Finish The Wardrobe

You found a bra in the next drawer. You slung it around your body and spent about 5 minutes gesticulating behind your back, trying to fasten the clasp shut. Once you were done making a fool of yourself you moved on to finding the thong. In the next drawer you found, what looked like, thousands of thongs. You didn't dwell on it and instead snapped a red frilly number from the top of the pile. You slipped it over your feet and felt it ride up against your loins. It tickled slightly and you were definitely not used to having material this far up your ass. You pulled at it attempting to remedy the tight body hugging quality, you'd kill for a pair of boxing briefs at this juncture. This whole experience was a host of things to get used to in rapid succession.

You went to put the yoga pants on. They were tight, you began to bounce up and down trying to get them up your thighs. The challenge increased when you reached your ass. You pulled on the edge of the fabric from both sides. This ass that you had clutched with white knuckled fingers. You'd spanked it red and loved seeing the welted hand mark on its underside. You felt the coiling sensation again. Your body was flush. You felt something else as well, a slight tingling between your legs. Like electricity deep inside. Your legs flexed and relaxed spasmodically trying to avoid the sensation. Finally you got the pants over your rump. You grabbed the top and were happy to simply tug a piece of clothing over your head.

Finally you grabbed you grabbed some sneakers from the back of the closest. These you know. As you are about to put them on you remember that you need to at least try to dress for this job, the leggings were already screwing this look up. Instead you grab some 4 inch heels, this was going to be the real struggle. You put on the spikes and attempt a couple steps. Half man and half bird you struggle to staccato across the bedroom floor. After a couple of pacing laps you begin to get a passable gate. Of all the new challenges, the shoes made you feel most ridiculous.

You regarded yourself in the mirror. You realize the top had a much deeper plunge then you had first anticipated. To add insult to injury, the bra you found, pressed your ample tits together. You turned and glanced at your butt. It flexed the material of the pants and you could just make out the outline of the red thong. Your phone blared and the message flashed up in bold letters. YOU'RE LATE, it read across the screen. You frowned, the outfit was hardly conservative but it'd have to do, you didn't want to be unemployed on top of this bizarre pantomime.

You looked at your face and are reminded of a glaring issue. You'd never seen Jane leave the house without a shred of makeup. It'd be noticed by someone and all you needed was extra questions you wouldn't know how to answer. You opened the bedroom door and formulated a plan. "Kimberly!" The girls head darted from downstairs.

"Can you help me do those wing tips you always do? You're much better then me at them." The girls face was beaming. She rushed up the stairs and burst into the room. She wasn't wearing a shirt and her breast shook in a bulky bra. It had it's work cut out for it as she shuffled around grabbing and checking an assortment of eye liners strewn across your vanity table. "Ah ha!" she exclaimed gripping the vile. She spun around and approached you. She looked at you quizzically, noticing your attention for the first time.

"Hey, earth to Jane, stop staring at my tits," You snapped up, your face turning crimson.

"I'm sorry it's just..."

"It's cool babe I'm teasing," she giggled and popped, the eyeliner open. Before she began applying it she looked at Jane’s face. "Babe, you're not wearing any foundation?" She frowned looking at you with an odd expression.

"Oh weird...must have forgotten," you were really blowing this. She turned back around, snatching another bottle from your counter.

"God I can't remember the last time you let me do your face, you’re so particular," Kimberly took out a small sponge and began to apply the foundation. She put on a quick coat expertly blending the corners. You felt your face tugged and pressed, not sure exactly what was transpiring. How the fuck did people do this daily? You barely washed your face on a good day.

Kimberly finished and began applying the eyeliner. It was an arduous process but you endured. Finally it was done and she stood, kissed you delicately on the head, and pranced out of the room.

"That women is a hurricane," you muttered, rising and facing the mirror. Well, clothing on, make up passable, now the real challenge begins.

What the hell were you doing. The thought strikes you as you finish shoving your laptop into your bag. You woke up in your girlfriend's body and discover that you, the person that you are, doesn't exist anymore and your first reaction is to put on clothing and makeup and go to work.

On an existential level, you don't know what to do. You think back on your musings from the night before. This could be your chance to experience what it was like to be her. Were you going to be able to do it? You had no idea but at least you could try and see what you learned. What was the other option? Lock yourself up? Keep calling strangers hoping someone remembered your name? No, this was supernatural, you had no idea what **** had altered your existence but you were going to just keep moving and hope life started to fall into place. With a new resolve, you shouldered the bag and headed for the door.