Home Thoughts

Foregoing your evening meal, you stood before the ornate heirloom that dominated the bedroom. The wardrobe was supposed to have been a blessing, a gift from your grandmother, something to remind you of simpler times, something that could help you weather an unexpected financial storm if need be.

Now, looking at it, you weren’t sure how you felt about it. Yes, it was undeniably magical, which made you start to question your vague childhood memories of entering a magical land, having adventures. Were those real? You wished you could hold onto more details, but the more you tried to bring them forward, the farther they slipped from your mind.

And then there was the matter of the clothes. Why the hell was it making wear women’s clothes? Whatever spell it had cast on you, whatever power it had on your life, it didn’t seem to be slowing down. The appearance of the shorts at your work told you that much. The magic, you were sure of it, was from the wardrobe, but the effect was following you wherever you went. Earlier you’d thought of just getting rid of it, but now you weren’t sure that would work.

Besides, even in spite of the crossdressing, would you really want to change it? Your life, minus that one detail, had changed so dramatically for the better. Big promotion, your chief rival at your beck and call, and sex.

So.

Much.

Sex.

Maybe wearing panties and stockings was a fair trade.

Although you weren’t sure that it would stop there.

How far would the magic take it? How far would your reality change? Would there even be a semblance of your old life left? Of your old you?!

Hesitantly, you reached your hand out and touched the ornate woodwork. Hand carved, but by whom? When you received the wardrobe, there had been an appraisal report, but all you could remember was that it was old and valuable. Where had you put it? Would you even be able to find it again?

Sighing, knowing that even if you ignored the wardrobe, it would find a way to interfere with your life, you dropped your hand, turn away, and began to get out of your work clothes. You laugh as you disrobed, realizing how bizarre it was to think of what you were wearing as work clothes. Stockings, panties, Daisy Dukes, a shirt and tie. All of it smelling like sweat and sex. How quickly things had changed.

Then, naked, as you would have on a normal non-magical night, you opened the wardrobe to find something comfortable to wear. You didn’t need to go out that night, nor did you expect company. That night you'd be all alone, so it didn't matter too much what you'd wear, as long as it wasn't too humiliating.

You ignored the sock drawer, knowing full well what would be inside. You grabbed a pair of panties, baby-blue, silk, which would be better than nothing. Then you looked for your track pants, or, as you liked to call them, your lazy pants. You could see them, neatly folded where you expected them. You pulled them out. So far so good. Grey sweatpants were just what you needed. Finally you grabbed an old ratty t-shirt and closed up the wardrobe.

It was funny how quickly you'd gotten used to the feeling of panties rather than your boxer-briefs. But it didn't matter. Soon they'd be covered up. Then your t-shirt came on. Finally, you picked up your sweats, held them in front of you so you could step in, but you paused. Wait. Something was different.

They were the same colour, the same size, but now on the butt the words, in capital letters, "BABY GIRL" were emblazoned.

Another deep sigh escaped your lips as you donned your pants, deciding that it was time to eat.