Dave/Chris: Make-up makes the (wo)man

Shane is not a computer person. He isn't stupid, he just doesn't care about computers, so he never uses them and so doesn't understand how useful they can be. He was the last person I know to start using email around 10 years ago - reluctantly, when he needed it for his business, and only in the last few years started using messaging apps. Aside from that, he never uses computers. He bought his first smart phone during the covid lockdown, but he still only really uses it for making phone calls. He is the only person that I still have to phone, if I want to contact him. 

I'm also fairly certain that he never watched the video that Sylvia made for him. It's almost inconceivable that she wouldn't mention that Chris was originally a woman and had a sex change. I wasn't going to call him out on it though. I still haven't told him about not having a penis. I don't know when or how I'm going to tell him, and I wished I had told him at the start, because the longer it takes, the harder it seems to be to say something. If I tell him now, he's not going to be happy that I kept this from him.

I mentioned that Shane was going to try to embrace his femininity in my last post, and that includes learning to do make-up and hair. He tried to do it himself, from photos, which was spectacularly unsuccessful. The next day, he went out by himself in the morning. He came home several hours later. His face had been expertly made up and his hair looked great. He also had longer, red nails, and even though he was still wearing just a t-shirt and jeans, he looked beautiful.

I asked him where he'd been, and he told me he went to a department store and asked them to help him in the make up department, and then he went to a hairdresser, who styled his hair. Finally, he'd also gotten a manicure. He had a bag with him and pulled out 5 or 6 fashion magazines and dropped them on the coffee table and proclaimed: "I'm going to try to get this right."

He wanted to go out again, this time for dinner, because in his words "it would be a waste if I didn't go out looking like this", so he went to his room and put on a red dress. This one was a little more daring, in that it showed a little cleavage and a little more leg. He looked good before, but now he was really hot. I put on a nice shirt and trousers, and we went out for dinner at a somewhat fancy Italian restaurant. 

I can't deny that it felt great to have someone looking that good accompanying me. He's slowly becoming more feminine in his actions, and definitely looking less unsure of himself. The fidgeting and uncomfortable shifting has mostly stopped and it's sometimes hard to think of the woman in front of me as being the person that I grew up with and go fishing with. When we got home and I went to the bathroom before going to bed, my pussy was actually a little wet. I don't want to think about what that means.

I haven't really talked much about my pussy. I don't like to look at it or touch it, but whenever I'm in the shower and particularly when I have to sit on the toilet to pee, I can't ignore it. I have had a closer look out of curiosity, and it looks quite normal - for a woman, except that my clitoris is bigger than any I've seen on a woman before. I've googled about all sorts of trans related stuff recently to find out more, and it seems that testosterone makes the clitoris grow. It almost looks like a small penis, and it feels a bit like it when I touch it. But of course, it's not the same. I can't urinate through it, it's still a lot smaller than a penis, and there's an opening I never had before, right under it. The whole area looks and feels wrong. It's hard to explain, but it feels like it shouldn't be a part of me, and I think about that almost all the time. 

Chris has these prosthetics that I found. I wasn't sure what they were at first, but you stick them into your underpants and it makes it look like you have a package down there. I've been using them, because they make me feel more confident somehow. I've asked Shane about how he feels about his pussy, and whether he misses his penis. He shrugged and told me that he wants it back, but he's not missing it as much as he thought he would. 

Of course, he has tits as well. They look like a fairly average size. When I asked about them, he said that he often even forgets that they're there. I'm glad Chris had his removed, because I don't think I could have coped with them, and I certainly can't imagine I would forget that they're there. I saw some old photos on his phone from before he had them removed and they were larger than Shane's. I've also made sure to keep up the testosterone. I've injected myself a few times now. I'm not used to doing it, and I don't like needles, but it's better than having periods.

The next day, Shane was in his room all morning. Every once in a while I heard loud cussing coming from the room. Eventually he came out, with clownish make-up on his face. His hair looked all messed up too. "What's the matter?", I asked. "How fucking hard can it be to put on make-up and curl hair? The women yesterday showed me what she was doing and I'm trying to recreate it, but it isn't working. I tried the curling iron and the more I use it, the worse it looks." I couldn't help but laugh "Did you know anything about make-up and hair when you walked in there yesterday?" "Of course I didn't" he grunted. "That's why I went". I told him "Every other woman that goes in there has at least some basic knowledge. You can't expect to learn it all like that in one go." "Well I can't go there every day until I learn it properly", he said. "Have you checked out YouTube?" I asked. "There are tutorials on everything there. I'm sure you can learn from there." 

He obviously hadn't checked it out, so I showed him how to use it, and how to search for relevant videos. He went back to his room to watch them and tried again. I only got called in twice when he had problems. The first time, he accidentally closed the browser window, and the second time he pressed the mute button. Yes....he really is that bad with computers.

When he came out after a couple of hours, he looked a lot better. His hair was in place, and he had cut down on the amount of make-up he had tried. It wasn't perfect, but definitely acceptable.

Tomorrow, the cafe opens again. I'm nervous about it, but it hasn't been all make-up and fashion at home. We've also tried to prepare for this as well as we can. We've learnt the processes and ordered from the suppliers and we're as ready as we ever will be.

Let's see how things go.

Paul/Kim: Hurrying Back

 We still had a few days left on our reservations but Kim had had just about enough of the Trading Post and insisted we needed to hit the road back to their home. A combination of fear and guilt from accidentally being in her body had me inclined to go along with pretty much anything she says.

One thing I toyed with was the idea of not writing a letter, since I'd end up back as myself. However seeing the chaos that came upon someone as visibly organized as Kim I figured just in case. I wrote 2 letters.

The first letter was the just-in-case customary "Here's what to do if you get my life" letter that all visitors leave to the next occupant (Which Kim never left for me, thinking she'd get her body back). The second letter was actually an email, to my Mom back in Virginia. It basically lied and said that Acadia was so hard up for help that they offered me an extended winter live in position that required I start immediately and probably wouldn't make it home for the holidays. I teared up a bit writing it. I actually don't think I've cried since like junior high over something like that. I know I'll see my family again, but it is still pretty terrifying.

 Once the letters were done and my luggage was packed I grabbed the suitcases that belonged to Kim from their room and started rolling them out to where she and Maya were waiting by their SUV, talking. I couldn't hear what they were saying but it was a lot of Kim looking up at Maya and saying a lot while Maya just nodded along. 

When I got nearer Maya offered to lift the luggage into the back. I think she was just looking to show off how strong she was as Brent, the guy she was now. Maya has actually been the most stable person I've seen in all the chaos that is this place. Her mother was angry about missing out on getting her life back. I'm terrified being the one to get it. Maya on the other hand seems pretty aloof and open minded. Maybe having spent a year as someone else once makes the second time easier, even if it is as a member of the opposite sex (which is VERY off putting, in my opinion). I think she's just content to do her best and come back next year.

"I'll do the driving" Kim said "Go ahead and get in the passenger seat I'll be there in a minute"

She's very direct and normally I dont like being ordered around, but I find myself doing whatever she says. Maybe it's guilt from winding up in her body, or maybe I trust her because she knows about this crazy cursed hotel. Either way being led makes adapting to all this better.

As I sat in the car and buckled in trying not to think about the seatbelt splitting my new boobs, I looked back and saw Kim and Maya talking again, now holding hands. Kim had tears in her eyes saying goodbye and they hugged before she climbed in and started the car.

"Do you need a minute?" I asked 

"I need all of this to be over" She said with a sigh before putting the car in gear.

The Scotts live in Irondeqouit, New York, which is a suburb of Rochester near Lake Ontario. It's about a 7 hour drive through a part of the country which is just beautiful in the autumn. As someone with a forestry degree I've always appreciated nature and looking out the window was helpful in taking my mind off of everything. 

I did also try to engage Kim more in hopes of getting to know the person whose face I was wearing better, but most of them were met with short frustrated answers.

"So like, what's your job?" I asked when it dawned on me I'd have to be Kim to the rest of the world

"MY job is a lecturer at a University" She said annoyed "But since the numbskull who was in my body the past year knew nothing about math I'm on sabbatical until it looks like another year. YOUR job is going to be part time at Target because that's all she could land"

I laughed out loud at that. 

"What?" She demanded

"I worked at Target for my last 2 years of college." I said shaking my head "It's come full circle"

After about three and a half hours of mostly silence we stopped for gas. She reached in the back and handed me a purse "They don't have to pay at the pump so you're going to have to do it, use the Discover card"

I swallowed and took a deep breath. This was it. I had to pretend to be someone else for the first time. We got out of the car and the same hip pain I had woken up with had returned with a vengeance with every step I made. Kim took notice.

"Yeah I've got bad cartilage there, it's going to hurt like hell if you sit wrong for a period of time. Keep your legs level and feet on the floor the rest of the way"

I took notice and walked into the gas station. The lady at the counter seemed disinterested as I fumbled around in the purse and handed her a credit card that wasn't mine. She swiped it and Kim went out to pump the gas while I went to the bathroom.

I had "gone" back in Maine so the weirdness of sitting and having different organs for the first time had passed, but it was still awkward. In fact it was downright panic inducing having to do it in public. I went into the women's bathroom and my heart started racing when I saw two women in there chatting in front of the mirror about their trip. One looked at me and went back to touching up her makeup but that was enough to make me freak out. I felt like an imposter even in the stall and had my eyes closed as nature took it's course. After washing my hands for probably less time than I should have I exited and saw Kim there waiting outside. She must've sensed my nerves because her face changed from the irritated look she's had since that morning into one with compassion.

"Doing alright, Mom?" She asked putting hand on my shoulder. That was enough to make things better, to know I'm not alone

"Yeah" I said "I'm ready to hit the road again.

We drove on in silence for another 20 miles before she spoke up.

