Friday, November 26, 2010

Tori C: Weekenders

So much has happened to me in the month of November, I've had to take a day off at the end of it all just to recuperate. One the one had it feels like just a neverending crush of status quo, day in and day out working and living, but on the other hand, a couple of big changes. I guess this is the sort of thing that I save up for when I finally decide to write here.

I've been uncomfortable with this arrangement between Leo and me for some time. A purely sexual relationship, without any passion or commitment was the most convenient arrangement for me but every time I leave his place, I learn a little more that this is not what I want. I don't want to be shoved out the door while I'm pulling my nylons up. I don't want to be alone on my girlfriends' "date nights" because Leo's playing Call of Duty and doesn't want me around. I want someone to play COD with!

So after writing my last post I had given myself a lot to think about. I can't keep up this purely sexual relationship. I wasn't that kind of guy and I'm really not that kind of girl. So I was kind of in a daze, not even really responding to Leo's texts for like the first week or so of November while I was writing it. My cell would buzz inside my purse so often certain other co-workers started joking I was bringing my vibrator to work (which is not fair since I've never even used one.) So I was dreading even checking my texts when I was on the ride home... and to my surprise, I got one from Buddy. "In New York thru New Yrs. Come visit!"

I can't even describe how I felt when I read that. Like... when I was a guy and a girl I liked would give me a little attention, this was 10x that. My heart fluttered and I got embarrassed for getting so worked up over a simple little text, but my mind kept turning over the implications. I know Buddy's wanted to be in a relationship with me and tried to convince me to try something long distance, but at the time I was so clouded up by this whole thing with Leo that, well, it just didn't seem worth it.

Now, I think I'm ready. So I went to visit him on the next weekend, arriving in NYC on the 13th. We went out for a walk and basically had a really great several-hour conversation, beginning with The Walking Dead and ending with him recommending that I get around to reading The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy (maybe someday.) He showed me around "his neighbourhood," which basically consisted of the block around his hotel, dinner, and a movie.

We went to see Due Date. The movie was pretty funny, although every time I laughed at something guyish (example: the Zack Galafianakis character masturbating himself to sleep) I could see him out of the corner of my eye make a quizzical face. Like just because I have boobs, I'm not supposed to find that funny. On the subway ride back he was quiet about it, but when we got to the hotel, I edged toward the topic by pointing out how funny it was (in hindsight it wasn't that funny, but I did laugh at it.) He kinda averted his eyes and says, "Yeah, that was uh, a funny gag, I guess."

Egging him on a little, I nudged his shoulder and asked "You ever need to do that to get to sleep?"

He started to blush, like a kid caught by his parents. "Nnnn...ot really... that much..."

I smirked. "Hey, no need to be embarrassed. Everyone does it."

He twisted his mouth oddly, trying to figure out how to react, whether I was kidding him or we were really talking about that. "Probably not everyone..."

"Well, everyone in this room does."

"Heh, heh... yeah..."



"What am I doing here?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I didn't come here to have dinner at the hotel restaurant and see a Bromance. What are we doing?"

"I guess I thought we could hang out, and..."


Still flustered, he admitted, "I don't know..."

"You don't know? Buddy, what do you see when you look at me?"

Again, he stammered a while -- cute, but eventually irritating -- before I coaxed him into saying, "Look. when we first met, I thought you were... different. I thought you were just a really hot girl who knew enough about stuff I liked that I could talk to you. And that first night, I thought I could get some and then you'd move on past me and it would just be a cool story. And then I got to know you and see how cool you were, and... I got nervous. It's like, why would you really want to be with me? And I started to think you were putting me off as a way of... like, politely turning me down, so... I don't know, Tori. What are we doing?"

"I'll tell you what we're doing. Buddy, when you texted me to come down here, I felt something I haven't felt in a long time. I wasn't putting you off, I was just... nervous. I have some issues, and it's stuff I'm working on, but having you nearby will definitely help. So look at me." I took his hands and put them on my shoulders. "I'm not wearing a push-up bra for my health. And I'm not wearing this top because I like it when a breeze blows down my cleavage and makes my nipples stand up. And I didn't shave so I could keep my skirt on all night."

I feel like the forward approach may have been a bit intimidating, but I'm glad I did it because one of us had to be the guy, and I've learned a thing or two about being assertive since being with Leo.

I took my top off. He buried his face in my breasts like he'd never been happier to be anywhere. I unclasped my bra and let him feel them while we laid down on the bed. Things started to happen pretty quickly after that...

