Chapter #7Do something alse by: Unknown   The park was bustling with life under the sun. Birds chirped, children laughed, and the occasional jogger huffed past—completely unaware of the tiny, grinning girl sitting on a bench, swinging her legs idly. I felt like playing a little game.
With a snap of my fingers, I decided to reshape the wardrobes of anyone who walked in front of me. Not their bodies, not their minds—just their clothes. And, of course, their entire wardrobe at home, along with every outfit they’d ever own in the future. Best of all? No one would even notice. I crossed my legs and waited, my eyes twinkling with mischief. Let’s see who walks by first.
First came a tall, stern-faced man in a crisp black suit marched down the path, phone pressed to his ear. "Johnson, those numbers better be on my desk by—"
Snap.
His suit melted into a sleek, navy-blue pencil skirt and matching blazer. A silk blouse replaced his shirt, and his dress shoes transformed into stylish heels. He didn’t even pause mid-stride.
"Johnson, those numbers better be on my desk by five," he continued, his voice unchanged. His closet at home? Now filled with professional women’s wear. His dry-cleaning receipts? Adjusted accordingly. History rewrote itself seamlessly.
Next, A group of three lanky boys shuffled by, hoodies sagging, sneakers scuffed. One shoved another playfully. "Dude, your mom still packs your lunch?"
Snap. Snap. Snap.
Hoodies became pastel cardigans. Baggy jeans turned into high-waisted skirts. Sneakers morphed into ballet flats. The boys blinked, then kept walking.
"Bro, why’re you wearing my skirt?" one muttered, tugging at the fabric.
"It’s my skirt, idiot," another shot back, adjusting his hair clip.
Their closets at home now overflowed with dresses, skirts, and hair accessories. Their parents? Always remembered them preferring girlier styles.
A young couple approached, pushing a stroller with their baby boy. The husband, in a plain T-shirt and jeans, cooed at their baby boy in a tiny baseball onesie.
Snap. Snap. Snap.
The baby’s onesie became a frilly pink dress with lace trim. The husband’s outfit shifted into a floral sundress and sandals. The wife? Unaffected—but now grinning at her husband’s "new favorite dress."
"Hon, you look cute today," she said.
He glanced down, shrugged. "Thanks. It’s comfy."
Their closet at home? Full of sundresses and baby girl outfits. The baby’s first birthday photos? Always featured bows and ruffles.
Two muscular men jogged past, shirts drenched in sweat. "Man, my legs are killing me," one groaned.
Snap. Snap.
Their tank tops became sports bras. Their shorts? Now tight leggings with vibrant patterns. One man’s beard vanished, replaced by a sleek ponytail.
"Your leggings are sick, bro," the other said, panting.
"Yeah, they’re new. Wicked breathable."
Their gym bags? Packed with yoga pants and sports bras. Their laundry baskets? Always filled with pastel activewear.
A young couple, hand in hand, walked by. The guy wore a graphic tee and cargo shorts. The girl, a denim skirt and crop top.
Snap. Snap.
His clothes shifted into a matching sundress—same pattern as hers. She gasped. "Babe! You got the same dress as me? That’s so sweet!"
He looked down, blinked, then smiled. "Uh… yeah. Couple goals, right?"
Their shared closet? Now a rainbow of coordinated dresses. Their Instagram? Full of #Twinning posts.
I leaned back on the bench, satisfied. The park continued as if nothing had changed—because to them, nothing had. The sky was still blue, the grass still green, and their wardrobes? Always feminine.  indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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