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"Heh, I knew you'd see things my way. Okay son, or should I say daughter, what I was thinking was, first of all, I'll be damned if I'm having another woman in this house bossing me about. We're already outnumbered two against three. With you switching teams it becomes just me, on my own, versus four girls. So the most important thing I want out of your new body is... no mouth."
"You can't be serious!"
"I'm deadly serious," he says firmly. "I refuse to have you moaning at me about... periods and make-up and boys the second you realise womanhood isn't all its cracked up to be. I already had to put up with that twice with your sisters. So no mouth. And if you must have a mental transmitter, I have the right to turn it off when I please."
"How am I supposed to eat?!"
"Through an umbilical implant, son, how else? I'll pay to have your belly-button plugged, and all you'll need to do is insert the umbilical twice a day. Probably be a damn sight cheaper feeding you than all that garbage you eat at the moment."
You sigh. Losing your mouth wasn't too big a deal, you guess, so long as you're allowed to use a mental transmitter outside of home. "Okay, fine. Anything else?"
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