Monday, August 29, 2016

Jordan/"Missy" Yuan-wei: Montreal Meet-Ups

Well, here I am, back for another year of college, refocused and really feeling like I can make Yuan-wei's life mine.  There's some ironic foreshadowing going on here, but even with what I'd learn later, I still feel weirdly confident.  It tales a bit more than time to make a new life yours, but don't underestimate the power of a few decisions combined with the world just getting used to you.

I can't say that Hong Kong completely feels like "home" yet, though I have enjoyed the last few months there. I've spent enough time hanging out with Yuan-wei's friends that I don't really have much trouble calling them my friends, especially since Jacky is all mine.  We go out a lot, both because Jacky and Bingbing are both a lot of fun in their own different ways and because I don't know if I'll ever fit into Yuan-wei's childhood home.

See, as much as it's fun having a lot of room and a staff and all, it's very much Chen-ai's place, and from what I gather, she and the original Yuan-wei weren't really close.  Ideally, I'd seize on that as a thing I could improve, but it's like when Benjamin goes to see Benny's family on holidays and stuff - I just wind up missing my own folks more and not wanting to substitute her.  I've also always been a city kid, and this place is on the outskirts.  I've been biking a lot more, so that's probably a good thing, but there are times I want to ask about maybe renting an apartment downtown.  It's stupid, since I'd only use it a few months out of the year (not that this had stopped other bananas actions in the HK real estate market), but going back to live with parent(s) is something I never figured on and which occasionally seems less right than all the other weird stuff the Inn has forced on me.

So, even though it meant an insanely quick round trip that involved a lot of time on am airplane, I was really excited to fly out to Montreal for the film festival where our short film was playing.  Well, Cesar's, because the director gets to be the author as far as the world is concerned, but Ernesto and I played the two main roles and I had a lot of input into Ernesto's script (with Benjamin's help) and did a lot of the makeup and effects, so I feel like it belongs to all of us.  It would have been a lot different if they'd hired another actress, at least.  

What that meant, practically, was that when we had our premiere as the short playing before the main feature which itself was playing in the smaller of two theaters devoted to the festival on a Monday afternoon, Cesar got called up to say a couple words and mentioned that the cast was in the audience, and Ernesto and I waved.  I knew it wasn't really going to be a big-time thing, but it was a little less than I was expecting.  I mean, shit, why wear a nice dress and heels for that?  Well, I guess it did help me make a good impression on the festival programmers and stuff we talked to right before, so hopefully they'll remember me in a couple of years when I've got my own movies to submit.

I didn't have time to ask Ernesto why he was dragging a suitcase until after the show, when I was scanning the lobby for someone else. He said that he and Cesar got kicked out of their AirBNB; apparently the real tenant had not been paying his rent, and "I'm not him, I just sublet it on a site that does nothing to check on if this is allowed" does not fly with a landlord looking to evict. He was naturally pretty upset, since he and Cesar had plans to attend the last few days of the festival and then see the city, but cash was tight enough that they would just barely be able to afford switching their flight back to Florida unless their money was refunded right away.

That's ridiculous, I said, and got out my phone and my check-in receipt, saying I'd handle it. Cesar grabbed the phone out of my hand and said no. I said that was ridiculous, but he just turned and walked away. Ernesto ran a couple steps toward him, looked back at the suitcase I was holding, then said "wait a minute" while coming back to get it, only Cesar didn't.  Ernesto looked a bit frustrated, but also sort of glad he now had a moment to apologize and explain. "Sorry, Missy, but you know how he is. Whatever happened with you and him freshman year still has him pretty upset."

Ah, shit. I didn't even think that there might be some inherited reason why Cesar didn't like me. "Not much I can do about that now, but... can I at least get you a room? You were so looking forward to this!"

"I couldn't..."

I tried not to roll my eyes. It's a weird thing, just suddenly having money; you try to use it to help out and folks act like it diminishes them somehow, even though you feel like an asshole when you just sit on it. Still, I had another idea, and pulled the second keycard the hotel gave me from my purse. "Look, I've got a suite. The couch doesn't fold out, but maybe being a little uncomfortable will counter any shit you feel about accepting charity."

"I couldn't..."

"Of course you could. If Cesar gives you any shit, tell him that I wouldn't stop talking about my boyfriend and how he's the best fuck I ever had."

He laughed, said Cesar would totally buy that, took the key, and pecked me on the cheek before heading down into the Metro. I found a wall to lean against and sighed, not noticing the woman who had been keeping a bit of distance but then walked up once the drama was over. "Boys, right?"

I laughed, recognizing her from her picture and so knowing she recognized me.  "Don't make me go to old-lady jokes, because I am not above that at all."

She doesn't look like someone past sixty, of course, but rather about half that age.  She's Marie Desjardins, née Louisa Torrence, someone who Benjamin met at The Changeling a couple months back and a one-time fixture on this blog, and Benjamin said I had to meet her while I was up here.

I give her a sort of abridged version of what all that was about as we walk to a nearby restaurant.  She nods, saying that moving "back" to Montreal has been a minefield for her, because both the original Marie and Elizabeth Kim got to know a fair amount of people, some kind of unpleasant, back in the day, but it's been worth it, because it's hard to live without some kind of roots, even if they're not actually your own.

We get to the restaurant and get seated on an outdoor patio.  I get this brief feeling of nervousness sitting down because of my dress; despite having been a woman for two years now and embracing it for one, I still tend to sit by sliding down the back of a chair, and in a dress as short as the one I was wearing that day, I have to catch myself doing it pretty fucking fast in order to avoid giving a panty show.  That at least reminds me to cross my legs, I guess, although I'm still crazy paranoid when wearing something strapless, feeling like I've got to be Watt more attentive to avoid a boob popping out than I really do.

We had a nice chat, although I have to admit that meeting new people who have been to the Inn isn't nearly as cool for me as it is for, say, Benjamin.  I don't know what I'd do without keeping up with Benjamin or Benny on an everyday basis, and Jonah is okay, but I really like being Yuan-wei right now, and I don't exactly want to define myself as not being her.

Not that I said that to Louisa at any point, especially since that's not an absolute thing; I do like having friends that call me Jordan.  I was kind of surprised that she resisted the urge to mother-hen me (see what happens when I think of her mainly as "actually old" rather than the life she's living?), and instead talked about the movie.  I could tell that it wasn't really her thing, but she let me go on about doing special effects and how we shot it.  It was her first time at this festival, although she says she cuts out of work early a lot during the jazz festival.

We had a pretty leisurely lunch, enough so that when I got back to the hotel room and kicked off my heels and ditched that dress, I forgot that Ernesto might be there,  so of course he waddled out of the bathroom in time to see me just in my panties.  I jumped back and squeaked a little but resisted the urge to Cover My Nipples At All Costs.  It's not like he hadn't seen me naked or close to; we've done quick costume changes backstage, he applied prosthetic makeup to me while shooting that sort, and, oh yeah, we've had sex.  I also just don't feel like my body is something to be ashamed of.  My tits are awesome and I don't want to get in the habit of pretending otherwise.

I didn't wait around to grab a bra out of my luggage, though, and threw a t-shirt and some shorts on pretty quick rather than parading around topless to mess with him.  I asked what was up with Cesar, and he said that Cesar was upset that he was sticking around with me but not really angry.  Maybe I should have acted more surprised by how the two weren't going to let a girl get in between them, but Ernesto doesn't expect me to be a feminine stereotype.

We spent the next few days hanging out, with me keeping a running tally of how many times as many minutes our "Cast & Crew" badges were showing us to see compared to our eight-minute short.  Looked at that way, we got a pretty good return on investment, although that doesn't exactly factor in travel, accommodations, and the time we spent actually making the thing.  It's also amazing how useful just standing in line between screenings can be - the badge-holders line has press, other filmmakers, and programmers at other festivals, several of whom said they saw our short and might want to program it.  Not a bad situation for a few college kids, and since they met me and Ernesto rather than Cesar, we're the ones they'll remember in the future.  Might have been worth letting me pay for a goddamn hotel room, that.

Seeing all those festival movies didn't leave a whole lot of time to just explore the city, unfortunately, which is too bad, because even if it's no New York or Hong Kong, the folks at the festival who don't live there seem to love visiting and Louisa obviously likes it enough to move here even when it could be a minefield.  We basically got to spend a morning in the Old Port and a couple late nights hanging out with the folks we met during the day at St. Catherine's Street bars.  Fun, and if we do this again, I'm definitely springing for a longer stay, even if it means I've got to fight the urge to eat all the poutine (someday I'm going to have to write about what a fucking challenge it is trying to stay skinny, but today's not that day).

Instead, we stuck with the original plan of heading back Thursday morning - he to Florida, me to Hong Kong.  The first leg of that was just the Berri-UQAM station, since that's where the bus to the airport (amusingly numbered "747") starts.  We were just about to get on when a guy rushed up and grabbed my shoulder.  I jumped, and Ernesto got between us, asking this guy what he wanted.

"I just need to talk with Yuan-wei..."  It was pretty clear that English want this guy's first language, although most of the French-Canadians we meet during our stay spoke it pretty well.  He seemed a little embarrassed by it, but the way he compensated surprised me, rattling words off in Cantonese more fluent than my own.

Ernesto didn't understand, of course, but I was taken aback, and not just because he didn't look like he'd know that language.  I stammered something about how maybe we should talk after all.  Ernesto acted kind of protective, asking if he should join us and take a later flight, but I said, no, it wasn't dangerous or anything.  I couldn't be sure of that, but given that he said "I know we decided to just live our new lives, but I really want to know how things are back home"...  Well, that's not the sort of thing you can walk away from.  So I told Ernesto I'd be okay, let him hug me, and waved as he got on the bus.

Then I turned to this guy and asked him who he was.  He looked really confused.  "You know this; we exchanged pictures a couple years ago.  I'm René, but I used to be Bingbing!"

