I looked around the room. I saw the blindfold that was used to cover my eyes last night. I see the rope that held me. My heart starts to race. I picku... a piece of rope, I start to feel the texture of the rope. It's so soft, but yet can be so evil. It can be so mean by not letting go. I wonder how something so soft can be so wicked? I shower and shave the unwanted hair off my body. I am clean and smooth again. I look at my right ankle and see a small red mark on it. "Oh my God!" I yell. I have a. As I looked at my reflectionin the mirror, I was greeted by the incongruous sight of an attractive;lingerie clad, female body topped off with my aging male head. Unable toresist, I opened the draw of the vanity and took out various items ofmakeup. As I spread foundation across my face, applied powder and startedto work on my eyes, the structure of my face subtly altered. Before myeyes, it morphed and shifted until my skin - (previously rough with beardstubble) - was porcelain smooth; my -. My marriage is on the verge of collapse. My eldest daughter has fled our home, and my youngest boy will undoubtedly, soon discover his older brother's crimes against me and his father. I am filled with fear, but right now I am more afraid of these middle-aged women huddling in the light of one candle, who may be able to keep me from going insane.This group is supposedly one of many around the world comprising an organization in only the loosest sense. Most are in America where it started some. "Stacy said she sawsome man, a small man taking a bag of garbage out of Dave's house aroundthe time you moved in here, she said the 'guy' had on jeans, boots and aflannel shirt and was strutting to the dumpster just like a guy. She saidhe even had the start of a beard and that that guy strangely looked a lotlike you!" She giggled again."Imagine that," I said as I felt the color run out of my face. I teeteredon the heels as Janet fit me into the full length slip but with all themakeup on she.