...his wife

"William, what the hell are you wearing?"

When William had locked himself into his lab to conduct his grand experiment, he had been certain that his wife, Bernice, was away for the day. Most of William's colleagues not only didn't know about Bernice, but could not imagine that any woman would marry William Borgman. William was, after all, a little hard to work with. How in the world could any woman put up with him?

She did, though. Bernice was an angel. She was beautiful, kind, loving. Very early on in their courtship, William realized the soothing effect she had on him, how she calmed his more intense tenancies, how she smoothed out his rough edges. It hadn't taken him long to realize that she was The One, not that he had believed in that kind of thing before he met Bernice.

They had married and never looked back, each pursuing their own goals, but supporting each other's ambitions. Bernice was an artist, an oil painter. Her works sold in upscale galleries around the world. Many times while travelling to conferences, William's eye would be caught by a flash of familiar colour, only to look up and see one of Bernice's painting hanging. It was as if she was travelling with him, always being close to his heart.

"Wearing?" William questioned, turning to face his wife who was standing down the hallway behind him.

"I mean, I always knew you were different; that's what I like about you. But this?" she said, "Are you into dressing up now? Is this some kind of role play?"

William was momentarily confused. Then his eyes locked on his wife. She was different.

Bernice Borgman was still the tall, thin, red-headed woman he loved, but things had changed. Her hair was now short-cropped. Her fingernails were short and unpainted. She wasn't wearing one of her signature sun-dresses. Instead she wore a pair of cut-off jeans and a grey t-shirt. Not one earring, not one dab of make-up adorned her visage.

"I, uh," William tried to think fast. The experiment had worked! He had stumbled onto a new reality. Now to figure out the new rules. "I was just working and, I..."

"If you want to work on one of your little projects," Bernice said, patronizingly, "You don't have to dress like a woman to impress me. You boys and your image issues."

"Like a woman?"

"I mean, look at you," Bernice said, approaching her husband, "It's going to take forever for you to grow your hair back. And how is any woman going to take a boy seriously who wants to play dress-up?"

She stopped in front of him and kissed him lightly on the lips, then stepped back, shaking her head.

"Nope," she said, a frown on her face, "You can't say I didn't give it a try, but it's not my thing. It just feels wrong." Bernice crossed her arms under her unbridled breasts, "Now run off to our room and get changed into something decent before someone sees you and thinks you're some kind of pervert!"

Bernice swatted William on the rear end, turned, and continued down the hallway to the living room. A few moments later, William heard the television turn on, some sort of sports event. Curious to see how things would pan out, he made his way to the bedroom to make himself "decent".