FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

"Curfew too?" Argol flicked one hand towards the sign with large, painted letters explaining the newly tightened curfew restrictions. His blue eyes swiveled to the princess beside him, curiously eyeing her. "That's a little strict isn't it?"

Malena looked back, making her coiffed, pink curls flutter around her head before she pursed her bubblegum pink lips in a thoughtful pout. They had just entered a strange kingdom and so far had seen a plethora of signage describing the rules and regulations of the land. A long cobblestone path stretched out in front of them into the heart of the city where with buildings cropped around a central square. Malena gingerly lifted her full, ruffled skirt to deepen her strides before her voice broke over the soft clacking of her heels. Her favorite heels in fact. A pair of rich pink heels with darker rose ruffles along the edge, scalloping around her stockinged foot, a dainty rose applique on the far side, hovering above the heel, a bow in the front furnished with a glittering ruby, and a speckle of glittering diamonds on the outer edge. Even the strap over her foot had small gems rimmed with gold.

"I think it's a little tyrannical even, but we're visitors here. We can't go around voicing our opinions." She shared, nodding solemnly.

Argol nodded back, glancing down at his own leather boots for a moment that rode up onto his leather britches with a flared top- sturdy, manly shoes. Then, his gaze raised up to watch as the city grew closer with every step...

Within the city square, the pair found themselves amongst a sudden bustle of working citizens. Carts filled the streets and storefronts were swept. The noise of the activity filled the air with a constant hum. With a small wave of his hand, Argol bid Malena adieu to reserve a room at the inn up the street, a looming building with neat window coverings and a wide road drawing the largest carts up towards it carrying supplies for dinner.

So, when a hand suddenly tapped Malena on the shoulder, she jumped with some surprise, turning to see an imposing figure. Thick, red fabric ruffled down the dip of the woman's body, leading back to the thickest ruffles at her butt, but a front-side slide showed the short layer beneath. Her thighs, covered in dark stockings, peeked out from the skirt before showing her long, otherwise bare legs that went down to sharp, pointed heels with a thick platform beneath the toe to raise her up onto the teetering, sharp point of the heel itself. The bodice was tight, shoving her breasts up into rounded mounds with gems coating the ribbing. Rubies and diamonds wove amongst the commoner beading. Then, a delicate neck piece flared off from her pale throat with a collar and a pendant hanging between her full breasts. Once Malena met her eyes, two deep red lips pursed into a smile. "Princess Malena of Azara-" The woman greeted before lightly nodding her head in place of a true bow. "It is I, the queen."

"Oh! Hello! What a pleasure-"

Her arms lifted up a small, black box opened to reveal a dainty, but simple necklace with just a single ruby hanging off its thin chain. "A welcoming gift for our royal visitor." Her eyes dipped down to spot Malena's shoes, and they widened. "No-" She thought, breath sucking from her lips in a silent display of veiled shock as she quickly hide the emotion with a warm smile. "It'll match your lovely shoes..." Then, to herself in her mind, the queen thought with a sneer: "Shoes that will soon be mine to corrupt. Perhaps then the legendary princess will finally be stopped..."

Oblivious to the queen's realization about the origin of her favorite heels, Malena curled her own pink lips up into a smile, gently plucking up the necklace to fit it onto her throat politely. She glanced once down at her own gown in comparison to the exotic queen's. Her bodice was tight, but covered with ruffles and ruching that covered her bosom conservatively while the queen's snowy white cleavage was raised into view. Her skirt thick and layered hung down to her ankles, hiding all of her slender legs while the queen's showed the powerful, toned legs balanced on their high heeles. Her hair was drawn up into an elaborate style atop her head, giving her a fierce look, while Malena's was styled in sweet, oversized curls to soften her face. Ultimately very different things, yet she smiled nicely as the queen continued their pleasant exchange.

"So, what brings you to our thriving, little utopia?" The queen asked with a coy smile, eyeing Malena with an expectant, almost anticipatory gleam in her eyes. Then, Malena felt a sudden tingle along the base of her throat where the simple, silver chain hung. The tingle ran down the chain to the ruby, then it flared into a sudden heat.

The heat spread like lava through her veins, pumping through Malena's body before she felt her eyes fall away down to the woman's shoes. The supple leather a deep, midnight black that held her foot at a sharp arch, raising her heel up onto the red point of the heel while her toes slide down along the curve of the shoe into the soft front, where the thick platform held her on high, sturdy ground. The princess stood, transfixed with the shoes before she felt herself drop onto her knees. Her skirt spilled around her, riding up to her own knees and pooling into a puddle of fabric while her hands scraped over the road, crawling closer to the queen's feet.

Her head ducked down low, grazing her perfect curls against the ground carelessly before her lips puckered out and kissed the top of the other woman's shoe, right in the center. Glancing up briefly, her lips quickly returned to the smooth surface of the leather, kissing along the curve of the shoe that led back to the heel where she paused, pressing her mouth forward. Within her the suction of her lips, Malena's tongue traced over the slight ripples in the natural leather, tracing over the texture with greedy, needy slurps before her mouth slid along the length of the heel, sucking on each inch till her cheek rested on the ground.

