“You know, you don’t look like a human,” she says, touching her chin. “You look more like a pair of little girls underwear.”
“What?” You say.
The last thing you remember is the witch’s grin as she points her finger at you. It glows, and your vision blurs. You feel dizzy, like falling backward, and then everything fades out.
“There. I was right.” She nods to herself before reaching down to pick you up. She holds you: a brand new pair of panties. Your new form has small leg holes, laced with pink trim. She rubs her fingers over your cotton body, patterned with tiny pink hearts, and tests your thin waistband, featuring a cute little bow in front.
“Well, now that you’re in your proper form, I think it’s time you’re in your appropriate place. Farewell!” The witch snaps her fingers.
Her magic places you in a drawer, where you lay folded with other pairs of fresh underwear. You cannot move. You can’t see, smell, or hear. You can’t do anything a human can, as you are no longer human. The witch was right - you are a pair of children’s underwear and you are in the drawer of a little girl.
In the morning, the girl wakes up. She opens the drawer and her little hand pulls you out. She steps into you, and shimmies you up her legs before adjusting the waistband so that you rest more comfortably, and snug, around her waist. She goes to school, about her day, and you, yours, although there is nothing remarkable in the day of a pair of panties. Indeed, a pair of underwear is not even aware of its day.
She wears you to bed, and in the morning slides you down her legs. She kicks you away, and you lie crumpled to the side of her room until you are retrieved for laundry. Once you are washed, you are folded with the rest of her underwear and returned to her drawer, ready to be worn again.