The wedding of lady tremaine

The next day, the grand ballroom of the royal palace was transformed into a stage of dark and triumphant opulence for Lady Tremaine's wedding.The wedding dress was a masterpiece of sin and elegance: pure white silk with touches of silver and black pearls, fitted like a second skin from the bodice to the wasp waist.

But the neckline was colossal—a deep and scandalous abyss that exposed most of her enormous breasts, those heavy, perfect spheres that rose and fell with every breath, threatening to spill out of the delicate lace at any moment. The skirt fell in voluptuous cascades with an endless train that trailed like a royal robe, but with high side slits that revealed creamy thighs and long legs with every step. A translucent veil of black tulle partially covered her face, but did not conceal the wicked smile that curved her full lips.

Lady Tremaine walked down the central aisle with feline grace, each step deliberate and sensual, her dress whispering forbidden promises. Her green eyes scanned the servants lined up on either side: maids and footmen lowering their gazes, blushing and trembling, unable to ignore the spectacle of their new queen. Several men of the court—nobles, guards, even some foreign guests—stared at her with shameless lust, swallowing hard, adjusting their shirt collars, their faces flushed with a desire they dared not name. She knew it; she relished it. Every glance was a tribute to her absolute power.

The King, the Prince's father, sat on the elevated throne, his mouth agape. His eyes widened at the sight: sin incarnate, draped in bridal white, beautiful as the most poisonous flowers in the royal garden. She was dazzling, regal, irresistible… and yet, a chilling premonition ran down his spine. Something about that serene smile, those eyes that promised domination more than love, made her grip the throne's arms tightly. Deep down, she knew she had just handed her kingdom over to a serpent wrapped in silk.

Anastasia and Drizella stood in the front row, dressed in bridesmaid gowns of vibrant red and emerald green that accentuated their own monstrous curves. They gazed at their mother with a mixture of burning envy and reverent admiration. Anastasia bit her lower lip, her eyes gleaming with jealousy as she whispered to Drizella,

Drizella, her arms crossed beneath her colossal breasts, muttered back,

Both felt a twisted pride, the woman who had lifted them from ugliness to absolute power now claimed the throne they had dreamed of.

The Prince waited at the end of the aisle, his eyes fixed on his bride with a blind, rapturous devotion. When Lady Tremaine reached his side, the officiant pronounced the eternal vows. She accepted in a soft, firm voice:

"I do."

The Prince, almost breathless, repeated the same.

They kissed before the altar a deep, possessive kiss that made the entire court gasp. Their lips met with a passion that was not romantic, but triumphant. Lady Tremaine cupped the Prince's face with a gloved hand, deepening the kiss as if sealing her conquest.

At the far end of the hall, almost invisible among the columns and shadows, Cinderella was cleaning a side corridor with an old rag and a bucket. Her new body—plump, clumsy, with angular, ugly features like those of her stepsisters in the past, her gray, disheveled hair falling in gray clumps—made her look even more insignificant. The simple blue dress was stained with dust and dirty water. Every time she looked up, she saw the distant scene: the radiant wedding, the kiss, the applause.

Her hands trembled over the cloth, a tear falling onto the floor she had just wiped.

Lady Tremaine, from the altar, turned her head slightly and caught sight of Cinderella's tiny figure in the distance. Her smile widened into a wicked, almost affectionate curve.

"Happily ever after, Cinderella~" she whispered to herself, as she embraced the new king and the court roared in celebration.

The kingdom had a new queen.