross dressing? If so, King Gil foresaw a lot of stable cleaning in his son's immediate future.
Greg exclaimed, “I must find the woman who wore this shoe!” He had the note, written in a big, scrawly, princely hand, secreted in the front and center of his breeches as a talisman.
“And so you shall, my son,” the king said, wreathed in smiles. “Courtiers! Have every parent in this country line their daughters up for inspection! The prince has found his future queen.” (Little did he know it, but the irony fairies had attended his birth and had had great fun with the puns. Perhaps that's why people never knew if he was serious.)
The prince set out, accompanied by courtiers, jesters, watchful advisors (known as Internal Affairs), flying monkeys, and not a few hunky knights, including his close personal friend, Knight Archie; determined to find Cindersara. After all, even if he only met up with her for coffee again, she had had some intriguing ideas on tax reform and that should keep dear old dad occupied whilst Prince Greg continued to search for the hot neighbour prince.
At last, after handling a whole lot of smelly icky feet (thank God latex gloves had already been invented!) Prince Greg and his entourage neared the dell where lived Mrs. Wicked StepMom and her evil daughters, along with co-dependent although politically-reform minded Cindersara.
Sure enough, Cindy was up on her soapbox as usual, declaiming about the unfair labour practices of wicked stepmoms, all the while cleaning out the chimney.
Prince Greg recognized her voice, although she was a bit more smudgy than she had been at the ball and shouted out, “Yo! Cindy! This your boat?” He held up the shoe and a shaft of light sparkled off the dainty size ten footgear.
“Oh, hey, Prince Greg. Thank you for bringing it by, I was wondering where that shoe had got to,” Cindy said casually.
“You're not telling me these are comfortable are you?” he asked doubtfully. “I mean, I'm a Doc Martens man myself…”
“Oh no, it's not that. It’s just that I didn't return it with the gown so I didn't get my deposit back,” she reassured him, climbing off her soapbox. “And I also lost one of those pesky mice. He didn't turn back into a horse, so the coach was slow and I got home late, but the steps were all drunk so it didn't matter anyway. They never knew and I got a decent dinner for once.”
“Oh, okay,” Prince Greg said. “Well, here ya go.” He handed her the shoe without ceremony while the courtiers all gasped. “Cut it,” he hissed at them. “While dad's not around, we're not gonna follow protocol.”
He got off his horse and stretched because his back hurt him a bit. Cindy smiled at him and asked, “Have you given any thought to my ideas on health care?
“Yeah, I did, I really did. And I was wondering…” he paused, bashfully. All the courtiers leaned forward, mouths open and eyes rapt.
“Yes…?” Cindy asked breathlessly, leaning forward, her lips parted expectantly.
“If you would like to sign on as an advisor?” Prince Greg said earnestly. “I mean, some of your ideas are great, I don't think my dad's ever heard of some of this stuff even though we subscribe to King Journal Monthly.”
Cindy squealed with joy so loudly that her hungover evil Step Mom ran out into the yard, screeching, “Will you cut that noise, you stroppy bitch? Some people are trying to sleep!”
“Not a chance, stepho,” Cindy announced boldly. “From now on, I'm the king's right hand girl. We won't go to bed or anything, I'll just smile knowingly and bat my eyes at him to fool people into thinking something's going on but really I'll be revamping the country's healthcare system!” she ended triumphantly.
The courtiers were dumbfounded. Just then there was a giant puff of smoke and the FairyStepMother materialized, staggering on his high heels. "Damn this fucking smoke! It’s so bad for the lungs. Whatever happened to fairydust?"
"Well, if you recycled like I suggested," Cindy rebuked him, "You wouldn't have run short. And are you still eating meat?"
"Oh, honey! Of course I am!" he squealed, "You have NO idea what you're missing. Just look at that tasty bulge in the young prince's knickers. If I didn't have a mission, why I might…" he stopped and licked his lips, flipping his long dreds back over his shoulders, his green eyes aglow with lust.
"Oh shut up," Cindy said goodnaturedly. "You are such a ho. Can I have my deposit back? Prince Greg brought my shoe back." She held it up so the FairyGodMother could see a whitish smear on the otherwise sparkling glass.