My jaw dropped, as a ton of ramifications suddenly went through my head.  "That's not possible - she hasn't been to the Inn, unless you don't mean CHEN Bingbing?"

The confusion deepened for a moment, and then he figured it out.  "You're not Carlotta.  Oh, shit, why would she--"  I started to explain, but he held up a finger.  "Not yet.  Romain - Yuan-wei - should hear it first."

He pulled a phone out and hit the first number on the list, and started speaking in French.  I couldn't catch much, but he seemed to be arguing with the person on the other end.  The call ended, and he let out a sigh.  "Sorry, he's got a new job and he didn't want me talking to you in the first place, but I convinced him to meet us at Place des Arts for a bit."

Place des Arts is the spot showdown that serves as the hub for many of the festivals in a city that has dozens every summer, but it's also just a nice spot to grab some take-out, eat, and talk.  We'd just arrived when another young man joined us.  Though both were white and looked about the same age - somewhere midway between the 21 I appear to be and the 26 I actually am - their styles were different, with René wearing beat-up jeans and a t-shirt and probably not having shaved in a couple of days while Romain was in khakis and a logo-free polo shirt, with a nice new haircut.  They kissed, although Romain was upset enough not to really be into it, and then René started to make introductions despite a lack of information:  "So, uh, this is..."

No, I said, you don't.  Nervously, I reached out my hand.  "I'm Jordan Chang, although I became the new Missy Lee Yuan-wei about a year ago."

Romain looked horrified.  "Why would Carlotta go back to the Inn?"

I shrugged.  "I'm not exactly sure - I'd always assumed that she was, well, you.  That's how her letter made it sound, and she said she'd fallen in love with the person she went to the Inn with, who was going back to his old life.  I think now that it might have had something to do with your father--"  I stopped short, not sure how much these two had been keeping up with their old lives.  "You did hear about that, right?"  I did not want to be breaking the news of his father's death on top of everything else, but he nodded.  "Anyway, after the police asked to talk to me earlier this year, I wondered if maybe she, who I thought was you, felt guilty and decided to stay someone else because of that.  Maybe she still had a hard time living with it."

"Maybe I would have," said Romain, "but Carlotta never struck me as the suicidal type."

"What do you mean suicidal?"

René looked at me like I was completely ignorant.  "Going to the Trading Post Inn multiple times is dangerous!  Your body becomes unstable after the first time, so doing it a second time is just too much - Carlotta and Giorgia said someone in their group who said he had been there before just melted and they only found this smelly goo in his room!"

"What?  That's bullshit!  I've been there twice, I've met people who have been there even more often, nobody's just fucking liquefied!  Most people keep in touch so that they can arrange visits the next year in reverse order so they can get back to normal."

I said that like I was wrong on the Internet, just intent on correcting some obviously wrong people, not prepared for the gut punch it was to them.  Romain actually dropped to his knees, René catching him.  It was René who seemed to recover the power of speech first.

"Those. Bitches."

We all saw what seemed to have happened - two people suddenly become young, attractive girls with money and their whole futures ahead of them, and the idea of going back becomes unbearable.  Sure, there's not much that can force them to go back to the Inn, but if you're an asshole, you assume everyone else is, so you might as well pull some big-time asshole shit to nip it in the bud.

"Not just them - us!  We told other people about the melting!  All the other people we met at the Inn - they might have been able to get back to normal, but..."  Romain looked like he was going to throw up, but held it in.  He looked at me strangely.  "You're happy as me, right?"

Not where I expected the conversation to go.  "It's fun, I've got my first boyfriend, we did that movie and came here, but, like, easy come, easy go, right?  I mean, if you wanted, you could probably go back to acting as well as producing, though you might need a new faculty advisor..."

He didn't even seem to hear the last part, just saying that was good, and telling René he needed to go back to work.  René said he was in no state, but Romain just kissed him and said he'd be fine, and shook my hand, saying it seemed his life was in good hands, and started walking.

René dropped into a bench.  "I shouldn't have said anything, but I thought, if he had seen Giorgia during one of his shifts volunteering at the festival rather than vice versa, he'd have told me, and now he knows all this.  Damn it!"

I felt like I was expected to say I was sorry, but also like I hadn't done anything wrong.  So I just fidgeted.

He forced a smile.  "So, what about me?  How's Chen Bingbing doing?  I haven't heard from her in ages!"

"She's...  She's good, I guess.  Going to school in New York.  Dating my little brother.  Not sure how the fuck I feel about that now!"

"He cute?  Maybe I should take the train down and check it out."

"I, uh, don't look at him that way, even if, you know, I have started liking boys and we're not biologically relatives any more.  Him looking at me just creeps me out."

He nodded, trying to imagine that, then clapped me on the back.  "Well, this had been interesting.  You wouldn't mind unblocking us on Facebook, would you?"

I didn't even realize the profile is inherited had certain people blocked, but I said yes, and asked if I could send his contact info to Louisa, since she had been through the Inn and was local to them.   He said he'd like that.

I offered to stick around, but he said he knew his boyfriend and that he'd need some time to think.  So we said goodbye, with more huffing than strictly necessary, and I stewed about that all the way back to Hong Kong.

Coincidence that "Bingbing" had to leave for New York early enough that I didn't catch up with her in Hong Kong?  Probably.  But maybe that's okay; I'm not sure what I'll say to her when I do see her.  I've asked Benny to watch her like a hawk, though.

As to me...  Well, until I hear back from "Romain", I guess nothing's changing.  I'm just glad I'm old enough to drink in America now; this whole situation is going t to require a lot of drinks at The Changeling.


Sunday, August 28, 2016

Lane/Kari: Just when I think I'm out...

I honestly never planned on writing in this blog ever again. My last post 2 months ago seemed like a perfect goodbye letter not only to my old life, but to the Trading Post Inn and the craziness that surrounds it and it's victims. My plan was to go back to Michigan, raise my daughter, and let the curse protect me from having to talk about or think about that place or what it did to me ever again. That was hopeful and naive of me.

It's my own fault, really. I could have just taken this life and lived it, but I got greedy. I wanted to have my cake and eat it to. I had to go back to the inn to get Kari's boss transformed so I wouldn't have to continue that damn workplace affair.

I don't know where the real Nick Latherman is now. I haven't asked and haven't been contacted. I don't know if that's the circumstances of his transformation or the deliberate machinations of those who arranged it but I try not to think about it. I don't feel guilty about it but thinking about it and not feeling that way makes me wonder if I'm kind of a bad person.

My issue isn't with the original Latherman. It's with the new one. I spent almost two weeks wondering if and when someone would show up back at the office in his body to claim his life. Towards the end I thought maybe that someone just it and his bank account and ran away to some island somewhere. I was sitting at reception playing freecell on the computer when he strolled in with a smirk on his face. You could tell whoever it was had never been there before if you looked hard enough, since he was nonchalantly checking the place out. He gave a few "good mornings" and responded to a few "welcome backs" before heading to his new office and closing the door with his new name on it.

A few moments later the door opened and he called "Kari, could you see me in my office for a moment?"

I don't know why I was nervous, but I was. What if the transformation didn't happen? What if this was the old Latherman? What if someone tipped him off? Was I about to get fired? Or worse? I walked in, shut the door behind me, and sat down.

"So you're Kari Cruz" he said sizing me up "I suppose you're the one I should thank for this new life of mine. I'd say that Inn gave you a pretty nice upgrade yourself" he leered. He could sense my discomfort and backed off. "Oops, forgot. One of the rules they gave me. No screwing the secretary. I hadn't planned on it but after getting a look at you that's a damn shame. The wife, she isn't to bad for her age, but nothing on her is built like you are."

"Umm...thanks?" I said as I shifted in my seat.

"Sorry, that was a bit forward. I'm still getting used to this male sex drive. I didn't think it would be that different, especially at this age but it's insane. I feel like a god damn animal sometimes having to strain to keep myself from pouncing."

The word "pounce" bothered me. "So you were a woman before?"

"Bizzare, right?" he said extending a hand "Arianna Pescatelli. At least that's how I was born. And no, this isn't some weird reverse Caitlin Jenner thing. If I had my choice I'd have stayed female. I just wanted a job that got me back into finance, even it meant being male, a little older, and have to live in fucking Detroit. Don't get me wrong, it isn't as bad as I expected, but it's nothing compared to Manhattan.

"You worked on Wall Street?" I asked, my old life peeking out briefly "Which firm?"

"They don't exist anymore" She then told me the name and I nodded. My old firm had swallowed them up in the aftermath of 2008. A fact which I then told her as some sort of petty point of pride.

"You worked there?" She said raising an eyebrow "That's such a small world. So at least you can understand me a bit, knowing just how hard it is for a woman in this industry."

I didn't actually, at least not first hand. Sure financial services was a male dominated industry but we always had talented and successful female brokers. I hesitated telling her that and she must have read it on my face.

"Unless..." she started chuckling "So your the opposite, then? You were a guy? Jeez! You turned into THAT and found your self blowing the boss? I don't blame you for sending the creep to Maine, but still. It's not like hundreds of women at finance firms don't find themselves coping with the same situation."

I took that as a dig at my inner strength. One of the things I've found in communicating with women as a woman is that there's a lot of passive aggressive, underhanded, and subtle ways to get under someone's skin without officially saying any thing wrong. Words don't have to explicitly insult someone to make them feel bad. It's almost like an art. The art of bitchyness. And I'm damn good at it.

"So what brings you to Detroit?" I asked casually, opening up what had to be an old wound.
"This" She said motioning down her new body "Or rather the licenses that come with it. You see when my old firm was going down the toilet they started looking for scapegoats to save face with investors and the media. Who better to blame than the woman in her mid 30s who was no longer eye candy and starting to make some noise with HR. I'll admit, I wasn't completely innocent. But the charges weren't anything anyone in the entire organization wasn't doing. Still, malfeasance and crimes of moral turpitude. Only a few thousand and fines and no jail time once I plead out, but the SEC and New York DFS banned me from any sort of brokering for life."