From above, the queen watched with an amused pout in her painted lips as the renowned Princess of Azara puckered out her lips to suck down to the very tip of the heel, letting dirt cling to her lips. The girl's crown drooped forward on her head, clinging weakly to the locks of pink hair it wove into. Her eyes were half-lidded, bliss and need seeming to blur her vision as she swapped to the other foot, kissing up the front of the shoes up the line of the queen's leg till she flicked her tongue along the upper edge of the heels. Then, she leaned around the nibble and suck down the back, leading back to the heel. There, she curled her tongue around the slender spike, working her spit along the spindle.

While a line of spittle dripped from the princess's stretched lips and onto the dust of the road, the queen cleared her throat. "Why is it again that you are visiting, Malena?" She asked again, acting as though nothing was out of the ordinary with the girl's shoe worship, and with the crowds parting around them and the citizens merely ducking down their heads and moving away from the queen it seemed nothing was out of the ordinary. Though, at the edge of the square people starred with judgement in their eyes and little flashes of gossipy excitement in their eyes.

Malena paused, looking up with a hazy stare. "I came to be your slave."

A pouty smile curled onto the queen's lips, a self-satisfied smile that plumped her already thick red smile even fuller. Then she nodded curtly to her spattering of guards and personnel. "Very well. Let's go."

A guard plucked her from the ground, and the queen began to walk, but Malena eyes followed her shoes every step of the way back to the castle.

Later, Malena began to wake draped over a simple lounge. At a desk nearby, the queen sat watching her with one slender leg crossed over the other with an expectant look. The princess's eyes fluttered open and a hand swept over her lips, clearing the line of dirt that clung to them. Though clouded, her mind began to piece together what had happened since she'd met the queen. It came back in a slew, from sealing the amulet around her neck and feeling the slightest heft of the small ruby to the sudden fire in her veins to fall into the dirt and to sucking the woman's shoes, greedily cleaning them of the dust that clung to them.

Looking to the queen, Malena narrowed her gaze. "...You."

Instead of being threatened by the princess's reaction, the strange queen only laughed a full, hearty laugh with her head tipping out behind her. "Oh sweetie, the amulet only made you subservient." She paused, waiting for her information to be fully swallowed upon impact. Once she saw the realization just starting to set into the princess's mind herself, she shoved it down. "The shoes, the licking...that was all you."

Meanwhile, across town, Argol arrived at the inn to find it busy with a building dinner crowd. The scent of stew hung in the air, the familiar scent of herbs and chicken broth wafting through the air while a comfortable heat poured out of the kitchen into the main hall stuffed with varying sizes of wooden tables and chairs. Sitting down at one, Argol waved over a busty serving girl. "Hello, sir! Would you like dinner tonight?"

Once he'd ordered, Argol let his attention drift through the room. He leaned back, setting his feet up against the edge of the table as he relaxed back. Gossip in hushed, chattering voices filled the room: "The queen did it again today!" A hush went over the crowd, and Argol strained forward to listen in.

"Yeah! She charmed someone else, took her in as a slave!" A sad, frightened throb went through the dining hall until faintly, in a soft young voice that still knew how to hope for change in a rigid word spoke up: "If only the Princess were still here to overcome another sorceress and reclaim the throne! Or if someone could only open the basement's door! I bet the key to saving everyone is in there!"

"Well, we'll never know because only a 'true princess' can open it, whatever the hell that means!' Someone lifted up his ale glass with a grunt, and the crowd joined in with a little cheer and dinner appeared onto the tables, distracting them from their discussion, but Argol had heard enough. As spoons fell into stew bowls feverishly, he slipped out of the room and down the hall to the heavy door marked 'basement.'

Creeping down the steps, he spotted the door mentioned back at dinner. "Only opens to a true princess, huh..." He mumbled as a hand gently nudged the door knob only to have the hinges creak and the door to swing open. He glanced behind him, a heated blush swelling up onto his cheeks in a rosy pink at the thought someone might have seen the door swing open for him. "It makes sense..." He muttered, scuffed his boot against the wood floor as he stepped forward into the small room. "I mean I'm someone of royal blood, practically a princess." He glanced once more towards the stairs, and seeing no one, stepped forward into the room.

In the center, sat a simple pedestal, but atop the pedestal sat a pair of previously perfect shoes. Almost exactly like the heels Malena had trotted into town with earlier, they were a soft shade of sooth rose with a darker hue for the base platform of the heel, the ruffle around the edge of the wearer's foot, and the bow- decorated with a glittering ruby. The same, soft pink rose dotted the back side, but this sister pair lacked the strap over the wearer's foot. However, they showed signs of obvious wear. Patches of shoes were tore, a dark patch in the otherwise smooth, silken expanse. The ends of the ribbon were frayed, ripping up the center of the bow, crookedly skewed. The heel was worn, standing at a slight angle, and the ruby glowed dimly without the gleam and shine of life. Around the walls were more shelving, covered with a row of shoes all molding and decayed- in no condition to be worn. The fabric tore and drooped off, gems and accessories broke off, and straps were ripped or torn. Dust coated them all and a musky scent hung in the air.