It's hard to believe that only a few months ago I'd never been with a guy, and I'm already on my second one. I mean, It felt different, and I sort of had to lead Buddy through all this, but at least we know where we stand now.

It's not like with Leo. It's not all about the sexual fulfillment, it's about company, and even as far away as New York, I still feel closer to him than I have to any man I've known since becoming Tori.

I woke up the next morning next to him, feeling like things had really changed. It's been a long road in getting here, a lot of wondering what kind of transition I was going through, from Cliff to Tori, how far it would take me away from where I started and how it would feel. I'm still uncertain, but it's the kind of uncertainty you feel when you're going through anything... not a paralyzing, life-altering feeling like when you first wake up this way, but just the way it is when you're starting to see you're finally making the right decisions.

I looked over at him. His eyes were just fluttering awake. When he opened them and looked over at me, I smiled. He smiled back and kissed me. I told him we should go for breakfast. It was Sunday morning and I wanted to spend a little time with him before heading back to Philly.

A fair bit's happened since then, but mostly stuff you could figure out from the tone of this post. I've visited him every weekend since then, except Thanksgiving, which so far has been, well... a different matter. As for me and Leo, that's done, and I'll explain how in my next post.

Thursday, November 11, 2010

Max: Where it began

You already know a lot about my trip to Maine this past July, and someday I'll work up to explaining what brought me there, because Alia there's a lot those posts don't say about me, both good and bad. But it's almost been a whole month since I promised I'd start writing in here and you haven't heard hardly a peep out of me. It's harder than I thought.

I'll start with the night of the 25th, when I became Max. As you can imagine, I didn't sleep well that whole week. I had switched rooms with Roger, a married man who had stayed behind because he was having problems with his wife and because, I think, he thought he had a shot with me. I want to make it perfectly clear that I never gave him the impression I was willing to let him cheat on his wife with me. After all, we weren't even in the same room that night. How I got him to trade rooms with me, well, that's maybe a different matter.

The point was, this body was meant for him, and who knows what he would have done with it.

Once he gave me his room, there was no turning back. I immediately sought the suitcase. I found a gym bag with a couple of changes of clothes haphazardly tossed in, and no letter or ID around. I dumped out the bad and found Men's jeans and well-worn black t-shirts. I wondered if it was too late. There was no way of knowing who Roger was going to turn into, and I wondered if I had made a mistake, now that I was certain what sort of person I was going to be.

The whole bag was laundered and neatly folded, so it seemed like someone must have taken care of this for Max. It still smelled faintly of detergent. Out of curiosity, I stripped down to my bra and panties and dressed myself in the man's clothes. The jeans came down past my feet and had no hope of staying up without a belt, being very roomy in the crotch. I've worn boyfriends' clothes before, so I could guage how big of a guy Max was from how loose his shirt was on me. My last boyfriend was 6'1 compared to my 5'4 self and modest chest. Max's shirt wasn't as billowy on me.

I spent the night turned on my side, as usual unable to sleep. Around 2:15, I felt my heart starting to beat faster. The hairs on my arms stood up. I can't even describe what it's like to feel hair pull itself into your head, it's like a tingling, like a super-thorough rinse but... inside your scalp.

I was wearing my pajama bottoms and a tank top. I thought the tank would be stretchy enough to survive my metamorphosis, as I only had a vague idea of what my new physique was like. Luckily, Max was a slender guy with slim shoulders. My breasts stiffened and flattened themselves against my torso. It was like losing a limb, to be perfectly honest. But that was nothing compared to the feeling of... being turned inside out.

I didn't see it happen. The whole time I had my eyes clenched shut, mentally chanting "Make it stop, make it stop, make it stop," my palms resting flat against my chest. It wasn't painful, it wasn't erotic, it just slowly, slowly, emerged from me, this alien device in my pants.

When it was over with, I curled back over on my side, flannel pants tight against my thighs and waist, now not reaching the bottom of my calves and tightened all around me. My feet were bare and my toenails were now protruding and scraping against the comforter. I didn't even know what my face looked like, but my first instinct was to rub it and see how recently-shaved it was; there was just a faint wisp of stubble. I couldn't bring myself to get out of bed. I was seized by a deep, sudden feeling of regret for leaving my life behind.

But in the morning, all I could think was "What's done is done." More pressing issues were about to come up.

I was examining my new face when Alia knocked on my door. As Max, I'm thin and taller than I was as Sam, but still under 6 feet. I have a strong jawline, good facial structure... really, he's quite a handsome guy, except he looked and felt at the time like a bit of a dirty lowlife. I was already sweaty and bristling with body hair on my arms, legs, armpits and chest. Not thick, not unappealingly so, just... it was different. It irritates when you're not used to it.