"I know it's not your fault" She began "Believe me it was weird for me when I first woke up as someone else and I stayed female and the same age. I can't imagine how weird it is to go from a young guy to....me"

"It's no so bad..." I begin, trying to diffuse the tension 

"You're being nice" She says "But being 17 again made me realize how much soreness and sagging and upkeep is needed on a daily basis. Gradually coming into it over the years is one thing, you got it overnight and gender change to boot, which according to like 90 percent of that blog is a real obstacle"

It was that comment that led me to make an effort to document my time as her on this blog

"But I'll help you through it" she continued "In a way you're lucking to have me to answer any question and point out anything you need to be doing or stop doing"

She opened up for the rest of the car ride and we talked about her home life, her husband and son, her relationship with Maya, her time in Arkansas, and by the time we pulled into the driveway I felt like I'd been there before.

 The house was nice. Fairly new and well maintained and pretty clean on the inside. Kim's husband, James, was some sort of VP at a company in Rochester. He and their son Jamie (James Jr.) were at Cedar point in Ohio due to the fact that Kim and Maya had taken a "girls trip" for the second year in a row. They weren't due back until tomorrow so that gave us some time to unwind after the trip.

"Follow me" Kim said heading upstairs "You need a shower"

 The master bathroom was spacious with a double vanity and large rain shower with glass walls that had no privacy. Kim followed me into the bathroom and could sense my unease

"Look, it's nothing I haven't seen before thousands of times and you're going to get used to my body too. Plus there's bodywash, shampoo, conditioner, facewash, and lotion to deal with so I'm going to be arond to help"

 "All that for a shower?" I wondered out loud

 "You're lucking we aren't shaving today"

 I undressed and turned on the hot water and the feeling of it on my skin may have been one of the most relaxing sensations I've ever felt. Like all the stress and soreness of the day was melting away in the steam.

 The bathroom was set up in such a way that there were large mirrors on three walls so looking in them I could see myself naked from every angle as I washed. At first I just looked down and focused on washing but my eyes wandered eventually. Kim's body wasn't fat by any means, but curves and cellulite were going to take some getting used to.

I don't know how long I showered for but I stopped when Kim came in, hair wet from having showered in the other bathroom, holding some clean clothes. I turned off the water and began drying myself off, feeling just how heavy long hair was when it was wet. Kim was looking at me with a curious eye.

"Hold on" Kim said, her annoyed tone returning. She reached under the vanity cupboard and pulled out a scale "Step on this really quick"

The scale blinked a few times and brought up a number that made me too self conscious to share

"Goddamnit Clara" She cursed invoking the name of the woman who was in this body before me "Gained 15 pounds last year! My ass looks huge!"

"15 pounds isn't too bad" I offered

"For a man, no" She said putting the scale away "With that metabolism it isn't a months long process"

She handed me a pair of panties that admittedly felt a little tight, although compared to boxers they're extremely tight. She then handed me a tank top looking thing that I've since learned is called a "Cami" that covered things but my big nipples poked right through

"That's fine for bed" She said "The boys get home tomorrow afternoon so we have a lot to go over before we get to that"

She helped me brush my hair and left me alone in the big bedroom with my thoughts. Despite all the weirdness I was out like a light in the big comfortable bed.

That was the beginning of the week and a lot has happened since and I have a lot to juggle pretending to be a mom and wife, so I'll have to write more later

-Paul

Jonah/Krystle: We Bought A House

And by "we", I mostly mean "Gabe" because he's got a lot more savings and a better credit history than I do, even if you don't make a lot of assumptions about what the original Krystle was doing in her life.  All the paperwork is in his name, and I'm more or less cool with that, even if I probably should be more paranoid about my whole life being upended instantly.

We got a pretty decent deal in a good location - Moira isn't going to have to change school districts and can still see her friends without a whole lot of effort.  Between what the two of us make, it's surprisingly affordable, although I do kind of worry that this is in part because we're in New Orleans and can wind up literally underwater at any time.  I wasn't really old enough for Hurricane Katrina to really register with me, but both my parents and Momma Kamen asked me if it really makes sense to buy property in the Delta.  Maybe it's not, but, somehow, this has become my place, and our place, and I don't want to leave it.

Of course, moving in has been another reminder of how the Inn has left me, even after nine years, a little afraid to settle in:  My apartment had enough furniture and other stuff that we had to use a bigger moving van this time, but the amount that's Moira's dwarfs the amount that's mine.  Yeah, Gabe and I and other people spoil her, but I never bought much of a sofa for the living room or much more than the minimum for the kitchen, and the bed I bought two years ago went on Facebook Marketplace.  I'm sure my lady friends have noticed that I cycle through my nice outfits a lot faster than they do on girls' nights.  They believe me when I say I've been poor (which isn't really a lie), but there's still some "you could be someone else tomorrow" in there.

And then, once Moira and I got our stuff in, Gabe arrived with his van, which was packed, even though I kind of gather that his apartment in New York was actually smaller than ours:  Bigger TV, a sofa and a recliner, sports memorabilia, a record player and a bunch of vinyl...  More to show for being 30-ish than I do, for sure!

(For those keeping track, my driver's license says I'm 31 and I've lived 25 years; I've gotten used to saying the former when asked my age but it still feels like lying, more than writing "Krystle Kamen" for my name and marking "female" for my sex does!)

The house isn't big, but it's got a kitchen, living room, and dining area downstairs; three bedrooms upstairs, and an attic that could probably be converted to some other use.  We set up one bedroom to use as Gabe's home office, since he'd be working remotely now, before starting on the master bedroom.  We put the new king-sized bed together and filled closets and bureaus, and then stood back to look at our handiwork.  He beamed, but I was like, "huh!"

Not the expression he was expecting.  "Something wrong?"

"No, it's just kind of hitting me that we're basically married now.  This is a shared space, we're splitting the bills, no place to retreat to if we get upset.  It's different than sharing a room in a cramped apartment with Moira or Karla.  Like, next year isn't when things change, but just when we throw a party and sign some papers.  This is the actual day."

"Is that a problem?"  His eyes hit a cross necklace that I'd laid on top of my dresser.  "Of course it is; I just assumed.  Look, I can move some stuff into the office and get another bed--"

I put my hands on his cheeks and kissed him.  "No, it's not a problem, it's just, look, you know I'm kind of a weird girl with a lot of contradictory stuff in my head.  I didn't really grow up dreaming about my wedding or being Missus someone, so it's kind of the first time I'm thinking of a lot of this."  I stepped in a bit closer.  "It's kind of nice to know there's going to be someone there to hold me every night."

He took the hint and pulled me in, cupping my butt and letting my soft chest press against his hard one.  "I'm not going to mind holding this, either."

"Mm."

He chuckled.  "Of course, if we do enough, then that home office might have to double as a nursery."

It was the first time either of us had said something like this, but, strangely, it didn't leave me shaken.  "Well, we'd better be careful on the timing.  See what the next year brings before we make that commitment!"

Moira interrupted us at that point, but we did pick up where we left off later, and I can confirm - I does feel pretty good to fall asleep in your man's arms, in the bed you share, in the house that has your names on the door.

-Jonah/Krystle

Dave/Chris: Trying on these lives

We caught a red-eye flight to San Francisco, so we had a little bit of extra time before we left. It ended up being a good thing that we did, because I read through a lot of this blog, which helped me with a few things. Apparently, we're the final block of the year, before the inn shuts down for winter. That means that our bodies will be in limbo until it reopens. This is good news, because it means that we don't have to spend as long in these bodies as we'd feared, and nobody else is going to screw up our lives, or worse, run away with our bodies. We just have to reserve the same room next year as soon as the inn starts taking reservations.

Knowing this, we decided to take our phones, so that we can at least text people. 6 months is still a long time to be missing, and we don't want anyone going to the police to file missing persons reports. We also took our keys, just in case we needed to go back to Indy for something, and didn't write letters for the next people. I did email my ex-wife and my daughter to tell them that I wasn't going to be contactable for a while. As I almost expected, neither of them responded. The divorce was quite bitter and my ex first got custody of my daughter. My daughter was 12 at the time, and my ex told her a lot of lies about me, to the point that she wanted nothing to do with me. She's 14 now, and I haven't seen her in a couple of years. I hope we can reconnect sometime in the future and she hears my side of the story, but I have to accept that it's probably not happening any time soon. Luckily I work for myself, and most of that involves driving around, fixing locks or letting people into their own homes after they lock themselves out, so I don't have a lot of expenses if I shut it down.

As soon as we got to the airport, I needed to pee. Normally, this wouldn't be a problem, and not even worth mentioning here. But when you look like a man, but have a vagina, it can be terrifying. Logically, I knew that I could just go to a stall and pee, and nobody would care, because I look like a man. But I couldn't help worrying that somehow, someone would find out. Of course, nobody did, but it's not something I ever thought I would have to worry about. 

I couldn't sleep on the flight - there was just too much going on in my head. I didn't talk to Shane a lot. He seemed to be preoccupied with his own thoughts, and I don't think he really slept either. We took an Uber to "our" appartment and let ourselves in. It's nice and neat, and not too big. It has 2 bedrooms - one is obviously a guest room, which is now my room.

We spent the next few days trying to get settled into these lives. The video on my phone from the original Chris showed him as a man in his 50s. They had become husband and wife, and whilst it seems that Chris was excited to be a "real" man, he and Sylvia had also lost 30 years of their lives, if they wanted to keep those bodies. He wasn't sure that he wanted this trade-off, so their intention at the moment is to come back to their original lives. She talked a bit about their history as well. In short, Sylvia is bisexual and got together with Chris as lesbians when they were both women. A few years later, Chris came out as trans and had a sex change. Apparently, I have to have weekly hormone injections now, or I'll start getting periods. It's all a bit much to process. I've never known anyone who had a sex change or was gay, and now I've actually become a person who was gay and then had a sex change. When I asked Shane about what he saw on Sylvia's video, he said that she only spoke about the cafe.