Swiveling back to the pedestal, Argol lightly touched a finger to the bow of the shoe with a distant expression, imaging them undamaged. With his touch, a sudden spray of light shot through the room before a cloud formed behind the heels. "Hello!" Rang a warm, tinkling voice before a foggy image began to form behind the pedestal. A rosy, sparkling gown took shape in front of him with the skirt making an overturned tulip shape before the bodice lightly popped atop with a heart-shaped face framed by long, flowing red curls. "You have opened my chamber and finally released my spirit to address a true princess! A young woman of innocence! Charm! Spunk and spirit!" A hand lifted up with a flourish, sending her glimmering light through the air. Her hair rippled down her back, shaking with her dramatic fluttering gestures as she continued, "A girl with poise and powerful! With style and selectivity! A woman of conversation and action! You are a-" She finally seemed to look down from her monologue and truly see Argol standing in front of her with his tight, leather pants hugging down powerful legs while his sturdy boots splayed out in a wide, manly stance. "You are a man?"

Argol blinked, tightening his lips slightly before he gave a small nod "Ye-up..."

"Well-" She glanced down at her feet, shuffling awkwardly from foot to foot before she looked back up to him. "No matter! You opened the door! You have the power to restore my shoes!" Her hand waved to the shoes in front of her, making them gleam briefly with her pulsating aura. "Then, you can defeat the queen!"

Argol spun in a slow circle, eyeing the collection of shoes closest to him. Taking a step to the side, he stood in front of a slightly raised platform where a neat pair of shoes sat and lightly touched to the smooth, though worn toes of the black, patent leather. Weakly, he felt energy pulsing beneath the surface, flowing against the surface. With a jolt, he shifted to the next pair and tried to do the same and awaken them, but they remained still beneath his fingertip, and the princess spoke up again.

"You must awaken your inner princess to revitalize the other pairs! You are not accepting your nature!" Her eyes tightened into a slight glare, focusing her gaze on him as he inched back towards the door, feeling a deep flush settle over his cheeks.

"I'm no princess! I'm-I'm none of those things you said!" His head started to shake before he turned back towards the door, the door he'd opened that only a 'True Princess' can open. He pushed it back and hurried out, leaving the princess calling after him. "Wait! You must stop resisting it!"

He rushed back up the steps, slipping into the hallway before he paused. The noise of the dining hall returned, flooding back to him with a tangle of voices overlapping as the mine workers swapped their stories from work and, as the drinks flowed, their stories grew older, more repetitive till they reached back to wars and family traditions. The scent of stew permeated the air, still rich and flowing through the bustling room. However, Argol found he wasn't hungry anymore. Instead, he hurried to his room with his chin down while the final remnants of his blush faded from his face with the legendary princess's voice still ringing in his ears.

Stripping down, Argol collapsed onto the narrow bed of his rented room and sitting back to strip off his boots. They dropped to the floor with a thunk , and Argol scooted back against the headboard. A long sigh sputtered from his lips. Idly, he stretched and rubbed his sore feet before his head rolled to the side, working the kink from his neck, and spotting the maid's shoes from the princess's chamber sat on his bedside table. The black leather appeared buffed with a fresh shine to the black surface. The tears in the shoe's flesh had been sealed, filled in while the strap had been fixed so it stretched with a thin ribbon over the top before sealing with a tiny white bow affixed to the button.

For a long moment, he stared. His eyes washed over the shape of the shoe, from the smooth rounded front for the toes and the thick, sturdy heel meant to support a busy, bustling maid through her daily work. He found himself inching closer across the bed, pulled by the feminine allure of the shoes, yet with their stout base. "I bet they could take a solid thumping..." He mumbled, finding his cheeks a faint pink at the accidental euphemism. Though, the thought starred to stir through his head and down into his britches where he felt himself harden within the cage of his pants- his cock straining to the confines of the fabric. His cheeks darkened from pink to red, a stuffy embarrassment spreading through his stomach.

One hand reached out, lightly tracing along the edge of the smooth shoe. The leather glided beneath his touch with a silken creamy finish. He breathed out a long sigh, shuffling to the edge of the bed and swinging his legs off the side to hunch over the table where the heels sat. The force that entranced him only seem to flare harder as his grip moved to the heel, stroking along the slender chunk while his opposite hand fluttered hurriedly to the front of his pants, unlacing them and tugging them away. When his cock sprang out, he gasped softly and bucked his hips forward. His tip rang along the smooth surface before he moved up onto his feet and angled down to slide his shaft into the shoe. He pumped his hips forward along the insole, a soft squishy sensation against the underside of his cock as it pushed in, tapping to the front of the toes. "A-ah..." He sighed, feeling a humiliated flush burn his cheeks, yet the pleasure flooding his groin at the caress of the working heels sent shivers down his spine, an irresistible burn of delight that counteracted his embarrassment at finding enjoyment in the shoes. Their energy seemed to ebb around his girth, seemingly massaging his length as he began to fuck the shoes.

