James/Keisha: Itching to leave

As much as I'm happy for Cal, scratching that itch, I am just about ready to get back to normal.

I was talking about it over coffee with Trish/Robbie. We've gotten into the habit of having these brother/sister chats. I'm kind of the centerpiece of the group, since I live with and am best friends with Derek, work with Roy, and am technically siblings with Trish. I don't talk to Cal much anymore, but Trish does, so I hear about him that way. I mean her. Shit, funny after all these months I still do that. Ah well I'll leave it there.

So yeah, Trish had some thoughts about Cal dating that guy, and he was just going on and on (oh I did it right that time!) about how rude it was to make that kind of move in someone else's body, especially so close to the end, and yadda yadda... and so finally I just said "You're just mad because you regret shooting her down."

He denies it, but I think there's something to it. I think he feels guilty seeing as how Cal is such a nice chick - and let's face it, a cutie - and Trish, usually pretty accustomed to getting attention, is sitting around deliberately cockblocking himself.

"You could've just done it, just to do it, and now you lost your opportunity. You're officially a dude."

"That's so simplistic," he snapped back, "If it was gonna be anyone... I mean, it's just not safe to date anyone out side the group."

"You said it wasn't a good idea to date anyone inside the group, either."

"It's not, but it's better. If I'd known... she was just gonna go ahead and do it anyway..."

"Wow, you're a hypocrite," I laughed.

"I totally stand by my decision," Trish said, "It's just that that led to Cal making a worse one. He's a sweet guy, girl, whatever... he isn't going to be able to handle this."

"And you, what, would have let him down easy when you got back to your regular body?"

"At least with me everyone involved would know the score."

"Hey," I said, "If you just wanna get laid, Derek told me he'd give you a try."

"Ew," he said, "Derek said that about me?"

"Like you haven't thought it? Look at those tits. Girl's a goddess. A screamer, too. A real moaner."

Trish looked embarrassed, "You can hear her through the walls?"

"I don't have to, I'm usually in there with her."

He nearly spat his coffee out, "Don't look so embarrassed, we're two dudes trapped in the body of hot chicks with nothing else to do. Didn't think we'd get around to it out sooner or later?"

"I thought you said you liked guys in Keisha's body," he said.

"You're such a loser sometimes," I laughed, "You never heard of experimenting?"

"Well now I really don't want to go out with Derek. OR do anything else. Or even look at her."

"Hey, I offered," I said. "Not my fault you missed out on Cal."

"I didn't miss out on anything," Trish said, "She said she doesn't even like it that much."

"With David," I said, "But I bet you have some info he doesn't."

"Oh, I could rock Cal's world. Or Derek's. Or anybody's."

"How about mine?"

"James!" he said in shock, "You're my sister, remember?"

"Oh, yeah, I forgot," I said, laughing, "Oh my God, could you imagine? That shit would be hilarious. Like some Game of Thrones shit, right? Fuckin' right."

Cal/Angie: Making it happen

I've gotten really used to the feeling of playing with myself and more and more the idea of taking on a... playmate... became a huge part of my fantasies. Why not, right? He likes me, I kinda like him. It's... just sex, right? I started hinting to David that I was maybe willing to do more with him and things between us changed. He started making a lot more comments about my looks, saying he was thinking about me... I couldn't tell if he was just trying to flatter me to seal the deal or if he was excited at the idea of seeing me naked or what. Just, the flirting got to a new level and I didn't know what to make of it.I tried to play along but having someone just falling head over heels for me was really... off-putting.

So we got to the big night, this past Saturday. Not that we planned it out, but I knew that unless something really horrible happened that night was the night. And sure enough it went like a lot of our dates went... started with some drinks and Netflix, then rapidly became making out. I started getting really hot... his hand on my leg was a welcome feeling. I rubbed my hands up and down his back (not a ton of options, really) and followed my body's instincts to thrust my pelvis against his, just kind of grinding. I could feel his hardness under his pants.

I decided the smartest, most direct way to signify him that I was ready to take it up a notch would be to grab it. Now, I've never grabbed somebody else's, so I just kind of cupped the outside and lightly ran my hand up his zipper. The outcome was the desired one.