Speaking of which...they did us a big favor after they changed and posted on their social media that the cafe would be shut until October 1. This gives us a few days to settle in and to also learn how to run this business. There are extensive spreadsheets that give us all the information we need, and we have Craig, a part time employee, as well as Cindy, a casual worker who can jump in and help if someone can't work, so I'm hopeful it will be OK. We had a look at it, and it seems nice enough in what looks like a happening part of the city.

The other night, during dinner, we were talking about these lives and Shane suddenly said: "You know, when we first changed, I thought you were the lucky one, because you get to stay male. And that would be true if we were stuck like this forever. But we're not - we should be able to easily get our bodies back in a little more than half a year. I can get a whole different experience that comes with being the opposite sex, that you can't. So I'm going to try to experience it as best as I can, and I don't want you to get weirded out when I wear make-up or skirts. I just want to try it and next year we go back to being ourselves again. I would kick myself if I didn't use this as an opportunity to learn something." 

Wow....I didn't see that coming. Shane has always been pretty macho. There's not much of a feminine side to him, and since we've occupied these bodies, Shane has seemed very self conscious, and worn clothes as gender neutral as possible. He's tied his hair back into a ponytail, and worn no make-up. I think he's only worn a bra when it was absolutely necessary. "Is this something you've wanted to do before?" "No" he replied. "But haven't you ever wondered what it's like for women? It's less than a year, and in this body, I'm not going to be doing anything that doesn't look normal. I'm not comfortable in this body, so I may as well at least try to dress and act like a normal woman, and who knows, maybe I'll get a little more comfortable over time. I'm really comfortable being me...being in Shane's body and I can't wait to get back, so don't worry about that"  

I could see where he was coming from, but I was happy not to be in his position. I may not have a penis in this body, but I have no desire to look like or be treated as a woman. I'm genuinely curious to see how he's going to do this. "OK. I get it, and I'll try to work with you. When do you plan on starting this?" "Well...." he replied "We've been cooped up here every night since we arrived, so I thought that maybe we go out for a drink somewhere. There's a little bar not far from here that we could walk to." I shrugged my shoulders and said "Sure. Why not?"

So after dinner, Shane disappeared into his room for probably an hour. When he finally reemerged, he was wearing a dark blue dress that was quite modest, showing no cleavage and going to just below his knees, and a small white cardigan over the top. His hair was still in a ponytail, and he wasn't wearing any make-up. He was wearing small hoop earrings and a nose ring. I didn't realise that his nose was even pierced. He has a pretty face, and he looked more than presentable, even without make-up. I gave him a thumbs up for approval, and he found himself some black flats that he slipped on. We were just about to leave when he rushed back to his room again. He came out 5 minutes later with a black purse slung over his shoulder. "No pockets" he said as we left.

The bar was about a 15 minute walk away, and as we were walking, I asked if he was OK. "I feel strange" he said "I was going to wear a skirt, but I didn't know which tops would go with them. She has a lot of clothes, and I got confused. I went with a dress because then I didn't have to make that decision. Also, I'm wearing pantyhose, and I don't know if they're sitting right, because I don't know how they're supposed to feel. I wasn't planning on wearing any, but when I put just the dress on, I felt almost naked. This makes me feel less exposed, and it's also getting cold at night, so I thought they might help. It still feels like my panties are going up my crotch and again, I dont know if that's normal. I can't do make-up or hair yet, and I figure I should wear the nose ring, because Sylvia wore it and I don't want the hole to close up. That and the earrings are quite easy to put in. I don't know if any of it matches what I'm wearing." I just assured him that he looked fine.

Being midweek, it wasn't very busy, so we easily found a table and ordered drinks. At the beginning of the night, Shane seemed very self-conscious. He tugged his dress down constantly, and occasionally adjusting his bra. I had to remind him to keep his legs together a few times as well. But over time, he relaxed more and more, which was good. We had a couple of moments were we both needed to use the restroom. Luckily they had a stall that wasn't too bad, and Shane seemed reluctant to go to the ladies. But by the time we left, we were joking and laughing as we always did - helped by the fact that we had a few drinks.

We got home quite late, but opened another couple of beers and sat and talked for a while longer. It's a surreal experience, but I think we're both grateful that we don't have to go through it on our own.

Marc/Ed: The reality of the situation

Grandpa Ed was clearly not one for technology. He has a big old PC in the spare room of the house with the resolution cranked way up, which is a sad reminder that one of the many things I lost in this trade is the quality of my eyesight. John, if you're reading this, I just want you to know this has been no picnic for me either.

I would have loved to stay at the Inn a little longer and help people through their own transformations, but with John's reaction -- understandable but stressing -- and the specifics of the roles we had been slotted into, I felt it best if we hurry home posthaste. Cayden was supposed to be in school all this time and his mother -- Ed's daughter -- was not overly pleased at the delay.

Apparently their cover story was that Ed's very expensive fishing equipment had been stolen and he needed to stay nearby in case it was recovered. With Pamela -- Cayden's mom -- working long shifts as a nurse and raising the kids herself, she didn't exactly have time to come down from Portland to fetch him. I did indeed face her wrath when I got back though, and what could I say in my own defense?

Tensions thawed, somewhat reluctantly, between me and John/Cayden. I don't know that I was expecting him to embrace this thing with open arms, but he seemed to hate me a little less as days went on. His fury and ire settled into a quiet simmer, a cold shoulder, the silent treatment. On the drive home, I elected to fill the silence.

"You know, before this happened to me," I started to say, wondering whether I was being too blithe about it, "The first time... I was married. I lost my wife in the long run. We were already drifting apart though."

"I wonder why," he sniffed, staring out the window in the backseat.

"I deserve that," I shrugged. "It helped me though, to move on, to accept that I was not thriving in my situation. I was depressed and I needed a change, I just didn't know it."

"You think I was depressed?"

"I know you were depressed. Don't act like you didn't say as much."

Pause. "So you lost your wife. Maybe she knew what she was doing, just like you."

I took a long pause at that and kept my eyes on the road. It was not a thought that had ever occurred to me. Maybe John was just trying to get under my skin. The situations were certainly similar enough.

Had Laura known? She had never let on that she had. For God's sake, I even stayed a lawyer. You're telling me that's a coincidence?

"Maybe she did," I finally said, not letting him get any sense if I was bothered by the thought. It's all in the past now, and I even passed up my chance to go back to being Marc Green.

"When you asked me if I would give up my life..." he said, "I didn't think about not being there for my daughter's wedding. That's what I'm thinking about right now."

That certainly isn't something he thought of when I presented him with the hypothetical a few weeks ago. Nor in any of our other life-and-death conversations. It's funny what comes to you when you're really staring down an uncertain future.

"Is your daughter getting married?"

"Not yet, but someday I'm sure."

"Well then you'll be there," I said. "I'll make sure of it."

"Don't feed me lies, Ryan," he said. I could hear a tear in his voice. "You can't promise that."

Heavy sigh. My heart sank. I pivoted. "You know my name isn't really Ryan, right?"

"You're Ryan to me."

"You want to hear about who else I've been?"

"Not right now," he said in a vanishing little voice. "I'm tired."

Aidan/Emlia: "Dress for the job you want..."

We were sitting down to stream a movie Friday night when Monica's phone rang and Rusty, surprisingly, picked it up, looked at the number, and answered.  After a couple of quick things that barely seemed like a conversation - "Okay...  Really?  That's great!  Er, for me...  Comfortable shoes...  Ten AM sharp..."  He hung it up and then lifted it in the air like a trophy.  "Listen up, freeloaders, I've got a job!  Starting tomorrow, I am a brand ambassador for Dragon Adrenaline!"

Kutter raised an eyebrow.  "And that is...?"

"Like, the fifth-most popular energy drink in China.  Doesn't sound like much, but #5 in a country of a billion is a lot of people, and this little company in Queens got the American bottling rights.  Ground floor bay-bee!"

I nodded warily.  "Sounds pretty last minute."

"Yeah, I guess the girl they hired first found out she'd landed a similar job with a drug company - a lot of the girls there were sort of treating this as backup for if one of them didn't work out, but they were also talking about that as a great way to meet doctors.  Anyway, I haven't even taken chemistry yet, so this is a better fit for me.  Or Monica.  Or me pretending to be Monica, really.  But the important part is - first!"

We laughed, watched the movie, and then turned in; the next morning Rusty was off, excited for his first job.   I tried not to fret too much, forcing myself to go to a movie with Kutter so I wouldn't be checking my phone every minute.  Around five or so, I got a text saying it was going well because they wanted him to stay on for the night shift and not to wait up.

Fat chance, but it was about 2am when the apartment door opened and Rusty came in, wearing short-shorts and a branded crop-top, giving me a nod and something about how they sure take that "city that never sleeps" thing seriously before walking into Monica's room, flopping down on the bed, and falling asleep without even turning the light off.  I did and closed the door.

The next morning, he must have freaked out looking at the alarm he didn't set, because I was taking a shower when I heard pounding on the bathroom door.  "Hey, could you let me in there?  I've got to go to work and I'm still sweaty from yesterday!"  I sighed and quickly grabbed a robe so he could rush in.

He came out dressed in an identical outfit to the one he'd come home in the night before, and Kutter, just getting out of bed himself, gave a little smirk.  "Oh, so 'brand ambassador' means 'booth babe'."

"It does not!  I mean, that's not the whole job.  Anyway, today's street fair is supposed to finish up at six, so I won't be so late.  Bye!"  And he ran out the door, taking a swig of his employer's product.

Kutter looked at me after he left.  "We're going to go check this out, right?"

I wasn't looking to see Rusty looking silly the way Kutter maybe was, but...  "Oh yeah."

