Monday, February 27, 2012

Greg/Alexis: On Thicker Ice

So things at home have become a bit of a ceasefire. Partly due to the real Sharon's intervention, partly due to the fact that I haven't really been hanging out there much lately. Work's been pretty slow so I've had a lot more time to hang out around town and enjoy Burlington. That was the whole purpose of becoming a "Traveller", to go new places and to meet new people. So even though it's been extremely cold the last week or so I've seen a lot of fun stuff.

Part of this has been renewing the friendship between myself and Annabelle. Annabelle is one of Alexis' best friends in real life, but the past few months she's been a bit neglected while I tried to keep Malinda in line. Nonetheless she understood, and said she could sense some sort of tension between us and it was important to work on our marriage.

I can see why she and and Alex are friends. Sharon and Alexis may be in love but they are total opposites. They do a lot of date stuff together but have pretty different interests. I dont wanna say Alex has "manly" tastes but theyre definitely not stereotypically femme. So its good for her to have friends outside of her marriage where she can talk hockey, politics, and beer appreciation, two of which I happen to like and Annabelle is an expert on.

We were hanging out on Friday because I was getting a haircut and I wanted her opinion. Not just because she's more familiar with the city but because I want hair like hers. Long hair is one of the more irritating things about being a girl to me. You cant just walk out of the house like you can as a guy, you either have to brush, wash, or put it up otherwise you look like a crazy cat lady. So after Sharon told me that Alex normally wore hers very short, I saw no reason not to get it cut.

The Salon we went to was gay friendly. Thats something ive noticed about this life, is that the gay community has certain places that they like to patronize because of a friendly atmosphere. I think that stems from the past, when public prejudice was more common and there was real danger with being gay. So while this wanst a "gays only" salon, it did have copies of The Advocate on the coffee table.

Annabelle wanted me to get a mohawk,because my hair was long enough to spike pretty high and then I reminded her that I worked in an office. The stylist then suggested a fauxhawk, to which I told him I didnt wanna look like a Jersey Shore person. We finally decided on a short yet still feminine cut. I'm sitting here typing with a nice short 2 inches of hair that's easy to manage. Annabelle called it perfectly butch, saying so in a proud way rather than derisive.

We left to get a cup of coffee and as we were walking she asked what time we should meet tomorrow night. Not having heard of previous plans I asked what she was talking about.

"The reunion...I assume that's why you got your haircut?"

I gave her a look like I didnt know what she was talking about.

"The team reunion...at the Ice arena. The one we do annually. The one we send out emails about."

I dont check Alex's emails regularly. Seems like the real Alex hasnt been either lately. Apparently Alex was a hockey player in college and they had won a league title or something. While it wasnt exactly big time on the national stage it was a pretty big deal in terms of women's hockey in Vermont. And every year the team comes back for a reunion and gets a round of applause at the game. Some of the players couldnt make it, having moved away or gotten on with their lives but I didn't really have an excuse, living in town still. So I went.

I got lost on UVM's campus, which is understandable because it was the first time I'd ever actually been there, but I found the ice arena. There wasnt much of a crowd, late Saturday night in a college town and hockey wasnt a high priority, still there were some die hards and a few parents.

I found Alex's former teammates easily, they were all wearing old jerseys. I had found Alex's old #12 with "Barco" on the back in the close in a dry cleaning bag. Kinda dorky that she still kept it but fond memories I guess.

Once I was spotted I was greeted with the usual squeals and hugs that occur when women see each other for the first time in a long time. After a few pleasantries and being introduced to various husbands and children I found Annabelle. She looked around "Where's Sharon? She usually comes to these things for you"

"She had to work" I lied quickly and badly

"She's an artist" Annabelle said confused

"Inspiration struck" I said with a shrug.

Hockey was never my favorite sport and I'm not a good enough ice skater to play it, but I'll watch the Blackhawks when theyre on so I wasnt completely lost watching. At the first intermission we all went to center ice and had a picture taken and all our names we're called and there was a lot of waving and smiling before heading back to our seats. All in all pretty easy and a little fun to get credit for winning something.

After the game Annabelle and I were walking to our cars and she asked me if things were ok between me and "Sharon"

"Yeah, theyre fine, why do you ask?"

"Its just that I hardly see her anymore, and you dont talk about her like you used to. Since college you'd always give me the details of your relationship and now its like talking to someone who isn't even married"

Insightful girl "Well, we have hit a bit of a rough patch, but we are working through it"

"I hope so" she said "Sometimes you seem a bit down about it, I hope you dont get hurt"

She walked to her car but not before giving me a hug that was a little tighter and a little longer than usual.

Saturday, February 25, 2012

Zane Clara: The real me?

It's Saturday afternoon and I got a lot on my mind. Usually I'm working at the snack bar or doing a photoshoot. This is the first time in a while I've got an afternoon to myself. I'm just sitting in my room on the computer and I realized I could blog something.