I tested out my expressions, moving the muscles of my face to see what I looked like surprised, angry, happy... how straight my teeth are (not overly) how my nose looked in profile. Whether my Adam's apple stuck out enough. I tried to angle myself in the bathroom mirror to check out my own ass, but I couldn't get a good look.

It's weird, though, it didn't feel like I'd grown, like my hands and feet had gotten bigger, but holding my flats up to my new foot, it was clear I'd gotten some serious bulk. I marveled at how tiny all the clothes I'd packed as Sam now appeared in my hands. How I stood taller in the mirror.

When Alia saw me, she told me I still stood and walked like a woman, but that I would probably re-learn that in time. By now it feels like I have. Looking down at her when she came to my door I was more impressed with how much taller than her I was (head and shoulders) than say, how attractive she is. She's really pretty, but at the time it didn't occur to me that I was a male looking at a female. At that time I still didn't know who I was or who, if anyone I was with.

This was the result of more room-switching before us. In the next room were the bodies of Tanya, Max's girlfriend, and Melanie, her sister. The room I was in had belonged to Melanie, but Max had taken it while Tanya looked after her in their room, because Melanie had over indulged in booze. They'd had the presence of mind to move Max's luggage over, but not his wallet, which was in with Tanya's stuff. So when a short dark-haired girl showed up at my door later that day holding a wallet, I was glad to meet her.

This was just after Alia's somewhat embarrassing attempt at a speech. They'd seen me when I made my brief cameo, and recognized me from the mysterious wallet left in their room. "Tanya" introduced herself and brought me over to her room next door to meet her "sister."

The sisters are just a year or so apart, with Tanya being the younger one. They look similar enough, but Tanya is a bit heavier. I followed her next door where the other girl was sitting on the bed looking shameful, miserable, pensive. Sulking. She was wearing a Men's white button up over a plain tee and cargo shorts, which all obscured her form. I could just barely discern the dark outlines of her nipples, they were poking through a bit. "Tanya" explained, she and Melanie were a couple (I don't really see the use in revealing their names) and it had dawned on them that they were now sisters. Not a pleasant development for them. They showed me their letters, and mine, which basically read, "Max McGill: Good luck." Most of the details of my new life were outlined in Tanya's letter. I asked if they were okay with hanging around here a while. They agreed.

Melanie was quiet the rest of the night while Tanya and I spoke in hushed tones. Not having been gender-changed, she was in a better frame of mind to take control of the situation while Mel sat on the bed with her legs curled up running her fingers through her hair.

"We're not going to Canada," Tanya told me, "[Melanie] has an important job in Washington and we can't let someone else take his life."

I joked, "What are you guys, the Obamas?"

Tanya didn't laugh, but grumbled "No. Not D.C., Washington State. He's an air traffic controller at Sea-Tac. You think the new person in his body is going to know how to do that?"

"No," I sighed, "But do you think they're just going to let that girl walk in and claim that's her job?"

"When he proves he can do it--"

"Look at her!" I said, "She's a wreck. The last thing she needs right now is the safety of thousands of passengers on her mind."

"Stop it!" she said, "Stop calling my boyfriend a she. It's still him in there, isn't it?" I nodded. "Don't you dare tell me what he needs. What we need is to get back to normal, and we can only do that back home."

"This is not a good idea," I told her. "It's not going to work, and you might risk your ability to get back to your own body."

She snapped, "Did you get your own body back? No? Then you don't know what you're talking about, so stay the hell out of our lives."

I wanted to hit her. Wanted to throttle her. I wasn't prone to violence as a woman but that didn't mean I couldn't get frustrated and lost me temper. I stood up and banged my fist on the desk. It hurt but I didn't let on.

"The two of you are making a huge mistake. For the time being, you belong in New Brunswick, and we can figure out a strategy from there. I'll be here for the rest of my reservation if you change your mind."

She looked at me coldly as I left the room. They were gone the next day.

Next time I get around to writing in this, I'll tell you about my trip up to Canada and where things went from there.

Sunday, November 07, 2010

Tori C: What it's like

There's been some request for me to describe the sensation of having sex with Leo. I've put it off because I wasn't sure I was ready to get graphic about it. Since this whole thing has started, I've struggled to put it into words, and using phrases like "We did it," has helped me kind of get around that, but I think there comes a time when you need to stop dancing around it and get into it.

So I'm giving myself license to get explicit here... and if that makes you uncomfortable, just scroll down to where it says I'm done.

