Our TG Caption

“You’ve always been female.”

“I’ve always been...female...” you say with a sigh. Of course you’ve always been female, but finally the memories come flooding back and your head starts not to hurt so much. You remember your first Barbie doll. Your first time kissing a boy. Playing soccer. Shopping with mom. Your blue prom dress. Your sorority sisters. Everything now is just...remembered. Why couldn’t you remember it just a moment ago? Oh well, it doesn’t matter now. But your head still hurts a little bit...

“Your name is Nicolette Danica George.”

“Nicolette Danica George...” you repeat as the memories of that name return with the tingle that comes when saying one’s full name. You can’t believe you forgot it! You were named after your great-grandmother, after all, and you always loved your name. Your head also finally stops throbbing. Things felt weird just a moment ago, but now you know who you are again.

“Nod if you feel good, Nicolette.”

You nod.

“Excellent. Time for some more...you aren’t that smart.”

“I’m not...that smart?” You ask. That didn’t seem right. You were never a nerd or anything, but you were in National Honor Society in high school and made the Dean’s List a couple times in college, plus you graduated with a degree in engineering. You certainly were pretty intelligent and took pride in it, plus you didn’t talk or act like some of your ditzy friends. But you wouldn’t ever say you were the SMARTEST girl out there...

“You’re not that smart.”

“I’m not that smart...” you repeat, shrugging while your IQ is reduced to a more average number. You never were anything special intellectually. You partied more than you studied anyway and were a B student for all of high school and college, and you graduated with a degree in communications. You’ve just been a pretty average girl in that regard.

“Actually...you’re dumb.”

“I’m, like, dumb,” you say, followed by a short giggle as your IQ gets even lower. Mentally, you were anything but the brightest bulb in the box. You didn’t do any sports besides cheerleading (because it was simple enough) and you didn’t give two shits about school, and just loved to party and drink and have sex and shop and all that. You are the epitome of immature, as well. You actually dropped out of university since your grades were so bad and you’ve been living it up at community college to try and earn a degree in something easy so your parents don’t get mad. You’ve had the “bimbo” label your whole life but you don’t mind it; you’re always so giggly and happy all the time and you rarely worry about much.

“You’re a very feminine.”

“I’m soooo feminine,” you say in a higher pitched voice, the resistance you once had now erased with your dumb brain. You were always super girly, always wearing makeup and heels and dresses, not playing sports, and loving shopping and fashion among other things. You fail to notice your appearance change in multiple ways. For starters, your hair goes up into pigtail braids, and much heavier makeup (notably cat eyes) adorns your face. Your top is also now pink, and your jeans are now a short white skirt. You are also now wearing your trademark heels.

“You go by Nikki with two k’s and always dot the i with a heart.”

“I...like, love the name Nikki!” You say with glee, remembering how boring and dull Nicolette sounded. Nikki was, like, sooooooo much better and cuter! Your name was the cutest.

At last satisfied, the man stops swinging the pendulum and you come to.

“Oh...like, my head hurts...” you whine. “Um, who are you and why are you, like, in my house again?”

“Oh don’t sweat it Nikki,” the man says. “I’m just here to help.”

“Uh, help with what?” You ask somewhat flirtatiously, unable to contain a giggle. He was kind of cute...