I Can Only Live as a Woman

He was once a rough guy who found it difficult to even use facial cleanser. An accident turned him into a woman with soft flesh and hip lines - from the awkwardness when he first put on underwear, to the calm acceptance when he raised an eyebrow and smiled at himself in the mirror; from the ignorant resistance to being "conquered", to taking the initiative to take out garters and high heels, treating himself as a highly anticipated gift. After marrying her loving husband, she slowly let go of all her defenses in his always measured tenderness: from her tentative excitement when wearing silk gloves, to her calm acceptance of new ways of intimacy, to wearing a carefully prepared "battle suit" and indulging in the cherished bondage and fit in his adjustment. There is no cold compulsion, only peace of mind; there is no deliberate catering, only the excitement of "I want to give you the best". Her softness and warmth of cedar complete the transformation from "him" to "her" - it turns out that the joy of becoming a woman is never to live according to a template. It is to dare to say "want" directly, to dare to indulge in tenderness calmly, and to finally find one's own, relaxed and hot way of living in love.