Gun Princess Royale - Book One - Awakening the Princess

Intro

- I -

I will be honest with you...my outfit embarrasses me.

It is not unlike that worn by the other girls – the other Princesses – so in that respect I'm merely one of the pack.

Truthfully, some of their costumes – for lack of a better word – are far more risqué and revealing than my attire.

Yet it embarrasses me nonetheless while reminding me of what I have become, and of the body that has become my prison.

It is a form fitting, skin hugging, bodysuit that covers me from torso to painted toes. A pastel blue bustier supports my large very fulsome breasts, exposing their tops and promoting a dangerous amount of cleavage. A cropped dark blue jacket offers me a degree of modesty. The shoulders are puffy and dark blue like the jacket, and my forearms and hands are sheathed in black gauntlets with a swirling gold pattern. The torso is light-grey with patches of black and white. The legs are a glossy black with faint tiger stripes of purplish-blue along the shins and calves, and the boots I wear are reinforced, oversized, and allow me to put my foot through a wall without injuring myself.

In other words, I feel like an escapee from an action cartoon for teenage boys obsessed with overly buxom babes, or early twenty somethings that have never dated a girl in their lives and now fawn over two-dimensional females with oversized bosoms.

I am being polite in calling them bosoms.

There was a time a mere week ago when I would have called them by another less savory name, but now that I possess a large shapely pair, I can't bring myself to refer to them impolitely.

Oh how the tables have turned.

The shoe – dare I say, the high heel – is most definitely on the other foot

So as I stand before the photographer doing my best not to sweat under the intense lights of the studio, clad in my revealing Princess Regalia for the sake of a promotional shoot that will put me on the pages of a magazine read by hundreds of thousands of girls, I smile outwardly and cringe inwardly, and try not to think of how I was tossed out of the frying pan and into the fire by an accursed entity that was simply bored and decided I would serve to entertain it.

Yes, I was toyed with by an accursed entity with a grudge and a chip on its shoulder....

You may ask why am I participating in a photoshoot? We'll get to that much, much later. Suffice to say that the person I am now is not the person that I was a week ago.

You see last week I was a boy...and this week I'm a girl.

Did I ever dream, fantasize, or desire to be a girl? I attest to you with wholehearted honesty that I did not.

Did I ever consider what my life would be like had I been born female? Yes, I am compelled to grudgingly admit that is true and with good reason. Then again, I'm sure many a teenage boy has asked himself that question at one time or another.

However, I will reiterate for the sake of posterity that at no point in my life did I ever want to be a girl.

No, sir. Never.

That begs the question of do I wish to remain a girl. Honestly...I just don't know.

So much has happened since that day that I have trouble keeping my finger on the pulse of reality, and there are times I look in the mirror and lose the ability to think coherently altogether.

Some of you may read this and tell me that the Fates were at least kind as in the eyes of mortal men I am quite attractive. However, being the girl that I am now comes with a unique set of complications, and my life is far from a bed of roses.