Lift Your Legs, Princess
Knock, knock.
“Princess Leticia! It’s time to wake up.”
The woman’s voice from beyond the door startled me.
Who was that?
Standing outside was a woman dressed in the maid’s uniform of Astria. Somehow I knew her name was Iola without being told. Strange memories rose unbidden in my head.
She entered carrying a cup of tea on a tray. The moment I drank it, the fog of sleep began to lift.
“You must prepare now, Princess.”
“Ah… prepare for what?”
“To return to Astria, of course. It is time for you to dress, Princess.”
Two more maids stepped into the room.
“Come, Princess.”
“This way, please.”
They ushered me forward with gentle pressure at my back. My unfamiliar body swayed and staggered; the heavy weight of my chest rolled with every step.
“Ah… nngh.”
I found myself standing before the full-length mirror in the dressing room. The figure reflected there was so beautiful it stole the breath from my lungs—long, luxuriant golden hair; eyes the deep blue of a summer sea; skin white as fresh snow; a smooth, open brow; full, vividly red lips that looked almost indecently soft. The body itself seemed sculpted by a god who had poured every last scrap of care into the work: a figure so perfect it could drive an onlooker mad.
Princess Leticia’s body.
This was me now.
I never asked Grandpa Grimwald how to reverse this. I have to get back before something goes wrong…
Looking at Astria’s youngest princess in the glass only confirmed it again: I had become her completely. A sweet little gasp slipped out of me of its own accord. Soft, warm, extravagantly full—this princess’s body was mine. The thought made a strange flush of embarrassment rise through me.
“Oh my, you’re simply too beautiful, Princess!”
“Heavens, it’s as though the goddess of beauty herself has descended. These breasts, this waist… an absolute masterpiece of a figure.”
“I’m so jealous. If only I could look even half as lovely as Her Highness…”
The maids and attendants could not stop sighing in admiration. Shame burned hotter. All the while Iola’s practiced hands slipped the nightgown from my shoulders and carefully peeled away the underthings as well. The negligee slid down my arms and pooled on the floor. In the mirror stood “Princess Leticia” wearing nothing but a pair of pink lace panties—hair cascading in glossy waves to her waist, full teardrop breasts, a waist that tapered in a smooth, impossible curve, firm thighs and long, slender legs. An entirely naked female body.
My face flamed; I looked away without meaning to.
“Please sit and lift your legs, Princess!”
Iola removed the last scrap of fabric and brought a fresh pair of panties. So I was really going to put on the princess’s underwear.
“Princess, lift your legs for me.”
I raised both feet. The maid guided them through the openings of the new panties. Compared to the boxer trunks I was used to, the openings felt absurdly narrow and the fabric itself almost nonexistent. As the soft cloth climbed slowly up my calves it tickled faintly.
“Ugh—!”
Still warm from her hands, the fabric settled snugly over my groin. A strange, intimate sensation wrapped my entire body. I was wearing her panties. My first time in women’s clothing, and a queer little thrill ran through me.
“Next is the corset.”
A corset—something that had never had anything to do with me as a man—and I was about to put it on. Before I could brace myself, something cool and firm settled around my waist and beneath my breasts. In one decisive motion it cinched tight, locking my waist in an iron embrace and gathering my full breasts upward into a high, rounded swell. Soft fabric cupped them from below. Then the maid began to pull the laces.
“Aaah…”
Sudden pressure crushed chest and waist; breath caught hard in my throat.
“It can’t be…”
I opened my eyes carefully. The mirror showed a pure-white corset embroidered all over with delicate floral stitchwork and edged in frothy lace. It was a shaping garment that squeezed waist and bosom into dramatic relief; a garter belt hung from its lower edge. When I looked down, a faint, sweet perfume rose from the fabric itself.
It smells lovely…
I tried instinctively to hunch forward. The maids immediately straightened my spine and hauled the laces tighter still. White silk stockings were drawn up my legs with dazzling speed, fastened to the garters so they hugged my thighs taut. Soft silk gloves slipped over my slender arms; the cool, slick touch made my skin shiver against my will. Then the remaining two maids shook out a dress that glittered like captured light and lowered it over my head.
The neckline left my shoulders bare, revealing the fine skin of a princess with elegant restraint. From the cinched waist the skirt flared in rich folds all the way to the floor. By the time I recovered my wits my heavy hair had already been swept up into an intricate style and a glittering tiara rested lightly atop it. A choker closed around my throat; bracelets clasped my wrists. At the last moment a pair of high-heeled pumps appeared, shaped to the delicate curve of a woman’s foot, the heels no more than five centimeters high. Expensive leather, smooth and cool.
