No

"I know it was," he replies. "You're so much like your mother, you know. I can see it in your eyes, in your body language. God, I've missed this. I almost want to just throw away that blue pill and keep you." Your heart skips a beat, and once again you're not sure if it's because you're scared he'll do it, or if you want him to do it.

You rejoin the party, but nothing much happens. Your father has you get him a couple of drinks, playfully ordering you around on the sly, and you find you enjoy it. And you enjoy seeing him back to his old self, the confident, happy man he used to be before your mother died. Of course, now, in this female body, that enjoyment is tinged with a large portion of attraction. Yes, you have to admit to yourself, you are actually starting to fall for him. He's really owning the room, and you find yourself almost gloating at all the other women around you. He's mine, your body language says, in a proud and almost possessive manner. When you came down, you'd noticed how a lot of them had eyed him with suspicion, wondering how he had caught a hot young thing like you, probably wondering if he'd hired you, but as the evening goes by, their attitude has slowly changed, some of them even seemingly eyeing you with envy.

The evening goes on, and by the end of it, you're more than a bit tipsy. Not black-out drunk, far from it, but you're sure you'll have a headache in the morning. Your father realizes, and as the ball is starting to break up, he decides it's time for you, too, to call it a night.

You reach your hotel room without any incidents, though in the elevator up your realize you really, really have to pee. Entering the room, you excuse yourself and run into the bathroom, planting your padded butt on the toilet seat and release the stream. Even though you've done this several times before, it still feels a bit odd.

"Remember what I told you earlier. Naked." Your father talks to you through the door. "Yes, Sir." As you sit there, letting it flow out, you work your dress over your head, throwing it in a heap on the floor, followed by your bra. The order makes your nether regions tingle, and you look over to your purse on the counter. The pill. In your drunk state, the idea to just throw the Plan B down the toilet, and let nature take its course, is growing in your mind. It would mean no more choices. No more being torn between one option or the other. You'd let nature - and your father - decide. When he decides it's time to give you the blue pill, you'll either be pregnant, and stuck as Julie, or you won't, and you can go back to being David. You reach over for the purse, and grab the package. For a long moment, you just sit there, staring at it, your head swimming in thoughts. Take it, put it back, or throw it away? And then you make a decision...