She had a sense of sadness when she said that. I knew why. Being a stock broker is a stressful job that eats up your entire life, but it also gets in your blood and it's hard to let go. If I didn't have Ashley to focus on I'd tear my hair out. (Which, btw is actually pretty long these days).

"I was working administrative for a fucking Primerica affiliate in New England when I spent the night at that hotel last year. During my whole year as that chubby grad student all I could think about was how I could use that curse to get back on top. Luckily I stayed connected to enough people that I was able to cash in the rest of Ms. Trust Fund's remaining tuition to bribe my way into this life."

"That's...impressive" I said after looking for a way to say moderately evil and failing.

I spent the rest of the afternoon briefing her on everyone in the office. When I got to some of the gossipy ladies she grinned.

"So they think we're screwing?" She asked "Like you've been in here more than an hour, they totally think we're fucking."

I nodded through my teeth and moved on.


It's been like that for the past 6 weeks or so. Ariana has stayed true to her promise and not tried to sleep with me. She does stare. Like I'll bend over to change the tone cartridge and she'll stare. I don't know if she doesn't know what it looks like because she's new to being a man, or she's just kind of sleazy by nature. Still, I'll take being eye fucked over having to fuck to keep my job anyway.

The thing is, she's great at the job. Ever since she's taken over profits and productivity are way up. She's getting the most out of her resources and people and I actually kind of admire that. Even though as the secretary my pay stays the same.

Anyway if Ariana is going to keep reminding me of the fact the inn exists, I might as well keep posting here. It remains cathartic and I get the feeling life is going to stay interesting for me in the near future.

Plus I wanted to be around for Tyler. I saw that he mentioned me in one of his earliest Judith posts and I want to support him in what I can promise will be most challenging and rewarding year of his life.

Thursday, August 25, 2016

Simon/Joy: Looking for a good time...

You're probably going to think I'm crazy for saying this, but right now, the biggest problem with my life isn't that I'm a chick. I think under the circumstances I'm making do pretty well with that. I've learned the ins and outs, I've gotten used to the quirks and qualities... and more than a few times a day I take am moment to look myself in the mirror and say "Damn, buddy, you're looking good!"

No, my real problem is... I'm bored!

Seriously. I never thought of myself as a workaholic, but looking at the facts... I've worked consistently since I was 18. I hardly ever take vacations. I don't do "time off" very well, it makes me restless. I just always need a project on the go. It's actually been a factor in some of my relationships ending, but not one I used to agree with.

When I got here, as Joy, I had a set of problems in front of me: I didn't know what was what as far as living life as a chick. I didn't know Joy's social circle. I didn't know San Diego. And of course, I didn't have a job. I had a set of tasks ahead of me, and now three months later I've made a lot of progress on them. I may not be a fashionista, but I can dress myself for any occasion. I am frequently seeing Joy's friends for drinks, to the point where I'm starting to see them as my friends too. And I have toured the city well enough to have a good sense of up and down in SD.

The lack of a job is driving me crazy, though. It's disheartening... I haven't gotten so much s a call back about my resume, except one or two personal rejections. There's not much I can do except keep applying, but the bank account is draining and I'm starting to expand my search beyond Real Estate groups (I was hoping to get into that racket but I can always keep applying while I work elsewhere.) It would be a total waste of my abilities to sell phones at the mall, though. I feel like I should include a photo on my resume - tacky, I know, but if people see this face, how could they resist??

So while I work on that, I'm focusing on the social aspect. Like I said, I'm getting really friendly with Shayla, Milena and Courtnee, among others. I am a total extrovert, outgoing person. I need to be active and meeting people, and sitting on my butt watching Netflix all night is not my idea of a good time seven days a week. Yeah, I know - if I meet people, they're going to be meeting "Joy," this pretty, available, dare I say charming and sexy blonde babe. And they think very differently about her than they would about me as Simon. I'm okay with that. Playing this part is my life now. It doesn't have to mean anything.

Having the girls around me as a kind of shield doesn't hurt. I know I'm not the hottest in the group (I could be second on a good night, but I can't top Shayla's body) and I use that as my defense. Guys notice the others first, and by the time they realize I might be the only single one in the group (depending on the night) they might be too drunk or worn out to make much of an effort. I get to mingle, then go home consequence-free.

That said... well, this is where it gets a bit tough to admit, but what the hell, we're all friends here right?

I miss sex.

Ooh, boy. That's a hell of a can of worms to open up, but it needs to be said. Just like I haven't been unemployed since I was 18, I haven't gone three months without at least one roll in the hay since I was 16. Believe me, if any girl held me up that long I had no trouble finding someone else who was willing.

It's not just the physical effects of sex that I miss. It's the pursuit, the drama, the chase, the game. My life is distinctly lacking in that glorious drama that comes with it. The messy stuff that makes life worth living. You can't tell me you disagree that sex and romance and dating, for all the drama and frustration it brings, is the best part of life, the reason to live. And I'm supposed to just sit it out for a year just because I lost my dick? It's not like I died!

I just sit around sometimes thinking... I could stand to be open-minded about it. I'm a chick. Would it be so wrong to find out what it's like to go out with a dude? I mean, from what I understand, a guy would treat a girl like Joy like a princess, and hey, that sounds pretty good to me. Free meals, drinks, gifts...

Am I ready to give up what I have to give up in exchange for that? I stand to gain a lot just by giving a little. What am I afraid of... liking it? That's so stupid!

Looking at my phone, I've already got one solid candidate. Joey... He amuses me, but probably not intentionally, because he's a bit of a cocky bro and fancies himself quite a player. I don't think of myself as interested in him, but I can't help but keep egging him on. And if he goes a day without texting me to see what's up, I feel a little neglected. That could be a sign, right? The problem is, it feels so easy it's almost cheap. Like "break glass in case of emergency." I don't know if I'm at that point yet, but I also feel guilty looking elsewhere. And it while it does seem like I could throw a rock in a crowd and find a better guy... maybe he's put in so much time he deserves a chance?

I mean, I'm climbing up the walls here, otherwise. Getting a job would totally take my mind off of it but that doesn't seem to be happening anytime soon!

Well... whatever I end up doing, nobody needs to know. We can keep it between you all and me. What happens in San Diego stays in San Diego.

Wednesday, August 24, 2016

Tyler/Judith: I guess purple is my color.

Looking at Judith's wardrobe, it's clear she had a thing for the shade. Probably half the outfits and shoes she owns, and most of the makeup, is all purple or has some purple element. I guess it goes with her skin tone or whatever, but I'd like more variety (admittedly, my attempt to justify my seeing purple as a very feminine color. I know guys wear it sometimes too, but I'm not exactly Prince.)

I shouldn't complain. It seems like she has a pretty good fashion sense - feminine and womanly, but professional and modest. Mature. After some adjusting, I feel a bit more at home in her clothes than I usually did in Lauren's. In that case I definitely didn't have the cash to go buying a whole new wardrobe just because I didn't want my middrift exposed. Here, I could probably splurge on some new clothes if it struck me, but what would be the point?

When I was typing out my blog posts about the Inn, Judith's long, neatly-filed nails started breaking one after the other, much to Kitty's chagrin... although he did pursuade me to let him even them out with a home manicure, which was kind of sweet. Hence, I'm looking down at a set of neatly-trimmed nails... with purple polish. I don't mind it in the sense it helps me stay in character as Judith, and it's not so shocking since I experimented - every now and again - with nail polish as Lauren (I was doing a lot of building for the drama dept, though, and working with your hands is not a good fit for polished nails.) And who could forget my embarrassing foray into pageantry...

Judith's job has me putting a fair amount of thought into my appearance. She works as an event planner for nonprofits - a part-time gig a few days a week so that she can spend days with the kid while she's out of school (the rest of the time I have to palm Dylan/Olivia off on Adrian's mother. Asked afterward how he felt about that, the kid replied, "She's real grandma-ish.") The ladies at the office already noticed on day one when I let Judith's appearance slide a bit for comfort's sake, so it's 6 AM wake-ups for hair and make-up for me, going forward. (And oh, the earrings... how they dangle and annoy me and get caught in my hair if I don't have it tied back. What's the point of those things? But I wear them to keep the holes from closing up...)

Even though I have some experience from that year, it's very different. A different face, skin tone, age. And I have to admit, I don't always like what I see in the mirror (to the degree that I could like it, you know?) Judith has this really mean-looking natural expression... thin lips, straight nose, thick serious eyebrows... and these piercing brown eyes. Maybe it's just the way I wear her face but she doesn't look friendly or nice in any of her pictures, either. It's what Lauren's friends used to call "resting bitch face."

Kitty has expressed a bit of envy about our positions. Adrian's job is in HR with a local bank. Even though it seems dull as dishwater I'd gladly switch places if that was possible, just to be the one wearing the pants. Besides, Kitty has never held any job for more than a few weeks as long as I've known her, but with this whole middle class setup the Walkers have I kind of need her pulling her weight. I'm hoping she finds a way to cope and step up as a provider.

I don't love this life. I still feel like the curse managed to really stick it to me this time around, but that's what I get I suppose. I've never had to do a job where you spend time sitting at a desk, I have mixed feelings about that, but we're gearing up to do this big 'do for a hospital, so it does also involve some mobility. Judy has a phone full of banquet halls, caterers, decorators... I've worked in hospitality, so that's at least adjacent to what I've done. Doesn't seem so hard. You just need to be organized and have good taste.

And dress like a smart, powerful, poised lady.

Which makes me yearn for the deskbound parts of the job because it's preferable to traipsing all over creation in heels. But oh well.


Friday, August 19, 2016

Rosie: It's all too easy.

When I parted ways with Tyler (or is it Judith now?) and Kitty/Adrian in Maine, the former made me promise to at least keep them up to date on my life as I return to it, strongly hinting they would want to still see me on the blog. I don't know why... if I didn't feel like talking about my life when I was a black man, why would I have much to say when I'm back to being regular old Rosie Montand?