These were princess’s shoes—something I could never have worn unless my feet had become Leticia’s completely. I lifted one slender, white-stockinged leg and slowly slid it into the pump.
The finished reflection was pure fantasy: a small, perfect face framed by blazing jewels and golden hair, features so exquisite they might have belonged to a goddess. Skin like snow. The dress clung and flared in all the right places—full breasts and hips swelling richly, waist drawn dramatically inward. The long line of my neck, the single bare shoulder left by the off-the-shoulder design, looked so fragile one almost wanted to gather me into protective arms. A diamond necklace rested against my throat; teardrop diamond earrings swayed beside my face. Every movement set the full breasts swaying and sent the lace and silk of the skirt dancing.
The maids’ eyes kept drifting to the princess’s generous bosom and hips. My face glowed soft and radiant, the picture of loveliness, femininity, and grace. When the last pin was set, the mirror held a vision of Princess Leticia so perfect it seemed unreal.
I stood there staring. Outwardly I was every inch the princess—beautiful enough that even a man might fall for her at first glance. Knowing the mind inside was mine left a complicated taste in my mouth… and a strange, secret shame that made my heart hammer from deep in my chest. For a dizzy moment I almost believed I truly was Leticia. The open envy in the maids’ gazes only sharpened that hidden humiliation.
“Ah, Princess… you are truly too beautiful.”
The image in the glass was breathtaking. To the male self still trapped inside me, every second of it was mortifying.
“Shall we depart, then, Princess? If we leave now we should reach Astria by evening.”
“Ah… yes. V-very well.”
I started toward the first floor of the annex, where escort knights and attendants waited. Balancing this new body was harder than I expected. With every step I felt the heavy bounce and soft give of my breasts, the dragging weight of the magnificent dress, and the precarious height of the heels. Shoulders and décolletage left bare, the deep valley of my cleavage—created by the merciless corset—swayed with each motion. Shame coiled hot through me until my skin burned. It was no imagination that a sweet, warm scent of flesh drifted outward with every step. Nervous sweat gathered; the fine silk lining of the dress clung damply to my back. At the same time the thin, sweat-damp panties molded themselves between my legs, a constant, intimate friction that was both alien and exciting.
Yet the excitement was not only physical. I cast a quick glance around me.
Get a grip, Kite…!
Halfway down the corridor from the second floor to the first, someone approached from the opposite direction—another peerless beauty, every bit as sumptuously dressed and jeweled as I was. The moment I recognized Princess Adelia, the emperor of Britain’s most treasured daughter, a bright smile curved my lips of its own accord. Beneath the social warmth lay a private, mocking amusement at the absurdity of our mutual situations.
Adelia answered with an equally radiant smile and a graceful curtsy.
“Oh my, Your Highness. So this is where you were. Hohoho…”
“Princess Adelia as well. Such a pleasantly warm spring day…”
For a while we strolled the corridor exchanging the emptiest, most polished court chatter imaginable.
“We need to speak of something important. Could you dismiss the attendants for a moment?”
At her request the maids and knights withdrew to a discreet distance.
“Kite, we’re in trouble. The mana link through the crystal orb has been severed.”
“What do you mean? What’s the exact situation?”
“Looks like the orb took a physical blow. I’ll need to examine it myself to be sure, but for now it means we can’t reverse the swap immediately.”
“Then… what happens to the real princess and the real princess?”
“I don’t know. My research notes never covered this kind of exception after a soul exchange.”
“So… you go back to Britain in the princess’s body, and I return to Astria as Princess Leticia? Or should we just confess the magical accident to the royal mages of Britain or Astria? Their high-ranking wizards might be able to put us right.”
“Don’t be an idiot! They’d have both our heads for lèse-majesté before the day was out. This secret goes with us to the grave.”
“Then… until next time, Princess Leticia.”
“Ah… yes. Please travel safely back to Britain as well, Princess.”
As we parted with light, formal bows, the same peculiar smile lingered on both our lips—half private mockery of each other, half the shared complicity of co-conspirators, and underneath it all a secret, guilty relief that we would not have to return to our original wretched bodies just yet. It was a strange, sensual smile neither of us could quite name, blooming across two women’s faces.
Outwardly we were noble ladies draped in priceless gowns and every mark of high culture. Nowhere in the world did anyone know that the minds inside belonged to a lowly army private and a lecherous old archmage.