"I've got a swab in my kit!" Prince Greg cried out helpfully. He pulled on a pair of latex gloves that he'd packed for the handling of many smelly feet and got a swab, wiping the smear carefully off the shoe.
“I'll take that,” said the FairyGodMother, reaching for the swab instead of the shoe to everyone's surprise.
He added droplets from a small bottle and the end of the swab turned a bright lovely pink. He beamed at Prince Greg. "You're the one!"
"I am?" Prince Greg asked in surprise. He'd never been the one, although he'd longed for his father's approval for so long that even a big, black, (actually a lovely chocolatey brown) hunky FairyGodMother in a pink tutu smiling approvingly at him made him happy right now.
"Yep," the FairyGodMother said. "Snap, y'all." He snapped his fingers and everyone except him, Prince Greg and Cindy fell into a trance.
"Okay, Cindy, so you wanted to get the desire of your heart, that right?" She nodded.
"And you, Prince Greg, you wanted to meet the prince of your dreams, that right?" Prince Greg nodded trustingly.
“Okay here's the deal. I figure Cindy here is really kinda asexual–”
“Not really, I just prefer girls,” Cindy murmured.
“Whatever,” FairyGodMother said, waving his hand in dismissal, “You want to ensure that everyone goes vegetarian, wears sensible shoes, recycles, and institute a viable national health plan, right?”
“Right,” she agreed enthusiastically.
“And you,” he continued, rounding on Greg, “Let some guy you'd never seen before pop your cherry at midnight in the garden because he had a nice smile, right?”
“Well, yeah,” Prince Greg blushed and shuffled his feet. “But he was hot!”
“Yeah, I know. I sent him.” FairyGodMother smirked. “He was one of your mice, Cindy. I couldn't figure out how to get him into the party because your dad banned all the dudes, hoping it would help you get in some girl's knickers, so I had to sneak him in as a mouse, or rather as one of the horses pulling Cindy's pumpkin.”
Cindy opened her mouth and FairyGodMother turned on her. “Eschew the obvious joke and your political career will last longer,” he warned her.
She made a zipping motion with her hand over her mouth although her eyes danced with mirth.
“So here's the deal,” FairyGodMother continued. “You take Cindy home and tell dear old dad that you're thinking of marrying her.”
“But I don't want to marry her, no offense, Cindy, but you're not my type, even though you clean a mean chimney,” Prince Greg apologized politely
“None taken,” Cindy answered, “but I don't want to marry you either, I just want to overhaul your government.”
FairyGodMother interrupted this polite exchange. “Shut it, bitches. So here's the deal. Prince Nick's father wants him to study statecraft with your dad, Prince Greg. So take Cindy home, set her up in another wing to preserve appearances. She will make eyes at dear old dad and everyone will think they're doing it. She gets to advise him behind the scenes, she gets a state sponsored health plan, Dad gets someone to hang with who also reads King Journal Monthly and can quote whole sections to him from memory. Prince Nick comes to study and they put him in your wing. You two fuck like bunnies and everyone's happy.”
Prince Greg and Cindy's eyes met. He noticed that she was giving him an encouraging look, much like an older sister. “Don't worry, Greg,” she said, “You can depend on me. I'll help you learn ruling.”
“Okay, it's a deal,” Prince Greg blurted eagerly. He was still thinking about Prince Nick’s hands, when he…
There was another plume of smoke, from which FairyGodMother emerged choking and gasping. The courtiers appeared dazed and evil StepMom had fallen asleep again, worn out with making merry and much Merlot
Prince Greg went down on his knee and Cindy looked down at him kindly. “Will you accompany me to the castle?” he asked.
“Sure thing, Greg,” Cindy said. “Just let me wake up Step Mom.” She kicked at the supine figure and said, “Stepho, wake up. I'm leaving now. You're gonna have to train your two lazy ass daughters to clean from now on. And they've been cutting again, trying get their big feet in my shoes. But don't worry. Stop the bleeding and by next week there'll be a national health plan and you take them to the doctor, even if it is a pre-existing condition.”
Greg was dazzled, listening to her throw all these erudite political terms around and he knew that agreeing to acquire a beard was the best thing he could have done for the kingdom. A courtier led forward a large black charger and Cindy politely declined Prince Greg's help, swinging herself onto the horse without assistance. “I'm a feminist,” she informed him. “You don’t have to do all that polite crap. I can get on a horse by myself.”
