"Oh,thank god!" David sighed at the sight of his perfectly normal family seated around the kitchen table. They turned to look at him.
"Yes, there's still pancakes left," his mother said. "Good morning to you, too."
"Mornin' son!" his dad said cheerily.
"So good to see you guys back to normal!" David said as he pulled his chair up to the table. They all gave him an odd look.
"Huh?" Andy said.
"Dr. Gilmore. All his experiments!" The family looked even more confused.
"Honey I think you've been watching a few too many sci-fi movies in bed," his bewildered mother said.
So they didn't remember. Gilmore must have wiped their memories. Maybe that was for the best, David thought. Avoid any awkward conversations about their day as Kayla. He looked at the plate his mother placed before him and realized how ravenously hungry he was. He dug in, and listened to his family's idle conversation.
Was Gilmore done? This was the longest they had gone without any strange changes, or program announcements. Maybe, just maybe, it was all over.
Before long, his mother was clearing plates from the table. David was listening to Andy tell a story about some girl at school, when Denise bumped Steven, making him spill coffee down the front of his white polo shirt.
"Oh, damn!" Steve reacted - luckily it had cooled enough so he wasn't burned.
"Oh god, I'm so sorry honey!" Mrs. Watson said, "Here, let me get you a towel. Some hot water will get that right out."
"No, it's okay dear." He said, refusing his wife's help. "I'll take care of it."
Without hesitation, Steven began to unbutton his shirt. Still seated at the table, he started pulling his shirt over his head, and David nearly spat out his orange juice at what he saw.
A tan, toned, thin torso - clearly not the stomach of a middle aged man. As Steven pulled, the shirt seemed to get stuck on something. He tugged, and the obstructions came bouncing into view: two perfect, huge breasts, barely constrained in a strapless pink bikini top. He pulled his arms from the sleeves, revealing slender but fit arms, and dainty hands with a perfect French manicure. The arms and hands moved gracefully to pull the shirt the rest of the way off of his head.
"Much better," Steven said, running narrow fingers through his short brown hair. He adjusted his wire-frame glasses, then his bikini top. David's jaw was slack. Between his neck and his belt, his dad's body looked like something out of a magazine. He went back to reading the paper, and Andy went back to telling his story, as though nothing was amiss.