I like doing Clara's jobs. Even the modelling, is that weird? I didn't used to like dressing in womens clothes at all but they're not all that uncomfortable and I don't have to go around in them. I just have to stand around looking hot, which is tough since it's like "smile but don't smile, stand up straight" and every photog has his own ideas about what he or she wants from a model. Sometimes I have to pretend to be in a couple, that's always awkward. Mainly it's stock photo work so you might see me on the internet randomly.

The snack bar can be annoying, but it gives me a chance to go out dressed like a normal person without makeup or fancy clothes. Then even when I don't put any work in, guys wanna talk to me and I just play along. I get asked for my number a lot, and I always turn them down. I tell them I don't have a phone and they should give me their number. The problem is they know where I work so guys come by to see why I haven't called them yet and keep asking me out and I just go "no I'm busy." I think they think they can wear me down and I don't know how to stop it. I'm worried one day I'm gonna say yes to one of them and it's gonna be the wrong guy and he's gonna kill me or something. That's why I don't go out a lot.

I don't get depressed anymore, though. The pills are working. I don't sit around being sad and crying my fucking eyes out because I have to sit to pee or because some stupid wardrobe person told me my tits were too big... which is fucked up because this isn't even my body and it bothers me that it even bothers me which makes me even more sad.

No, instead I just relax. I try to enjoy things. I've been a chick for six months or something and things haven't gotten any better or worse, so now that I can see some stability, I guess the I'm evening out. It kinda sucks you guys never got to know the real me, the one that wasn't always freaked out or depressed. I didn't used to whine all the time I think.

But they told me I'd still have triggers. I don't know exactly how this transformation has changed my brain. Things that bother me bother me a LOT. So when Anthony told me he was fucking that Blake guy, I went nuts inside. I started crying, I wanted to hurl. I took it really personal because I thought, if we're still guys inside, how could you let a guy do that to you. I still get grossed out when guys look at me the wrong way, and just because I'm on pills and I'm okay with wearing makeup doesn't mean I think the idea of fucking a guy is awesome.

He gave all his reasons for doing it, and I just didn't care. The idea of him inside that body getting his pussy fucked made me sick. I didn't wanna talk to him for a while.

Then one morning I was taking my pill and I was thinking about how fucked up it was that I never needed pills before I was Clara, but because I have her body I have her brains too. And then it hit me... that's true for Anth too. It's like... he didn't decide to let a guy fuck him any more than I decided to be depressed. These bodies control us in really fucked up ways we can't even understand.

So I dunno. I guess it's okay for him to do that. I'm still not into it, but whatever. That's his business. We'll just forget it happened when we're back in our real bodies.

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Tuesday, February 21, 2012

Tori: No. Just no.

I'm really flattered you guys haven't forgotten about me. Every so often I read a comment asking about me and it makes me want to write a big post updating you on my life. But the sad truth is there was not a lot to update you on. Working, dating, living, being me... I felt for a while it was nice to step back and stop using this blog to explain to myself that it was okay to be okay with my life, that nothing about it was new anymore and it was good to get comfy and go along with the ride. I said it was the sad truth, but it's also the awesome truth. I've gotten to a place I've never felt in either of my lives.

Alex-- that is my boyfriend Alex, not Greg's current body -- is exactly what I've needed in my life. He's really stable. After a long settling-in period, we got really comfortable with each other, learned each other's needs and wants and now we're jsut so... I don't wanna say perfect, but like I said, stable. It's just so awesome to have someone to throw my arms around at night.

I realized over the Holidays that I love him. We were having dinner with my family, and I don't know, he was just kidding around with dad and I was just watching him, being so cute and I thought "I love this guy. This is real."

Then I got scared. I haven't said that to anyone in years, and it was not like this. I contemplated saying it to Buddy, but we were way off base on that. There were risks here, too, though. It was laying my feelings bare to a man who means the world to me, and it was admitting to myself how badly I needed him in my life. How much of a woman I wanted to be for him. Before I could say it, I tried to forget I ever wasn't Tori. I thought that would make it easier, but it was impossible. There's still baggage there. There's still this feeling that I'm lying to him just a little bit, even as every day passes and makes me more Tori and more his.

So I dove in and told him. Christmas eve. It was a beautiful night and we were out for a drive and we stopped at a gas station. He got out to fill the tank and I was sitting in there waiting for him, when something just grabbed me and made me leave the car and walk over to him. The look on his face before I said it, so clueless. I just took a breath, watched the steam come out of my mouth and said it. "Hey. I love you."

It was a really gutsy move, since if he didn't feel the same way, it would have wrecked the ride home, maybe even Christmas.

He just smiled and said "I knew that. I love you too."

I felt my legs turn to rubber. I nearly fell on him. Even remembering that moment now takes my breath away. I threw myself into his arms and we kissed. He pulled the pump from the tank and we hurried home.

And for a while it was bliss. Waking up in the morning thinking about how in love I am will do that.

Then in January I got this e-mail.

It was a long e-mail. It was apologetic. It had a lot of details about the last few years and why certain things happened the way they did. It was from Willy Taylor, and the gist of it was "I'm going back to Maine this Summer, and if you'd like, you can have your real body back."

Uh.

My "real" body?

