Fairy Godmother from the Space
“Oh,” Cinderella said, clutching the broom handle close to her chest as she watched the carriage with her stepmother and sisters trundle down the street. “If only I could go to the ball.”
“Sounds like my cue,” came a voice from behind her.
Cinderella jerked, turning around as quickly as she could and holding the broom before her as if it were a weapon. Then she blinked at the sight of a woman about her own age sitting on the kitchen table. The woman might have been pretty, save for her scandalous clothes – she even wore pants. “What?” Cinderella lowered her broom.
“I’m your fairy godmother,” the other woman said, grinning broadly. “From outer space.” Cinderella stared blankly. “Never mind. Anyway, you want to go to the ball and I need to do more fairy godmothering to get off probation. So let’s make magic and work together.”
“Are you quite sure about that?” Cinderella asked politely. Years ago, before her father had passed away, he told her stories about fairy godmothers. She’d never imagined something like this. “Do you have a magic wand?”
“No, but I’ve got the fastest 3D printer ever made. Just as good really!” Her fairy godmother pointed to a large device on the other side of the kitchen table that Cinderella hadn’t noticed earlier. “Let’s see, you’ll need a nice dress – no offense, but most princes don’t dig the patchwork, chimney sweep look.” Cinderella glanced self-consciously down at her dirty and much repaired dress. “Shower and a nice ‘do,” her fairy godmother continued, “and a sweet ride there and back. Do you prefer Ferrari’s or Lamborghini’s?”
“What?” Cinderella said, feeling a bit stupid.
Her fairy godmother shook her head. “Ah, Aston gal, huh? Well, it never did Bond any harm. The prince might drool more over it than you though, just as a warning. Right, let’s get your sizes.” She pulled out a tape measure with an unholy look in her eyes.
Cinderella took a step back. “I appreciate the help, Fairy Godmother, but I have lots of chores to take care of. Even if you magic up a lovely dress, I won’t be able to go to the ball.” Her godmother continued to advance on her and Cinderella soon found herself backed into a corner.
“Hey, don’t sweat the chores. I brought the interns along.” Her godmother attacked her with the tape measure. While trying (and failing) to control her blush, Cinderella looked past her godmother and saw two teenagers. One, a pale, weedy boy, was moping the floor while a handsome lad with brown skin washed the dishes. “You break anything and it’s coming out of your salaries,” her godmother called to the young men without looking away from Cinderella’s breasts, which surely didn’t require such scrutiny to just measure.
“What salary?” asked the handsome one.
“I can always pay you a negative amount,” her godmother said, moving down to Cinderella’s hips.
The weedy teenager looked up with a forlorn look. “Is that possible?”
“Let’s not find out,” the handsome one said.
Her godmother cackled. “I knew you were capable of intelligence.” She finally withdrew her tape measure, and Cinderella breathed out. “Right, I was thinking something chic and sequined and low cut.” Her godmother started messing with the large device, muttering softly to herself. “There, what do you think about that?”
Cinderella stepped beside her and saw a small picture on the side of the device. “No,” she said firmly. “That is not a dress.” It failed to reach the knees or the breasts.
“Stupid, outdated fashions. Right, we’ll search the Ren Faire collection.” She poked at the machine for a bit and new pictures appeared. Cinderella hummed in approval – these were much better. Well, some still had issues (what sort of dress involved mail?) but eventually Cinderella saw one she liked. “Right. While that’s printing, you go take a shower, and I’ll see about your Aston Martin. Hey, slackers!” She turned to the young men. The pale one was peering intently at a small device that fit in his hand while the handsome one had lit up a cigarette. “There’s plenty more to do in this shit hole!”
“Excuse me?” Cinderella said. She spent lots of time cleaning the house and wasn’t about to listen to anyone, even her fairy godmother, bad mouth it.
Her godmother waved a hand. “Eh, I’m sure you do your best, but without Lysol it’s a battle you’ll never win. Now jump to it, you lazy bastards!” The handsome young man finished his cigarette and went out to the garden while the pale one started the laundry.
Cinderella watched for a moment before leaving for her bath. She washed quickly, keenly aware that the ball must have already begun. Once clean, she touched her hair carefully. After the Incident with the Tape Measure (in her mind, it definitely deserved capital letters), she decided not to let her godmother anywhere near it. She ran a brush through it quickly then plaited a few braids to frame her face.
When she let the bath room, she gasped. A lovely, turquoise dress hung over the strange device. It had puffy sleeves and a long, swishy skirt. She ran her fingers down the fabric, marveling at how soft it felt. She ducked back into the bathroom to change.
She didn’t see her godmother inside. The handsome man, who was repairing the plumbing, pointed her outside. “Oh, my,” Cinderella said, clasping her hands over her mouth.
“Pure sex, this is,” her godmother said, smirking. She reclined on a horseless carriage which seemed to glitter in the moonlight. “Hop in. Probably best if I drive.” She jumped in and sat in the seat behind the wheel. Cinderella cautiously sat beside her, careful not to snag her dress on the door.
The carriage jolted into motion. Cinderella gasped and grabbed the door in a death grip. It bounced madly over the cobblestone street, and Cinderella had to swallow her nausea. It was the most thoroughly unpleasant experience she’d ever had, not helped that her godmother had the carriage play some song about a pretty woman. It was short, at least. They reached the castle in mere minutes, and Cinderella stumbled out as soon as the carriage stopped.
“Never again,” she said, leaning against the side, breathing hard.
“What is this most magnificent sight?” asked the most gorgeous voice Cinderella had ever heard. She jerked up to see the prince himself walk down the front stairs, his eyes wide. She’d swooned over him from a distance many a time, but up close he was perfect. He put her godmother’s handsome intern to shame.
She stood upright, patting her hair into place and fixing a demure smile on her face. “Thank you, Your Highness.”
The prince walked right past her, seeming not to hear. Cinderella’s mouth dropped open as he leaned over the carriage, touching it reverently. “Never have I seen anything more beautiful.”
Cinderella’s godmother winked. “I did warn you about the dangers of an Aston,” she said.
“You have got to be kidding me,” Cinderella huffed. Then she eyed the prince closely. Coming to a decision, she grabbed his arm and yanked him away from the carriage, forcing him to look at her. “If you marry me, Your Highness, you can have the carriage too.”
“Really?” the prince said, his eyes lighting up.
“Whoa!” her godmother said. “That isn’t part of the deal! This is a rental! And anyway, he isn’t supposed to marry you for your car!”
Cinderella shrugged. “I really don’t care. I just want to get away from my stepmother and stepsisters. Marrying the prince is the easier way to do that.” She glanced at the prince. “Besides, he’s pretty. I think I can manage.”
Her godmother laughed.