But maybe it will be easier. Now that it's all behind me, I can see it wasn't all bad. Whatever my race, I found it easier to talk to women as a man than I ever have found it talking to men as a woman, and it helped my confidence. I just didn't meet enough of them, once Saraya left my life. Wherever she is now, I hope she's happy.

Now I'm back to being big old Rosie. I was not awake for the process, but I woke up and felt immediately the difference between the two bodies. All my weight was concentrated on my breasts and butt, and a bit on my thighs, instead of evenly throughout my torso on Ahmir's. I must have looked like a moose taking its first steps as I stumbled out of bed.

After a year as a flat-chested man (well, more or less) the feeling of having gigantic pillowy bosoms hanging down my ribs was actually kind of frightful. But on further inspection there was a big difference. Though those parts of my body had remained close to the same, my big flabby gut was... well, not gone altogether, but a lot less. Instead of being a beachball, I was, as Tyler politely put it, "hourglass-shaped." I probably dropped about 100 lbs off my 300+-lb starting weight.

I felt strange accepting this "gift," especially once I found out how it was achieved. The woman who had found herself in my body opted into a gastric bypass surgery... something I have thought about several times over the years but never felt comfortable doing. I didn't love my body, but it was mine and the level of acceptance I had for it was so strong that I never felt motivated to take action. The fact that that she felt she had to go ahead and do it for me feels a little insulting and definitely presumptuous. She paid for it mostly out of pocket, my money.

I try to look on the bright side: it has huge health benefits, I'm going to live longer and feel better than I used to. But I see this mutant body in the mirror, with saggy excess skin, reminders of what I used to be, and I feel only slightly more at home in this body than I did in Ahmir's. I can't eat much, I need to take supplement pills, and I'm somehow worried that the surgery is going to be undone by the Inn's magic and I'm going to balloon up again.

So that day by the beach - where I put on a bikini and decided to try flaunting it - that was my little burst of self-appreciation. Trying to get into character as the woman who owns this body. It's not easy. I still don't think I'm turning any heads, except for people to say, "Why does a girl that big think she can get away wearing a two-piece?"

And then there's the other thing.

She met a guy.

I was not much of a dater in my normal life. Nobody really wanted me, and I was convinced it was never going to happen. Partly, it was because - and I'd rather not get into it - I can't have kids. When I learned that, it depressed me so much that it started my cycle of weight gain. There's no surgery for that.

M., in her seeming quest to show me how I was living my life wrong, decided to go out and meet a man, a Mr. Russell Gilray, who works for the City of Portland. A widower with kids of his own. She moved me into his house and basically made me stepmother to his 16-year-old son (he has a daughter in college - I assume she won't be calling me mom.)

It just all feels like cheating. Like someone skipped me ahead to the finish line of life, without even asking my permission. Am I happy with this body? It doesn't matter. Am I interested in Mr. Gilray? I don't even know. But I have to figure it out for myself.


Thursday, August 18, 2016

Tyler/Judith: Coming Home

I did my best to contact the real Walkers, sending them an e-mail to let them know that their bodies were in good hands, and tried to call the number they had left to confirm that everything was okay. It took until Tuesday for them to get back to me with an e-mail of their own. It was very... proper, to be frank.

Dear Mr. Blake,
I thank you for contacting me as soon as you could. My husband and I were waiting very eagerly to find the results of the next "change." This entire situation has been dreadful, and we needed good news. If, as you say, you bent over backwards to return your previous bodies where they belonged, I guess we're very lucky, and we thank you. I'm sure being in a female body is shocking for you - Adrian and I were very lucky in that regard, as we became a young couple. [I didn't see fit to mention that I had been a girl before.] I hope the young one in Livy's body will grow to see this as an opportunity to gain knowledge
We have been dealing with the situation as best we can. Our Olivia, like me and like the young family in the room next door, was placed in the body of a young woman in her 20's. She is a very mature young lady and almost - I swear - passes convincingly for the young woman she appears to be. But since Adrian and I know better, we are doing our best to protect her from the world. I am lucky to still have him by my side.
The real victims here are the O'Rileys, the young family in the room next to us, who had two younger children who met the same fate - I'm sure you saw who became them, and I hope only for the best. They will be glad to hear it is possible to get things set right.
If there is anything you need from me and husband, please let us know and we will help as best we can from here [Kansas City.] Adrian and I would appreciate you doing your best at our jobs and keeping the new "Olivia" at her same school. We would like to be consulted on any major changes you consider making, and alerted to anything that is beyond your control.
Essentially, we aim to be gracious hosts, and hope you will be considerate guests in our bodies, home and lives.
With thanks,
Judith Medeiros Walker 

To be honest, it was a little spooky how clear-spoken and sober that letter was. I almost reckon she spent all week drafting it, rather than just getting right back to me in a hurry. She downplayed the horrorshow that happened to the real Olivia (seriously, how naïve does that sound?) and thought maybe Dylan will have a grand old time as a girl, but at least she gave her sympathies to the Gautiers. But I reasoned, you've gotta deal with this situation somehow.

For the last week, Kitty - sorry, Adrian - and I have been holed up at the Walkers' residence in Concord. Even the drive to New Hampshire was something of a battleground between us. He insisted that he wasn't comfortable driving for an hour and a half through unknown parts of New England, since (in past lives) he'd been prone to fatigue. After all, driving was my job. So I had to climb into the big SUV, adjust the seat up and forward for my little stumpy legs, and let him "Navigate." Which really just meant echoing the GPS's directions.

Once that was done with, we started unpacking. Every item I put away, I rued, wondering how it was gonna look on me - unflattering, momlike. Kitty wasn't faring any better in bland button-ups and slacks. He caught sight of himself in the mirror and sighed. "Never thought I would actually go bald..." I didn't respond, because if we started one-upping each other he'd never win but also never quit. All I said was "You look fine. Just keep it short."

"You should wear earrings," he said. "You don't want those piercings to close."

"Yeah, maybe," I grunted. "One thing at a time. I'm sure they can handle a few weeks."

"Where's Olivia?"

"Dylan?" I answered, "He's downstairs watching TV."

Scoff. "Is that the kind of parents we're going to be? Let the TV babysit our daughter? It'll rot her brain."

"He'll be fine. And don't call him and her to her face. He doesn't like it and he's not ready."

"Give it a few months, I bet she starts insisting on it. I'm going to make being a girl very fun for her."

I rolled my eyes and changed the subject. "Hey, would you mind leaving the room for a sec? I want to try on some clothes."

Kitty took exception: "Why do I have to leave the room?"

"Because I'm really not ready to just hop right back into being a couple with you and I'd rather keep things private for now."

She huffed again as she headed for the door. "It's not like you have a choice."

Wrong... there's always a choice.

Tuesday, August 16, 2016

Simon/Joy: Life moves pretty fast

It's hard to believe just a bit over two months has passed since I wound up here. I'm so used to it now, it's almost all routine. Waking up in Joy's old bed, surrounded by her belongings* and seeing her beautiful** face in the mirror... brushing her shoulder-length blonde hair before bed and after waking up, applying make-up if I so desire... dressing in her clothes, often two or three changes per day depending on what I'm planning on doing... it's all so normal that at times it's a little easy to forget my life was ever different, which is freaky but also kind of re-assuring. I'd hate to be some baby who moped his way through the next year, you know? I've been given a gift with this insane experience, why waste time rejecting it? Since day one I've seen the potential to make chickenshit into chicken salad here.

*Including a plethora of motivational wall-hangings, framed photos of her with her friends from when she was a young girl or a teen, and stuffed animals from her childhood. Honestly, they say men have a hard time growing up but this woman owns like 300 teddy bears?

**She is very beautiful despite my little blip in confidence last month, with big blue eyes and perfect teeth. I just feel like I'm surrounded by too many girls who are somehow hotter.

I mean, so what if the clothes I wear are frilly, and dainty? Skin-tight or flowy? Flower-print, attention-getting, bright colors? None of these were my speed before, that's for sure, but I didn't have the body to go underneath it. I would have looked like a damn fool in my normal body wearing Joy's clothes, but as her? It looks so normal that it starts to feel normal. And feeling normal is how I keep my confidence up.

Hell, forget normal. I look good, baby.

I feel like I'm ready for the world. I've primed myself on the basics of real estate law in California, and how to conduct these transactions. I've cobbled together a resume that combines my skills as an employee with Joy's educational background, and sent it out into the world. And now... we wait.

I need money. I don't spend a lot but my savings are dwindling. I don't want to take a service job just to keep myself afloat, but if I need to go into a low-level sales position somewhere, I bet I could make it work. But the lure of huge real estate commissions calls to me. Besides, this is a face that deserves to be on billboards.

I think I've turned a corner with Treena. Now that we've aired some of our grievances with each other, I feel like we can communicate better. She still thinks I have a "limited idea of what it means to be female" but so what? It's not like I judge her for not being fashion-conscious and feminine all the time. But none of the women in my life were ever like her; I suspect none of the women in my future line of work are more like this, the way I am choosing to present myself. I want to fit in and I want to be a woman the way I choose to. Isn't that what all the feminist 101 crap is all about? My body, my choice? I choose to embrace hotness.

But speaking of my body...

The gentleman who inherited my body, let's call him Smitty, is doing well. He managed to close the TexWest deal under my watchful eye - really just signing his name to my work, but he did get it into the endzone when I left it for him on the ten yard line. He gives me a too-small cut of what he makes at my job. He keeps me updated on my accounts, and seems to be tending to them well. I guess my life is in good hands.

Which is probably scary, right? Oh boy, if this guy does so well with my life, what's to stop him from stealing it and forcing me to stay in Joy's body? I've read this blog enough to know that is a possibility. It certainly kept me up at night for a while. After all, I was a decent-looking, young-enough guy with a good job. If we're giving monetary values to a person's life, mine would fetch a pretty penny.