Before I get to Leo specifically, I want to go back to the first time I ever thought of a man as being attractive. I wasn't really sure what, if anything, it meant at the time, but now that I've had a year to think about it, I can sort of admit that it started in Buffalo when I went to visit my old body.

I was waiting for Willie at the bar when I ran into Justin, my best friend for years. Seeing him without him knowing it was me... it was weird. He was dating Randi at the time, but he was putting this vibe out there like he was still on the lookout. A little later I found out he knew ahead of time that I was Tori, that I was "with" Cliff, but the energy he was putting out got to me. He exuded confidence.

I spent much of the evening avoiding eye contact with Willie. My eyes darted back and forth between Justin and Randi. His arm around her, her head on his shoulders... she was wearing a light top and her nipples were just poking through ever so much. He stroked her hair. Suddenly I was noticing how handsome he was... the stubble he'd let grow, his strong jawline, his eyes... I tried to pack away these thoughts and focus on Randi, tried to remember what made her so good looking.

Make no mistake, she's attractive, but when I tried to let me mind play with that, put myself in HIS shoes, with my fingers running through her hair, it got really... complicated. It put me off. But it didn't TURN me off... I wanted to be both of them and I wanted to be with both of them.

Later on that trip, Willie and I almost... well, we messed around a bit. I had felt the need to test myself because of all this new information my brain was processing. The gates were already opening when I really started to look at him in my body. And I didn't mind what I saw.

Maybe he wears my face better than I did, but I didn't see anything wrong with the way he looked. In fact, between the rather masculine Justin and the cute, girlish Randi, "Cliff," clean shaved, a little baby-faced, was a nice middle option. I began to wonder why I had ever had problems with girls. A little later I decided it must've just been because I was myself... which set me down a bit of depression. But let's flash forward.

It's late in the summer. I can pretty much admit to being into guys, and whatever I think of girls I'm not as dedicated as I once was. I mean, I sure as hell wouldn't mind getting a look at Sara naked, but I wouldn't want to date her. And that's when Leo and I started hooking up. He was in the right place at the right time.

When it started to get good, here's what it's like:

To start, I'm sitting on his bed. I'm fully clothed, he's fully clothed. He stands in front of me, unbuttoning his shirt. I run my fingers over her stomach and chest. He's thin, with just a few patches of hair. I hold his belt-loops. He leans in and kisses me. I feel my back straighten. A tingle goes through my body. I love the thought of us breathing heavily into each other, just panting and moaning.

I take off my top. My brastraps fall over my shoulders. He unclasps it with a quick motion. When I bare myself, he takes a moment to look at them. I don't blame him, I do too. Then he looks me dead in the eyes, and all I want is for him to touch me. He lays me back on the bed. The longer we go at it, the more creative he gets. First he has his hand on my breast, gently massaging as he kisses me. Then he moves his fingers away and starts to stroke the side of my breast, running his tongue down my chest and circling my breast.

That's when I get wet. I can feel my knees shivering. I feel like I'm so close to something, I can't stand being teased.

I stave off my own feeling by turning my attention to him. I unzip his pants and reach down. Not surprisingly, he's hard. I don't really do anything with his dick once I have it in hand... I guess I've got a mental block against that, but it doesn't stop me from handling it just a little. Sometimes I think to myself, "How bad would it be just to try putting my mouth on it?" but I never cross that threshhold, even though I'm willing to go further.

Soon he has me on my back, and I'm letting myself moan uncontrollably for him. I remember when I was a guy, I'd jack off quietly... there always seemed to be something so unappealing about letting out a pleasure moan as a guy, something weak... but since I've taken on the female persona, I don't care anymore. I like what he's doing and I know to let him know.

He pulls my panties down and moves his mouth to the base of my crotch. I don't let him stay there too long, because as good as it can be, it just makes me want to go faster. Somewhere in all this we find the time to make sure he's got protection on -- I've been taking the pill since the summer, but it doesn't hurt to double these things, and when I give the signal, he pulls himself over me and I sprad my legs, trembling, moist, letting him in.

For a few minutes, we move in unison, slowly. I'm embarrassed, so I close my eyes or turn away, but it's so absorbing that I can't stop myself from screaming out, "ungh, ungh." I move with him and we go faster... the feeling of having another person inside me is so intense, because the parts in there are so sensitive, and I've never used an item (eg, a dildo) to reach, only getting what my fingers could find. With every thrust, a radiation of pleasure that leaves me weak flushes through me until finally I feel myself come.

I let him keep going, though, because there's nothing to stop him. I'm not shriveling away or going limp, I'm just... good. And it's not long before he is too. He rolls off me and we lie on top of the sheets for a moment, his arm wrapped around me. I can't stand up, my legs are trembling, so we just lie there and drift off, leaving the clean-up for later.

