Get made an example of.

The whispers around the room grow in volume until they fill Scythe's ears as a cacophony.

"Look at that! He really is a guy!"

"Why does he dress like that? Is he, y'know... a deviant?"

"How naughty!"

Even as his face turns hot as magma and tears start to well up, Scythe can't put his dress back down. The spirals in his eyes keep turning, growing in size and intensity until he's looking at the world through two hypnotic scarlet whirlpools.

"Thank you for being our example of immorality today, Scythe!" The host's voice blares out as he claps Scythe on the shoulder. "You can put your dress down now."

"Yes, sir." His trembling fingers are finally allowed to let go. The stretchy, shiny black fabric falls and covers him up again, though his thighs are now shaking so much that a faint jiggle is clear to see past where the dress is cut.

The host squeezes Scythe's shoulder. "And now, for our next demonstration..."