He seems trustworthy. Now, I didn't get this far in life by counting my chickens before they hatch, but he told me that he's a family man who was travelling for business of his own, and was torn away from his wife and kids. A fine cover story, but then I verified his references as best I could.

Is he going to abandon his life just to make a few bucks in mine? That would be cold, bro. I think he won't. He's got a lot to lose, too. So while I may not be on totally solid ground - how many of of us are? - I can sleep at night, a bit. As long as we work together to get ourselves back where we belong. Then when I'm Simon again, I can move out to the coast and pick up where I'll be leaving off... after all, all this sunshine is positively addicting. And when I get back on the right side of the biological equation, I bet I could do real good with these bikini-clad  honeys...

Speaking of this life and that, Treena has continued to search for Joy's whereabouts, to little effect. She's got a theory that the poor girl got the date wrong and showed up at the Inn too late to get her own body back. Honestly, anything is possible, sure, but then how come we never heard from her? In the digital age, having someone just drop off the face of the Earth is spooky.

In the meantime, I'm keeping myself amused. Girls' nights out with Shayla, Courtnee and Milena happen weekly. Joey is always good for a laugh - whenever I'm having a tough day I text him just to tease the possibility that I might be interested and it never fails to cheer me up. Even Treena and I have made a few outings, but she much prefers a quiet night in, so if I want to spend time on the couch watching Netflix or DVDs from her collection (she loves foreign films and old films and old foreign films... yawn...) I've got her.

I just make sure to keep her at a distance... in case what Shayla was saying turns out to be true, I don't want to lead her on.


Sunday, August 14, 2016

Tyler/Judith: Stay together for the kid.

So, I'm Your Mom Now...

Maine this year wasn't my finest moment. I went in all cocky, thinking "Whatever they throw at me, I'll deal with it," but I realized soon afterwards that I was in deeper than I had been before. And breaking down and crying - even though Kitty assured me that didn't make me less of a man - didn't feel like the most dignified response. Usually I'm calm, cool and collected. Seriously, even the first time I got transformed, I formulated a plan of action within moments. This time, I was so overwhelmed, my body was sending me so many stress signals I broke. Hard. But I recovered.

So now I'm Judith Medeiros Walker. Born July 13th 1980, resides in Concord, New Hampshire. Wife of 41-year-old Adrian, mother of 10-year-old Olivia. They had come to Maine for a summer getaway that, according to the dates provided by their letter, coincided with her 36th birthday. Inhabiting her body, I feel extreme differences between this woman who is 5'5 and 160 lbs, and 25-year-old Alan, who stood 6' tall and weighed only slightly more. And even though I've been female before, there's also a big difference between a woman of 36, who has given birth, and a thin, pageant-ready, underfed 18-year-old girl. I can't pretend I don't feel the weight of her years, even though those are years closer to my own mind's, because I've been, well... high on youth for the last two years.

There's a lot of physical discomfort - aches and pains and I think a hot flash or two - that goes with a transformation like that. And I can't help but dwell on all the freedom to sort of "be myself" that I've had to give up overnight. But there are other people to think of, so I decided to put off feeling sorry for myself and focus on that for a while.

The word "mom" feel emblazoned across my scalp in big red letters. I think of Kari - the former Lane. So far she has weathered an entire year as a single-mother to a teen who doesn't even know she isn't her mom, with a crap job and a sleazy boss. I should be so composed. As it is, I at least have the support - at least a little - of Kitty, aka now my "husband" Adrian. And my "daughter" is a kid who transformed along with us. That will make things easier in some ways, maybe harder in others.

I mean, how do you sit down with an 11-year-old boy, a kid who's just coming into his own in the world, and say "So, your parents, who love and protect you, are... babies now." Toddlers, actually, but it's fair to say they won't be doing any parenting anytime soon. And then you have to tell them, "I'm your mom now?" And explain to this boy why his body is that of a girl a couple of years younger than him?

Once I was dry and dressed and ready for the world, I sat down with Dylan, who had flopped down on the bed with his (her) face buried in the pillow, probably having a hard time processing. Rosie and Kitty had done a decent job filling people in on what they needed to know (mostly Rosie,) but it looked like nobody wanted to touch this kid with a ten foot pole.

I knelt down beside the bed and tried to make eye contact. He appeared to be this cute, wide-eyed girl with tan skin and long dark hair. She and I had all the same looks, but I hadn't internalized them yet so it wasn't like I felt like I was looking at an image of myself. But I still felt some responsibility. "Hey buddy... do you know who I am?"

The kid shook his head.

"My name is Tyler. We met for a little while last night. I was sitting in the common room eating dinner with my friends. I looked very different then. I was a man with blond hair. Do you remember?"

He nodded.

"So, we both have been changed into different people. It doesn't hurt, does it?"

A slight pause for consideration, then a shake of the head.

"Good. Now... you and me, we look like girls now. Being a girl is a little different from being a boy, but it doesn't change who you are inside, okay?"


"This isn't forever. What happened to your parents isn't forever. We can set everything right. But it's going to take a year. It's not going to be easy, but this isn't going to be as bad as it seems. Have you ever had to move to a new house? Maybe even a new town?"

Shake of the head, no.

Damn. "Well did you ever have a friend who did? Someone who was new to town?"

"Uh huh."

"It will be a bit like that. Things will be okay. Just... along with a new house in a new town, you get a new face and a new name."

"A new name?"

"That's right. Your girl has a name. It's Olivia Walker. I know you're really Dylan, but people are going to call you Olivia."

Pause... "I don't like that name."

I smirked a bit. If that was gonna be his only objection, this could be easier than I thought. "Well, I'm not too wild about my new name either, but... you'll get used to it."

The kid was putting things together. He thought it over a minute and asked, "So are you my mom now?"

I sighed. I couldn't help but think back to when my dad introduced me to my stepmom, and I was close in age to Dylan. I thought about what I would have wanted to hear in that situation - what I needed to hear. "I'm more like a... guardian. I'm going to look after you. But I promise to be nice and get you through this as best I can. Your real mom and dad still love you very much, and I know they wish they could be going to the same place as you."

A bit coldly, Dylan observed, "They're babies now."

"Yeah, yeah they are..." I sighed. "But they're gonna be okay. We've got friends who are going to look after them."

"Why didn't I get turned into a baby?"

Fair question. My only answer was... "Because you're lucky. Never forget that, kid. It may not feel like it, but... you are really lucky. You know what? We both are."

Then... he smiled. She smiled. This kid who I only met a couple of days ago, who now has almost the same face as me, who I have to treat like my own flesh and blood - my daughter - and who has every right to be miserable at the world and at me, smiled, because he or she understood that I was right when I said we were lucky.

"Let's get you some clothes that fit and some ice cream. I want to know all about you."

Then I took her by the hand and walked out of the place.

Our First Fight (as the Walkers.)

Kitty was less than enthused about being the man. Honestly, I don't think Adrian is that bad of a landing for her, but she is very fixated on certain aspects of being in a man's body. As she crawled into bed with me at the end of a long day, she remarked how hairy her knuckles were, then added, "Why couldn't some of it stay on top of his head?"

We were less than 24 hours in and I probably heard three references to her baldness already. I tried to reassure her that it wasn't a bad look. Maybe if she shaved her head and lost the "George Costanza" look, she could be quite handsome.

"That's sweet of you to say," she said, leaning in and pecking me on the cheek.

 I froze. It was rough and firm and stubbly against my soft skin. "Hey," I said nervously, "I know we were, um... that way together... and Judith and Adrian are married, but... can we wait a while before we start thinking about physical stuff again?"

"Woah," she huffed, "It was just a kiss, Tyler. It's not like I groped your breast or anything."

"No, sure, but... I need to draw the line somewhere. Things are different now, and I need time to... adjust my mentality."

"Of course," she said, obviously not pleased, a little huffy.

We turned out the light and she started to cradle me and I asked "Do you mind not...?"

Bitterly, she rolled over, rocking the bed pretty hard as she did. A moment passed before she spoke, "Tyler, I know you're nervous about this parenthood thing... I am too. Let's just... promise that we're in it together."

"I promise..." I started to say. "No matter what, the kid comes first. Ok?"


We drifted off to sleep.

I was woken up at 10 AM by a knock at the door. I thought, "What now?" I got up, still dressed in my oversized Alan shirt and boxers, and found Rosie, fully dressed - in fact, wearing a bikini with a sarong around her waist.

I looked her up and down, and realized for the first time that there was actually something different about Rosie. The woman who had been given her body had apparently made a concerted effort to lose a lot of weight over the year. Her baggy clothes the day before masked it, but this look was showing it off.

She was still big - tall and bosomy, but her figure was tightened into in hourglass, rather than the more circular silhouette she had last year. (I hate to say it but thinking of the most tactful way to write that sentence hurt my brain.)

I couldn't help but let out a surprised "Daaamn, girl..."

She smiled shyly. "So it's not just my imagination? I really do look this good?"

I snorted a laugh, "Hell, I'd switch with your right now if I could..."

I think she only found it halfway amusing, but she brushed it off. "Well, I was thinking of taking a walk down the beach. See if we can leave the stress of yesterday behind. Any interest in joining?"

"I don't know..." I said. I admired Rosie's bravery for embracing the bikini body philosophy, but I wasn't sure I was at the same place mentally.

Kitty on the other hand, piped in: "Sounds marvelous," she cooed, "Could be a lovely bonding opportunity for us and our new little one."

"Kit," I sighed, "Dylan has had a lot to deal with this week... I don't know if he's going to be up to it."

"Why not?" she huffed, "We can't shelter her forever. Push her boundaries, let her live life."

Unilaterally, Kitty dug into Olivia's Disney Princess-themed bag and pulled out a kids' swimsuit, a white one-piece, ignoring my protests. She brought it over to Dylan and said, in a relatively sweet, motherly tone (albeit with a male bearing,) that we were "all" going to the beach.

