The transformation made me sick. I barely even remember getting my wits together to write that last post. I was on bedrest, throwing up, being tended to by my friends. I didn't understand what had happened to me, exhausted and dizzy.
Anthony later said he thought it was because of the shock of going from being Zane to being "Clara." I had been drinking heavily, and Clara's body is small and used to a vegan diet, and maybe the stuff I had put into my own body needed to be filtered out by whatever magical process transformed us. I don't know, it sounds as good of a theory as anything.
Anthony's a good guy, and when I could face him I told him flat out I didn't want to be "Clara." He reminded me I didn't have much of a choice. If he knew how to go back to his own body right away, he would. But we're stuck in these ones for now. I asked him what he was going to do, and he said "I'm going to be the best girl I can, because that's all I can do." I'm jealous of his confidence. I don't feel like I can pull this off, and I really don't want to have to.
Shaun and Lisa have it easy, they're still the same type of person they started out as. Shaun's taller than he used to be, a young, mid-20's decent-looking guy who looks like he has his life together: "Doug," my "brother." Lisa is a pretty young girl, like 18 or so, with long dark hair and a pretty nice body and Greek-looking features. "Eve."
Anthony ended up as "Eve's" sister, "Charlotte." She's about ten years older. The two of them are short, but Charlotte is curvier. I wouldn't say "fat" but she's got a huge bum, hips and big round boobs. I wonder what it would be like to be a girl like that, instead of a twig like Clara. She's pretty, too, I really like her face. Anthony has to wear glasses as her, though.
It's just so strange looking at these strangers and trying to see the people I know inside them. Lisa and Shaun have been quiet, but Anthony as always is a flurry of activity, arranging all of our ways home, keeping our shit together, reminding us who we are supposed to be. Then the fateful day came: "Okay, guys. We're flying to California."
I had put the finishing touches on my "My Life" letter, wondering if I'd ever be myself again... Anthony's read this blog and says it's possible, so I shouldn't give up hope. I didn't have a lot to say about myself, so I'm worried someone will just walk into my life and make it better and not want to leave. At the same time I can't just tell them "Keep collecting unemployment checks and applying for crappy jobs I didn't really want." Sorry, for a second there I felt like a loser.
I was a wreck for the flight out to California. Then I saw where I'll be living. It's like one of those reality TV houses, a big one not far from the beach, which Clara shares with 5 others. Anthony drove me home in Charlotte's car and led me up to my new room... clever guy, he asked one of Clara's housemates, "Hey, she's really a mess which room is hers?" so I wouldn't look totally clueless.
Before I knew it, a day had passed. I woke up the next morning and it still felt like someone was playing a joke on me... that I was only imagining I had this body, that I'm still a guy, I just can't feel my dick for some reason. I slipped my hand into my underpants, and... nothing but smooth flesh and a pair of soft lips.
Suddenly, I sat upright. Everything was real. This whole thing was happening whether I liked it or not. And I wish that meant this revelation meant I suddenly felt capable of living as Clara, but all it really meant was that I was finally capable of facing her in the mirror. I hadn't showered or cleaned myself in anyway since I was a guy and I felt rotten.
I peeked my head out the door and timidly tried every door until I found the washroom. I locked myself inside. I was in a white tee shirt and shorts. I've been nude in this body, but I hadn't really noticed it. I began to pace, hesitating at what I was about to do.
I stripped off the top and looked down. There they were, pointing outwards, a couple of firm, perky breasts blocking my view. I felt up under them with the palms of my hands, ran my fingers over their nipples. A shiver went up inside me. It's like... the most sensitive touch I've ever felt. Nothing in my old body would have sensed a feeling like that.
My eyes turned upward and faced the mirror, to the girl standing across from me cupping her breasts. I stepped closer and leaned over the sink to get a better look, feeling the flesh of my breasts hang low off me. I opened and closed my mouth, to remind myself I was in control of the girl in the mirror... mouthing, "Wow..." not at my looks, but just at... at the feeling of looking at someone else's body through their own eyes. Of being someone else. Of being in control of this.
I moved my one hand up to brush my hair behind my ear. I'm tanned, fairly evenly, with a few freckles, with sun-streaked sandy blonde hair over my ears. My eyes are deep blue, with a petite little nose beneath them, and rounded little lips. It was my biggest fear... Clara really is hot.
My mind flew back to the letter she left with her luggage, the novella she wrote about her life... she's a model, only part time but hoping to make it big. She's a goddamned model and even if she's not, like, 7 feet tall and stacked, she's still prettier than the average girl and seems to make a living being hot.
I turned the shower on full blast of cold, whipped my shorts down and climbed in, letting the water wash over my back. I just wanted to get numb again.
I got good and wet, ran my fingers through my hair, then shut the water off. I grabbed a towel and wrapped it under my arms, bundling my tits up and tiptoeing back to my room to hide from the world.