That's how it was. At the best of times. Here's what it's more often like:

I go over to his place. He hasn't cleaned up, there's usually dishes here and there, clothes on the floor. He's on the couch playing XBox. In a past life I might've been more interested in sitting on the couch with him and playing Call of Duty, but we both know why I'm there.

He wants to finish his game so I go to the bedroom, undressing as I go. I leave my clothes in a heap by the bed. Sometimes I wait a while, naked, in his bed, before he gets around to me. I don't like getting too much time to think about what I'm about to do. I prefer to get caught up in the moment. I'm far from turned on, but I'm still "willing," if that makes any sense. I get myself warmed up.

He comes in and disrobes. I remind him to put a rubber on as he disrobes, slipping out of his pants, lifting his shirt over the bed and pulling his socks off.

He's plenty hard -- part of me wonders if it's me or the video game -- so I just lie back and let him go to it. In this scenario, there's not a lot of kissing and touching, just a willing submission to his need. I try to get us into some kind of rhythm, but he just goes at his own pace, jutting up into me sharply, awkwardly humping. A few unsatisfactory minutes later, he's done. I wonder why I even bothered coming by. Sometimes I try to get him on the bottom so I can make it last a bit longer and do some work of my own, but he likes the dominant position and I'm more comfortable this way anyway.

He rolls off me. Sometimes I try to complete the mission myself, sometimes I just lie there.

Sometimes he falls asleep. Sometimes he gets up, gets dressed again and goes back to his Xbox.

I don't stay the night. He insists we don't sleep together because we're not a couple and he doesn't want to complicate things. We don't have one of those arrangements where I leave a toothbrush and a pack of tampons at his place. He's never even been to my place. I'm not sure I'd want him to.

So after maybe a half hour of activity and aftermath, I roll out of his bed. I reach down onto the floor and pick up my panties, unbunch them and pull them on. I re-clasp my bra and dress myself again.

I gather my things, grab my purse, say a polite "thank you," and leave, waiting for one of us to be in the mood to text again. This has gone on for the better part of 2 months. I slink off into the night, and go home to my own bed, alone.

When I put it that way, it's a wonder I haven't quit yet, but the truth is somewhere between these two extremes. It can be very good, but it can be very impersonal. It can be convenient, but it can also be un-fulfilling. In my more clear-headed moments, I feel it would be smartest to end this thing with Leo and take a chance with Buddy. But just as often, I'm thankful for something that, if not perfect, is easy to manage and that oftentimes does feel good.

I feel guilty sometimes for being too comfortable with what I've got. I also sometimes feel guilty for not liking it as much as I should. I don't know. I'm really mixed up.

Maybe it can't last much longer, but for now, that's what it's like.

Friday, November 05, 2010

Max: Ready to talk

This isn't easy for me. Opening up to people. Back in the day, I learned quickly to keep my mouth shut about my life because I knew nobody would believe me, and the people who knew about my condition weren't in much of a state to care.

My name is Max. It used to be Samantha, and before that... before that isn't important and I'd rather move past it. I've spent a lot of the last 5 years trying to figure out who I'm supposed to be. I still don't know.

What I do know is that this past July, I came back to Maine to give up being Sam. My time in her life was scary as hell and even after years of adjustment, I still wanted to get out. Maybe it wasn't smart, especially not knowing where I was going to end up.

I ended up as a guy. Max. It definitely wouldn't have been my first choice, but any woman should be able to recognize the advantages to being male. Alia told you all about this, or some variation on it. Here's some stuff she didn't tell you.

Max wasn't alone. And he wasn't really forthcoming with details about his life. He wrote half a page that amounted to "I dunno, do whatever." Not so succinctly, but basically gave me the distinct impression that he did not give a shit about what happened to his life. I guess wherever he is, he feels like he's better off, selfish jerk.

But he wasn't alone. He was traveling with his girlfriend Tanya and a third girl, Tanya's twin sister Melanie. They were in the same room that night because Melanie was sick from drinking. Yes, I know that about those two, but Max wouldn't even tell what his own mom's name is.

Anyway, I've decided to post this because... well, it's complicated. I felt like the time was right to get over my tensions about speaking about myself. Even when I was at the Inn, with people who had been transformed, I found it difficult to open up and I don't want to be like that anymore. It's helped that I've had to sort of guide the new Tanya and Melanie through this experience. I'll tell you more about them when I'm ready. For now it just helps that I've opened the lines of communication.