"Do I have to?" Dylan whined.

"Absolutely," she said firmly, "It's for your own good. We're going to have fun today, and we want to get to know you."

"I can't wear this, it's a girl's--!" he stopped himself, remembering everything. "Oh. Right."

"You don't have to," I said. "If you want to stay at the Inn with me all afternoon..."

"Ugh, Judith," Kitty said, using my new name to send a sting up my spine, "She's probably tired of sitting around all day. Let her stretch her legs. We're still on vacation."

"Don't call him 'her' if he's not ready for it--" I hissed, "And don't force him to do anything he doesn't want to, including dress in girl's clothes."

"The sooner she gets used to it--" Kitty said, "The world isn't going to look at her and see a boy, why confuse the issue? I won't have her dressing like a boy, and... and make her brush her hair, it's all tangled, she looks like an urchin!"

I was exasperated. "Dylan... what do you want to do?"

He looked at the swimsuit on the bed next to him and ran his fingers through his tangled hair. "Ok. I like the beach. I could wear this."

Kitty smiled and looked at me real smug, like she had won the first round in what's gonna be a long conflict. It's not hard to see how she and I might have different philosophies on parenting. Still, we went for a nice walk along the beach, enjoyed the breeze... I had thrown on a very plain beige ankle-length dress that Judith owned that, aside from not hiding my derriere, was pretty modest and comfortable. The kid seemed to be able to forget his life was being turned upside down for a little while, but there was a tense silence between me and "Adrian." I preferred to talk to Rosie, about what her plans were for getting back to her regular life, and she confided that she wasn't exactly sure she was going back to her "regular life." I'll let her tell it, though.


I had a hard time enjoying our little outing, but for a little while I bet we almost looked like a family. When we got back, we say Abbie and Kendra packing up. Abbie was very frazzled as they tried to keep track of necessities for the kids, Kendra more quiet, lugging bags here and there.

"So," I said, "Leaving already..."

"Yeah..." Kendra sighed. "My 'new job' won't wait much longer, and it's a long drive. I'm still not used to it, but I think Abbz is taking it harder. I don't think she ever saw herself as a mother."

"Me neither," I said. "Listen, if you ever need anything..." I said, "I mean, I want to keep in touch anyway. It'll be good for Dylan."

She looked over in the car at the two sleepy kids in there. "Are you sure it's healthy for him to see them like this?"

"Maybe not," I said, "But I don't want him to forget them, or them to forget him."

She offered me a handshake. Though her body is not that much bigger than mine - she probably stands about 5'9 - her hand enveloped mine completely. I always hated noticing how small I was as Lauren, and now it was even worse.

Rosie would be leaving soon too. Before I knew it I would be in New Hampshire with my new family. And that would be my life for the next year or so.

I felt that headache returning...


Wednesday, August 10, 2016

Tyler: The Veterans

I didn't get a lot of sleep Saturday night/Sunday morning. The sun was just peeking through the blinds when I heard a faint but insistent knock on the door. "Tyler? Kitty?" a muffled voice asked, "Are you in there? I need help!"

I bolted upright awake, remembering where I was and what had happened. I checked the time on my phone. Only 5:50 AM. Damn, I thought selfishly. This was going to be a long day.

The knocking continued. I looked over at Kitty. She appeared to be trying to sleep through it, but she muttered, "Tell them we're not here." Obviously that didn't make sense. I wasn't even sure if she was aware we had transformed.

I stood up and smoothed my gray t-shirt over my chest. It tented over my bosoms and draped down nearly to my knees. I didn't have a sense of what I looked like yet, except for the hair and the long fingernails. It was disorienting to suddenly be so small, but I felt bulkier than when I was Lauren, so I felt pretty sure I wasn't a kid. My boxer shorts clung to my hips, meaning they must have been quite wide, and as I stepped across the room I really felt the weight of my lower half. I brushed my hands against my hips and backside and found them quite... round.

I reached the door. Once I opened it, I would be faced with something I couldn't pretend I hadn't seen. And the part I dreaded most of all was explaining that I had been through this twice already. That made me the Veteran, the Expert, and potentially, the man everyone was going to blame for not warning them.

Er, girl. Lady. Woman.

I took a deep breath as I turned the knob. I opened the door and my eyes bulged out at the sight of a  woman holding a baby - a toddler, actually, with light tufts of curly blond hair, at her hip.

I was about eye-level to the woman's chest. I craned my neck upward and saw the six-foot-plus Rosie, looming over me even moreso than when we first met. She was dressed in a man's pajamas that looked like they fit fairly well. One of the weird things about her transformation is that Ahmir was not actually bigger than her.

"Rosie?" I said, keeping my voice to a hush, trying not to wake anyone and also maybe because I was feeling self-conscious about how I might sound. "It's you, right?" She nodded, and I said "Good." She looked at me expectantly until I identified myself - it hadn't occurred to me that she wouldn't immediately recognize me as I am now. "It's Tyler. I'm... I'm like this now. Whatever it is, I haven't looked yet."

"You look fine from here," Rosie said. "We've got a problem."

"I can see that," I said. "What-- who is this?"

She sighed. "It's Susan. She... drew the short straw, I guess."

I felt the color drain out of my face. I've been through some crap in my years, but I never had to re-learn how to use a pen or the toilet.

"Is she... in there? Can she talk?"

"I don't know," Rosie said fearfully.

I groaned and did what I thought was the obvious thing, getting eye-level with the kid. "Hey... hey there... do you know what your name is?"

"Susa' Clawk..." she managed to say.

"Good, good, Susan..." I said, breathing a sigh of relief. "And how old are you Susan?"

She hesitated a moment and answered, "Thiwty ni'... Wheh' um I?"

Okay, I thought, we can work with this. She has her mind, sort of, but the linguistic and motors skills of a toddler. It's like having a stroke or something. My guess is she'll eventually grow back up and retain memories of her past life. God, I hope there isn't time for that.

"What about Neil? Dylan?"


I felt a headache coming on. I went out into the hallway and walked with Rosie and Susan over to Neil's family's room.

Inside were two more kids sitting on the bed - one a year or so older than the Susan had become, asleep on the bed, one a little girl dressed in boy's clothes, sitting next to him, quietly looking at a phone. Her long dark hair streaked in front of her face and I could sort of tell she'd been crying.

"Neil is the sleeping one," Rosie said, "He was up earlier, asking all kinds of questions, and I... I guess he just got too tired out."

"And Dylan's the girl," I surmised. At least he didn't get the Tom Hanks in "Big" treatment.

"She was... He was really upset," Rosie said, "But I got him to settle down and play his game, and, well.. I guess it took his mind off it."

"Wow, Rose," I said in astonishment, "Looks like you got this thing under control."

I was pleased with her. She had done a lot of the heavy lifting that I would have guessed would fall to me. But my head was still buzzing and I realized immediately that these kids probably didn't come alone. They probably had parents somewhere at the Inn, and it made sense to check the next room over, Abbie and Kendra.


They had become a young couple. Kendra's new body looked like it hadn't yet shed the pregnancy weight, and Abbie's, as the husband, had close-cropped brown hair with a reddish beard that she kept scratching at.

Kitty joined us as we explained the situation as best we could. There was the requisite "You knew this was going to happen?" exchange, which I was ready to snap back with "It doesn't matter, I couldn't have stopped it." Abbie backed off and asked me not to jump down her throat, it was just a lot to process. Kitty, for her part, seemed dismayed that she was tall and stocky, with lovehandles, male-pattern baldness and stubble. I would have loved to trade places with her, really.

"So, here's the bad news," I said as tactfully as I could, "The really bad news. There's these kids, they were a family of three, and... we think they're supposed to be yours."

Abbie and Kendra looked dumbstruck at each other as Rosie brought Neil and Susan forward. Dylan was hiding behind, staying quiet.

"No way," Abbie protested.

"This is too much," Kendra added.

"Come on," Kitty said, "It will be easier than it looks. They have the minds of adults, we checked. I bet it will just be like having little roommates."

"Roomates I have to breastfeed," Abbie sneered, clasping her hands over her chest.

"I think they're a bit old for that," Rosie clarified.

"I know it's a lot to absorb," I said. "Body changing, three kids... I feel for you."

"Um, Tyler," Rosie said sensitively, "It's probably just two kids."

"What do you... there's three of them, and..."

"Look at Dylan," Rosie said, "And, well..."

I looked at all of them. The young ones, Neil and Susan, had Abbie's wavy blonde hair and pale skin. Dylan looked different, with tawny brown skin and long dark hair. And he... she... looked actually too old to be the daughter of that couple.

Rosie gestured at me oddly.

I looked at my hands. Tawny brown skin. Long dark hair. I hadn't even thought about what I actually look like.

My heart sank. My head continued to throb. All the breath left my lungs.

"Oh, God," I groaned, slapping my forehead.

In all the commotion, I hadn't so much as checked a mirror. I rushed off back to my room.

There in the reflection was... well, this woman. This face. One that looked an awful lot like Dylan's. A grown woman in her mid-30's, little age lines creeping around. I felt so stupid, it must have been so obvious to everyone who saw us. I'm a fucking mom now.

I couldn't believe this possibility hadn't occurred to me. I was so concerned with where I was ending up, I didn't think much about who was going there with me, let alone that it might be someone else's child.

Kitty and I started arguing almost immediately. I thought it would be best to leave Dylan with Kendra and Abbie - one more kid probably wouldn't break their banks, and it would be safer to keep that family together. On top of that, I didn't think we were stable enough together - privately I kept thinking I was just going to run off and live my own life without her no matter who I became, but I didn't say it that way.

Kitty came back by saying our new "selves," the Walkers, probably weren't in bad shape either, and were set up to look after the child. That we couldn't burden them with another mouth to feed, and since they weren't really a married couple, how could we assume they were any more stable than we were. And those kids weren't really Dylan's parents anymore anyway - he wouldn't recognize them, relate to them or communicate with them that way.

