Our TG Caption

“These aren’t.... Messing around...” You mumble, utterly baffled from the shear lunacy of what is happening. In the original fantasy, You pictured an even match: surrounded by a cyclone of enchanted clothes, you at the center gallantly fighting them off... You try your best. But your “best” is laughably miserable.You are weak, scrawny, and have the fine motor skills of a slightly confused old man. The new body do absolutely nothing to change this, lending to an experience best described as swift, messy, and horrendously overwhelming. Your original clothes are taken off in seconds, leaving the former-you nakedly vulnerable, pushing and screaming and pretending to not absolutely love this. If your wardrobe could sigh in exasperation, it would have. Fabrics effortlessly affixed themselves to your limbs and floated you several feet above the ground, rendering any attempt to struggle near impossible. “Oh, wow, uh, you’re really strong, huh? I know, I know, Jeannie made you strong, but I was expecting to at least have some , eep!” A black lingerie set,classy, patterned, and off-puttingly transparent,slid on. You blush at the site in the mirror, almost feeling shy to see such a beautiful person dress so brazenly... Though this was quickly mitigated, your other clothes impatient to get you dressed. It was really hot. The dress is a perfect match, going for a similar effect. Your sexy body is covered-up, but there is no denying the sumptuous quality of his womanly hips, awe-inspiring derrière and elegantly toned legs. Jon was, with no room for argument, thicc. The final piece of the ensemble is a pair of strappy high heeled sandals. Likely to attract onlookers and degenerates everywhere, your tiny and delicate feet were forced into painful arches. A position they’d have to maintain while supporting the rest of your curvy, misbalanced self. You gulp at this realization. But the clothes do not care. They are done with dress up, and that meant slowly lowering their victim back to the floor, leaving him to contemplate the end result in his new mirror. “Oh, holy... Wow.” Jon initially struggled to get the words out, barely registering that this was him. “This is unbelievable! I look hot! And like a trophy wife! I’m a hot woman -- gah!!!” The dress sharply pinched your rear, unhappy with his use of un-ladylike language. “Right, sorry. I, uh, am just amazed at how wonderful I look dressed up like this?” No response, the clothes seemed content. “Didn’t expect you to be this strict with keeping me in character...” The outfit is very strict with keeping him in character, making sure to pose you with the showy refinement expected of classy ladies like himself. The sandals, meanwhile, has decided that you should shift his balance to the side. One lifts its heel from the floor, forcing you to daintily bend his leg and lean on the other. The dress is smoothing this entire process, making sure to keep you upright while softly guiding any extraneous hip movements. Yet, the ensemble do a fantastic job making the whole presentation feel natural, only the most watchful of observers would notice how the beauty struggled against her own feminine motions. Time to take it a level further. You try to walk It is quickly evident that the clothes have a stony grip on that as well. The moment Jon willed his leg forward, the high heel guided his foot into taking a short, gentle step, landing right in front of the other with the precision of a runway model. Hot. You try several more steps, unable to stop yourself from sauntering with practiced sensuality. The skirt exaggerated this further, swinging his ample backside to and fro like some sort of shapely pendulum. Really hot. You maintain a look of cold frustration, pretending to be hating every moment of this... But that was all to show Frank and Jeannie later. In truth, he can hardly keep his excitement down for much longer. You hear Jeannie's voice : "You know I can read your thoughts, right?" You: "Shit ..Ouch..Stop pinching..Sorry"

You look again at yourself at the mirror.