"I don't really care if he's in women's clothes per se,"she said. "But I want him to submit to me. If I want him to dress asBarney, then that's how he...s going to dress. Cleon likes all this girlshit. Cooking, cleaning, ironing. Well, I'll make him dress the part. Ifhe wants to work like a maid, I'll fucking make him a maid." But it's so ... queer." And what's wrong with that? I would like a husband who has pretty nailsand sweet lips. I don't care if he's in a dress. Just think about how youcan. It took two big trash bags and a small one to finish, but when I was done, I smiled, seemingly satisfied. The only things left to be found were bread, water, and milk. I almost happily dragged the trash bags out to the industrial garbage can and threw them in. This was it. My self-mutilation process had begun. My weight quickly and agonizingly burned away. Every time I felt like eating, I looked at myself in the mirror and mentally cursed myself. ‘How dare you crave food, you fat little whore!’. ”“Perfect,” Clint said in my ear. “Just remember, don't call our mother 'Mom' once you start making love to her.”“Do you understand?” I asked, staring at Mrs. Armstrong.“You think I'll... join in?” she asked.“I know you will. You're a fucking dyke-slut with a horny pussy.” I shuddered. “Your cunt is on fire. I can see the signs. You think it's hot my mother and I are about to make love. You're getting off on incest. I bet you've been thinking about eating Stefani nonstop.”“Mmm, I'm going to. Penncroft." Good-bye," Judy said softly, then hung up."What was that all about?" the other agent asked. "Trouble?"Judy tried to hide her shaking by shuffling papers. She didn't trust her voice, and said nothing."Something to do with Mark?" the man pried.Judy clutched at that innocent explanation. "Yes, something to do with Mark," she answered. It wasn't really a lie, was it?She knew what she had to do. She felt horror clutch at her as she contemplated the situation. The real horror was not that.