The Universe's Mixer

The cottage where she lived had taken to dressing her - whether or not Beauty agreed with the cottage's idea of fashion. This morning, she'd had a good long row with the invisible force over its latest decision on what she was to wear. The dress it left on the foot of her bed had been entirely too clingy, entirely too daring, entirely too thin, entirely too inappropriate for... for anything, and above all, entirely too pink for Beauty's tastes.

There was little choice in the matter. In the end, after her quiet denials, her pleading requests, her firm insistence, and finally an all-out physical battle to stay out of the dress, Beauty found herself, disheveled, panting, and exhausted, sprawled on the floor of her cottage. ( And most decidedly IN the dress. )