His balls were already churning, pulled tight to his body with every light smack they gave against the back of the heels while he pumped down into them. The thin strap that would cross over the foot inside rubbed over the upper half of his cock, feeling like a delicate, guiding finger while he shoved himself down into the shoe. Soft grunts started to puff into the air, his cheeks flaring a deep red as he fingered the insole of the opposite partner, rubbing down into the warm walls of the shoe and caressing his pinky along the leather skin of the outside. Pleasure coursed down his spine, precum dribbling down into the innards of the heel, smearing along the insides and sending his thick, musky scent into the air.

"O-Oh... Ohhhh...." A sudden moan burst from his lips as he grabbed onto the heel with one hand, holding onto the shoe like one a lover's hips as he finally felt his cock spurt rope after rope of thick, gooey white jizz. The cum pooled against the toes of the shoe, leaking down along the insole as Argol pulled back, shyly tucking his dick back away and rolling into bed to pass out.

Argol woke early the next morning, rolling out from beneath the thick quilt over his bed as the sun stretched its shining arms out in a waking stretch. The pale light streaming in through the window guided the groggy man while he plucked his pants from off the chair and began to redress, but when he squat to the end of the bed to find his boots only carpet stared back up at him.

"What the-?" He swore to himself, sweeping his gaze over the floor in search of the boots, but instead only saw the maid's shoes sitting patiently on the bedside table. He scoffed, moving into the attached basin room, splashing water onto his voice and swiveling through the small addition to find his boots. "Where are my shoes?!" He grumbled, turning to see the maid's shoes at the end of the bed, perched on the floor just where his boots had fallen off the night before.

"I am not." He stated aloud into the empty room, a harsh crease in his forehead before he re-checked the room, upturning the furniture and digging through the bed, but his boots didn't materialize. Instead, the maid's heels seemed to watch him from their place on the floor, waiting patiently for him to finish his second attempt searching and sit at the end of the bed, looking down at them.

The smooth leather gleamed up at him still, fresh and sparkling. The puffy insole seemed to welcome him, call his feet. He found them lifted, toes pointed down and hovering atop the heels before he swallowed and gave in. His foot dipped down into the dainty shoes, and he bent at the waist to seal the little button for the strap over each foot. Rising onto his feet, he instantly wobbled. The heels raised him up at least three inches. His knees wobbled slightly, ankles rolling around before he took a staggering step forward. Slowly, with his arms slightly raised on either side of him, he walked a circle through the room until his ankles no longer wiggled with every step.

"Well, first my jog." Argol skipped forward a long stride to the room's door, easing it open in time for another man to stumble from his own bedroom opposite the hall. The man nodded to Argol in a simple greeting, but then spotted his shoes on the downwards tip. "What the-?"

A finger waggled down to his shoes. "I think you got your girlie's shoes there!" He barked, laughing in a dry, hungover voice. A blush stained Argol's cheeks, spreading the pink shade down onto his neck with every consecutive second the man laughed with his finger still hovering in the air, pointing down to the glossy heels strapped to his feet. "Oh look! Now you've got a cute little blush to match! Ha! Ha! Ha!"

Ducking his chin, Argol hurried past the man, nearly pitching himself down the stairs before he grabbed onto the railing to steady himself. The stairs presented a fresh issue in the tippy heels. Carefully, he lifted one leg down, and then while he clutched onto the rail brought the second. Every step made the heel clunk loudly against the hard wood floor and the sound echoed through the breakfast hall until someone looked up just as he made it to the landing. "Hey! Stairs might be easier if you weren't wearing sissy shoes!" An entire table of men dressed for work, minutes and final bites away from heading off to the mines, looked at him with tight sneers. "You going off to the market to pick up supplies for breakfast! I think the kitchen's that way, miss!" Their laughter rang through the hall, echoing in Argol's ears as he pushed open the front doors and hurried out onto the sidewalk with wobbling steps.

"Just ignore them... My jog will help. Exercise clears the mind." He breathed in a long breath, feeling it rasp past his lips then it exhaled out in a puff before he took his first long step. His leg shot out in front of him, strong and graceful but when the heel hit the pavement it wiggled and his knee buckled down, sending him angled down into the dust. "Oof!"

A faint titter caught his attention, revealing a pair of school aged girls down the block watching shyly. When his eyes passed over them, their gazes dropped away, but their soft laughter continued as he tried to stand back up amongst a clattering of heels.

"This is harder than it looks." He grumbled, swearing to himself before he stood steadily on both feet and began again, this time with a shorter stride. For several steps, he landed and seemed to spring off on the next step quick enough to avoid losing his balance entirely though he swayed and bobbed in the air madly, more like a hopping bunny than a runner. However, at the one block mark, the heel skidded beneath his sliding stride and he flopped onto the ground, kissing the pavement. Heat flooded onto his cheeks as an entire gaggle of girls rounded the corner to see him.

