I want men's clothing.

_You want men's clothing, are you sure?_

Asks, the house computer. You can almost hear the mocking, disbelief in its voice.

"Yes," you say, suddenly more unsure of yourself. "I want men's clothing to wear."

_What is your name?_

Oh, you know the answer to this one: "I am Jennifer."

Shit! You automatically said your female name! "No!" you shout, wanting to take it back. "I--"

But you are interrupted.

_Do you have breasts?_

"Yes, I have breasts, but--"

_Do you want nice big titties?_

"I know that's what I said, way back when I entered the house, but I didn't mean it! It was just the password--"

_Do you have a vagina?_

"Well, sure, it's a fake vagina, but--"

_Are you a woman?_

"Yes, I am," you say, automatically. "I mean NO. I meant no! I don't know why I said Yes. I meant No, please believe me."

The computer pauses for a long time, so long you start to worry that it might be broken.

I have no male clothes to give you, it says, finally.

Well, fuck. Then why all of the humiliating questions?