We didn't go straight away, instead waiting until the afternoon, figuring out where streets were closed off and walking around.  Eventually we found the Dragon Adrenaline booth - just a little canopy with a folding table with a bunch of miniature Solo cups that Rusty and a red-haired girl about the same age we appear to be handing them out and filling them from a soda machine when they were running low.  At one point during this Rusty had to bend down to reconnect a hose so that his butt was sticking up, and one of the guys behind him reached out and slapped it.  A look of surprise and anger flashed across Rusty's face, and I was about to step forward, but the other girl got in between them.  "Hey, looks like you've got enough energy that you don't need any of this."  It looked like it was going to get ugly for a second, but apparently the vibe shifted just enough that the group this guy was in walked off, though they knocked some of the cups on the table over on the way out.  By then, Rusty was standing up straight again and chatting with folks at the other end of the table.

I turned and walked away, and Kutter chased me.  "Hey, Da--Emilia, what's the rush?"

"Nothing, just...  Rusty's working, and being Monica besides, so probably wouldn't appreciate us interrupting?"  It felt better to say that than bring up how I had been pushing them to get jobs, which of course was going to lead to them being in spaces where men felt them up.  And for all that I wanted to intervene as a father, I knew that I probably wouldn't have done so as well as that girl did.

Rusty didn't seem much worse for the wear as a result; he texted that he would be bringing pizza on the way home, and showed up having gone to a fancier place than we usually ordered from, and happily belched his way through dinner saying he was had been sampling the product all day and his whole belly was full of carbonation.

The next morning, he came out of Monica's room in a red skirt, matching blazer and purse, white shoes with a chunky two-inch heel, and a top that showed about an inch of cleavage, posing in front of Kutter.  "Well, what do you think?  If you owned a convenience store, would you buy super-caffeinated soda that tastes like sesame oil from this girl?"

Kutter gave a thumbs-up.  "Sure, why not?  Though I think they're called 'bodegas' here."

"Cool!"  The phone in his purse rang, and he took it out.  "Hello, this is Monica...  Really?  Wow!...  Okay, I'll be in as fast as the subway will take me!"  He hung up and looked at his brother.  "I made a sale yesterday, and they want me to deliver the first order to help cement the relationship!"

They gave each other a high five, but I felt a little confused.  "You made a sale?"

"What, you didn't think my entire job was standing around looking pretty, did you?"  I have to admit, I had been thinking that from what I saw the day before.  "That's part of it, sure, but they also want me to visit all of the individually owned convenience stores - uh, bodegas - and pitch them on the product.  One of the folks at the fair yesterday owns one and called an order in after hours, so I've already got my first commission!"  He ran over and hugged me.  "I'm so glad I can help out like this - like, I was scared that I'd just be dead weight, but I really think I can help!"  Suddenly embarrassed, he stepped back and smoothed out his outfit.  "Anyway, I'll see you all later - good luck on your interviews today!"

And with that, my 15-year-old son was off on his first real day as a a sales girl.

Kutter and I both had interviews today, of course.  My last scheduled one was at 2 PM, at a mid-sized publisher - not Penguin Random House, but not some tiny vanity press, either, and it went pretty well - for all that I'd felt kind of lost trying to get a job with Emilia's degree, seeing Rusty find something made me a bit more confident, and all of the day's interviews seemed like they went pretty well.

As I was leaving the last one, though, the person who had interviewed me accompanied me back to the lobby, saying they'd be in touch, then turned to a girl sitting where I'd been half an hour before. "Hi!  Are you Katey?"

I turned around to scope out the competition, only to see it was Kutter - and he was wearing a black pencil skirt, four-inch heels, and a white blouse, with his hair up in a tight bun.  He uncrossed his legs and stood to shake our interviewer's hand, eyes widening a bit when he saw me but recovering quickly, letting her usher him to the back.

When he left the building forty-five minutes later, I was still sitting on the steps, sipping a coffee, and grinned sheepishly.  "Hey, uh, Emilia, isn't this a coincidence!"

"I guess so, Katey.  I guess Monica really inspired you this morning, huh, going with the secretary cospay?"

Kutter looked confused.  "You mean cosplay?  But, no, I..."  There were lots of people around, so he pointed at an open space across the street.  "Why don't we talk about it over there?"  I nodded and we crossed, finding a bench where he crossed his legs knee-over-knee.  "Okay, I know this must seem strange, but well, you know how the interviews have gone, right?  Like, a lot of shops and restaurants saying that they're kind of worried someone with a degree in English Literature will leave as soon as they find a better opportunity than waiting tables, or them looking at you like they knew you were a fake?"  I nodded.  "Well, so, I figured I'd try and make sure the vibe wasn't off.  I sort of started scoping out what folks working in places like this who looked like they'd just graduated were wearing, then checked to see if Katey had left me any clothes like that, and went looking for YouTube videos on how to do the bun and practicing walking in these heels."

"So, dress for the job you want?"

His face lit up like he'd never heard that saying; maybe he hadn't.  "Right!  Exactly!  I started going on interviews in this sort of outfit last week, and it feels like people are looking at me a little less weird.  I feel kind of tense, but maybe they figure everyone in for an interview feels tense."  He looked away from me.  "I, uh, kind of made sure to change back into something less girly before you and Rusty get back to the apartment, or if I think you're there, I'll have a spare outfit and change in the laundry room downstairs."  He opened his bag and showed me the slacks and sneakers inside.  "Although I guess if he's okay with us seeing him in a skirt, maybe I should be too."  His phone buzzed and he checked it.  "Well, one more interview today.  See you at home."

I nodded and wished him goodbye, then got on the subway to get out of Manhattan.  I'm not sure what Kutter got up to or how long that interview took, because Rusty actually made it back to the apartment first, though only by ten minutes or so, and he was surprised when Kutter came through the door.  "Whoa, nice legs, bro!"  We both gave him a look, and he looked hurt that we might consider him insincere.  "What, Kutter got some nice legs from Katey!  And the bun is something else, because I am unreasonably scared of hairpins."

Katey laughed.  "Yeah, I'm not sure I'll want to do this every morning if I get hired somewhere, but thanks for noticing."

They started talking about their day - that this often doesn't really include me is probably a topic for another post, and I went into Emilia's room, looked in the closet, and in the mirror, and tried to figure out what I should do for tomorrow's interviews.  Kutter may not have known "dress for the job you want", but both he and Rusty seemed to figure it out in their own ways, much quicker than I did.  If they ask me later, I'll probably tell them that I was just giving them space to adapt at their own pace, but sometimes it feels like they're the ones affording that to me.

-Aidan/Emilia

Paul: Not the Position I was applying for

Ok so apparently I'm not the only new person to find this blog in recent weeks, but I guess the end of season is kind of the busy time for people whose live's have been turned upside down and ruined by magic. 

My real name is Paul Eastman and I'm supposed to be 22 and just graduated from Virgina Tech. I was up in Maine as the last stop on a Summer road trip/ applying for jobs at National Parks with my forestry degree. I had just finished my final in person interview at Acadia and it had run long so I was late to get onto the road back to the DC suburbs where my parents live, so I just decided to stay over in Old Orchard Beach. It was the choice between the Trading Post Inn and the Motel 6 and the theme of my trip was "Try Local Things" I went with the boutique little place instead of the big chain. 

  I arrived Thursday evening exhausted from 5 weeks on the road and just ready to go home. I didn't really do much besides order a Doordash lobster roll, watch Netflix on my phone, and pass out into what may have been the deepest sleep of my whole life, considering all that happened that I managed to sleep through. 

 I didn't set an alarm so the sun hitting my eyes from the window is what woke me up. Everything was fuzzy so I squinted a few times to try and make the world clearer to no avail before moving my hands up to rub them and have them met with hair. I've always had a buzz cut, something leftover from Scouts, so long hair in my face was enough to get me to jolt up in bed and almost fall off it from the shock of all the movement on my chest. I looked down and saw my purple tshirt stretched out in front of me by an unmistakably female chest. Out of shock and instinct I reached down to grab them and saw my arms were hairless, my hands were tiny, and my nails were long and pink. "What the fuck" I said, hearing my voice in a much higher sound.

 I jumped out of bed to go find a mirror and was met with a dull pain in my hip...I winced and even that was in a higher pitch. I reached down to rub it and felt a soft jiggling of fat on my normally pretty fit midsection. Everything jiggled and swayed on the way to the bathroom as I made my way there, turned on the light, and saw a woman in the mirror. Not a girl, a full on woman. About as old as my mom from the look of things. Shoulder length light brown hair with a few grays, hazel eyes, a few wrinkles on her face. She looked weird wearing my boxers and shirt that said "Hokies" across the front. The shirt was too big everywhere but the chest, going almost to my new knees...I must have lost like a foot in height. Lifting it up slowly my boxers were stretched to the limit around the thigh and hips. I lifted the waistband to get some relief and saw my penis had been replaced and this was a complete change. 

 "Why am I a girl?" I asked my reflection That answer came after a few minutes of inspection with a knock on the door. 

I tiptoed over and opened it a crack, feeling suddenly so small and vulnerable. On the other side was a tall guy a little younger than me. Or at least he seemed tall...how short was I now? The guy in the doorway looked relieved to see me "I found her" He called down the hallway 

 "Wait" I say quickly "I'm not---" 

"You're not really that woman, I know. It's going to be OK, follow me and it will all be explained. I followed him into the next room where there was a teenage girl having a very heated argument into a cell phone. 

"How do you screw this up" She said to the person into the phone "There are 15 years of detailed fucking instructions on the internet on how to change back and you had to mess it up for one last fling, but I don't suppose that matters since YOU got back to normal" She looked up at me with a look of defeat and annoyance "I'm going to have to deal with all of this...thanks for nothing" she said hanging up the phone and turning to me 

"Please tell me you have some idea of what's going on" 

 "I have no clue" I say "I went to bed last night and woke up a woman"

 The teenage girl sat on the bed sighed. "Great. On top of everything now there's a man in my body" 

The guy who had led me here saw that that had confused me even more "Have a seat while I explain" 

The first thing the two of them explained was the whole nature of the cursed hotel, how you turn into a replica of someone who had stayed there before. And then they told me that the reason they knew all about it was because this was the second year in a row they've been here. 

