Jordan Chang - Damn you, Trading Post Inn!

It's three-thirty in the morning and I almost wish I was dying.

I usually sleep pretty soundly through the night once I have fallen asleep, but twenty minutes ago I woke up in total fucking pain.  I thought - hoped - at first that it was my body going back to normal, that maybe despite what everyone says about the inn's curse following certain kinds of rules, my time as a girl was only going to last the weekend.  I pulled my pantries off so that my cock and balls wouldn't get crushed, but that moving around just suited things up and made the real problem obvious, and I barely made it to the bathroom in time to puke my guts out.

I'm not pregnant, smart-asses, but it looks like I should probably start ordering the small pizza instead of the medium for the duration.  Maybe I should have figured that out from how many times I had to piss yesterday (can't code without Pepsi Max), but I'm just not used to leaving any pizza in the box.  Besides, when some magical force has changed your body, you kind of don't want to give in.  Those last couple slices just look at you like "can't handle us? why don't you just give in and get a salad, bitch?", and down they go even if it won't be clear that your new tiny girl stomach doesn't have the room for a few hours.

There's other parts of this tiny girl crap that are ridiculous, too.  Because I left all Deirdre's stuff on the train with Ravi, the only clothes I had that really fit me now were the sweats some nameless perv pulled onto me while I was unconscious, and given the shitty A/C in this apartment, they weren't going to be enough, even before you started to consider the underwear situation.  My boxers just weren't going to stay up any more, although I can use my t-shirts as nightshirts now.  Just running into a department store to grab some t-shirts, shorts, and (ugh) panties didn't write get the job done at first, though - I had to go back a second time when I somehow managed to find the one package of panties too small for this ass, and the tees practically covered the pair of shorts that felt like they were groping me.  I was almost afraid I was going to have to buy something from the children's section before finding the extra-small sizes.

At least all of that was able to fade away somewhat during work yesterday.  It's a crappy job that expects miracles, but it let's me do my thing without worrying about how I look.

-Jordo