Wednesday, May 31, 2023

Keaton Garrett: Part Two

So to recap... on Saturday: birthday drinks, laughs, and a little bit of light petting with a girl from the bar.

Sunday: Chaos and confusion as we all woke up "in different bodies"/with our bodies "transformed", however you want to term it.

I get the sense that people reading this blog know all about what we're terming the "event." It took us obviously a lot of pooling our resources to figure out what was going on, who we'd "become" and how to learn more.

In terms of who as unlucky enough to have their new assignment least resemble their previous, that would be me. I went from 6'7, 250 lbs of muscle and hair, down to a 5'5 soft-bellied and round-hipped female. The first thing I did when hopping out of bed -- responding to the calamity like the superhero I sometimes get mistaken for -- was to faceplant and land on my freshly-grown tits, skinning my knee and bruising my chin. Oops. I tried to shake it off but, with the world around me having grown to enormous proportions, I spent a lot of the day just getting my bearings and marveling at what had become of my body.

I think I was almost too impressed to be scared. Gone were my hard pecs and biceps, replaced with a soft-skinned, and very modestly-sized pair of breasts, and noodly arms. What was between my legs -- a good size if I do say so myself, something I took pride in and would have a hard time forgetting I possessed -- now gone without a trace, replaced by a conspicuous void that feels very weird to be sitting with. I first saw it when the boxers I had been wearing slipped down. The sound I made in my new feminine voice, reader... you could hardly imagine, just an unfettered shriek of pure shock. I spent the rest of the day wearing my own t-shirt, which was basically enough to cover my body and trying not to think about what lay beneath.

Gone overnight, everything that made me "me," the muscles, the tattoos, the beard, the organs... except I guess I still have long blonde hair. I guess conventionally you'd expect a man-turned-into-a-woman to gain longer hair, but mine is actually shorter, only shoulder length. Pulling it into a short ponytail was the least of my surprise.

Rona got the same treatment, becoming a man: rather ordinary, average height, short-cropped dark haired and generic-featured, medium build with a slight potbelly. The fact that she's a lesbian did little or nothing to dull her shock about it, though. My being blond(e) and her being dark-haired caused some confusion at first since we in some ways "resembled" our new selves.

Jacks and Steffi didn't get the switch flipped the way we did, but they have their own concerns. Looking at my and Rona's new features we had obviously gained a few years, but they both wound up somewhere north of forty, with Jacks sporting gray hair, and Steffi, well... for someone who's used to looking the way she does, this body is going to be a shock in its own way... size-wise and cosmetically. This is not to say an older and chubbier woman can't be pretty at all, but just... you know how society is. I mean hell, we're from L.A. Even the most open-minded of us is probably still a little superficial.

I would say as shocking as it was to note my physical changes, the idea of "taking over" someone's life on a temporary basis was even moreso, as we learned more about the event. But there was something of a wrinkle.

See, everyone at the Inn got a letter or some kind of message explaining what had happened and what to do next.

Rona and I got two.

There was one each designated to "New Marc" and "New Laura" and one each for "Original Marc" and "Original Laura." It seems that these bodies were meant to go back to their original owners but that's obviously not what happened. Luckily the previous occupants anticipated that and wrote us these alternate instructions.

We asked around. There was no Marc and no Laura here. Then I logged onto the blog and not far back, I see posts from Marc (under the "Chantelle" identity he had been assigned) up until last fall.

We decided it's important for us to meet these people and let them know that their bodies are in good hands or... whatever. Find out what kept them from returning.

Anything to keep my mind off of what's going on... "down there."

Monday, May 29, 2023

Keaton Garrett: Part One

I'm gonna take my sweet ass time with this because, well, I don't have much else to do and there's a lot to unpack. A few mornings ago I was lying in my very stiff and too-small "Trading Post Inn" bed wondering how long the stiffness in my neck was going to last when I spotted a slip of paper that had found its way under my door in the night, with log in info for this blog, inviting me to share my experience. Had I written anything at the time, it would have simply read "This place sucks and I don't want to be here," but I was not so bored that I was going to spend all day on the computer writing negative reviews. And besides, the wi-fi situation in this little corner of Old Orchard Beach is positively medieval.

Obviously, by now I'm a little bit more aware of why people would be sharing their experiences here online so things have changed

So how did I, the quintessential California boy get here? It's a not-very-interesting story, to be sure.

I work, or should I say was working for a production company. We had booked some time to scout locations for an upcoming wilderness drama for one of the big streamers -- I won't bore you with the details -- when the writers strike happened. Personally, I support the WGA 1000%, even if their strike has a knock-on effect on my job, but I've come to dislike the job anyway and have been thinking of changing industries (to what, I had no idea... but I guess the universe heard me manifesting that.) So production got canceled and we got stuck with some non-refundable "all beds must be filled" reservations at Old Orchard Beach's rustiest, mustiest inn for Memorial Day. The stays were raffled off and the lucky winners were me, Rona, Jacks and Steffi -- not too many people signed up because I guess when you live in LA, a beach getaway on the other side of the country doesn't have much appeal, but the idea of heading to a slower, more bucolic setting with less smog, away from the chaos of life in the industry appealed to me.

I like to think I have a zen heart even though my exterior is (was) anything but. At 6'7 with long blond hair, I get called "Thor" a lot. I'm muscular, I have tattoos running up and down my arms. People make a lot of assumptions about who I am because of what I look like. And hey, some of that may be accurate: the muscles don't just happen, and a lot of my time is spent rock climbing, biking and base jumping. But I also melt anytime I see a random dog, and I like to curl up with a good book.

I think Rona may have had some of these preconceptions about me -- that I'm some kind of insensitive misogynistic meathead -- because she was really frosty to me when we first met, but she actually became one of my closest friends around the office (or "office" as the case may sometimes be, with Zoom and all.)

I just asked Rona, if she would not mind describing herself visually for the benefit of you readers. Her response: "Fat and gay." To clarify, she was a little stout and curvy rather than "fat"... and with short dark hair, thick glasses and a penchant for checked button-down shirts and pants, I suppose she definitely wore her sexuality as an aesthetic. Jackson "Jacks" Kirkman is a goofy guy who always has to be the center of attention, and Steffi is a fair-haired Insta-influencer type: thin, great body, etc etc. When Jacks and Steffi became an item a few weeks in advance of the trip, we were basically obliged to place "People who were sleeping together" in one room and "People who would not be sleeping together" in the other.

Up until yesterday, we were having a really nice time. During the day we explored the town, meandered around the beach, drank and got goofy, and then at night it was like an extended sleepover with my best bro: bored games, cheesy movies, drinking games. Saturday was actually my birthday -- happy 27th. We went out to the bar and after a cutesy little cupcake with a candle for me to blow out Rona basically insisted on wingwoman-ing me, adamant that one of us had to get laid before this trip was over. I was flattered but while I did end up getting a number from a very nice woman, I wasn't that into it. I went back to her place, and we made out for a bit, but I ended up seeing myself out.

Of course, if I had known what was headed for us, I might have thought differently.

I came back to the room and noticed Rona already snoozing. I sat up on my phone for a while but noticed I was feeling a little woozy and a little itchy/irritated/tingly. I thought maybe it was a reaction to something I had eaten or drank, so I popped and antihistamine -- the feeling didn't quite subside but it did help me zonk out.

And then in the morning, everything had changed.