Planning the next switch

"Hmm," Greg said. "Weren't you wearing the same clothes, when you were Joan?"

I nodded. "Essentially. I must have been wearing a smaller size. Also, I was wearing a bra and panties."

"I'll take your word for that. So your clothing did change, but only slightly. Why didn't it change more?"

I shrugged. "I guess I just like these kinds of shirts and trousers, and end up dressing this way regardless. It's as though I'm a bit of a tom boy as Joan, but I still end up choosing underwear that's more conventional for a woman."

"Conventional, eh?" Greg says, stroking his beard. "If you don't mind me saying, John, I'd describe your shirt as... slightly flowery. A man's shirt, but not conservative."

"You're suggesting that it's not too far from being conventional, I take it?" I said.

"Yeah, that's what I'm suggesting," he replied. "Does that sound fair?"

I shrugged. "Fair enough."

Greg nodded. "So if you were to, say, change what the conventions were, as Joan you might find yourself maybe interpreting it a bit liberally, but still more or less following along."

I nodded. "That's an interesting idea. Okay, so... let's try something simple but easy to test. I'm going to try changing the standards for clothing for women, so that dresses are mandatory. Not too big a change, but we'll notice if I'm wearing a dress."

"Well," Greg demurred, "you'll notice, anyway. But maybe you should find a way to check if the new standard actually does apply to all women."

"We could check the internet," I suggested.

Greg shook his head. "No, I think you should practise interacting with people more as a woman. How well do you know your neighbors?"

Now it was my turn to shake my head. "Too well," I tell him. "I don't know how much they'll remember about me being a woman, and I'm not ready to take that risk."

Greg stroked his beard. "Could you make sure the pizza was delivered by a woman?"

I thought for a moment. "I could make food delivery a female-dominated job description," I said. "Maybe that would do it. If I answered the door, my being involved with the delivery woman might even prolong the switch."

Greg nods. "That sounds like a plan. Want to try it?"

I took the device in hand, and focused. I thought of a world in which women always wore blouses and dresses -- just down to the knee -- and where food delivery was almost always done by women. Just as a bit extra, I thought up a simple cultural norm for women to greet each other. I also decided to make cannabis legal and available in many varieties, in honour of Greg's visit.

I came to myself with a start. Greg blinked and smiled. "I was ready for it this time," he said cheerfully.

The first thing I did was look down. Sure enough: I was wearing a blouse with a Mondrian-style pattern, and a dress that ended just above the knee with a blue check pattern. Nice strong colours. Shifting my weight slightly, I feel the increasingly familiar sensation of panties over my mound.