"Princess Peach's Awakening from Her Manly Dream"
1 Points
1
You sigh, shutting down another tab, laptop’s screen a pale blue in your darkened bedroom. Just another bland Tuesday—the groceries, the emails, the nagging sense that somehow existence should be bigger, or brighter, or...something. Weariness clings to you as you fumble for your nightlight, setting it to a gentle glow. “Another day,” you mutter, “means another dollar.”
With that lackluster note, you tug the blankets high and let sleep claim you.
---
What rouses you is not an alarm or the sun’s wedge under your blinds, but warmth—a soft, enveloping comfort. Your limbs feel oddly adrift, as though the bed beneath is made of clouds. You inhale, and the air is perfumed with the faintest note of peach blossoms.
Your eyes blink open to a haze of rose-pink silk and gold, a canopy far too ornate to be your bedroom ceiling. For a moment, you’re paralysed, sensing something is off. This isn’t your room. This isn’t even your bed. A distant trill of songbirds floats through the air, and outside the window, sunlight dances on the dew-tipped turrets of a castle.
Confused, you scramble upright—the action strange, almost unbalanced.
Your body feels...different.
Ribbons of gold hair spill about your shoulders, tickling your arms. You stare at your hands; they’re smaller, graceful, the nails immaculate and polished. You can’t help but cup one, feeling the suppleness, the lack of calluses. There’s this lilt to your posture, the soft friction of fine cloth brushing your skin.
You push back the covers—and freeze.
A pink, flowing dress drapes over your unfamiliar frame, poofed sleeves and all. Your chest—your _chest_—feels suddenly full and heavier. Two undeniable mounds push out the silk fabric, shifting when you move. Instinctively, you reach up, gaping as your hands confirm the unmistakable presence of soft, sensitive breasts.
“What the—?!” you gasp, but your voice is all wrong: it’s high and lilting, playful and...feminine.
Your hands explore, trembling, feeling the cinched in curve of your waist, the generous fullness of your hips and thighs—the dress pressed tight around curves you never had. A strange, gentle weight at your ears reveals dangling sapphire earrings.
You leap to your feet, heart pounding, only to stagger. You’ve...grown taller, towering above the vanity. Unbelievable, but you have to look. You rush—a little clumsily—to the nearest ornate mirror.
A princess stares back at you.
Her skin is flawless, glowing; her blue eyes huge and sparkling; her lips are painted peach-pink. A golden crown perched in masses of blonde hair, the logo unmistakable. Your mind reels: _That’s Princess Peach._ But—no, _that’s you._
“No, no, no, this can’t be!” you whisper, desperate, but your voice floats in the air like a melody. You step closer to the glass, grab handfuls of your long blonde hair, pull open your dress—yes, there they are, those delicate, impossible curves, the height, the jewelry, the crown.
Breath shallow, you glance further down. Awkward, awkward, but necessity wins out. You tug aside the skirt, heart racing. Where your old body should be, there is only womanhood. You stare, utterly bewildered. “I’m... I’m a girl now?” you say, hand pressed over your mouth, voice trembling with disbelief.
Your legs give way, sinking to the stool by the mirror, feeling the tight, unfamiliar press of wide hips beneath soft pink fabric. But as your mind races for answers, precious memories begin to slip away, as if someone is pulling soft, silken veils over your thoughts.
Wait. What was your name, again? Your _real_ name, your voice protests, but what bubbles up instead is—“P- Peach?”
No, no, that’s impossible. You're not Peach, some corner of your mind tries to scream. But the void yawns wider, and so many things become uncertain. Why does that memory bother you? What were you doing last night before—before what? You struggle to recall your old apartment, your parents, your friends back home. But the faces won't focus, names all slipping away, vanishing beneath a rising tide of pink.