Kimberly and Maya Scott were a mother and daughter that had stayed here in 2023 before becoming sisters in Arkansas for the past year. During that time they had set up and planned a reverse stay with the people in their bodies and the people whose bodies they were in to try and get everyone back to normal. 

It worked almost to perfection. Things got messed up when the person who was in Maya's body had a little too much fun on the beach the night before the switch and took a local back to their room to hook up. The person who was in Kimberly's body slept in the bathtub and apparently that extra person triggered the switch and since the magic goes off of who slept where an not just the room numbers, when it came time for the Scotts to finish the chain Kim became Maya, Maya became the hookup, and I....closest to the bathtub....became Kim.

 I was relieved to hear we would be able to turn back "Ok, so all we do is stay here again and we can get back to normal?" I suggested 

 "Yeah, except this stupid Inn isn't year round" Kim said letting her frustration rise again "This is the last fucking week they sell until May. We're stuck like this until May!" 

That hit me like a ton of bricks. Maybe I'm being selfish because being a young man I have no idea how to operate in the world as woman who looks and feels 43 years old. At least I'll have her nearby to make sure I don't make too big a mess of her life. Unfortunately the real Maya will have to do her senior year of high school here in Maine, as a man. Although from her talking she didn't seem as angry about it as Kim. Maybe it's having already spent another year as someone else, maybe it's the addition of male privilege to try out. I don't know. I just know that I've got to fake being a mother and apparently wife for the next few months. 

 Should have just risked the bedbugs at Motel 6 

 

 -Paul

Marc/Ryan/?: ...I'm tired and I want to go to bed...

"I took a risk, I took a risk, I took a risk..." I chant to myself during a private moment of examining my face in the mirror. I had figured the odds were in favor of John and I ending up in some lives that were perfectly livable while we worked to figure out how to proceed. In actuality, it's more evidence in favor of the fact that I should not be permitted to make decisions for my own life.

I wouldn't even say it was a particularly good vacation. I've certainly had better. The weather was agreeable but summer heat is over. John was very keen to cuddle at night, taking advantage of the fact that we were far away from anyone who knows him, but I was a little iffy on taking things further physically because, who knows what that might lead to if we transform mid-act (which I have some experience with.) That turned out to be a correct instinct, one of very few.

So the whole thing felt like a business trip and John was worried that I was upset with him. I tried to reassure him that wasn't the case, without actually explaining what was on my mind.

Despite the decreased intimacy, the trip gave us a chance to spend some real time together, browsing shops and going out to eat as if we were actually a, gasp, couple. I didn't say much about myself because I haven't been "Ryan" for too long, but John filled the silences, seemingly having waited a lifetime to unburden himself like this. There were times when I was really happy to see the real John at play. Something about seeing someone attempt to be comfortable in his own skin, combined with the predisposition toward men I had inherited, really made my heart beat, which was something I felt like I needed to put a pin in and unpack later, depending on how everything shook out. We did have some sex during daylight hours, since what little I understand about the Inn's magic, it appears to be a nocturnal thing.

I pointedly said we should not look at the mysterious baggage found in the closet, ostensibly out of respect but really because, well, I didn't want to deal with it.

I spent as much time as possible avoiding answering the question of: what do I actually tell him when it happens? Years of law practice gave me what I think is a pretty strong poker face, but it wouldn't be too hard to put two and two together when you consider how actively I worked to put this trip together.

When I woke up yesterday morning, I could tell almost immediately that the change had happened overnight. I knew some of what was different about m physical form but lying still in bed, I remained frozen as long as I could. Time was up on deciding how to play it. It felt like there was nobody in bed at all beside me. I would need to investigate further to determine what that meant: had John gotten up and left in the night? Surely if he knew he had transformed, he would have woken me up, no? 

The room was dim. The sun hadn't broken in yet. I reached over to my phone. It was not even 5 AM.

Gingerly, I pushed myself up. I felt heavy. Slow creep to the bathroom. Light. Mirror. Oh, no.

Looking back at me was the rather saggy and jowly face whose name I soon learned was Ed Levesque -- Grandpa Ed to some. I smacked my forehead. Dolt. Everyone assumes they'll become some pretty young thing or an affluent middle-aged person. I guess all walks of life find themselves at the Inn, naturally.

I went back to the bed, cautiously. There was lying a young boy of about 10. Little "Cayden," aka John. He had not yet woken up, at least not until I sat back down on the creaky mattress.

"What's going on?" he asked in his little voice. "Who are you?"

"John," I said in something of a wheeze, "Something's happened. Something very strange."

It's a bit of a blur, how I managed to mumble an explanation and let him see for himself. The word "No" was said and shouted a variety of times in his little voice. Well, I say little as in young, but he could really holler.

Finally came the part I had been dreading. In a cold, soft tone, "Did you... know this would happen?"

I sighed and dropped all pretense of lying to him. "I knew something would. Not this specifically. I just knew how badly you were hurting and needed to... to get out of your life. You said so yourself."

He cursed me out with all the fortitude of the grown man he really is: "You bastard! You rat bastard! What did you do to me? What did you do to me??!"

I certainly didn't expect it to do well, but I steeled myself and tried to draw on some of my past experience being in rooms with people who hated my guts. I could navigate this. I explained rationally that we could go back, but not until the Inn re-opened next year.

If you've never had a ten-year-old boy tell you "I never want to see your fucking face again," well, it's certainly an experience. Unfortunately, it seems like we're somewhat tied together, what with me being the lad's grandfather and all.

It's going to be some year.

-Marc/Ed

Dave/Chris: Not as much of a man anymore

I was woken this morning by a young woman. Frantic, with a wild look in her eye. She was yelling "Dave, is that you? What the fuck is going on?" I'd never seen her before in my life, and she certainly wasn't one of the ladies we'd spent the evening with the night before. She was wearing Shane's t-shirt, but he didn't seem to be in the room. I sat up and things seemed a little off. I was a lot skinnier than I should have been. I wasn't exactly fat, well maybe a little overweight, but now I felt like I'd lost half my weight. I pulled the drawstring of my shorts tight so they wouldn't fall off and stood up. I was definitely shorter as well - where I'd been close to 6 foot, I was probably about 5"6 now and I was pretty much at eye level with this woman. She said: "It's me, Shane". I must have looked at her like she was crazy, so she grabbed my arm and dragged me into the bathroom. I saw a stranger's face in the mirror, a man, but definitely not me. He was a lot younger than me, probably in his early 20s, although I'm never good at judging ages. He had a beard, but it was a lot less dense than the one I had for years. The face was quite boyish looking. At least my receding hairline looked like it had been fixed, although the hair was much darker than the light brown it had been.

 

I could hear some commotion in other rooms, muffled screams, and yelling. It sounded like we weren't the only ones affected by whatever happened to us. Not knowing what else to do, I looked through the room for clues. I don't know how we hadn't seen it when we got into our rooms, but there were 2 suitcases and a letter in the closet.

 

The letter briefly described that we were staying in a cursed inn and we were expected to live as them until next year. I'm now in the body of Chris (28) and Shane is Sylvia (26), a couple from San Francisco who own a small cafe, which we're apparently supposed to run now. More information about these people and their work was available on their cell phones and laptop..

 

We looked through the suitcases and apart from clothes for our new bodies and the laptop, there were a number of sex toys. Strap-ons, dildos, etc. It looked like this couple were into some kinky stuff. I'm pretty sure we aren't using any of it. I'm not having sex with Shane - it would be way too weird.

 

At some point, I needed to pee, so went to the bathroom, and when I took my shorts off, I screamed. My penis was gone, and I had what looked like a pussy. I had been awake for at least an hour and hadn't noticed. I couldn't understand how I couldn't - I mean, I've always had one, and I would have thought it would be the first thing I'd notice, but I guess there were so many other changes. Shane came to the door and asked what was wrong. I told him to go away and sat on the toilet and did my business, which felt odd and wrong. I took off the top I'd slept in, which was way too big for me now and saw nipples that looked slightly too big, and small surgical scars on my chest. 

 

When I got back to the bedroom, Shane was sitting on the bed and asked what was wrong. I wanted to tell him, but it was too much, so I told him "Nothing, I just freaked out for a sec". He seemed a lot calmer than me, even though his changes were even more than mine. I at least still looked like a man, while he looked like a young woman. Her hair halfway down her back, average sized breasts, pretty face. Shane was always a lot more laid back than me, and he obviously still had that trait. We sat there for a while, not really saying very much, and trying to get over the shock. It was Shane who started talking about the logistics of going across the country to these people's lives. We managed to book a flight for later that day, and looked on Google maps to see where we live and where the cafe is.

Now we have to go to place neither of us have ever been, work in a job we know nothing about, and pretend we're in a relationship together.

 

Oh and we both have to do it without our penises...

Marc/Chantelle/?: Show me the way to go home

I don't know how long the memories of people who read this blog are, so let me re-introduce myself. I was born Marc Green, but for the last 2.5 years I've been better known as Chantelle Carey. I was deposited in the life of this Albany Real Estate Lawyer after an ill-fated trip to Maine with my wife in the spring of 2022. It's hard to believe how long and yet how quickly time has passed.

When I last wrote here I was just getting into the swing of things, becoming marginally more comfortable in my new skin, socializing with my co-workers and trying to enjoy my relatively low-pressure job, a big switch for me because in my past life I had been a more high-powered corporate attorney. Laura and I were also trying to navigate what the transformation meant for us -- our relationship was on its last legs in our original lives, but maybe we could rediscover each other in the new situation. I was even willing to give it a try, even given our new gender dynamic, with the hitch that he was now a married man.