I was gobsmacked. My life is so full of hanging threads, I thought this would never come up again. I just assumed Willy had gone off with my old body and was happy with it. But somehow, now, he's decided he's ready to "give it back?" Like I should be grateful for the chance to be that person again? Like being Cliff would be better just because he as a penis?

I didn't even think of it. I didn't even reply! Every time I tried I just got so outraged my fingers couldn't stop shaking. I don't want to go back, but that doesn't mean the hurt has gone away. That feeling of utterly sinking away from myself after he first told me he wanted another year with my body (which turned into TWO by the way) will always be with me. And even though it allowed me to become the person I am now, it still hurt like hell and he can't make that better. It wasn't even malice. It was just insensitive. I don't know what I'd even say, other than "No thanks."

How dare he re-open that wound? After that e-mail I went back to where I was a year earlier, second-guessing everything, falling out of "character" with this cloud of "Cliff-ness" hanging over over me. Every time I seemed upset about something since then, Alex could sense I needed to be comforted, but he never pushed too hard for information. He's there for me. He's so good for putting up with my nonsense. And so trusting not to ask questions I don't wanna answer.

I don't know what the future holds, but my present is well in hand.

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Greg/Alexis: Hands on Learning

So I spent the last week wondering to myself if I was too hard on Malinda, trying to remember where I was at that stage. This led me to the conclusion that I wasnt even close to her level of instability and animosity, so I kept sleeping in the big bed, which has become a symbol of dominance to me. I didnt dare say the words "Valentine's Day" out loud around the house but told all of our friends that we were staying in. She mostly ignored me and I wondered what the next step was going to be. Fortunately someone took it for me.

Thursday afternoon after I came home from work there was a semi truck parked across from our condo. This was not something you saw a lot in our neighborhood and when I walked in the house I saw a large, hairy man following Malinda around the house and talking to her very sternly. Malinda was doing her best to ignore him but was also doing what he said. When he saw me his mouth dropped open. "You must be Greg" he whispered. That's when I put 2 and 2 together and realized that his was the real Sharon, and she currently looked like a truck driver named Jack.

Apparently she reads this blog every now and then on her cell phone and when she saw the last post she got to Vermont as soon as she could. She said that Malinda was going to have to learn how to impersonate her properly and she had to make sure of that personally. I dont know if she's always been this forceful or if its being in such a large body that has that effect, but she was giving orders and commands and I couldnt help but smile and go upstairs.

A few hours later she knocked on the door and I let her in "Is she crying?" I asked jokingly.

"Not a lot" She replied "She seemed to do what I was telling her to do just to get me out of her hair. She should be a lot more cooperative around the house as well as doing things around town as well. She's totally made me a hermit"

"Its hard to adjust" I said "I'm only doing so well because this is my 3rd go around, although her case is pretty extreme. How are you holding up"

"Pretty well considering THIS" she said crinkling up her face and gesturing towards her body "I'll never get used to it and hope I never have to. Still the job lets me travel a lot and I dont have to interact with a lot of people. Alex really hates her new life though, and she didn't even grow a penis"

"She doesn't like being the stay at home wife" I asked

"She doesn't like being attracted to men. It puts a hell of a strain on their marriage, since her husband has no idea. At first she was pretty mean, but things seemed to have gotten better, at least it seemed so when I saw her last?"

"Youve seen her?" I asked puzzled

"I saw her Tuesday afternoon" Sharon said mischievously "For Valentine's Day. One of the benefits of my job, I get to go to Minnesota every now and then and we meet up in a hotel."

"She's cheating on him" I said a little shocked

"Technically. I dont know how it works out. Their bodies our married, but she and I are soulmates, so it's kind of allowed. I think the whole concept of fidelity becomes a little gray when you change lives with someone"

That was one of the more profound things I'd heard said about the inn in awhile. After thinking about it, I was kind of glad that they got to see each other, although I hope that the husband doesnt find out and have his life affected.

We talked for a little while longer, about friends, and Burlington, and other little things about the life I was living. We were talking about fashion and stuff when she reached up and put her hand in my hair.

"It's so long" she mused

"Its barely down to my shoulders" I said confused "I had it halfway down my back when I was Priya"

"Alex wears her hair REALLY short" Sharon explained "Like only about 2 inches long short. Seeing her like this is bizarre" she trailed off as she started running her fingers through it.

I gently moved her big manly hand out of my hair when she took mine in hers and stared deeply into my eyes and started moving in for a kiss. I pulled a way with a bit of a shocked expression.

"Umm...I'm really not into that. At all." I said thinking about that drunken night with Bry

She pulled away and looked embarrassed "I'm sorry...its just...you look like her and its messing with my head."

I patted her on the knee and diffused the awkwardness. "It's understandable, it'll only be a few more months. We have the reservations and I promise you youre lives will be waiting her when you get back."

We then had a tight friendly hug, although she did ask first. She spent the night in Burlington before driving off on her next great adventure. I took off on another boring adventure in IT. Hopefully things get less tense around her.

-Greg

Sunday, February 19, 2012

"Ellie": Fatherly Advice

I feel like such a loser lately.