Still, you grapple desperately for your identity. “Come on,” you beg yourself, grabbing your reflection’s delicate wrist, heartbeat fast. “Remember! My name is—” But as you try to force your name from your lips, it comes out as:
“My name is Peach. Wait—I meant, that’s not right, my name is...Peach. Princess Peach. I was... No!” Yet even your own voice sounds so sure, so naturally at home with the royal title. Your brow furrows as you try once more—your father’s name, your mother’s eyes, your job, your favorite food. Each vanishes in a swirl of pink and white, replaced by memories both foreign and tender: the warmth of tea parties with Daisy, the thrill of hover-jumping across vast platforms, the scent of royal gardens after rain.
“I have to remember, I have to—” you whisper, but your mind clouds, comfort seeping through every corner. And suddenly, all that urgency, all that confusion, just melts away, leaving you with the resounding certainty that you are—and have always been—Princess Peach.
The sense of dislocation fades; your feet swing from the vanity stool and touch down with newfound poise. The mirror shows you perfection: a six-foot-one vision of royal elegance, crowned and resplendent. You turn sideways, admiring how your dress accentuates your waist and hips, the way your lips curve naturally into a serene smile.
_“What an odd dream that was...”_ you muse, drawing in a soft breath as everything clicks perfectly into place. You’re not sure why, but there was a moment where you felt... lost, somehow, unsure of yourself. Silly! You, Peach, always levelheaded—perhaps you were up too late last night, arranging the castle for Daisy’s visit.
You brush a stray hair behind your ear, giggling. “Time to get ready,” you sing, stepping toward the window. The Mushroom Kingdom stretches before you, glistening and green. Yes, today Princess Daisy will be arriving—how exciting!
Downstairs, Toadstool attendants bustle through the marble halls, and you find yourself humming as you float down the stairs, each click of your red heels signaling purpose and elegance. Pausing at a grand mirror, you tilt your head, crown gleaming in the sunlight, practicing your warmest smile for the guests.
“Today will be just wonderful,” you declare, voice clear, gentle, and unwavering—unyieldingly, irreversibly, beautifully Peach. And in your heart, there is not a shadow of doubt: this is who you are, and who you have always been.
This story was generated by user dylan7 with assistance by one of OpenAI’s large-scale language-generation model; prompts used to help generate the story are shown below.
Images were generated with OpenAI's AI system, DALL·E 2, or uploaded by the user.
AI Prompts
Prompt: Write the POV second-person transformation story of a male human turning into Princess Peach from the Mario franchise, complete with gender change (the man turning from male to female, a pair of womanly breasts grows on his chest as his body becomes more curvy and feminine (his waist shrinks while his hips and thighs thicken with sexy feminine fat) while his Adam's apple in his throats vanishes (thus making his voice higher-pitched and feminine) as his male genitals (testicles and a penis) invert itself and sucks into his body with a wet "pop" to turn into a vagina, ovaries, and uterus), instant clothes change, age change (turning from whatever age the man was into a 25 year old), height progression (growing in height from an average 5.7-6 foot height to 6.1 feet (183 centimeters) tall without the crown, and +2 inches with the crown), and mind/mental change (with the man's personalities and memories being completely replaced with Peach's personality and memories, despite the man's best efforts of fighting his/her new personality and memories, making the former man completely forget she was a man (which she realized was not real), even forgetting that the transformation that just occurred seconds ago (which she knows it never happened), and remembers that she had always been a princess named Peach, which she always knew that this is her real/true self). The transformation is permanent (meaning it is forever) and is completely irreversible. For Princess Peach's appearance (after the man turned into her), she is an elegant ruler of the Mushroom Kingdom. Like most human characters in the Mario franchise, Peach has distinctively blue eyes. She has long blonde hair which reaches her waist in length with two sideburns and a heart‐shaped bang covering her forehead. She usually puts it into a ponytail for most of her more active appearances in sports. She also wears a pair of sapphire earrings and applies mascara, black eyeliner, and