She had a point. And yeah, maybe my reasons against it were selfish, but I still would have rather kept those three together. But it just wasn't workable. If Abbie and Kendra were willing to go along and play parents, I had to too.

My face was hot with frustration and anger directed at nobody in particular. My head was throbbing, I was hot and sweaty, my stomach was sick and hungry. I wanted to break down and cry for the second time since the early hours. I tried to fight them back, but the hot stream of tears poured out of my eyes. I was a sobbing wreck.

And Kitty, to her credit, wrapped her big strong arms around me and held me close, like she really loved me - and maybe she does - and said "It's okay, it's gonna be okay. We'll get through this. We're tough."

I knew that, but all I could say was "God, I want this to end." And it sucked getting so emotional, too, because usually I'm calm, cool and collected. But my body was throwing all these new hormones at me, getting me all worked up.

"Hey," he said, "Have a shower. Clear your head. I think we can take care of things."

I could just barely muster a "Thank you," but I meant it and I think she picked up on it. I felt really cared for and supported. It was almost like we were... like, an actual couple.

She left me alone and I did decide to run a quick shower. I was so exhausted and worn down at this point that I hardly even cared what I looked like, but I didn't mind it so much.

Whoever this woman was, she was maybe 5'5, with a soft but not out-of-shape "mom" body. It looks like she takes good enough care of herself, despite the accumulated cellulite on hips and thighs and whatnot. I was aware, all day, of the bounce of my butt behind me and my boobs under my top - I'm gonna need to get back in the habit of wearing a bra, that's pretty non-negotiable. (As Lauren I only bothered on school days, and even then I sometimes just layered tops until the girls stayed in place.) Overall it's just so much more... womanly than I was used to. Sure, I'm a female "again" but this is as different from Lauren's body as a family sedan is from a coupe.

The long hair has more volume to it than the straight locks I had as Lauren, but compared to Rosie's frizziness I guess it's not so bad. Like I said, she has a bit of age lines, which suits me fine - I feel older than my years with all this body swapping. In reality I've only gained about five, though. Her whole look is... well, my dad would have said she was "exotic" if he was feeling polite that day. I actually couldn't immediately put my finger on what race I was supposed to be, but once I was cleaned up, I started going through her things, found a letter addressed to "The New Judith, Adrian and Olivia Walker" and found out her maiden name is Medeiros, which I guess is Portuguese.

Honestly this has been so draining I think this is a good place to stop... we're about to leave the Inn and head for our new home for the next year (hopefully not more...) and when I get there, and we get all settled in, I'll give you all the details.

And probably cut my fingernails, over Kitty's protests, so I can actually use a keyboard and a phone like a normal person.

"Judith." (Ugh, of all the things I object to about this life, the name is up there.)

Monday, August 08, 2016

Tyler: So how was your weekend?

By Thursday night, the Inn was starting to fill up, maybe about halfway. I had gotten a bucket of chicken for Kitty, Rosie and myself, and we were just sitting around the common room about to dig in, when in walk these two girls, dragging some luggage behind them, and I could hear from their conversation that they were having trouble finding somewhere to eat - apparently they had some plans and were running late, to where they didn't know if they'd have time to find a decent meal.

I decided to wave them over and offer them some of ours. They waved it off at first, but I insisted. I introduced myself as Tyler, and Kitty, who seemed less than charmed to meet them. I paused when I got to Rosie, when she piped up and said, "Ahmir," offering a big friendly smile. I guess meeting a big black guy named "Rosie" would seem a bit odd.

They gave their names, Abbie and Kendra, and talked a bit about themselves - 23 years old, just out of college, etc etc. I made some polite small talk, careful not to tip my hand that I knew anything about what was going to happen, say anything that might seem deceitful or cruel in retrospect. I mean, if you could just warn people ahead of time, everybody would turn around and run away (well, except for the folks who would appreciate a "fresh start." I reckon they'd get more than they bargain for, though.)

They headed out wherever they were going and we said maybe we'd see them later. After they were out of earshot, Kitty smacked me on the shoulder. "We're not here to make friends with these people!"

I sighed. "We need to form some kind of bond with people here when we can. Our lives might depend on it. Or theirs."

She scoffed. "Still, you don't have to be so nice."

I realized in that instant it was because Abbie and Kendra were so attractive that she felt threatened.

Later, I took a walk with Rosie and asked her about her experiences. Just like on the blog, she was reticent to go into detail, but she wanted to clarify it's not like it was a walking nightmare every day. Even if she could never quite shake the race thing from her mind, there were lots of times it didn't seem to matter as much - it's just that it would sometimes come out of nowhere, or she started seeing it places where maybe there was actually nothing to worry about. She said her favorite times were being "one of the boys" at the construction site, where your race didn't matter as long as you could lift the drywall or whatever. I told her I wished she had found more time to write about it so we could get a fuller sense of her experience, maybe and she said she just wasn't in that kind of headspace. I'm sure Meghan would have backed me up that pushing yourself to write that stuff down is healthy.

I tried to relate her experience to my own as Lauren. If you are a black man or a teenage girl by nature, you don't have the ability to think about how different it is for you than other people, at least not in such concrete ways. I missed being able to go out and not be leered at by older men, or having to dress according to whether I wanted to risk tempting teenage boys at school. My one really solid friendship with a male classmate was based on his attraction for me and me having to keep him at arm's length.

Rosie admitted she had at least enjoyed manhood for what it was. I told her I didn't quite have the same perspective on my femininity. Sex and dating were off-limits. I couldn't have enjoyed them anyway.

"But who knows," I sighed. "Maybe next time..."

She smirked. "You're convinced that's how it's gonna go down, huh?"

"It's 50/50, and I've never been a lucky guy," I said. "And that's assuming everything goes as right as I hope it will. Waking up as Alan, and getting to wrap these arms around Meghan, was the happiest moment of my entire sorry life, and soon it will be a memory."

I added "But this time I'm ready for it. For whatever happens. I have the advantage of knowing the deal ahead of time. I'll probably never have a real body of my own again. Why get attached?"

She said, "I bet it's tempting to find someone you want to be and send them to the Inn first. Maybe someone who doesn't deserve what they've got in life."

I think that was meant to be a joke, but she said it very seriously. Like it was something she, herself, had considered.

"I wouldn't," I said firmly. "No matter what happened to me, it's not my place to make that decision." I do wish I could be that kind of asshole, but I at least have some conscience.

"Me too," she said, but added, "But we'll see how you feel a few years down the road."

It was Friday that Unlucky #13 arrived. I happened to be in my room when I heard an unfamiliar voice in the next room over. I wasn't sure who was in there already, but over the last two days or so I'd heard at least two sets of footsteps and two voices, both of which I assumed were women. The new one was male. He seemed to be apologizing for being late, and she was clearly displeased, but they didn't get into a loud fight or anything which was good. I decided to move to the common area in case they came out, so I could get a glimpse of them.

There were three people but it wasn't a man and two women. It was a husband, a wife, and a son of about 12 years old, busying himself with that Pokemon Go game. They had towels and sunscreen and such.

As they approached I tried to not focus on what was about to happen to them, especially the kid. I gave a nervous but friendly wave: "Heading to the beach?"

"Now that he's here, the vacation can finally begin," the wife said. The husband kind of laughed it off with a remark about work being too demanding but pulling himself away.

They were kind of a nice, cute couple, in that "Oh, my hubby is such a dolt but I love him anyway" kind of way.

"I'm Tyler by the way," I said, extending my hand, "My girlfriend and I are in the room next to yours. Let me know if you need anything."

"Um, thanks," the man said. "I'm Neil, this is Susan and our boy Dylan."

"Oh?" I said, "Sue was my mother's name." Well, one of them.

The conversation halted awkwardly and I let them get on their way. My stomach was churning for what was about to become of that boy. I can understand that the Inn's curse is inevitable and random and all, but man... who's ever running this place needs to stop branding it as a fun getaway for young families. That's just cruel.

They returned around sunset and we talked for maybe 20 minutes, about their cross-country road trip from Iowa, their lives and jobs (Neil works at Quaker Oats,) stuff like that. Kitty, Rosie and I were having a late dinner again, and we offered to share but they had already eaten. Neil explained his wife wasn't feeling well, and I wondered if that could be chalked up to the curse or not, since they were out all day. I was still feeling fine at this point, and Kitty was a lot nicer to the Neil family than to Abbie and Kendra... who came back shortly after dark, looking like they had been out hiking all day, burnt out, redfaced and ready to collapse.

It seemed like everyone was in for the night, so we hastily returned to our rooms to keep everything from being screwed up. Kitty either fell right asleep or played like she did, but I couldn't. I managed to sleep through the transformation twice before but I couldn't this time. When you're not totally exhausted, that whole sensation is very hard to ignore.

I tried to lie perfectly still so I didn't disturb Kitty, but it was hard. There was this steady pressing sensation into my body, like whatever I was becoming was inside me pushing out. It was hot under the covers so I kicked them off, but I kept my eyes clamped closed - the room was dark but I wanted to stay ignorant as long as possible.

I tried to keep my hands somewhere neutral, so I laid them on my abdomen. Alan's flat midsection was softening up. That could have meant anything. And my feet seemed to be retracting from the edge of the bed, but lots of guys are shorter than Alan.

But I was becoming aware that the person next to me seemed to be getting much larger. Or maybe just because I was getting so much smaller.

I can't tell you the precise order things happened in since it was all sort of going on at once. You feel a rustle of long hair down your ears and neck. You twist your hips and the responsive sway of your genitals isn't there anymore. And you know. You haven't seen yet but you know. I was right about what to expect. I cursed under my breath and sat up, brushing that long dark hair away from my face.