At school, I spend a lot of my time alone. This is mostly be choice, since I really don't care for any of the people in this town or at the school. I'm getting a glimpse of a high school life I never had and I'm fine with the fact that I didn't live through this. I've seen such amazing things, the world, different bodies and lives, it's like... what do I have to say to any of these people? The dumb ones are all about Jersey Shore and LMFAO, and even the smart ones aren't nearly as cool as they think they are, just because they listen to old music and have Audrey Hepburn posters. Even my closest friend, my ex girlfriend Emily, is sinking into it. It's like she naturally morphed into this whole Teen Queen persona. She is not the girl I knew. She really isn't.

The last time I talked to her, she tried to fix me up with some guy, a friend of her boyfriend. I told her not to do me any favors.

I'm in a bad way, though. I'm nearly failing a lot of my classes. I guess I'm not book smart. I never even went to high school, I don't know much about studying! My "parents" have noticed.

One night I got up in the middle of the night to get a drink and I saw "Dad" flipping the channels. It was like 2 AM I guess. I asked what he was doing up.

"Couldn't sleep, didn't want to wake your mom. What are you doing up? It's a school night."

"Who cares?" I asked.

"Your mother cares. I care. We've noticed your marks aren't great."

"You know I'm not really your daughter, right? And she's not really my mom? And I don't give a shit what you think."

"Watch your mouth!" he scolded. There was a silence between us for a second. "I hate hearing you talk like that. Yes, damnit, I remember who you really are, but you look too young to talk like that. Would you mind?"

"Whatever," I said.

"It's a problem. Your schoolwork. Don't you care about anything? Wouldn't you like to graduate, finish high school, go do something with your life?"

"With my life?" I nearly choked. "You think I wanna stay here?"

"Don't you?"

"Hell no," I said. "And I think it's fucked up you assumed I did. What, you like it here?"

"Yeah. Actually, I do," he said. "I'm making good money. I'm in a stable partnership with a woman. We have a daughter."

"You've got a fucking lie!" I said in a whisper-yell. "We don't even know where the real Ellie and her dad are, let alone if they're trying to get back. You can do what you want but I'm not staying here a goddamn week longer than I have to."

"Well then," he said, "Maybe that's a good reason to try. So you don't throw Ellie's future away, no matter who ends up living this life."

I gritted my teeth. He went on. "I know you don't think I know what you're feeling right now. Maybe I don't. But I know it can't be good to shun the world the way you do. You're going through something right now, and you think because you're older that you're above it, but I don't think you are."

I said bitterly, "You think I need to make friends and study?"

"It could be good for you."

I wanted to yell out "FUCK YOU!" I wanted to storm off. If I really was a teenager, I probably would have. But I restrained myself and swallowed my anger.

"We've thought about hiring you a tutor, at least, to help you through this next semester. Then you can do what you want with your life, go back to Maine, go to school, whatever you need to do."

I turned around and went to my room but I didn't sleep. I was still hot with anger at the idea of this person trying to control my life, thinking he knows better than I do just because he looks like my dad. I wouldn't have taken that shit when we were the same age group, but suddenly he towers over me with his hairy gut and receding hairline and I take everything he has to say instead of fighting back.

After sleeping it off, though, I hated to admit there were parts of the conversation that made sense. There are things I could do to make my time here easier, but only I can make those decisions.

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Wednesday, February 15, 2012

Shaun/Doug: An Uncomfortable Valentine

I'm a romantic. I believe women should be treated special, if you really love them. My ex always got a special treatment on Valentine's Day, and I thought I was being really smooth, buying a dozen roses and leaving one in a different location for Nia before she woke up: Her pillow, the shower, the kitchen, her car... I even dropped a few off at the reception at her Hospital, with the remaining ones to be found when she got home from her shift.

Instead, when she got home, I got "What the hell is this?"

"Uh, a Valentine? I thought it would be a nice..."

She interrupted, "When have we ever done anything for Valentine's? As long as I've known you, we agreed it was just a stupid day, all of a sudden you're all lovey dovey and it's creeping me out."

Swing and a miss.

"I had a... change of heart," I stammered.

"You've been having a lot of those lately," she said.

"I don't know what to say," I said. In reality, I was dying to tell her the truth, but given how far into the lie of Doug Green I've become, that might raise some really, really unpleasant questions.

She said, "I mean, it's just so out of character that I don't know how to take it. Some days it's like you've never even met me before, some days it's like you read me better than ever."

I try. You know, I like Nia a whole lot, and in my real life, I could have seen myself really falling for her, although she's different from all the women I've been with before. But I'm playing the game, trying to let her win as much as I can, because it isn't really my place to stir up a fuss with her. And I don't mind, so long as she's willing to put up with her now-clueless hubby. Since our schedules have actually not overlapped too much, it's worked really well so far.

And then she said this:

"Are you cheating?"

I just stared at her. I probably took way too long to answer, because I was trying to put the pieces together and see how that conclusion made sense. Maybe I avoid her. Maybe I seem uninterested in the relationship. Being "forgetful." All this stuff I can't hide about not being Doug.

"No," I said quietly, still trying to gather my thoughts.