"Oh my! What's wrong with that young man?"

"He's fallen! Look! He's got on lady shoes!"

"Oh hehe, how foolish of him. Perhaps his head is hurt." They clustered around him, their own heels creating a semi-circle moon around his head as it lifted slowly up with a groan.

"Sir, are you alright?"

Argol sighed, nodding as he pushed onto his heels to try to stand again. One of the ladies held out her arm, making his face burn with embarrassment. He glanced furtively for one of the men from the inn anxious to be caught being helped by a young lady. Once standing, he quickly dropped the helpful arm and instantly wobbled again.

"Why are you wearing those shoes?"

"Don't you know those are for girls?"

"Is your head alright?"

"Where did you get those shoes, they are actually quite cute!"

"My maid has a pair like that!"

The maidens started to chatter quickly, rapidly throwing anecdotes into a building torrent of conversation before they were all giggling and hanging around him, a mixture of playful jabs and admiration for his style and confidence in attempting to wear the shoes though the entire scene had Argol mute, blushing furiously. "Listen, I must continue my run."

The woman parted from around him, clapping as he successfully started a brisk walk rather than a true jog. Every step made him bounce slightly, clicking his shoes on the hard pavement with a signature, womanly sound. As he neared the town square, where he planned to find the local seeker's hall, the home of the largest adventure guild in any well-known land, for some practice sparring and general fitness- all a part of his daily routine.

Walking at a brisk and less wobbly pace, Argol headed towards the hall and almost forgot he was wearing the shiny maid shoes until the pushed open the door of the hall. All eyes turned to him, taking in the sight of the young man with his short crop of brown hair, a simple tunic, and leather britches all common for a young man to wear, but paired with shiny black heels which, since he had mastered them so well walking, had materialized themselves a pair of frilly, matching socks in ruffles of soft pink and white just above the edge of the shoe.

For a moment, silence filled the hall. Then, it burst with a barking guffaw from the back of the practice area as one knight couldn't hold his respectable shock any longer. "A little sissy boy has come to admire the true adventurers! Hah!" His loud laughter spurred the others, and soon the entire room shook with their voices. One man, nearest to where Argol stood with his legs primly held together to keep himself steady, held up his arm with the muscle bulging atop it in a hard apple-sized knot. "Want to feel how strong I am, little lady? I'll flex good and hard for you."

Argol's cheeks burned red. His skin crawled with heat. His stomach churned with embarrassment that settled and spread through his body. Their voices echoed in his head, running on a track of repetitive mockery: "Sissy" ; "Miss" ; "Little Lady." It all churned and bubbled, building and boiling, before suddenly he exploded.

"I am not a little miss! I am not a sissy! I am not a little lady! Don't you dare flex in my face again!" He charged forward, hearing the hard, steady clack of his heels on the floor with a sudden swell of pride. He didn't waver, he didn't stumble, and he didn't fall. He strode across the hall with wide, balanced steps before he tugged a sparring sword for the rack and stood in front of the knight who'd laughed. "I challenge you. I'll prove to you I am no lady."

His breath came in ragged, hard puffs after the loud outburst, but his display of skill had elaborated the socks with an additional tier of ruffles and a ring of dainty, sparkling gems between the two tiers of fabric. Nonetheless, he held the sword at the ready with a harsh, prepared glint in his eyes. For a moment, he reminded himself of Malena with her magic flaring form her hand while a heavy skirt swayed around her ankles, a lady, but a lady with power.

"A tantrum, how fitting of a little woman!" The man chuckled, but picked up his own discarded gear. "If you were truly a woman, I would have to decline, but since you are merely a cross-dressing boy I suppose it's okay to beat you." A sneer stretched the man's grin across his face before he mirrored Argol's stance, they tapped swords, and began.

The hall remained silent as they fought except for the hard slams of their swords together and the light clicks of Argol's quickly shuffled, heeled feet. He skipped lightly from side to side, wobbling slightly when he swung on the points of the shoes, but he didn't fall.

"Look at him dance! You're light on those shoes, just like a lady at a ball!" Argol stamped forward, swinging towards the gregarious knight who blocked the blow and sidestepped away. A blush started to round along the apples of his cheeks, but his face remained grim, set on redeeming himself.

Internally, his humiliation still ate at him, but outwardly it didn't show. His sword drove forward, pushing through the other man's block and slicing down towards his leg. Then, he jerked it upwards to hit the man square in the gut.

"Oof!" Surprise lit up the man's eyes, and finally he had no retort. He'd been 'killed.' Argol dropped his weapon, spun around, and continued back out the door. As he pushed open the door, he saw his gloves had morphed from thick leather into a soft white with ruffles encircling his wrist.

Marching back through town, Argol felt a slight sensation of satisfaction. Again, some of the younger girls giggled as he passed. Men heading in for their lunch break paused, pointing to his shoes with deep laughs. Scattered woman paused to watch with curiosity. Their jabs still grated on his nerves, but faintly in comparison to the crippling humiliation he felt that morning.