peach‐colored lipstick. In terms of height, the only human characters taller than her are Pauline, Waluigi, and Rosalina (though Pauline may be slightly shorter as she in fact wore higher heels). Peach's primary outfit consists of a floor-length pink dress with short puffy sleeves, a dark pink raised collar, hem, and panniers, and a sapphire brooch set in gold. Accompanying it is a golden crown with four jewels set in gold—one ruby at each of the front and back and one sapphire at each side (as a matter of fact, Peach's emblem is her crown), white evening gloves with scalloped openings, and red high-heeled pumps. Here are Peach's powers and abilities; As early as Super Mario Bros. Princess Peach was shown that she can undo the evil spell caused by Bowser. Since her first playable appearance, Princess Peach can hover and attack enemies. Like other characters, she can ground pound and run. She has unique powers that included pink hearts or fruit peaches. Peach can transform with the use of power-ups. As seen in some of the video games such as "Super Mario Bros 2", Peach is not physically strong, but is still athletic like Mario, Luigi, Daisy, and others. Princess Peach can use her parasol for support and weaponry. She alsl uses it to glide and shade herself. Here is Peach's personality; Being a princess, Peach is sweet, kind, optimistic, friendly, and experienced. Despite people refusing for help like Mimi refusing from herself, Peach is determined to help people in need. Peach has a lot of experience while she lacks learning from it. Bowser always kidnaps Peach due to her ability that she can undo the spell. Another theory is that Bowser loves Peach (as seen in the video game "Super Paper Mario"), but Peach does not love him back. After Mario rescues her, she compliments him for saving her. Peach and Daisy are close friends and friendly rivals. The two young royal women have similar behavior and abilities, but different traits and affiliations. Peach can cry easily when she is sad. While Peach usually seems naïve, she is generally level-headed, knows when to take charge, and shows more common sense and observance than those around her, such as noticing a Mario doppelganger (Shadow Mario) in the Isle Delfino vacation guide video's background in the video game "Super Mario Sunshine", insisting that an emergency meeting continues even after it is briefly interrupted by Bowser and deducing what Fawful was planning regarding her in the video game "Mario & Luigi: Bowser's Inside Story", and talking a stubborn Bowser into joining her and Mario in "Super Paper Mario". She often acts as a peacemaker, such as in the video game "Super Smash Bros. Brawl" (more specifically "Adventure Mode: The Subspace Emissary"), she offers tea to Fox and Sheik in order to stop them from fighting, and later converts Mr. Game & Watch to their cause. She also has a feisty side, which shines through particularly well in her comic appearances. Besides sports, Peach is also into ballroom dancing, video games, and gardening, and seems to enjoy exploring and trying new things. Although she is generally depicted as kind, sociable, and generous in most games, the "Mario Strikers" games do show a slightly more arrogant and petulant side to Peach, including her pitching a fit to one of her teammates and eventually jumping in a tantrum if the opposing team scores; in "Mario Strikers: Battle League", though, she will regain her composure. A similar temperamental nature can be observed if the player fails to flip food in time and have it land on the floor in the Modern versions of Chef, where Peach will either stomp her foot in frustration (in the video game "Game & Watch Gallery 2") or otherwise put her hand over her head and scream repeatedly in frustration before proceeding to wince (in the video game "Game & Watch Gallery 4"), in either case causing Yoshi to crouch down in fear. Peach is shown to have a brave side of her personality, most notably in both of her starring appearances, in the video game "Super Princess Peach", in which she is the sole heroine who saves the Mario Bros. and the Mushroom Kingdom, as well as in the video game "Princess Peach: Showtime!" where she teams up with Stella to save the Sparkle Theater from Grape and the Sour Bunch. This trait is also shown in in the other video games, such as Super Mario Bros. 2, Super Mario 3D World, Super Mario Run, Super Mario RPG: Legend of the Seven Stars, Super Paper Mario, Mario + Rabbids: Kingdom Battle, and Mario + Rabbids: Sparks of Hope, in which Peach is among the heroines. The story is that the male reader is minding his own business as usual, dealing