"Really?"

"Really! Nia, I love you."

"How can I believe you?"

I told her every single thing I learned about her since I've been here. Her middle and maiden name. I told her she was 5'6, and "just the perfect weight." She grew up in Oakland and studied Nursing at UC San Francisco. She eats Honey Nut Cheerios every morning, but she'd eat French Toast every day if she could. Her favorite color is blue but her favorite dress is purple. She flosses. She secretly loves Sylvester Stallone movies, and she first met Doug Green because he was dating a girl she isn't friends with anymore.

She crinkled her nose in that cute way she does. "Because I stole you from her."

I told her, "You're worried, because I was stolen once, someone might again, but you're wrong."

I wrapped my arms around her and told her she didn't have worry anymore. She leaned in and kissed me.

"What did you say to me when I finally admitted I wanted to date you?"

I went a bit cold. "I don't know."

"Come on. That's an easy one. I had it engraved in my ring."

"I'm... drawing a blank."

She pulled her wedding band. Inside was engraved. "Right on."

She smiled. "You're the worst husband ever."

So I smoothed that one over. I wish this situation were as easy as just being able to look like Doug and act like myself, but it has actually required a great deal of effort to act in a way Nia accepts from Doug. Doug, if you're reading this, I'm trying, buddy. Keeping things stable for your return, I hope.

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Sunday, February 12, 2012

Anthony/Ceecee: I'm my father.

Oh, boy, where to start.

As Zane mentioned, there was an encounter between me and a man by the name of Blake, whom we both know professionally. I had hoped Zane wouldn't mention it in the post, but I guess in explaining what happened to her (and yes, I believe in facing reality, in that Zane is currently a girl,) at the party, it was only appropriate to note what she saw. And the conclusions she drew were not totally incorrect. But you might as well get the whole story.

I think of it this way. My father was an avowed carnivore. Nothing wrong with that, but ere was a man who would not accept a pizza with fewer than three types of meat, did not touch salads, and had a lifelong ambition to win any and all steakhouse challenges. Then one day, he woke up in the morning and his foot hurt. He could barely limp down the stairs, had to call in sick from work. He found out he had contracted gout, due to his diet. The main solution was to get off meat, and with great reluctance, he did so, finding several vegetarian (and vegan) recipe books, and turning healthy cooking into a hobby. Even though to this day it is medically safe for him to have meat in moderation, however, he is still an devoted vegetarian. This sudden transformation was confusing to my family, but years later, I understood it as a sort of self-preservation. Having felt that gout pain, he didn't even want to risk coming close to that experience again. He was a convert. And I guess I never quite understood how one could change one's life so completely until the day I woke up as a woman.

Granted, it did not happen that day, but right from the beginning, I could feel a shift in my perception. I work with several stunning women who are not shy about their cleavage and their bodies, and I rarely give them more than a passing glance (in fact, I feel a twinge of bitterness when they take it on themselves to flaunt it for no better reason than that they can) whereas I regard my own body as a sort of work in progress, trying to work off some of the pounds and inches from Ceecee's frame that I feel could be lost. I've already gone down two dress sizes since being here: I suspect Ceecee has a history of fluctuation, since there were dresses of that size in her wardrobe already, but I mainly pick out clothes for myself (weight loss, in this respect, can be pricey.)

It was not, however, a matter of sexual preference that I began my arrangement with Blake. It was self-preservation at work. In my past life, my real life, I still had a girlfriend to whom I was devoted. Someone I love and desperately want to return to. And I hope, upon returning to my body, my attraction to her returns, because I know she is that magnificent a person.

But for the time being, I'm not Anthony, I'm Charlotte. I don't live Anthony's life and I don't have his responsibilities. Instead, I have a whole different role, that of an agent, specifically Clara's agent. And Zane, Clara, whomever she is or thinks she is, is still my friend, very important to me no matter what we look like.

So when Blake, a photographer we do a certain amount of business with, began showing signs of interest in me, I took a somewhat mercenary attitude toward it. After all, here is a man surrounded by beautiful women constantly. I took it as a compliment last fall when he started lingering by my desk after meetings, calling to see "what was up." I was flattered, it meant I was at least doing something right. I knew I could turn it to my advantage, and deep down, I was morbidly curious as to what lay behind that door.

I let him take me out to dinner back in October. Wine loosened my tongue and I mentioned I liked a certain performer who would be in town. He got us tickets. We went, it was a great show, and to show my appreciation, I took his big hand in mine and kissed him. He jumped like a dog going after a treat. I told him I wasn't that kind of girl. He asked what kind of girl I was and I told him I was still figuring it out.

He was patient with me, which I respected. Again, he's a fairly handsome guy, and I believe he could be, and probably has been, with numerous more attractive women than me. But he chose to focus on me and I respected that. I kept going with it, convincing myself I was doing good for my friend... and Zane did get numerous jobs through him and through his recommendation.