Back at the inn, Argol headed inside to the desk with the sharp raps of his shoes on the floor echoing faintly through the hall. At the desk, the attendant peeked curiously down, but kept her mouth in a silent, straight line in response to the ruffled socks and feminine heels. "Are you..." Her eyes flicked down to a chart in front of her, "Argol?" He nodded. "They want you to assist with the cleaning crew. Rooms 2-9 still need to be cleaned, then the kitchen needs to be tidied from breakfast and lunch, and the fireplace needs to be swept. Start with the rooms."

He flushed, momentarily pondering requesting harder labor- chopping firewood or hunting for the dinner's meat selection, but then he just gave a curt nod. "Will do." Heading up the stairs, he found the steps to still held a slight challenge. He walked up, step by step, with one hand holding onto the rail tightly. At the top, he paused with a slow breath, then continued down the corridor to find the supply closet before the first room.

The narrow closet opened without the supplied key and quickly spilled its contents all over the floor. A broom lunged out followed by its clattering dust pan. A empty bucket toppled over, followed by an assortment of cleaner bottles and fluttering dust rags that dropped like fall leaves. "Ugh!" He slowly bent his knees, squatting with the heels teetering just slightly beneath him as he bundled the things into his arms and headed towards the first room.

"Number two." He read aloud, unlocking it while his elbow clutched onto the buckle's handle and he bit down on an escaping bottle. Stumbling into the room, he dumped the cleaning materials into a pile. "Jeez. Why do I need so much stuff!?" He scanned the room. The narrow bed was half naked with its coverings drooped onto the floor and the sheets tangled at the edge. The bedside table had the remnants of a midnight snack with crumbs across the surface and spilling onto the floor. Wine pooled on the carpet, dried in a blood red crust over the flooring. The basin room had water all over the tiled floor and flecks of hair in the water. In addition, the complimentary laundry basket was filled to the brim with a fragrant pile.

"Oh man..." Moving to the bed, Argol pulled the duvet cover the rest of the way off and focused on the single layer first, the sheet. From one side, he tried to throw the sheet out over the bed, but it wrinkled and tangled. Leaning over the bed to smooth it, his heels sunk into the rug and he sunk onto the bed clumsily. He moved around,wrestling the wrinkle out before circling back around even the two sides. Then, he stepped back.

"Good enough." Next, the entire process repeated with the comforter. First, fall onto the bed to stretch it out, go to one side to tug it over, go back and even it, and smooth out all wrinkles. Except, the first two times he repeatedly crumpled the sheet beneath the duvet and had to repeat the entire process. Finished, he stepped around the bed towards the crumbs, with a broom in one hand and the dust pan in the other, and admired his handiwork. "Third time is the charm!"

The crumbs from the table swept easily off, leaving a clean slate behind, but the broom didn't agree with the carpet. His long strokes with the broom sent bits of bread into the air, while the short ones were slow and inefficient. Eventually, he figured out how to teeter from leg to leg to push the crumbs towards the pant before he bent over to hold the pan. The bending still made his legs ache in the shoes, but then the stain remained.

"Now, how do I clean this?" He stared at the different bottles of cleaner, all seeming to equate to potion bottles in strange languages he didn't read and ingredients he didn't comprehend. The first spurted out, but did little to loosen the red clinging to the tan rug. One by one, he squatted over the stain and attempted to scrub it out with one of the strange bottles contents until finally, he found the stain remover and began to work the drink out from the carpeting.

With the carpet freshly cleaned, he stretched and trotted to the bathroom, ready to dump the old basin water and re-fill with fresh, hot supplies. It seemed simple enough to haul the old water to the window and dump out, but he found himself struggling to balance the heft with the additional three inches from his heels. The black shoes seemed to glint and smile up to him while he walked agonizingly slow through the motions, ending by picking the hairs out from the bottom of the bowl before replacing it and heading to fetch fresh boiling water.

Finally, after what seemed like an hour, Argol hauled the dirty laundry out from the otherwise clean room with an ache in his lower back and a throbbing pain in his knees. Stumbling towards the laundry chute, he glanced down to suddenly notice his leather pants seemed to have soften. Instead of leather, a soft cotton enrobed his legs with almost a silky sensation, much more comfortable through all the bending and motion. "Hmm.."

The next room went smoother. The bed seemed to make itself. The carpet cleaning went three times faster, and Argol figured out how to buff the mirror to a shining clarity. At the laundry chute, as he dumped the bag of clothes down to be washed, he glanced down at himself. In addition to the gleaming shoes and frilled socks, he now wore a skirt instead of his soft pants. It was simple, hanging to his knees with a mild flare but little to know embellishment. His tunic hung low over it, giving him a loose form. However, after the third and fourth rooms, the skirt gained a thick edge of scalloped ruffles in ruched lace and his shirt had crawled up to stop around his belly button, where the edge of the skirt rose. Thick, puffed sleeves capped the skirt with their own frilly edges. His gloved hands, in a satin white, smoothed over the dress for a moment, pondering it before he gave a small shrug. It felt comfortable, form fitting at his waist but with room for his legs beneath the skirt.