with his/her own activities or something. Later at night, the reader is tired and is ready to go to bed in the bedroom of his home (on Earth), preparing himself for another mundane day, and he tucks himself in and he is fast asleep. The reader and the reality then all change/shift (which all happens while the reader is asleep, so he doesn't notice that happen), and it all takes place during the reader's sleep. The reader, now completely female, wakes up and finds herself in the world of Super Mario Bros, more specifically in Princess Peach's bedroom located within Princess Peach's Castle. The reader was confused on what's going on, so the reader goes up to a nearby mirror and investigates herself, finding herself as Princess Peach. The reader checks her chests to find womanly breasts, as well as her waist, hips, and thighs to find that she now had feminine curves, and she checks her crotch between her legs to find that her now-absent penis and testicles had fully changed into a woman's sex organs (a vagina, ovaries, and uterus); all this made the reader realize that she was now a girl, even saying that out loud (more to herself). However, her mind started clouding up, as her previous personality and memories were fading away, and a new personality and memories of being a princess named Peach began replacing her older ones, despite her best efforts. She tried to remember her own old name, her previous manly appearance, her former family, and her previous home, but all to no avail, as she was instead remembering herself as Peach; in fact, she kept calling herself Peach, despite saying that she was not Peach and despite her efforts in calling herself by her former manly name, as she still said that her name was Peach (as if her name had always been Peach, and as if she had always known her name to have been Peach). After her physical and mental changes had fully completed (both ending at the same time), the reader, Peach, has completely forgotten that her supposed masculine self had occurred moments ago (since to her, she had always been a girl, and a princess at that), and her confusion is now over since she finally remembers what she was doing and she remembers who she was (she didn't know why she forgotten who she was a moment ago), and she remembers on what she was doing a moment ago, she was getting her castle ready for her friend Princess Daisy, and she continues on with her true life as Peach (which had always been who she is). There should also be quotes from the characters in this story (including quotes from the man) so we know what they're saying and what they're thinking. Also, it is a POV reader story, so it should not be in an author's point of view (my, I, mine, etc), and it should be from the point of view of the man/reader (you, your, etc).
Response: You sigh, shutting down another tab, laptop’s screen a pale blue in your darkened bedroom. Just another bland Tuesday—the groceries, the emails, the nagging sense that somehow existence should be bigger, or brighter, or...something. Weariness clings to you as you fumble for your nightlight, setting it to a gentle glow. “Another day,” you mutter, “means another dollar.” With that lackluster note, you tug the blankets high and let sleep claim you. --- What rouses you is not an alarm or the sun’s wedge under your blinds, but warmth—a soft, enveloping comfort. Your limbs feel oddly adrift, as though the bed beneath is made of clouds. You inhale, and the air is perfumed with the faintest note of peach blossoms. Your eyes blink open to a haze of rose-pink silk and gold, a canopy far too ornate to be your bedroom ceiling. For a moment, you’re paralysed, sensing something is off. This isn’t your room. This isn’t even your bed. A distant trill of songbirds floats through the air, and outside the window, sunlight dances on the dew-tipped turrets of a castle. Confused, you scramble upright—the action strange, almost unbalanced. Your body feels...different. Ribbons of gold hair spill about your shoulders, tickling your arms. You stare at your hands; they’re smaller, graceful, the nails immaculate and polished. You can’t help but cup one, feeling the suppleness, the lack of calluses. There’s this lilt to your posture, the soft friction of fine cloth brushing your skin. You push back the covers—and freeze. A pink, flowing dress drapes over your unfamiliar frame, poofed sleeves and all. Your chest—your _chest_—feels suddenly full and heavier. Two undeniable mounds push out the silk fabric, shifting when you move. Instinctively, you reach up, gaping as your hands confirm the unmistakable presence of soft, sensitive breasts. “What the—?!” you