As he sashayed downstairs for breakfast, David gently bit his scarlet painted lower lip deeply concerned that there was no way to know if he had made the right choice or not. Let alone the rest of his family.
Except of course, he pondered, if Dr. Gilmore himself decided to reveal to them the truth. David hoped that the whole experiment thing was over. With nothing else to do but to fade slowly into memory. Then again, it could still be going on, all without anyone knowing. He hated to think which was most likely
David paused at the bottom of the stairs to adjust his slinky red dress, that had ridden just a bit over his stocking clad thighs. So far he was enjoying the way it felt on his body, but he still couldn't be sure the clothes he was wearing were his or not. Maybe he never would.
He had to hope that the slight resistance he had shown to the doctor's manipulation in the past would help him, but it just didn't seem likely. He assumed that just like everybody else in town, he had made the logical choice as to what to wear.
When the second closet had faded away, there had been no sense of regret, no uneasiness. His choice was his choice. It made the most sense, after all. Sure, the strappy heels he wore pinched a bit, but he felt so good in them, and it felt so natural moving around in them that they had to have been the right decision.
As usual, David was the last to enter the kitchen. Glancing at his family, he realized that his memory lapse extended not only to him, but to everybody else as well. He had no recollection of anyone in his family wearing any particular clothes prior to that moment. Not that it bothered him, though. All their clothes, while not reinforced by memory, were perfectly logical decisions.
David languidly gazed at his mother, slouched at the table, wearing a white 'wife-beater' shirt, a pair of boxer shorts, and flip flops, and could see why she had chosen it. The same went for his father sat at the table, engrossed in a fashion mag while clad in a mid-thigh grey pleated skirt, white blouse, tight black sweater, knee high black socks and high heeled Mary-Janes. Andy, bustling about in his French maid outfit, was nothing out of the ordinary.
David sat at his regular regular place at the counter, smoothing his dress as he did so. Making sure he caught his mother eye he slowly crossed his legs at the knee and began to eat the toast and honey that had been waiting for him. He took small bites, with much licking of lips, being careful not to overindulge. His dress was tight, and he didn't want to ruin his figure and have to purchase a whole new wardrobe.
Sipping on orange juice, David wondered why Doctor Gilmore hadn't informed them of what had occurred. He seemed to like to gloat in the past; was something wrong? Had something bad happened at the lab that was preventing Gilmore from checking in with everybody? David was just about to bring up the subject with his family when...
"I do apologise for the delay" Doctor Gilmore's voice piped in, "but it seems like we have some late sleepers in your town!"
Andy pouted, obviously not excited to be hearing from the mad scientist.
"Okay, since you're all so excited to hear the results of our little experiment, here they are. I'm pleased to announce that..."