In the next room, as he quickly went through his chores, an apron looked over his shoulders and tied around his slender waist. More ruffled sprouted from its edges, bloomers appeared beneath his skirt in a plume of pale pink, and a ruffled collar circled his throat. The entire outfit seemed to flounce when he stepped, giving him a fluid, peppy walk when he headed to the final room where his outfit finished with a bow sealing into his hair, now looser and softer to the touch. Loose pieces framed around his face where before it had flopped across his forehead. His appearance had softened, fitting that of a meek and subservient maid.

Once he'd finished the kitchen and fireplace, with some soot still clinging to his apron, Argol skipped down the steps of the basement to the legendary princess's chamber, throwing open the door with a flourish. Sure enough, a second pair of shoes seemed to glitter in their place, awaiting his touch to awake. He peered down at them, dainty satin pink ballet slippers. He paused, looking down at his entire ensemble as a maid, someone who worked hard yet remained cheerful throughout the day. His chin bounced slightly, nodding respectively to the role he settled into before he clasped both hands around the smooth ballet flats.

They pulsed within his grasp, starting to mend and soften before his eyes before he felt the day suddenly hit him. Exhaustion washed over his body and the last shred of energy went into the worn ballet shoes before he stumbled upstairs and passed out, fulfilled and satisfied as his day revitalizing the maid's shoes, bringing him the next step in what would be a long journey.

As Argol slept peacefully, wrapped in his freshly laundered bedding, Malena found no such peace. Within the castle, she slept fitfully, rocking slightly within a shocking realistic, magically-induced dream that washed over her subconscious mind roughly, showing her a life-like nightmare in flashing visions that hit her mind in waves.

First, she saw herself dressed perfectly. Her long, pink gown hovered over the ground at the perfect length. Her pink curls bounced slightly with each step of her own princessly heels, the rosy pink ones she so adored. Her crown perched atop her head, its gentle weight atop felt atop her head like the weight of a familiar locket between the breasts. Her hips swayed modestly, enough to tempt but not to seduce. She saw herself strolling through the ballroom, eyes watching her with a mixture of respect and envy as she approached a gaggle of similarly dressed woman, all who gripped their skirts and curtsied politely. "Oh Malena, you look lovely this evening, and dinner was perfect! Absolute perfection!"

"Oh well, I do have the best kitchen staff in the land~" However, then she suddenly shifted in the circle. The familiar heft of her crown was gone, instead its golden hue twinkled atop another woman's head while she felt someone nudge her side. Though when she glanced down, the same familiar pink, silky fabric made her gown with its thickening plume at her buttocks and the perfect length to hover from the floor, letting her shoes peek out. "Doesn't the princess look lovely tonight? And dinner was wonderful was it not?!" Her eyes were wide, mouth hanging open with confusion, but soon even the ballroom slipped away instead she sat at a smaller table, with a gathering of neatly dressed people before her. She wore a simpler version of her gown, but with the same fair neckline of satin and petite detailing, a presentable outfit. Her shoes had lost their accessorizing bow, but still had the faint twinkle of some sorta of applique gem on the sides.

"Oh Malena, did you hear about the ball at the palace? I heard the princess looked lovely as usual! And their food! No one will stop gossiping about how good the food is!" Malena looked around, spying the height of the castle walls outside the window of the restaurant. "B-b-but?!"

Then, she found herself in a rougher dress. She felt the scrape of cheap cotton against her flesh now made the rosy gown. The additional layer of the skirt had been torn off, making the dress of the woman beside her instead- as common in poorer households. Beneath it, she could see her shoes marked with dust and grime of the streets, the mark of a working woman. Her hair lacked its curl, hanging with a dull pink shade with the faint texture of a day without washing. Her hands dipped into the washing water, cold to the touch! Someone tapped her shoulder, a shoulder covered in a cheap shawl. "Come to dinner, Malena. We get to have meat tonight since its Friday!"

"Meat? Friday? We eat meat everyday?"

The woman laughed, "That's funny. This isn't the castle, Malena. Who do you think you are? A princess? Hah!" Malena starred, feeling her life slip through her fingers, though soon dinner wasn't the scene at all. She found herself back at the castle! Hope flooded through her. The sight of a buttered, glistening roll lured her closer until a sharp hand swatted her away from the plate. "What do you think you are doing?" Pain throbbed through her hand before she realized they were red, raw from hot water and water stained the front of her dress with a large, dark splotch. The puffs of her sleeves were gone, just a faint ribbon laying against the top of her arm.

"Get back to the dishes, Malena! The princess is throwing a ball for the nobles, not for some street urchin like you! Dishes! Now!" She spotted the door to the kitchen open briefly, flashing the images of all the nobles eating, chatting idly before dishes clattered into the sink before her and sent dirty water spraying over her drab gown, now worn away so the pink was dull and faded. Water sprayed up onto the pale pink, now coated with splotches and stains some fresh and still wet while others were old, faded as though she'd worn the same dress through numerous shifts in the bustling kitchen.