It was all fun and games for a while, but reality bit us. I had to cope with an unexpected personal situation in Chantelle's life that meant I honestly didn't have a lot of time for an affair (or blogging about myself.) In the end "Damon" decided that it was easier and better to pursue his new wife, using the logic that since the original Damon was a philanderer, taking on his role as husband on a permanent basis was a victimless crime. That's, erm, debatable from my perspective, and I used to argue for a living.

Because of my personal situation, I was unable to return to the Inn last year, and what's more, because of lingering bad feelings about everything I had left behind -- Laura, my smoldering crater of a career, et cetera -- I let the people who landed in our lives simply have them, which is the last you heard of me. From what I understand they are doing well, but you would have to ask them directly.

The time since then has been a haze, which out of respect to the parties involved I won't go into detail about, but it's calmer now. As good as this situation has been to me (on balance) I did always want to let Chantelle retake her life. The Careys are extremely close-knit, which was never comfortable for me and must have really messed Chantelle up to be away from, especially with the family issues I had to navigate.

And that's why I came back to the Inn...... three months ago.

I didn't care who I became, man, woman or child. I had to do my good deed and give Chantelle a chance to regain what was rightfully hers. (And by now, she is safely back where she belongs.)

After waiting around all weekend for the Inn to fill up, it happened on a Tuesday night (really, a Tuesday??) In the late/early hours, I felt my breasts stiffen into pecs, my hips straighten and narrow, and watched a male sex manifest itself between my legs.

I left the Inn that week as Ryan Berardi, a 24-year-old from Queens, NY. I certainly wasn't mad about being so young or male after years of femininity. But it's not like I would be going back to a life that looked a lot like my original existence. Ryan is young, single, active, and gay.

I spent my time as Chantelle kind of fumbling with the keys to the door of my sex life without every fully getting it open. I had a tryst with Laura-as-Damon, and him being male certainly wasn't a turn off, but I didn't fully understand whether I liked guys or whether I liked my (ex-)wife in a new body. If I had thoughts, they did turn out to mostly be about guys, with a sort of intrigued curiosity attached, but there was never much impulse to pursue. I didn't know if that was a Chantelle thing or a Marc thing or a "life's got me down" thing.

I sort of assumed the same would be the case as Ryan: you just don't do anything if you're not comfortable with it. But suddenly as Ryan, I was different. I had energy, I had time on my hands, I had drive that I hadn't known since... well, since I was a 24-year-old man.

Most of Ryan's friends were gay men, and being around them had an undeniable physiological effect on me. It was not that dissimilar to if I had found myself, back in college, in a room full of available women. There's someone in here that's having this effect on me. I may have been self-conscious about my new role, but these guys were easy to talk to and fun to be around in my new physical state.

In the end, though, I didn't end up doing anything with Ryan's friends. They were just sort of the key that made me feel okay about pursuing whatever it was that I wanted. I had been an ostensibly straight woman, for crying out loud, what was wrong with spending some time as an actively gay man?

That brought me to someone I will refer to as John.

John was older, and had had some experimentation in his youth but was now back in the closet, or identifying as bisexual (I'm not here to proclaim anybody's specific orientation for them. He should know.) He was married with grown kids and I guess was going through a sort of midlife crisis about never having gotten to explore his sexuality the way he wanted. I allowed myself to become his sort of secret fling because it felt like... better me than someone else. Things developed very rapidly and very intensely over the summer as we got to know each other not just on a primal, physical level, but a personal one. I felt for this guy, I saw a lot of myself in him.

He had such a sadness. Like he couldn't bring himself to leave his wife and disrupt his family dynamic and be the person he wanted to be, and yet anytime I broached the topic of calling "us" off, he would insist that no, I was the best thing in his life. He seemed stuck between two worlds, and he ached about it.

In a normal situation, the sensible thing to do would probably have been for me to walk away and wish him luck in sorting himself out, but I knew something he didn't, that there was a way out when you feel stuck in a role. Think about it: if I break up with him, he's just going to repeat the pattern with someone else and end up hurting more people.

After sex is when he usually becomes reflective and starts moping about how he wishes he could feel this way all the time. At one point in August, I asked him if things were really so bad in his life, and he said yes -- similar to the way things were that bad for me as Marc, I gathered. I asked him what he would do if he could give all his problems to someone else and instead take on the problems of another random person.

"Well," he began to contemplate this 'thought experiment,' "That depends on what you mean. I know I have it better than some citizen of the war-torn middle east, if that's what you're talking about."

I clarified that was not what I was talking about. "An American, probably, someone with a life not totally unlike yours... any age, any gender, from any city or small town... maybe they have a family that doesn't love them, maybe they have money issues, maybe they don't even have any problem bigger than what to do on a Saturday night. Would you push the button, roll the dice, and take on that person's burden instead of your own? You would not have to clear things up with your wife, you might not even feel attraction to me anymore, you would be... in effect... a different person. But you have no control over who that person is. And someone else would have your problems."

I was hoping he would say no, do the sensible thing and feel inspired to appreciate what he had and go back and sort things out in his life, but depression and anxiety are absolute beasts.

"I think I have it worse than the average person," he said thoughtfully. I don't personally agree, but I think from the outside people would have said that Marc Green had it all, so who am I to argue?

"So you think, based on the odds, you would prefer..." I paused. The more clearly I defined the 'experiment' the more obvious it would become that I was leading him.

Before I could rephrase, he kissed me. "Ryan, honey, if you're saying you want to run away together and start fresh... I would love to... I would want nothing more... but there's no way I could. I'm stuck."

Stuck. God, did that word trigger me. Because that was how I felt when I quit my job as a lawyer the first time. And doing what I did to get away only made me feel more stuck. It was only going to the Inn that got me "unstuck." And on balance, I feel it was good for me... and the odds were, I was probably going to go again.

"Maybe not run away forever," I said with a sigh, "But how about a week or two?"

I did the mental math on the ethics. Somebody has to go to the Inn. It's going to happen. Is it not better that it be done under controlled circumstances? Is it wrong to go -- and bring a first-timer -- knowing what is going to happen? Or is it better?

For all the talk of the dangers of "rolling the dice," let's not forget... as shabby as the Inn itself is, who goes on a vacation to Maine besides people who are at least marginally comfortable in their lives? What is the absolute worst possible outcome? I feel strongly that almost anybody who would be in Maine at the Inn would have a life worth living. If you are so determined not to be yourself anymore, what right do you have to get choosy about whether you're a teenage girl or a pot-bellied uncle?

Again -- these lives are going to somebody. Right? I rest my case.

I called the reservation line. They were booked up through end of summer, of course. Well that's that, I thought, and better for it. Out of the question. I will have to simply go through the winter and not think about it, and meanwhile I will have to ensure John does not destroy himself.

Then I got a call the next week. It kind of sounded like a robot voice, or maybe just a very, very formal person.

Cancellation. Room for two now available. Deep discount price, must be filled. Sept 16-29, the final reservation pod of the year.

John was overjoyed at my thoughtfulness and immediately made arrangements. He told his wife he would be going on a hiking retreat, which is something he knew she would not be interested in.

Once we had locked in, I practically broke down in tears. Oh God, what am I doing?

Well it's too late now. We arrived yesterday afternoon. 

Dave: Just checking in

My name is Dave and I checked into this place today with my buddy, Shane.

We've been friends since elementary school in Indianapolis, which is where we both still live. We were both troublemakers at school, and I guess that's how we bonded. Neither of us liked school, and school didn't like us. We dropped out in high-school and both managed to get apprenticeships. He's an electrician and I'm a locksmith, and once a year we go on vacation together. We've done it for years, and my ex-wife used to say she was jealous of the time we spent together. Maybe that's why she's my ex now. The two of us have been through a lot together. We were best man at each other's weddings, godparents to each other's children. I was there for him through his divorce and he through mine. We're in our 40's now, but we're tight and he's like the brother I never had.

 

Every year, we go to different places, and this year we're here. We sometimes go fishing or hunting, and this year we decided to go to Maine, because neither of us had ever been before. Shane managed to get us a reservation at this place, and it was a pretty good deal, so I'm not complaining. But the place gives off a strange vibe, and a few of the other guests we've seen have seemed nervous, which gives off a strange tension. It's clean, though, and we have a room that has everything we need. Unfortunately, we have to share it, because it was the only one available. Hopefully he can cope with my snoring. 

 

We'll go and hit some bars later tonight. Shane is a hit with the ladies. He's lean and fit and a smooth talker, and whenever we go out, we manage to get some female company. Tomorrow, we'll probably see if we can find a good spot to go fishing.

Aidan/Emilia: "Hello, uh, Aidan"

I don't know how many Inn victims get visits from the people taking over their lives, but it's unnerving to say the least.  The boys and I didn't have that option, and I figured we would just leave the notes and maybe keep in contact via email.  When I got one saying they were going to do a quick weekend trip into New York so that we could get to know each other better, I was quite surprised, and not just because I wasn't sure our bank accounts could afford it, but because they had told us they were doing it rather than asking, and it's something I would have discussed with Kutter and Rusty to make sure they were okay with it.  Instead, I wound up telling them, but making it clear they didn't have to participate if they didn't want to.  Rusty immediately responded with "are you kidding? I've got to see this!", while Kutter nodded a bit more seriously, although it didn't seem like he felt pressured.

Apparently, the new me knew the city at least a little, saying she checked and saw that a brunch spot she liked was still open, and maybe we could meet there.

And, yes, the person living my live is a woman.  Indeed, the whole replacement family is or was, and in fact it's a seemingly much more straightforward substitution than we had:  The new me is a single mother of two daughters, about my sons' ages, and the Inn made the younger daughter into Rusty and the older one into Kutter.  They had arrived at the place first, new-me at one end of the booth and new-Rusty at the other, and the three of us wound up seating opposite our counterparts.  There was a moment of silence, and I cleared my throat.  "Hello, uh, Aidan."

