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.