The water suddenly chilled and the dress thinned. Holes sent cold air streaming in through the rosy fabric, now even more wore. Rips send the inner layer dragging along her ankles while the outer pink shell hung weakly off her hips. Suddenly out of the kitchen, Malena looked around frantically. The familiar walls of the castle were at her back, but the gate locked her out. Her feet shuffled around, finding her heels seemed to teeter, with the edges stretched so they didn't fit perfectly to her shoe and worse. Her dress had a tear at the hem, a hem that hovered midday down her calf torn with the ripped fragment stuck to a wobbly broken heel! Her beautiful pink shoes were now practically brown, covered with dirt and muck from the street. The gems were gone, leaving pock marks on the smooth silken finish and one heel broke off, making her teeter unsteadily where she stood while her foot shifted and slide within the shoe itself. With her skirt torn, a slice of her skin showed before her sagging socks began! The lace top of her socks was torn, hanging limply against the side of her ankle. She glanced around madly, trying to place herself before she suddenly noticed the cup in her hand. She felt her arm jut out, waving the cup towards the nobles he stepped out from the castle. When the cup tinkled with the weight of a single coin, she felt a mixture of delight and dread.

"Where is my life! I'm a princess!" She thought, feeling tears stream down her cheeks before suddenly the scene changed again. Now the castle was no where in sight, cold air pressed all around her. The dress she wore before faded into broken fragments of material, rags made from her formerly beautiful dress clung to a thin, bare-bones body. Her hair hung out, no longer pink at all, but dark with dirt and sweat clumping it into chunks. Tangles knotted it into a rat's nest against the back of her head. The pink coloring appeared gray beneath the grim on top of every strand and barely showed at all. When she breathed, she smelled her own sweat and the stench of garbage. Her lips were chapped, dry, void of any lipstick or even cream. Her toes wiggled, touching the cool night air through a tear in the front of her wearing shoes, now appearing more like slippers with heels broken and the sides so worn they no longer held their shape. Only one foot had a shoe, if her destroyed heels could be called a shoe, and it lacked a sock while the other had a single,torn covering. Her foot shifted, and she saw a single toe jutting out through the shoes with the nail ripped, unpainted. The bow had been torn off longer before, leaving it with a torn mark on top. The diamond glitters had disappeared, leaving pimple-like scars on the edge of the shoe and the rose had remained tethered, but unraveled so it streamed behind her like a piece of discarded tissue. The satin shade in her favorite hue of pink was dark with muck, grime not longer even showing the coloring of blooming flowers but of dish water, dirt from the roads, and worse the stains of unidentifiable substance from the very alley she stood in. One heel broken off, she clacked awkwardly when she moved and stumbled unsteadily like a drunk hobbling out from a closing bar. The very sight of her shoes, broken and destroyed, seemed a metaphor for her entire life taken from crisp, beautiful perfection to disgusting waste.

She whimpered, suddenly feeling a cold air rush through and whisk her thin skirt up to show her legs, unshaven and coated with dust and grim, particularly her knees. Her eyes clenched shut, fluttering between closed and open as she tried to push the nightmare away.

"This can't be happening! This can't be happening! I'm not a urchin! I'm a princess! I'm a princess! I am a princess!" Tears streamed down her cheek, making tracks through the dust before someone smacked across the damp skin, and her eyes popped open.

"First off, shut the fuck up. You're freaking out my patrons with all your yammering, you little brat. Second," The burly man shifted, holding out a pair of tall, platform shoes in a cherry red. At least four inches of platform raised the maid shoe off the ground with faint lines marking of the inches as if to highlight just how ridiculously tall they were, then laced straps would pull them onto the ankles. She swallowed at the sight, recognizing them as 'slut shoes.' They'd clack against the cobblestone loudly like a call for customers for someone who roamed and worked in a cover of darkness. "You want a new life. Something different than this." He nodded down to her ragged clothing. "Then take these shoes."

She hesitated with one hand hovering in the air between herself and the man's hand that held the shoes out like an offering. He held them by the straps so they dangled, like an apple from a tree.

Would she take the forbidden fruit? A gateway to a life she'd never known? With a final tear streaking down her dirtied, throbbing cheek her hands clasped onto the shoes and she took them, plucking them down from the man's grasp.

Outside the dream, the queen lounged back against her bed. Her eyes were on Malena's true form, curled on the floor shivering with distress and the cold she felt in her dream and also her imagined form that had taken the shoes, the cherry-red, slutty platforms. A sneer covered the queen's lips, stretching out her own deep rouge lips over perfect, sharp white teeth that glinted in the paling, evening light. One hand rubbed along her neck, idly working out any kinks while she focused on the tear dripping off Malena's cheek and onto her new shoes while in real life the queen eyed her perfect, pink pumps scratching against the floor.

A self-satisfied glow radiated out from her lips, silently gloating the step Malena had take towards her own fall. Her actions, though dreamed, brought her closer to crossing a line. A line that once crossed would forever bare her from re-gaining her old life as a princess...