She smiled a smile that was not my own and reached out a hand.  "You must be Emilia."  I shook it and she sighed looking me over.  "Well, girls, it looks like we should have booked for a couple weeks earlier, huh?"

New-Rusty leaned in and looked my Rusty over.  "Totally!  Hey, are you Korean?"

"Like, a quarter."

"Oh my God, you're so lucky!  I love K-pop and I've really been getting into Korean movies lately!  They probably actually play them in theaters here and even if they're rated R or whatever they won't card you!"  For maybe the first time in his life, Rusty found himself unable to get a word in edgewise. "Not that I don't think I'll enjoy being you!  I've only just met your friends but they seem really cool!  Oh, and I think I'm going to try out for a part in the fall play, because I don't know if that's something you would do but I wanna try every activity I can't do on account of being homeschooled--"

Kutter looked surprised.  "What, really?"

New-Kutter rolled her eyes.  "Yeah, everybody hates Mom and she thinks their kids will take it out on us but even though she works remotely she won't move."

New-me made a "knock it off" gesture with her had at her throat.  "We're here to learn about them; they don't need to know our problems."  She gave me the sort of smile she probably gave men a lot but which looked a bit odd on my face.  "Sorry, teenagers.  Although they're not wrong; we've had some setbacks and I'm not exactly popular in my home town because of stuff that happened before they were born."

"Because we were born."

"Would you stop?"  She looked like she wanted to take her elder daughter aside and hiss something at her but I guess she realized that would look worse.  "Look, we're not running from anything or looking to take your lives for our own."  She tried to blow some hair she no longer had as me out of her face.  "I'm not sure how to be reassuring and complimentary here, but, honest, I want to be myself again, but I'm not afraid to admit that I think we're all enjoying some time away from the stuff in my life because you guys seem to have had your shit together when you went to that place."

"Um... Thanks?"

She spent the next day or so showing us various spots and picking our brains, saying this would help us get ahead as new New Yorkers, although this city moves fast enough that a lot was "there used to be a great place here, but I guess it closed during the pandemic".  Mostly mine, for practical work information.  She seemed relieved to hear there wasn't a woman in my life, especially when she saw how new-Kutter seemed to be pushing hard for the original to let her dump his girlfriend, saying she's a nerd and if they're really into each other they'll get back together no problem.  Kutter didn't like the idea, but also didn't likethe idea of his substitute pushing things one direction or the other.

Rusty and his sub got along like a house on fire, though - apparently she's as gregarious as he is and they share enough common interests that she'll probably do just fine standing in for him.

Plus, as we saw them off to LaGuardia, Kutter elbowed his brother and smirked.  "I think someone's got a crush on you!"

"What?  C'mon!  Although..."  Rusty smirked and made some sort of motions with his hands to frame his face that I don't quite understand.  "I am extremely my type!"

Kutter snorted.  "Oh, yeah, like you've got a type.  You've got to establish a pattern to have a type!  At best, you've got aspirations toward a type."

They argued a bit, but I don't think anybody won.  At the very least, we came out of the experience feeling reasonably sure that they would keep our seats warm, although I suppose it wouldn't hurt to check in with them every once in a while to make sure that's all they are doing.

-Aidan/Emilia

Ande: Off-campus and In...

Well, infatuated at least.  I think?  It's weird feeling like this about a girl.

Anyway, first things first - I'm back at Northeastern for the fall term, although instead of a dorm, me and three other guys have an apartment a couple miles away.  I'm not yet sure whether this is more concentrated testosterone or less than being in a dorm, but it's probably more.  Like, it's only been a week and I'm already resigned to being the one that's going to be cleaning the bathroom, because I came in to wash my hands and could spot two distinct types of facial hair in the sink.  Apparently I'm weird for choosing to shave in the shower?  And the pubic hair!  God, the pubes! Like, i know it's a cliché that I can't handle mess because I used to be a girl, but my friends are disgusting!

It's not a bad place, though - the guy who's local scouted it out over the summer, since all leases in this area run September to August because of students, and it's pretty convenient to the school.  A bit to the south, because Boston is expensive, but it's an easy enough walk and a block away from a bus stop that goes right through three campuses, at least.

Anyway, that's where I saw her, wearing an MIT t-shirt, jeans with the knees worn out, short black hair with a streak of purple in it, and I might have ignored her except she suddenly broke out laughing and her smile was something else.  She saw me looking, said "what?", and I found myself tongue-tied enough to just ask what was so funny.  She named the podcast, the bus came, and as she moved to the back I stood up front, both because I was only going a couple stops and because standing next to her made me tense.

Found the podcast, though, and, yes, it was pretty funny.

I didn't see her again until Friday, because class schedules change day-to-day and the #1 bus either comes every five minutes or gets weirdly delayed and then three come at once.  The latter was happening, I wound up on the bench next to her, said I liked the podcast, and we talked about it a bit.  I managed to sit next to her as far as Northeastern while she continued on across the river.

Anyway, her name is Hildy, she's cute as heck, says the weird way I spell my name will help her remember me, and I don't know if a boy ever made me feel like this when I was a teenage girl.  Like, for a moment I felt like some bit of internal bracing was kicked out of place and I couldn't figure out exactly what did it.  I'd barely heard her speak and just barely spoke a few words to her, she's pretty but there are a lot of other attractive people out there who didn't do this to me, and, somehow, every other guy around me didn't seem to be reacting the same way!

This didn't happen with Cindi.  She decided she liked me - and it did kind of feel like she decided it, rather than having something about "Andy" capture her attention in a way that didn't let go - and I went with it for kind of the same reason, because you're supposed to have a boyfriend/girlfriend, it felt like something Andy would do, and I was kind of flattered, even if I had my issues with her.  It built into something more than just playing a part, but I don't know as any moment of it was that intense.

I kind of daydreamed in class a lot on Friday, and I wonder how many people get into that sort of state trying to figure that whole thing out but not really aware of it the way someone who has tried to work out what it means that all their hormones and brain chemistry has changed does.  And it makes me think about how I can get really mad, just ready to lash out in a way I never did in my original life, and all the guys who haven't given that much thought, or even been encouraged to not give it a lot of thought, and how many of them won't be able to handle being told that the girl isn't interested.  I'm pretty sure I won't be that guy, but I also sort of recognize that, while we've talked a couple times and I'm hoping to see her every time I ride the bus, she hasn't given me a last name or an address yet.  I probably could find her online, but I'm kind of worried about the line between curious and stalker.

Anyway, here's hoping we meet again soon!

-Ande

Aidan/Emilia: "I mean, it's this or a locker room!"

I was sitting at Emilia's desk yesterday, looking for new jobs to apply to, when Rusty knocked on the bedroom door.  "Hey, uh, Dad...  Would you like to go for a run with me?"  I turned around, probably intending some sort of joke, only to see that he really meant it:  His hair was tied back in a ponytail, and he was wearing black lycra shorts and a matching sport bra, with a holder for Monica's phone on her forearm and a fancy-looking water bottle in his other hand.

"Look at you - turned into a sporty girl, huh?"

"I guess?"  He scratched the back of one leg with the other foot, justifiably uncertain about the answer.  "There's, like, a lot of workout outfits in Monica's stuff, way more than Kutter got from Katey, she's got the little weights in her closet, and there's a gym membership in her wallet that seems to be the first thing she bought when the girls moved to New York."

"I see."  I tried to read his face to see what he thought about it, but although I can usually see my boys' expression on these girls' faces, I wasn't sure what Rusty thought of that.  "You know you don't have to do anything just because Monica did."

"I know, but I'm sick of sitting around the apartment and, I don't know, I've got Monica's biology, maybe she knew she'd get fat if she didn't put the effort in or something."  He put his hands on his hips, which emphasized his trim waist a bit.  "Like, a cursed inn can give you this body but isn't going to maintain it!"

I raised an eyebrow.  "That important to you?"

He shrugged.  "I dunno.  I know pretty girls get treated better than than plain ones, and it's not cool, but here we are!  But mostly i just kinda wanna try the legs out, you know?  Figured you might too."

Put that way, it made a little more sense, and if he was going to run through the streets in something like that, he probably shouldn't be alone.  "Okay, let me get changed."  He nodded and closed the door, and I heard him filling the water bottle as I saw what Emilia had.

It was pink, but at least the shorts went to the knee.  The top had short sleeves rather than Rusty's open shoulders and squeezed enough that I immediately understood why she didn't wear sports bras all the time even though it did a better job of keeping things in place than most of the other bras she owned.  I don't have quite enough hair for a ponytail, so I put on a headband.  I also donned a t-shirt and jogging shorts, seeing if maybe he'd take the hint.  Instead he just threw me a "looking cute, Dad!" before handing me a bottle.

We started with an easy enough pace that we could talk about how the job hunts were going, but every once in a while he'd ask if it was okay to pick up the pace, and we did.  That Monica was a few inches shorter than Emilia didn't much seem to matter - maybe Monica had toned the right muscles before Rusty got her shape, or maybe he had just been in gym class more recently than I had, but it seemed to come naturally enough to him that we wound up keeping pace.  Which isn't to say I didn't enjoy it; sure, I could feel some of the bounce in my chest, but the arms and legs and back moved easier than they had in years (if you've read that story about how people seem to age in two bursts at 44 and 60, well, I'm past that first one).  It was a reminder that, yes, the Inn had made us women, and made my boys adults, but it also made me young, and I should maybe enjoy that while I could.

After a while, though, I had to tap Rusty's shoulder and ask if we were supposed to take the bus home, and he almost tripped stopping like that had just occurred to him.  Indeed, he must have been in some sort of zone, because he took a big swig from his bottle as if just realizing he was thirsty, then opened his phone, shocked to see we'd run nearly four miles.  "Wow!  I guess I did become a sporty girl!"

I laughed.  "Yeah, well, I maybe haven't, and your brother's going to wonder where we went!"  He nodded, and we turned around and started back.

