The man i used to be

"Wait here," she said, as she went back into the living room and disappeared. He eventually caught outside movement through the glass of the greenhouse and saw her struggling with a large cardboard box toward the barbecue pit about fifty feet from his viewpoint. She left and came back with another, then another until there was a stack of them, perhaps six large boxes in all. She turned to him and smiled as she took some lighter fluid out of her pocket and doused the stack until the can was empty. Then she came to the small door in the greenhouse and opened it.

"What's in the boxes?" he asked.

"Clothes," she responded, "your clothes."

"What? What do you mean?" he said with alarm.

But she just smiled again and closed the door, walked toward the stack of boxes, took out a match, struck it and threw it. There was a "wumph" sound and his male life disappeared before his eyes.

Since then she had shopped for him, both at stores and on the internet, and filled his bureaus and closets with skirts, blouses, dresses, bras, panties, hose, and wigs. The wigs were no longer used, as his hair was now long and properly feminized.

And now the corsets had arrived. She had pledged to him that he was to go on a strict waist training regimen, twenty-three hours a day, seven days a week, all year. When she came into the bedroom however, she was carrying far more than just the three corsets. He was told to be quiet while she emptied the contents of three boxes. The first contained the corsets, all leather and severe looking, with huge eyelets to allow excessive lace pulling he assumed. Each was a different color, one black, one green, and one pink. Pink? The second box contained two pairs of shoes, pumps actually or perhaps more correctly, stilettos, with impossibly high heels and thick, full ankle straps. The third box contained a surprisingly realistic set of squishy silicone breast prosthetics and two bras to fit.