Before I knew it, my pants were around my ankles, and he lowered his head into my crotch. I didn't expect this... I heard fro ma lot of people that guys like to skip this but I was glad he didn't. His lips and tongue danced around the right areas. I felt my face getting flushed, my legs trembling in the air. I couldn't help letting out a pleasure moan that sounded like "Eyyyooohhhh-eeeeeeiiiiiiiaaaaaaaahhhhhooooooohhhhhh! Hehhhnnnn hiiiiiinnnnhhhhh!" I could feel myself getting really warmed up.

Then all of a sudden he decided he was done, and it was my turn to try him. Um okay, I guess it would have been rude at this point to say "no thanks" but I wasn't quite ready to get off the ride. Still, I figured we could come back to me in a few minutes. This is what I signed on for, basically.

So before I knew it, there's this, well, considerably sized erect penis staring me in the face.

And before I could say to him "Um, I've never done this before," I closed my eyes, opened my mouth and faced the music. I was too far in to turn back.

Slowly I got used to the idea that there was a part of another human being in my mouth... trying hard not to think about the things that part does. It was stiff, which means he likes me. Well, he can't exactly control it, but I still took it as a compliment.

And then he started saying stuff. Like "Uh, yeah, you like that, don't you? Yeah. Take it. You love it. You love the taste."

And I really, truly didn't, and I didn't care for him saying stuff like that. It really took me out of the moment.

Then he ended up coming in my mouth without warning me. All of a sudden I felt it go off in my mouth and I nearly choked. And he fucking laughed it off and told me to lie next to him until he was ready to go again... and I was just thinking how I wasn't done going the first time.

When we finally got back to it a half hour later, he put it in pretty quickly and started pumping it... and there were pleasurable parts of it, but really by then I was just waiting for it all to be done with because it was clear he had no idea what he was doing. Like he knew something... it was clear he had a routine, but as far as actually taking care of my needs, he fell pretty flat. Parts of it felt good, for a moment or tow, but mostly it was just a hard, bumpy ride that actually kind of hurt at times as he pushed as far into me as he could go then jerked out suddenly.

I was kind of cold about it afterwards, just waiting for it to be done because it was clear I wasn't going to finish. After he finally finished and pulled out I wondered what the hell just happened to me. I felt used, like a prop to satisfy him, without any real feeling or meaning. I felt sick with myself, disappointed in a guy that I liked, and ashamed that I let that happen to Angie's body.

I waited a length of time - how long I don't know, maybe five minutes, maybe twenty but it felt long - before finally sitting up and pulling my panties on.

As I headed for the door, he barely acknowledged me, except to mumble, "I'll text."

Yeah... we'll see if I answer.

When I got home, I just laid down in my own bed and laughed myself to sleep. "Ugh... men."

And sure enough, when he texted me, five minutes ago while I was writing this all up, to ask "Hey what's up?" I texted back "Nothing, you?"

Guess I feel like I need to give him a second chance. Ugh... me.

Grant/Sophie: Never look back

Hey guys. I haven't posted on here for myself here, but I guess you know me a bit. My name was Grant, but right now it's Sophie.

I don't really know what it'll be next.

Going back to the beginning, I'll admit, I was shocked, horrified, scared, sad when we woke up transformed. I didn't understand what had happened any more than the rest of them, I didn't want it. I didn't want this. I was a gangly and uninteresting looking guy one night, and I woke up as a short, curvy, even voluptous, tattooed girl.

If I could forget the person in the mirror was me, I would think she was incredibly cool.

Like the rest of them I went along, shellshocked, behaving myself. Then I wore this body around a bit and I started to like it. None of the others wanted to hear it so I kept my mouth shut, and didn't post on here ever. I went to work as a waitress and found myself earning tips by smiling at guys, wearing lip gloss, leaning over and letting them peer down my top. What did I care? They weren't my tits really. What did I have to feel modest about? And sure, I got hit on, but most girls in the service industry learn how to play it off and never feel threatened. I liked it.

Then one night I overheard some guys at the bar whispering about me and the friend. "Okay, you can take the hot one, I'll take the fat one." When the guys came over to the table, I learned the "fat one" was me. I may not be a twig, but... I cried myself to sleep that night.

It was weeks later that I met Marco, at a punk show I went to with Sophie's friends. It took me forever to believe him when he told me I was beautiful. I'm still not sure I agree or that I appreciate it, but I liked him fine, so I didn't tell him to get lost. I gave him my number.

We dated for a while. And at first it freaked me out how much I liked it. He towers over me, and he's husky, and bearded and tattooed, and I couldn't figure out where the thrill of being with him was coming from. But it felt right and more than that... it felt familiar.