It was actually a nice time to chat - in the apartment, I suppose we're kind of guarded and worried about what comes next, and I'm still Dad, but outside, our brains flooded with a bunch of endorphins, he talks about all the things he's seen that are going on in the neighborhood, the borough, and the city at large, that some band or other would be playing here but would have been a few hour's drive from our hometown, and so on.  Some kid's soccer ball got away from them and he happily kicked it back.  It was a real reminder that we've spent an awful lot of the last few weeks worried about everything and making each other more worried, and that's no way to live, especially for someone as naturally outgoing as Rusty.

As expected, Kutter was plenty surprised when he heard us opening the door and came out of his room to see us in workout clothes.  He looked at Rusty especially dumbfounded, asking when his brother had started running, and Rusty shrugged.  "I mean, it was this or a gym, and just imagine how Dad would have freaked out if I said I was going to go someplace where a bunch of women would be naked with me in a locker room!"  I felt like I should say something at that, but he turned around and looked at me and said I should probably hit the shower first.

He was right; I was sweaty and he was glistening.  But I smiled as I got in and the water reduced Rusty and Kutter chatting in the next room to a vague chatter.  The workout had felt good and it was very nice to hear Rusty sounding like himself.

-Aidan/Emilia

Daryl/Zee: Wouldn't Be a Proper Inn Person Otherwise

There's a bunch of reasons us folks who have been to the Inn wind up in and around Boston, eventually; it's the nearest big city that has a direct connection to Old Orchard Beach, if only by rail, so a lot of folks who wind up switched around come from there.  If you're looking to change back and at a loose end, it's tempting to settle there so that logistics don't mess it up - they never posted to the blog, but I heard about one person whose borrowed identity was low on PTO, so they would drive up to Maine, sleep there, and then come back to Boston until they changed so that the person getting their old life back wouldn't get in too much trouble at work.  And it's a pretty nice city; not Chicago or New York but it's got all the sports, plenty of museums, at least one restaurant from whatever cuisine you happen to like, and, relatedly, your various ethnic enclaves.

"Inn People" isn't really one of those, but I do think we need each other.  You look at some entries from when this blog first started and there's someone who wound up really far from everyone else, they drop off the site, and when someone gets back in contact they've got a conspiracy wall that was apparently 10% informative and 90% paranoid.  Or you can just lose track of who you were before, like this huge portion of your life just didn't matter.  And given my personal history of losing myself, it's probably a good idea to have people around who can say "hey, Zee, what would Daryl think?"

(Is this always a good rule for an Inn Person?  Probably not!  Is it good for me to occasionally ask the question?  More often than not!)

Plus, and I cannot stress this enough, the new job is full-time rather than freelance, offers health insurance, and only averages a little more than two days a week required in the office because my job entails leading in-person training sessions as well as project management, and there's enough hardware engineering/prototyping going on that a lot of the team is on-site anyway.  Apparently my willingness to come in got me the position over a few people who insisted on being completely remote even though my "Zee" résumé isn't quite so good as my "Daryl + Elaine + Zee" one would be, if I could get people to believe in it.

So, that's me in Boston.  I found a fairly decent condo in Dorchester, although the down-payment has nixed me doing any sort of real vacation for a couple of years.  It's not quite on the subway, but one of those bike things is nearby, and that's probably better for me anyway.

Will I be here for good?  Who knows, I may decide that even in a fairly Black neighborhood, this city lives down to its racist reputation and decide to go elsewhere.  But for now, it suits me.

-Zee

Aidan/Emilia: "Son, Your Breasts Are Very Nice and Don't Let Anyone Tell You Different!"

As much as being a woman is deeply strange, I think it's probably good that it happened to all of us.  I may not necessarily have a lot of advice to offer Kutter and Rusty from experience, but us all being in the same situation keeps things from getting too acrimonious.  The boys are inseparable these days, but they would fight over everything when they were younger, and this is a situation where kids yelling "you just don't understand" could get really nasty.

I'm kind of in awe of my friends who have daughters and are good fathers to them, because I'm feeling a bit overwhelmed and can't imagine how I'd feel if I were entirely looking at it from the outside.  I like to think I'd be a good girl dad, but this is the first time I've had to think about it, and having it just happen all at once is different.  The other day, for instance, Rusty and Kutter were playing a videogame when Kutter got a weird look on his face, paused, and looked down before getting up and racing to the bathroom, slamming the door.  There was a little spot of blood on the leather couch where he'd been sitting.

Rusty opened his mouth as if to say something and I raised a finger.  "Just get something from under the sink and some paper towels and wipe it up, okay?  It could be you tomorrow."  He nodded and went to the kitchen while I walked to the bathroom door and knocked.  "You okay in there?"

I heard a loud sniffle.  "I don't know.  I guess i knew it was coming but it's so gross!"

"Yeah, I know.  Anyway, look in the medicine cabinet; I think the girls all marked their period stuff with heir initials.  What've you got?"

There was a pause.  "Oh, it's tampons."

"That's okay, I think that's what Emilia uses too.  I guess Rusty gets the pads.  Anyway, I don't know how much you've poked around down there, but your mom always said men make too big a deal about the whole thing.  Just read the instructions and do what they say.  Hopefully it's just uncomfortable at first."

There was a pause, and then he sounded a bit more confident.  "Okay, but I think I'll take a shower first.  Could you get me a change of clothes?  I even got some blood on the bottom of my t-shirt."

"Of course."  As soon as I heard the shower start, I went to check on Rusty, who had cleaned up the mess.  "Your brother's doing okay.  How about you?  I know it's been a couple of weeks, but this makes it all a bit more real, right?"

He nodded.  "Yeah.  I mean, it's been plenty real, but this is really real."  He looked like he wanted to say more, but was at an unusual loss for words.  I squeezed his shoulder and went into Katey's room, which I suspect wasn't as tidy before Kutter moved in.  Not wanting to intrude, I quickly opened a couple of drawers, pulling out panties, a top, and shorts, not really looking at what I was taking; the piles in there were running pretty short, as we hadn't done laundry yet after a couple of weeks.  I stationed myself back at the door and passed them through when Kutter opened it a crack.  A few minutes later he came out and I slapped my forehead.  The shorts were cutoffs just barely covering his behind, and the shirt was a crop-top camisole.

Kutter smiled nervously.  "I guess I should have been more specific."

I started sputtering apologies.  "I'm so sorry - I should have looked more closely!"

He shook his head.  "No, it's fine.  Like, this is how girls dress on a hot summer day, right?  And we're really girls now, right?  Why don't we go get ice cream?  Isn't that a thing, girls getting ice cream after their first periods?  You two go change, I'll wait."

I looked him in the eyes.  "You sure?"

He stared back, hard.  "I am not going to let this get me down, Dad."

I nodded.  "You heard 'im, Rusty.  Let's get changed."  He nodded and practically raced into Monica's room.

Once in Emilia's I looked through my inherited dresser - I confess, I had not gone through it like Kutter had - and pulled out a camisole and cut-offs for myself.  I tugged at the top a bit, took a couple deep breaths, and went back into the common area.  Rusty's jaw dropped.  "Holy shit, Dad!"

"C'mon, they're not that big!  Emilia just favored, you know, a deeper neckline than her roommates."

"Yeah, because of her great big boobs!"

I was about to say something when Kutter elbowed his brother.  "Stop being a creep, you little twerp.  It's still Dad, and it's not like you're exactly hiding your cleavage either."  He took a few steps to the door.  "You guys coming?"  I nodded and we followed.

We didn't actually walk very far, finding a nice place with not horrifically expensive cones (for New York) next to a little park. grabbing a picnic table to sit around.  Rusty took a big lick from his and jumped in.  "So, Dad, I'm not trying to be disrespectful or weird or anything, but you've been hiding those boobs, right?"

I grumbled, not really wanting to talk about it, but not wanting to lie.  "I mean, we've all been wearing these ladies' loosest tops, right?"  The boys sheepishly nodded.  "I guess maybe I've had more opportunity to look in the mirror and think that's kind of tight in the morning, but I also don't want to feel like I'm putting an pressure on you guys to embrace your new figures or whatever."

"But what if we were waiting for you to show us we shouldn't be embarrassed?"  Sensing the question rattled me, Kutter continued.  "Although now I guess I'm just going to be embarrassed by my little B-cups."

"Son, your breasts are very nice and don't let anyone tell you different!"  The boys laughed.  "But, seriously, size isn't everything and we're not exactly looking for attention from boys, are we."  The two shook their heads.  "But, anyway, I'm sorry if you've been looking for a signal from me or have been feeling held back outside the apartment.  This is new to all of us."

I narrowed my attention to Kutter.  "I do want to say, though, that you handled everything as well as can be expected, and you're kind of lucky, in that you didn't know it was coming."

Rusty looked confused.  "How's that lucky?"

"Because my guts have been killing me for the past couple of days and I couldn't figure out why until this morning.  You'd think I'd've noticed the Midol with Emilia's name on it in the medicine cabinet, but, no, I've just been taking regular ibuprofen.  So I'm probably up next, but, seriously, I think I'd rather have been surprised by my first period than feel this."

"Geez, Dad!"  Kutter shook his head.  "What about that stuff you said about us being in it together and Rusty and me being adults?  Don't hide this stuff from us!"

"Okay, I won't.  Promise."  I noticed I'd gotten an odd look.  "Although, maybe not 'Dad' when we're outside like this."

"Fine, Emilia."  A moment later, Kutter shook his head.  "Nope, feels wrong.  But I guess we'll get used to weirder, because I've got at least eight more days like today coming before we go back."

Rusty started counting on his fingers.  "Gee, thanks for that, Katey.  You guys are really making me look forward to the next couple of weeks.

He laughed, but it's kind of funny that my period came just as Kutter's ended, and now it's Rusty's turn.  I suppose this is better than it hitting us all at once, but it's been a long week!

-Aidan/Emilia