The Waiting House, 4

I fastened myself into rustling petticoats, and held the gown up to myself in the mirror. Smiling back at me was the woman I was always meant to be. I knew that dressing this way would be the beginning of a life in skirts and dresses, the life I had always wanted.

I took great care pulling the lovely navy silk over my reshaped body, feeling it settle as if it were made for me... or me for it.

I would never have to pretend to be masculine again. I felt my skirt swish and billow as I twirled.

There was still more to do, to complete my outfit. I stepped into dainty high heels, fastened pearls around my neck and slipped the matching earrings into my now apparently pierced lobes. And the ring on my finger...

As I put on the ring, I knew that the house had turned me into its perfect owner. It was a dream come true!

I was a 1950s housewife!