So one night, as I was lying up in bed, his arms around me, feeling his breath on me, I tried to remember back, back, back in my life. And I realized that more than just this was familiar... more than just being the little spoon or being potentially in love. Something about the nerves that come with being someone else. Something about the lie. Something about Maine.

So I talked to the "new me." I asked him to do me a favour and ask my parents if they knew anything about Maine.

It turned out they knew a fair bit about it. We'd been there as a family when I was 3 years old. At least, I was 3 years old when we left. Before that, they didn't even know who I was or where I came from.

I... I hated being myself. I hated being Grant, I mean. I walked around in a cloud for years feeling there was something off about my world. I didn't relate to anyone my age. My parents didn't seem to want me around. I was lonely and depressed and I hated everything in that life.

And I haven't lately.

Sure, I cried my eyes out. I freaked out. I stopped texting Marco back and basically ruined things with him because my world suddenly disintegrated, vanished like it was never there to begin with. I was nobody. At least, I have no idea who I was. My brain seems to have suppressed whatever my identity was before I was made into Grant, and my "parents" have no clue. But that realization was healthy.

I decided I can never go back there. Back to Lowell, back to being Grant. It would be unthinkable, selfish and dumb to think I could keep being Sophie. This life belongs to someone else, and as much as I've done with it, since being here, it won't be mine soon. I've told the new Grant to do whatever he wants, it's no concern of mine anymore. I just don't want him to think he owes me my life back, because it wasn't that.

Maybe I could be a guy again. I'm indifferent to that, but I feel like 15 years or so was plenty. I think I was a woman before. I think I would like to keep being one. But I don't know who to talk to about that.

So, to the mysterious people out there who read this, who make things happen, who help lost soul like me (or make us into them) I'm letting you know... I want whatever you can give me. I'll be a traveler, I'll join your agency, I'll do whatever you need. I just can't go backwards.

Roy/Christine: Ducks in a row

That phrase always reminds me of my father. He was big into hunting. One of many things we didn't have in common. But it's appropriate. After a few weeks of wrangling and accommodating, it looks like everyone will be present and accounted for in Maine in just two months.

I'm writing this from the motel where I've been living for the past few months. I haven't done much since February besides work, eat, watch TV and sleep. I had blowup after blowup with Christine's husband Terry and I just... had to get out.

I like to think I'm a strong person, but I can shoot my mouth off sometimes. Playing the good wife to that deadbeat was not really in my wheelhouse. As much as I should have grinned and bore it for Christine's sake, there are things I just can't stand. Laziness, lack of ability to contribute, ungratefulness, a neanderthalic perspective on gender roles... to summarize, he was not my kind of guy. I climbed into bed with him for as long as I could, but eventually I just couldn't stand it.

The final straw happened after the Holidays, when Christine's brother Angus was staying with us. Angus happens to be gay, and while Terry behaved himself while he was around, he showed his true colors afterward when he said he was glad it was just us again.

"Honey, your brother's a great guy, but he can be such a fag sometimes."

WHAT.

Look, I've been around for a while - not out as long as I probably should have been but plenty long. I've heard lots of stuff and lots of it was way worse than that. That doesn't keep me from getting offended when I hear language like that and definitely not when the person who is saying it thinks he's talking to his wife about her brother.

So I launched immediately into a tirade. I saw red. I screamed myself hoarse with "How dare yous" and "If you only knews" and just bawling. I don't even know what was said. And he didn't even have the manhood to apologize. He tried to defend himself and say he's sure Angus has heard worse and he meant it lovingly and blah blah blah homophobic bullshit.

So at the end of the night I just threw my hands in the air and said "What's the fucking point?" I didn't ask for this. I didn't agree to be the guardian and protector of this fucking marriage, to someone who doesn't appreciate the woman he's with and definitely doesn't deserve me. I should have knocked his fucking lights out.

So I stormed out, only occasionally returning for some belongings - but as they're not really mine, I mostly just left it. And I didn't tell you because part of me, if you can believe it, was embarrassed to have failed the wife test. But good, because I never wanted to be one. If I ever fall in love, if I ever get married, it will be to someone who's passed my test.

Of course, Christine wasn't thrilled, but I'm sure she'll be able to piece things back together when she returns. If she was the type of person who can suffer his shit with a smile, I'm sure she's great at rebuilding bridges.

Not me, though. I burn them.