By December, Zane had hit rock bottom, and the goodwill could only go so far. By then, though, what had been started with Blake could not be stopped. It would simply be too awkward to end our arrangement, given we would still have to maintain a working relationship. Right now, I guess you could say I'm using him for a different purpose. Although I don't particularly like him, in a relationship sort of way, I have grown fond of the feeling of having someone I can call when I need attention. So long as he and I are capable of keeping it casual, I'll be happy to keep going. When he proposed we have a dinner on Valentine's Day, I told him I did not think we were a "Valentine's Dinner" type of pair. It was a bit of a sticking point between us, but he agreed eventually we weren't.

I've had to remind him a couple of times, though, that this is not a real relationship. I'm not here to let anyone fall in love with Ceecee's body, because I know I'll be gone eventually anyway, back to my real life, my real relationship. If it's still intact by then. But that's another issue I may someday feel comfortable exploring here on this blog. I already feel somewhat exposed owning up to this, but it's the adult thing to do.

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Friday, February 10, 2012

Greg/Alexis: Standing up for myself

In my old life I would refer to a woman who was being aggressive or whiny or mean about something as "being a bitch", which is something a lot of us do even though it is a pretty sexist thing to say. Having spent the last 3 years as three females, I try to refrain from saying it, matter of perspective and all that. And honestly I rarely deserved that title, because I'm rarely aggressive, whiny, or mean that's just the type of person I am, although when someone or something totally warrants it, I will go off and lose my temper, and Tuesday night I was a total bitch.

It all started when I got home from work and there was a message on the answering machine for the house phone. If someone left a message there it had to be important because they had that number and not a cell number. I pushed play and the message went something like this:

"This message is for Sharon Barco from Dr. Simon Taylor's office reminding you of your appointment for February 18th, please call back to confirm and please not that if you cant make it your deposit will not be refunded to you."

If theres one thing I've learned from being in another person's body is that you respect their medical histories and instructions, as Zane found out when he stopped taking Clara's meds. So despite our iciness I went upstairs to tell Malinda she had a doctor's appointment.

"For what? I'm not sick" she said

"I dunno, maybe the gynecologist?" I suggested

"Shouldnt be, I had that appointment in November and the Doctor was a lady" she replied.

I had had the same type of appointment with the same doctor, and it wasnt Simon Taylor, so thinking something might be wrong and not trusting Malinda to follow through, I called the real Sharon, who if you remember is now a truck driver.

When I told her about an appointment with Dr. Taylor her voice went soft and all she managed was a soft "Oh."

"What is it, she doesnt have cancer or anything, does she?"

"No," she said sounding very girl and almost on the verge of tears "It's a fertility clinic"

Ouch. My heart went out to her. Apparently she and Alex had been wanting to start a family and they were going to have her being insemination around this time, but the inn threw them a curveball.

"I'd love to help you, Sharon" I consoled her "But this sort of thing is probably best left till your in your right bodies"

"I know" she sniffled, obviously missing her life.

We hung up shortly after and Malinda was in the room. "So what is it?"

"Fertility Clinic" I said sadly "I guess we're gonna cancel that appointment"

"Ugh, Clearly" she said with marked disgust "Those kind of people probably shouldnt even have kids"

Now, I've never been much of an activist. Being born a white male I've always been anti discrimination but havent really been effected by it. Even my time as Priya I never really felt discriminated against for being a minority and I'm certainly not an active part of the gay community now, but something about that comment boiled me over and I lashed out at her.

"You know what? FUCK YOU" I yelled "BOTH of them would make a better mother than you because they at least seem to be capable of compassion and love and arent some lazy, ignorant, spoiled brat!"

She was clearly shocked because her mouth hung wide open but I continued

"Let me tell you something about 'those people'. They arent any different from anyone else and in case you havent noticed, YOU'RE ONE OF THEM! That's right, you're a great big DYKE. That's why that guy left early the other night, because you didn't want him. Because your gay. And guess what? NOBODY CARES. This isnt your stupid little hick home town where people judge, its an open society. So the sooner you get over your self loathing maybe you might stop being such an insufferable child"

My face was red at this point and Malinda's was a mixture of terror and anger, but mostly terror. She looked like she thought I was going to hit her. I wanted to hit her. I couldve hit her. I'm an athlete and she's an artist, I'd kick her butt. But i'm not an abusive wife. I didn't hit her.

"And one more thing. You can sleep on the couch tonight. I pay the fucking mortgage around here, I'm going to sleep in the big bed."

I stood there waiting for a response, but all she did was look at me with tears welling up in her eyes and before leaving the house.

She didnt come back until late that night, and I know this because I kept my promise and slept in the Master Bedroom and didnt hear her come in. She's been a lot more subdued the last couple of nights. Hopefully I scared some sense into her.

I'll keep you posted.

-Greg

Monday, February 06, 2012

Zane-Clara: Beautiful Monster

Okay. I've been on the pills for over a month now. I wouldn't say I can "feel" them working, but suddenly things bother me a lot less, so I'm aware of them when something that would've bothered me doesn't. To start with, I'm eating more. I could barely choke down two meals a day, which left me weary and sick for a lot of the time, but now I'm more or less normal.