gasp, but your voice is all wrong: it’s high and lilting, playful and...feminine. Your hands explore, trembling, feeling the cinched in curve of your waist, the generous fullness of your hips and thighs—the dress pressed tight around curves you never had. A strange, gentle weight at your ears reveals dangling sapphire earrings. You leap to your feet, heart pounding, only to stagger. You’ve...grown taller, towering above the vanity. Unbelievable, but you have to look. You rush—a little clumsily—to the nearest ornate mirror. A princess stares back at you. Her skin is flawless, glowing; her blue eyes huge and sparkling; her lips are painted peach-pink. A golden crown perched in masses of blonde hair, the logo unmistakable. Your mind reels: _That’s Princess Peach._ But—no, _that’s you._ “No, no, no, this can’t be!” you whisper, desperate, but your voice floats in the air like a melody. You step closer to the glass, grab handfuls of your long blonde hair, pull open your dress—yes, there they are, those delicate, impossible curves, the height, the jewelry, the crown. Breath shallow, you glance further down. Awkward, awkward, but necessity wins out. You tug aside the skirt, heart racing. Where your old body should be, there is only womanhood. You stare, utterly bewildered. “I’m... I’m a girl now?” you say, hand pressed over your mouth, voice trembling with disbelief. Your legs give way, sinking to the stool by the mirror, feeling the tight, unfamiliar press of wide hips beneath soft pink fabric. But as your mind races for answers, precious memories begin to slip away, as if someone is pulling soft, silken veils over your thoughts. Wait. What was your name, again? Your _real_ name, your voice protests, but what bubbles up instead is—“P- Peach?” No, no, that’s impossible. You're not Peach, some corner of your mind tries to scream. But the void yawns wider, and so many things become uncertain. Why does that memory bother you? What were you doing last night before—before what? You struggle to recall your old apartment, your parents, your friends back home. But the faces won't focus, names all slipping away, vanishing beneath a rising tide of pink. Still, you grapple desperately for your identity. “Come on,” you beg yourself, grabbing your reflection’s delicate wrist, heartbeat fast. “Remember! My name is—” But as you try to force your name from your lips, it comes out as: “My name is Peach. Wait—I meant, that’s not right, my name is...Peach. Princess Peach. I was... No!” Yet even your own voice sounds so sure, so naturally at home with the royal title. Your brow furrows as you try once more—your father’s name, your mother’s eyes, your job, your favorite food. Each vanishes in a swirl of pink and white, replaced by memories both foreign and tender: the warmth of tea parties with Daisy, the thrill of hover-jumping across vast platforms, the scent of royal gardens after rain. “I have to remember, I have to—” you whisper, but your mind clouds, comfort seeping through every corner. And suddenly, all that urgency, all that confusion, just melts away, leaving you with the resounding certainty that you are—and have always been—Princess Peach. The sense of dislocation fades; your feet swing from the vanity stool and touch down with newfound poise. The mirror shows you perfection: a six-foot-one vision of royal elegance, crowned and resplendent. You turn sideways, admiring how your dress accentuates your waist and hips, the way your lips curve naturally into a serene smile. _“What an odd dream that was...”_ you muse, drawing in a soft breath as everything clicks perfectly into place. You’re not sure why, but there was a moment where you felt... lost, somehow, unsure of yourself. Silly! You, Peach, always levelheaded—perhaps you were up too late last night, arranging the castle for Daisy’s visit. You brush a stray hair behind your ear, giggling. “Time to get ready,” you sing, stepping toward the window. The Mushroom Kingdom stretches before you, glistening and green. Yes, today Princess Daisy will be arriving—how exciting! Downstairs, Toadstool attendants bustle through the marble halls, and you find yourself humming as you float down the stairs, each click of your red heels signaling purpose and elegance. Pausing at a grand mirror, you tilt your head, crown gleaming in the sunlight, practicing your warmest smile for the guests. “Today will be just wonderful,” you declare, voice clear, gentle, and unwavering—unyieldingly, irreversibly, beautifully Peach. And in your heart, there is not a shadow of doubt: this is who you are, and who you have always been.
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