Dear Frank,

I hope this letter finds you well, enjoying the holidays with your gorgeous family and loved ones.

I thought it appropriate to write a few words regarding the contents of the package you just received. I hope you will not think me a coward for avoiding a face-to-face conversation, please understand that the matter is just too delicate.

As you may or may not have heard, I have been through some major life-altering circumstances recently. I will not bore you with the details, suffice to say that I once and for all decided to put an end to my existence as an undivided woman, and to go full modular.

Please do not worry about me: I have no regrets, and I am confident that I will be just fine. In fact, now that the treatment has begun and that there is no turning back, I only wish that I had made up my mind earlier. The disaggregation of this troubled self of mine, and the peace of mind that it will bring, are well worth giving up my self-sufficience and the decision making that comes with it, a double-edged sword that has hurt me once too often.

So far things has been going beautifully. Everyone here at the labs is very friendly, and the procedure itself is as painless as I could have ever hoped. Right now, as of the time of this writing, I am but half a woman already. My midriff, which has been removed earlier today, is sitting next to the lamp on this very writing desk, just like my poor Lulu used to. Whenever I feel like it, I can reach out and stroke it. It is quite the sight, and the feeling. I still have some sort of telepathic connection with it, but it is getting thinner and thinner, and by tomorrow it will have completely faded out. My midriff will be a foreign object to me, just like all the other parts that were disconnected before it. And just like those, it will be in need of a new owner.

A few relatives and dear friends have already called dibs on various pieces. My soon-to-be ex-husband will get to keep what little he is legally entitled to, while my head will retain my identity and most of my rights as a citizen and human being, and will be taken care of at the Nova Vita Manor, a dedicated facility in Springfield, Massachusetts (by the way, as you read this I should be already residing there, so please do come and see me when you can spare the time). My hands, as per the state's law, will not have their fingerprints erased, however they will have to be held in a high-security government compound, whose location I am bound not to disclose.

That being said, there are still a few parts that remain unclaimed, and it is entirely up to me what to do with them. Quite the thankless task, I have to admit; it makes me feel like I am making a will. Anyway, that brings us to the point of this letter.

I do not want to come across as vain or egocentric, but I noticed, beyond any reasonable doubt, that you have been checking out my feet. I caught you glancing again and again, at meetings, breaks, and pretty much every time the circumstances allowed for it and you thought that I was not looking.

I did not immediately jump to conclusions: at first I was afraid that there could have been something wrong with my feet. Then I considered that you might have actually been noticing my footwear. I tested you, secretly, and I became more and more convinced that your focus was really just on my feet, and that you did not find them unattractive, either.

A common friend, someone that I am not going to name but with whom you are very close, has recently confirmed your fondness for the female foot. I hope that this is in fact true, because otherwise I am making a grandiose fool of myself!

Well, if you do like feet, I want you to know that I do not see anything particularly wrong with that. There seems to be a lot of controversy around the subject. Personally, I concede that it is certainly an odd preference, since I cannot see what you could possibly find fascinating about feet. To me, they are among the least appealing parts of the human figure. They tend to get dirty easily, wear out easily and, worst of all, smell easily.

However, I am not a judgmental person. My stance is that everyone should be entitled to their own kink, as long as it does not get harmful and nobody is forced into anything. I know what a smart, honest, good-hearted man you are, and your attraction to my feet is not going to change the esteem that I nurture for you. In fact, let me say that I find it rather cute, and that one part of me had some good fun teasing you during my last weeks at work. Besides, I do not mind getting some attention, and I am not so hypocritical as to deny that much.

So, as it might have become apparent by now, I made up my mind: I want you to be the recipient of my feet. As much as I hold them in low regard, I find comfort in knowing that they will belong to someone who can appreciate them. Hoping to please you, I am sending them to you in this package.

If I can be so bold, I encourage you to do whatever you want with them. Do not hesitate to use them however you like - if only as a doorstop, or as a toy for Hunter - because you are now their only rightful owner. More specifically, do not let the thought of what I, as the former owner, might or might not approve of, hold you back. You have my blessing.

(If, on the other hand, this is all a big misunderstanding, please accept my humble apologies and feel free to dispose of this inappropriate present in whatever way you deem fit.)

You will find the paperwork in a sealed envelope within the package. As for the feet themselves, I took care to thoroughly wash and sanitize them before shipping, and I put them in socks made of a special breathable fabric. I strongly hope that the delivery was as fast and smooth as I have been assured.

One last thing: how familiar are you with body modularity and its workings? Just in case, allow me to share some of the few notions that I have been taught. I apologize in advance if this is well-known information.

First of all, let me remind you that, although detached from my body, my feet are still alive and well. You can easily tell that by their overall look and feel. It is the whole point of the modularization process, its near-magical bit. You might also notice some occasional movement, like a sudden twitch or a wiggle of the toes: these are not voluntary movements that I consciously make, since I am not supposed to have any degree of control or even just sensation in my body parts, but rather it is some kind of primal neurobiological activity. I cannot explain it well, however I have been told that it is a perfectly normal thing. I hope that this will not cause you any alarm or distraction.

Let me also point out that, being alive, my feet are going to need some care. Nothing really hard or involved, do not worry. They are very low maintenance, lower than any kind of pet and most kinds of plants: all you should do to keep them in good shape is feed them weekly or biweekly, by spreading a little bit of nourishing paste on both stumps. Each application will cost you about ten cents, and less than one minute of your time. I have included one jar in the package, inside a drawstring bag. You can find more information on the label.

Do not stress yourself over this too much: it is perfectly fine to skip a meal from time to time. Just make sure that you do not starve them for months, unless you want them to become all skin and bone and eventually die.

Feeding my feet is enough to keep them alive, but if you want them to look pretty, of course, it is going to require some more dedication. Besides basic common sense such as keeping them dry and clean so as to minimize the risk of skin conditions, I recommend that you wash them with plain warm water and soap at least once a day, as well as after each use, and that you put them away in a cool and dry place when you do not need them. Avoid too high or too low temperatures, and try your best to let the skin breathe at all times, unless of course you do not mind the odor.

Watch out for scratches and cuts, too, since they will take a lot longer than normal to heal and the marks will probably never go away (on the plus side, the wounds should not bleed).

In the drawstring bag, together with the nourishing paste, you will find a supply of my favorite foot care products: your lovely Harriet surely knows what each of them does, but I left a note describing my daily routine just in case. Keeping a woman's feet smooth and youthful is no easy task, I know, but I am positive that you will find it a rewarding one!

By the way, you will also have to cut my nails, I am afraid. My apologies for that. You see, all of my body parts are expected to retain some sort of metabolism even after the operation, which in the case of my feet means that they will grow nails, albeit at a very slow rate. You will likely have to do it no more than once or twice in a year. It also means that my feet will age, although so slowly that there should be no visible changes in a lifetime. Have no fear, you will not end up owning a pair of some ugly harpy's claws!

Well, dear Frank, I believe that this is pretty much all that I wanted to say. Forgive me for having been longer than I had intended. You know how verbose I can be at times. This time around will positively be the last, though: tomorrow I will have my arms removed and subdivided in three sections each, and next Monday, finally, my head will be released from my shoulders. Please wish me luck for my new life.

All the best to you, Harriet, Oscar, little Joanie, and the upcoming member of the family. And of course Hunter. You are all forever in my heart.

Yours literally,

Belinda