I sat over the edge of the bed. My feet just barely touching the floor. I wrapped my arms around my sides and tried to keep from breaking out into tears or something. I was ready for it, or at least I thought I was, but now it was real. I couldn't help but notice my hands - thin fingers tipped by somewhat-long, perfectly-shaped nails. I regarded them with a kind of dismay. This was not me... but it is, I guess.

It was quiet, still, but I knew that soon everyone would wake up and realize what had happened to them. My mind was abuzz with the possibilities, worst-case scenarios, life-ruining changes. I wanted to know right away what had happened next door, even more than I did this room.

And I would want to help, and yeah, I wanted to know more about this person I had become, but all I could think was "I need to sleep." The chaos could wait at least a couple of hours. Maybe I could wait until they had some of it figured out... and give myself some time to think of something to say...

I laid back down and rolled close to Kitty's new body next to me, a man who felt like he dwarfed me. I felt his lungs breathe in and out through his back and tried to let it soothe me to sleep.

Back again soon. This whole story has already taken half a day to write down with these nails in the way and there's much more to tell.

Friday, August 05, 2016

Tyler/Alan: Last Ride

One thing about knowing that there's a 50/50 chance on any given night here I might have to bid farewell to my gender again is that it has spurred me to take advantage of the situation. Kitty and I don't agree on a lot of things and we don't cooperate well at tasks like cooking, cleaning or grocery shopping, but there is one thing we have done well since the beginning. And I'm almost afraid to talk about it because of who might be reading.

I don't want to compare Kitty and Meghan, because it's like apples and oranges. What Meghan and I had... Physically, emotionally, spiritually, I will probably never get again. That doesn't change the fact that I screwed it up, and it also doesn't change the fact that more or less I'm "with" Kitty now. She clearly has decades of sedate, unfulfilling married life to get out of her system, memories of a long term partner who took her for granted, a new lease on life thanks to her transformation... Shit, it's no wonder she seems so reluctant to give it up.

It's clear that Kitty enjoys looking like Greta, the statuesque stunning Scandinavian type. To be frank, I think changing one's body can be healthy. Even if yours is perfectly good, having a new one for a while can reinvigorate your love for yourself. This doesn't just go for Kitty. I feel like Meghan's time as Tasha - another tall blonde buxom stunner - helped open her up a bit more. When she went back to being herself, she was a whole new woman, even though she was coming back to her same old self.

And for what it's worth, I still believe Meghan, the real one, is the most attractive woman I've ever laid my eyes on. Once, late at night as we were drifting off to sleep she asked if I would have preferred her looking like Tasha (supposing that was,an option, which it wasn't.) I took a look at her dark chocolate brown hair, cut just short enough to sweep over her eyes in that mischievous was, masking the glint that came from knowing she,was whip smart but not bragging about it... And I placed my hand on her hip, tgat wild extreme cutve that always invited me in... And I told her honestly, and I meant it from the bottom of my heart, absolutely not. But I loved her in whatever package I could have her in. I would see the beauty in her anywhere.

Maybe the Inn screws with people's minds, their chemistry, their sexualities, but some things as are beyond even that. I felt great affection in my heart for her when we were both women, when I was younger and smaller and slighter than her, and we were  not blood relations but close enough that it would have been a scandal. I grappled with that every day, even as I could feel Lauren's body pulling me into the psyche of a heterosexual teenage girl. And getting to fulfill that desire, even for a short time, made the whole misadventure a tad more worthwhile.

Bit things happened the way they did, my nature got the better of me. If I was a trifle less stubborn I reckon I could have stayed and worked it out. She was a sensible person. I was the damn fool who lost her. I ought to make my peace with that. It ain't likely I'll get the chance to put things right.

So here I am, lying next to Kitty/Greta in the early morning light on an August morning in Maine. Knowing it would hurt Meghan to see me with someone who looks this way. And knowing neither of us will look this way for much longer.

Thursday, August 04, 2016

Tyler/Alan: Fun in the Sun

I've been trying to find a way to enjoy my time in Maine... the mild weather, the sea salt in the air, the scenery. But it's hard to really appreciate it with the cloud of dread hanging over me. The mystery of who I'll become in a few days. The fates of all the people I've seen here so far. Whether I'll be able to separate myself from Kitty.

It's been a very quiet week. We've almost had the whole place to ourselves. Which is kind of nice, I suppose - a quiet getaway before the storm erupts and we have to not only figure out our new lives but shepherd any newbies into this "lifestyle..."

Kitty has basically done nothing but lie around and complain. Complain about the weather, about not feeling well, about how long this is taking. About how I'm not good company... finally today, I encouraged her to get out, enjoy the sunshine, do some shopping... do anything. Once this curse hits there's probably not gonna be time and energy for recreation.

For a while, the only familiar person to show up was Rosie, who arrived the day after we did. I hadn't seen her since the fall when Meghan and I went down to NYC for an overnight trip. As Ahmir she and I are about eye-to-eye, but she looks to have about a hundred or more pounds on me. But he has a way of carrying himself like he wants to be smaller - which, remembering how Rosie originally looked, may be a habit she carried over. She's also rocking a shaved head look, telling me it was to give the real-Ahmir a fresh start, and because afros draw too much unwanted attention.

Bless her heart, the past year seems to have really triggered her anxiety.

The first thing she did when she got here was open all the bags in her room. At first she flipped out, because none of the clothes looked familiar, but there was a wallet with "her" I.D. and a letter signed by the interim Rosie.

I hesitated to examine the luggage left for me and Kitty at first. The Inn isn't an exact science, it seems, and what you seem to have laid out in front of you might not be the true end result. So I didn't want to open the nondescript black suitcase and find a bunch of clothes for a 25-year-old man and get my hopes up only to get girlified again. But at Kitty's behest, after the weekend, we took a look.

I was not pleased with the first thing I saw: bras and panties. They appeared to be freshly laundered, no travel-aroma attached to them. Some very flowery looking dresses. My heart sank. Please, let there be more to this. Give me even a sliver of hope.

We opened the next bag: men's wear. Dockers, jeans, cargo shorts, t-shirts. Not that far off from my size, although the waist could be smaller. Ok. So assuming this curse spreads things out in the same way from one time to the next, Kitty and I will be becoming a couple. A grown, married couple.

Which doesn't necessarily mean we'll be staying a couple as far as I'm concerned.

Which one of us gets to be which one... I mean, obviously I have a preference. But I can weather the storm if it ends up the other way. It looks like annual trips to the Inn is my life now, especially if, God above forbid, I have to spend another year on the female side of the fence. I just can't see myself settling down as that. But to be happy for a year? I don't need much. Just give me my own house, my own income, the room to make my own choices in life and I'll be fine I guess.

People have been trickling in since the weekend. Again, this seems like a strange way to do things, and I've been wondering if some were repeat-visitors with business to clear up, but no, I don't think so. Just random folks who couldn't make it up for the first weekend of the month.

Simon/Joy: The Joey thing...

So, yeah, about that.

I dunnohis at's in myit's definitely no damn ad lately, if it's girl-juices or flattery or just plan boredom, but when I got a text from a number that wasn't already in my contacts, saying "Hey, it's Joey, I got your number from Courtnee. I thought we really hit it off at the party, just thought I'd say hi" I wasn't immediately turned off. My thinking was more like "Oh, this could be fun." I'd already experienced his advances at the party, and while it didn't exactly light my world on fire, it was good for a laugh. But at the time I intended to leave it at that.

After considering it for a while, I decided that life as a woman wasn't going to get any easier, better learn what this is like now. I could have been kind to the guy and told him I wasn't interested, but I didn't have the heart. I'm still skeptical that I could ever be interested in a guy "that way" but I wanted to at least engage him like there was a chance of that, so I could gauge his behavior.

Not exactly steamy flirty talk, I'll admit. But hey I'm a real person and that was what was on my mind at the time. Like I said, I don't know if this body has flipped me around so that I'm interested in guys, but I'm definitely not seeing myself with any guy who uses "u." We talked a bit more and then he brings this up...

Notice me saying "haha" to things that are definitely not funny, just to reassure him that I'm still interested. That last bit was after a long pause where I seriously could not think of anything to say in response.

I wanted to say I had one too, in my nightstand drawer, but I could see that going off the rails quickly. I admit I was getting a bit deep into character by admitting he was attractive -- objectively, he's pretty okay but I couldn't just say that to the poor guy.

Long story short, he offered me a chance to see it for myself, and I politely declined, but it didn't end there. Every few days he would check in on me and try to strike up a conversation, which he would then turn toward the size of his member at the first opportunity. One time he asked me if it was okay that I was in his contacts as "Sexi J" and I was just like "Cool, sure, whatever." I'm just... too much of a diplomat to turn him down too harshly, because I know how bad it feels to be rejected by a chick and I just can't go through with it. So I string him along a little bit, get him all riled up just to see what he'll say, and then disappear. I feel kind of bad about it, but at least he gets to have fun chasing me. From that perspective, it's win-win.

Win-Win-Win, in fact, because after Treena told me she had had a thing with Joey, I showed her all the conversations and we had a good laugh. She felt embarrassed that she had slept with him and admitted that her jealousy toward me was more about feeling thrown away than because he was such a great guy.

As it is, this guy is just something I keep in my purse for amusement. If I need cheering up, I just go to my text window with him and prompt him for more dick-hype. One time he found a reason to tell me he sometimes jacked it twice a day. I hadn't asked. It's a strong feeling, knowing you have that kind of power over someone, to make them want to impress you so badly. Real intoxicating.

Of course he's not always talking about his junk. It's just that seems to be his favorite topic. At times it's actually quite nice to have someone to talk to who isn't Treena. It makes me wonder. If a smarter, more charming guy had gotten my number, someone I could have some common ground with or a fun response to anything he had to say... what would that be like?

(PS I didn't use real screenshots as you can probably tell, just re-created them with a website.)

(PPS he has sent me images of his penis and it's definitely no damn eleven inches... Not that I care...)