Our TG Caption

(Inspired from fictionbranches.net) You run from the room to the library like room upstairs. To anyone watching you, this is undoubtedly an odd sight. You are a fine wine, elegant yet delicate, regal yet brimming with curvaceous personality. But you are frantically jumping around, closing blinds and locking your door like the apocalypse was coming. Truly an odd site indeed. You sit down near the bed, appreciating the cushiony feeling of your new buttocks. But you don’t dare survey your body further. You are too distracted, too fearful of what was to come. How long has it been since Jeannie made the wish? How long until his so called clothes made it to his room and forced their way in? One second. Two seconds. ...Nothing is happening. Three seconds. Four seconds. Silence. Save for the jarring sound of his own heart beat, wildly pumping with preemptive adrenaline. Five seconds. KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK. You let out a high-pitched shriek. Knocking. Something is outside thr room knocking at the door, like some sort of door-to-door salesman! “Who is it? Jeannie?” You asked in your new sing-song voice. A pause. Then even more knocking. “I’m not coming out,” the boy-you-turned-woman continued, slowly falling into the narrative Jeannie had designed for yourself. “No matter what you think, I’m a GUY. You can’t make me play this weird game!” The door handle starts shacking wildly, as if whatever is standing outside is losing its patience. You adamantly sit still. Another pause. Then... Nothing. Are the clothes going to break down the door? Or Are they trying to bait you out like some diseased animal? You watch on silently. Then you gasp. A crack. Right there, between the door and the floor, just a sliver of space marginally tall enough to let an insect pass through. Except, it isn’t an insect passing through. It is a pair of panties,deep pink in color and very obviously built for someone with distinct proportions,sliding along the floor with snake-light fluidity. It twisted upwards, reaching for the knob. Oh no. The door swung open. Underwear and top and dress and shoes. All floating there like ghastly spirits, all eager to be the first thing worn by your striking new body. You gulp. They pounce.