Which, weirdly enough, made me start getting a period. I thought I was lucky, I hadn't bled at all the whole time I was here and I thought maybe Clara was one of the few girls that didn't get it at all, but I guess it sometimes has to do with dieting or eating disorders or whatever she's got. It was embarrassing as hell, I had to borrow a pad from one of my housemates, then go shopping for my own. Luckily at least one of the girls around here doesn't use tampons, because I am NOT down with those things.

But I guess because i was depressed, I didn't tell you a lot of stuff. I only ever seemed to talk about how frustrated I was, and that's all true. It's not like I loved dressing up to be a model, getting my hair done, putting make up on, shaving my body constantly and being stared at by everybody.

But it all happened. And suddenly, last Saturday night, there I am looking myself in the mirror, with all the mascara and lipstick and foundation and concealer on, putting my earrings in. I had a green evening gown on and I was even wearing a strapless bra. And the funny thing is what I was thinking as I looked myself in the mirror. The more of it I had, the girlier I looked, the more in-character I felt. If I get up in the morning and put on some jeans and a t-shirt, and just let my boobs hang because I don't wanna put a bra on, I feel like an asshole, but all dressed up like this, I could at least pretend I'm supposed to be this way. Sure, my underwear was riding up my crack, but other than that, I felt pretty sexy. Besides, it was just one night, and there was gonna be free booze. And I was gonna have Anthony nearby for support anyhow. If nothing else, I could lean on him if I tripped on my own dress.

So, we drove up to the dining hall where this even was being held. Anthony was looking good, having wrapped herself in this slick black gown with a corset that really pushed his tits up and accentuated his butt. Her butt. It's a girl's butt, I shouldn't keep talking about it like it's my friend Anthony's. She seemed pretty impressed at the lengths I went to... one of the girls in the house is a make-up artist, and it took some convincing since I'm not really in good with her, but she at least gave me a good price.

So we got in and were both instantly presented with champagne. Beautiful. We started talking, but Anth seemed distracted. Like she was looking for someone. The reason we were there was to shmooze, I figured there was some bigshot photog she wanted me to charm.

Eventually, we ran into Blake, one of the guys who's hired me a few times. He does a lot of ad campaigns, billboards and print mostly. He comes over to us and I wave "Hey!" and he gives me a nod before zeroing in on Anth. Soon as she's done her drink, he gets her another. They share private jokes. He's just giving her this uber-creepy look. Like, the "fuck-me" eyes. I wanted to yak.

I was trying to pull Anth away to the bathroom so I could save him from his advances, but I couldn't get a word in edgewise. The whole thing was making me uncomfortable, so I went off on my own, eventually going to the ladies' room anyway because three glasses of free booze just went right through me.

There, some bitch model asked what size I was wearing these days because the last time she saw "me" I looked way thinner. I didn't recognize her, but I wanted to deck her. I figure it'd be hard to get gigs with a broken nose and a black eye. I was wearing a ring, too.

When I got back to the main hall, I couldn't find Anth, which worried me. But I didn't have long to look for her because I got cornered by this guy. I wanted to push him away, but something about him seemed harmless, so if he was willing to put up with me repeatedly telling him how nothing was going to happen, I could stand to pretend to listen to his story. His name was Wesley Bridges, a rich entrepreneur type. I forget what his business is, but it doesn't really matter.

Then after about forty minutes, Anth and Blake re-appeared. And I was going to ask what happened, but it didn't take long to figure it out. Her hair was all ruffled. Her dress looked like it'd been taken off and put back on. And Blake... Blake had this smug fucking swagger like he had something to be proud of.

"What was that?" I asked through gritted teeth.

"Oh, he just wanted to talk a little business."

I glared at her. "That's all?"

"Yeah, Clara," she said, using my fake name like it was no big deal, "It was just business."

I didn't want to talk to her anymore. I didn't want to talk to anyone. I had a few more drinks, then found the guy from earlier, Wes, and asked if he'd take me home.

Except when I woke up the next morning, I wasn't home. No, I was lying in a stranger's bed, naked.

I leaned over the bed and horked all over the floor.

I slowly got up and checked the place. There was a bathroom attached to the room, where I scrubbed the crusty makeup off my face and rinsed my mouth. It was a guest room, you could tell because there wasn't any clothes in the dresser, but a man's robe in the closet. I slipped the robe on and clutched it tight, wandering the halls of this penthouse until I found a kitchen. He was standing there, in a polo shirt, making eggs, like in the movies or something.

"Where am I?"

"Wow, you were really out of it last night, huh? You couldn't remember how to get back to your place, so you came back here."

That sounds right. "And my clothes?"

"You threw up on yourself in my car," he said, "So when we got here, the first thing you did was strip down. Now, your bra and panties, you claimed, you were just sick of wearing."

Again, that also sounded right.

I asked, "You didn't see anything... did you?"

"I tried to look away. You made it pretty clear you weren't trying to put on a show."

He probably saw the look of shame on my face, though, cause then he clarified that we didn't do anything. I believed him because I feel like I would've noticed. He told me that he basically let me pass out in his guest room, and then he sat up with me to make sure I didn't get too sick.

"Yeah, I'm sorry," I said, "Last night was a bad night, I saw something that really messed me up."