“Okay,” he said, pleased that she wouldn't want him to dance attendance on her. She had a huge smile on her face as they waved at their beaming FairyGodMother, who was trying to hypnotize the hunky knight named Archibald into staying behind.
“Really, if you've never had a blow job, you'll love it,” they heard FairyGodMother assure the cute twinky knight as they rode off.
Cindy's smile grew broader as they rode back to the castle and eventually Prince Greg ventured to ask, “Why so happy?”
"As I told you, I'm a feminist. And now I'll never have to wear uncomfortable shoes again to get a man's attention," she said smugly. “Or lipstick. In fact, I think I'll wear pants from now on and cut my hair short.”
“Fine with me,” Greg said. After all, even in pants it wasn't likely he'd mistake her for his beautiful knight. He rode silently, wondering how and when he'd ever see his knight again.
After two hours ride they came to the palace. His knights blew a fanfare on their trumpets and the bridge was lowered, enabling them to ride over the moat. When Prince Greg escorted Cindy into his father's presence, lo and behold! There sat Prince Nick, all golden and smiling and muscle bound. Prince Greg licked his lips nervously as Prince Nick grinned at him.
“Did you find her?” His father asked.
“Yes, here she is, and she has some interesting ideas. I think you'll like talking to her. She subscribes to King Journal Monthly,” Prince Greg explained.
He was astonished to see his formerly tomboyish companion cast an unmistakably coquettish glance at his father, King Gil.
“Really? I was about to wrap up a treaty with the evil kingdom of Ecklienberg. Perhaps you'd like to give me your opinion before I sign it?”
“I'd be delighted,” Cindy said promptly.
The King stood to escort her and then turned back.
“Oh, Greg, Prince Nick has come to study statecraft with us. I've put him in the room next to yours. Take him up there, will you? And make him comfortable. We want his stay to be a long, full one.” He put one hand on Greg's shoulder approvingly. “And you did well, my boy. You passed. You found Cindy and brought her here, so you can solo now.”
“Gee, thanks, dad,” Prince Greg said. He watched his father and Cindy disappear into the council chambers. The courtiers shifted from foot to foot, no doubt eager to discuss this interesting development. Because everyone knew that women were too stupid to understand politics so obviously King Gil had something else in mind. With any luck, the vibes between Cindy and the King would just go on, week after week, giving them plenty to gossip about. They completely ignored the sparks arcing visibly through the air between the two princes.
“Thank you for having me,” Prince Nick said with a predatory gleam in his eyes, chuckling at his masterly use of the double entendre.
“No, the pleasure is all mine,” Prince Greg said most sincerely, ushering him from the room.
Outside in the hall, they could hear the babel arise from the courtiers, now released from protocol, eagerly discussing the private life of their monarch.
Prince Nick pinned Prince Greg against the wall and took his lips in a sensuous, demanding kiss. “Where's your room?” he whispered huskily.
“Up those stairs,” Prince Greg responded faintly. Only Prince Nick's hand on his growing bulge kept him on his feet. That and oh yeah, the fact that his entire weight was pinning him to the wall.
“Last one in bed is a rotten egg,” Prince Nick said suggestively.
“Race you,” Prince Greg offered.
Prince Nick stooped and allowed Prince Greg to fall over his shoulder, turning and running lightly up the stairs.
And now, dear readers, the veil of discretion, not noticeably present heretofore in this story, will be drawn over the events that next transpired in Prince Greg's room. Let's just say that the courtiers wondered just what was so fascinating about the statecraft Prince Nick has been sent here to study to inspire such yelps and moans, and Prince Greg's laundry bill went up a lot.
Cindy and the King exchanged many sultry glances in public and laughed about it together in private, whilst drawing up new proclamations all of which made the governing of the country run so much smoother.
The following week the wicked StepMom took her daughters to the doctor, under the new health insurance act and he shook his head, wishing she'd brought them in sooner. He also recommended therapy for the cutting.
And FairyGodMother and Knight Archie lived happily ever after, no matter what FairyGodMother turned him into, because after all, he always turned Archie back when he got horny.