Piccolo stared down at what he was being forced to wear. At least he thought he was a he, though that was questionable, because whatever he was, he didn't need another one of his kind in order to reproduce, and his progenitor had reproduced by laying eggs. His progenitor had called himself a he however and since he was a copy of his progenitor...

You wouldn't know he was a he if you saw him now however. He had no idea where his father's enemy had met these people, but they had been willing to put the both of them up for the night, and had been willing to provide him with clothing which had been pulled from the attic.

The clothing he had been provided with however...

The sleepwear was the most palatable of the outfits that Son Goku had been given to put on him. It consisted of a pair of somewhat worn pink footie pyjamas with snaps on the legs which had gone on over a diaper.

As for the rest of the stuff, as soon as he could figure out how, he would be burning that frilly pink dress, that obnoxious pink hair ribbon that was meant to be tied to one of his antennae, those white tights with the lace frills on the bottom, those lacy pastel pink socks, and those white Mary Jane shoes which had been laid out for him to wear tomorrow.

First, he would have to figure out how to get away from Goku whose arms had latched around him like iron bands in spite of the numerous injuries he'd suffered while killing his father.

"Stop that Midoriko." the spiky haired brat mumbled sleepily as he tried once more to squirm to freedom.