"I understand, we all have our bad times."

"I've been having plenty of those lately. Sorry again, you seem like a really nice guy. You didn't need to be so nice to me. Probably any other girl there would've totally banged you."

He laughed a bit. "Yeah, that might be true. We'll never know. I don't know, I guess I just like a wreck."

Then I laughed. Yeah, I'm definitely that. "I'm gonna go change, then get a cab home."

"Oh, forget that. Have some breakfast with me, then we'll see if we can find your place."

I was starving. It would've been hard to turn down. So we sat and ate, pretty much in silence.

I was uncomfortable, naked except for the fabric of the robe. But I didn't leave, I didn't stop eating until I was full (a surprisingly big deal) and he was a gentleman, didn't try to hit on me. He just asked some questions about my past, what I did... I gave vague answers, "Oh I grew up around here, trying to be a model, but it's not really working out." That kinda thing.

He took me home, and I stayed quiet while I tried to convince myself I didn't see what I thought I did. It looked like Anth had snuck off to mess around with Blake, but it could've been anything.

"Hey, thanks for putting up with my craziness," I said. I don't know if I would have rescued some messy chick from a party when I could've gone for one who would screw me.

We finally got to my place. "Listen," he said, "I put my number in your phone. If you ever need anything... it might come in handy, someday."

"Yeah, we'll see."

I walked up the steps and back to my pathetic little life.

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Friday, February 03, 2012

Greg/Alexis: Yearly plans.

So this year I was about a week late getting my reservations for the Trading Post Inn, not only because the people in the chain were hard to track down but because I had to rent two rooms and organize two chains.

My own chain was actually pretty easy this year, since I didnt have a body to go back to. I wasnt going back to being Dee, which kind of freaked out the guy who wound up as her. He's a 16 year old who not only hates being in her body, but he took his first glimpse of independence the wrong way. Started drinking a lot and got fired from her job. Luckily he's managed to find a way back to his old life. I on the other hand, am sticking with my original plan to "roll the dice" and booked the room at the most convenient time. The real Alex will follow and get her body back and it goes on like that for a few more links in the chain.

Booking the other room was a little more difficult and yes we are booking two rooms. I've been burned by the Inn enough times to not be paranoid. The reason for 2 rooms is because if Malinda and I share a room, theres no guarantee that she'll be the one who wakes up as herself, and I do NOT want to spend a year as her. Also complicating things would be when the real Barcos stay in there they might wind up in each others body, which probably wouldnt be that big of a change. They'd both be female and they'd both still live in the same place and still be married to each other, but from talking to them their personalities are different enough that its best just to play it safe and rent two rooms.

I of course, did the booking for both rooms. This is because Malinda hates thinking about that kind of stuff and is still barely talking to me, also I'm the only one with a job and most of the high limit credit cards are in Sharon's name, and finally I dont trust Malinda not to screw it up. Finally after all the email juggling back and forth we're all set to head to Maine and begin things the 2nd week of August. And yes I'm a bit nervous about where I wind up, but also a little excited.

A lot of that stems from the icy conditions here in Vermont, and not I'm not talking about the unusually warm February weather, I'm talking about how my housemate is angry at me and isnt ready to talk. I'm over it though. I tried to help her through this experience and she just got mad and blamed me for everything she didnt like about it. I'm just content to sit back and watch.

Like last Friday. Malinda spent January trying to be as much of herself as possible, which is all fine and dandy to an extent but its proper inn etiquette to at least TRY and live the live of the person the world sees you as. Malinda has taken to going out at night, and not just on weekends because as I said before , she doesnt have a real job. She mostly goes out a long and from the way she dresses I think she's going to clubs, and not the ones that that the real Sharon and Alex usually go to. I think she's going to college clubs and dancing. Sharon is in her late 20's but she's very good looking and could pass for 24 if she tried, and Malinda is trying...a little too hard.

Friday night I was staying in finishing staff evaluations (They all got great ones, I'm really nice at work, especially since they do all the real work) while Malinda headed out around 8pm when her taxi got there. (I'm very possessive of the Ranger Rover. I dont want her drinking and driving) I was still awake when she got home around 2 am, just sitting on the couch in a thank top and pjs when she walked in giggly, drunk, disheveled, and followed by a guy.

I raised an eyebrow when I saw her but she totally blew me off "This is my roommate, Alex" she said in a half hearted introduction as he followed her upstairs. I turned back to my work wondering if anyone had seen her and what she was doing to Sharon's reputation, when 5 minutes later the guy came downstairs with a clearly disappointed look on his face, Malinda saw him to the door and said an awkward goodbye.

When the door turned I said with a smirk "Not a lot of stamina?" she just glared at me "I dont want to talk about it" Of course she didnt need to talk about it for me to know what happened. She couldnt bring herself to do it. Having been both heterosexual and now homosexual I can tell you that you can't force it. Well, i guess you can force it but it feels extremely wrong. She probably got all naked with him and chickened out. Hopefully this doesnt make her more resentful of things.

Anyway, I'll keep counting the days till Ive got a new life

-Greg.