Marc/Dustin: Crowded House

I want to preface this by saying I have been piecing it together over the last few days but I am aware that some crazy stuff is going on in Maine and playing out on the blog. I reached out to Ryan to see if he crossed paths with Millie and he did have information about a person that seems to have been relevant -- I've connected him with Arthur/Penny through available channels for whatever that's worth, and hopefully that helps.

All this to say, I know the experiences and tribulations of my little crew seems like the proverbial hill of beans, but in case you could use a change of pace, some of us are just out here attempting to live "our" lives. To the rest, good luck!

--

Six bedrooms. Eight bodies. Two bathrooms. Welcome back to your twenties.

Dustin, Dakota and Cassie live not far from their alma mater in a house that was built sometime between the wars, the kind of creaky, musty place without natural light and with substandard wiring that you settle for when you've finished undergrad and just need to drop your bags somewhere. There are four bedrooms up top, including Dustin & Dakota's. Cassie's is one of two in the basement. Common areas include a cramped kitchen, a front porch (mostly occupied by the cannabis users in the house) and a back deck that probably needs a few boards replaced but is otherwise quite good.

As we pulled up, I saw Mary eyeing the place. "Why do I have a feeling... I'm going to be doing a lot of sweeping and scrubbing?"

"Don't be negative, Mare," John chided.

"No, she's got a point," I said, "We're adults, used to certain standards of living. These kids are just out of school. There's a good chance we're going to feel like their parents."

"Thank you, Marc," Mary said. "I knew I liked you."

"I guess it's Dustin now," I said, "Once we open these car doors, we'll be within earshot of people who think they know us."

I could see Mary's hesitance. I certainly couldn't blame her. I do have a tendency to forget that others haven't lived with this as long as I have, aren't accustomed to going from life to life the way I've become. I wonder if it's becoming harder for me to relate to other people ... not that I ever had a really easy time with that to begin with.

"So what do we do?" Mary asked.

"We just... be," John shrugged, not doing a very good job seeming like this is new to him. "It'll be fun. It'll be like Big Brother."

Mary smiled and rubbed John's shoulder, then leaned forward from the backseat to kiss him on the cheek. I can always detect an improvement in Mary's mood when John plays optimistic -- seeing her "husband" who has become a girl adapt so quickly inspires her to be confident. If she knew the truth, perhaps that wouldn't quite be the case.

Then the doors opened and I popped the trunk. We each took our bags up the porch and -- forcing myself to pretend like I/we belong here -- I took the knob and pushed through.

We lingered a moment in the front hallway. Mary stuck her head around to the available rooms. "Not bad, not bad," she muttered to herself. The place wasn't exactly an IKEA Showroom, but it was reasonably tidy.

"What's not bad?" asked one of the girls who lives there -- from the description Dakota left, I deduced this was Ifena, a first-generation daughter of Nigerian immigrants.

"The place, it's... looking good," she stammered, obviously not accustomed to lying to a person's face like this.

"Yeah, it's because you three weren't here," Ifena smirked. "You know how PJ is."

"Right, PJ," Mary nodded. PJ, we learned from the girls' notes, is the other occupant of the basement. They are gender non-binary, which I guess kind of gives us something in common since I've spent time as both, not to mention going back and forth on my sexual orientation. But I gather that they and Dustin are not exactly close.

My sense overall is that the house mostly represents Dakota's social circle -- it's mostly girls after all -- and that Dustin is sort of an add-on, as the boyfriend.

Next to come thumping down the stairs was Jaspal, whose room with his girlfriend Madison is next to Dustin and Dakota's. He immediately slapped me a handshake and told me in bro-language about some accomplishment in some video game and I nodded like I understood.

Not long after that was the arrival of Charly, shorter than Dakota with curly red hair, who had some bags of groceries in tow. "Oh, you guys are back," she said breathlessly. I rushed over to help with one of the heavier bags, and John followed suit by making a grab at the water jug for the communal cooler -- which he immediately regretted as he was unable to heave the damn thing.

"So much for chivalry," he muttered to me after, clearly feeling embarrassed.

"Don't worry about it," I shrugged, heaving the thing over my shoulder with ease. "I don't think anyone was expecting Dakota to be able to lift that."

"Maybe not," he sighed under his breath so only I could hear, "But it was a reality check for this guy."

I wanted to point out that he wasn't exactly a heavyweight when he was Cayden, but of course Mary was within earshot and discussing our past experience was out of bounds. I guess what he was saying that he feels like as an adult he should be a certain level of strength or whatever, and was disappointed that in some ways this body has more in common with a 10-year-old's than his grown self.

Mary rubbed John's shoulders again in comfort, and I wondered whether the others would take note of the way they were hovering near one another in a more-than-friendly way.

Those of us who were present made a communal dinner and the three of us pretty much just kept our mouths shut and observed, unless directly addressed. There weren't really questions about where we'd been -- I guess when you're twenty-two and unemployed and you want to take an extra two weeks on your beach vacation, nobody bats an eyelash, even if Cassie ended up leaving her service job over it.

--

Afterwards, I went upstairs to unpack and found "our" room -- very much a girl's room, with furniture that had probably been following Dakota for years, and Dustin more or less fitting all of his stuff into the closet. As I contemplated what-goes-where, I heard the door close behind me -- John had slipped in. Dakota can be very light on her toes.

"So..." I started to say, observing the double bed that sure did look... cozy.

"You can unclench," John said, "I'm going to sleep with Mary... for now. Cassie's bed is plenty big for two, as long as one of them is Dakota," he smiled and waved his hand over his slender figure.

We agreed that it wasn't necessary for John and I to share a bedroom to "keep up appearances" -- Dustin and Dakota are twenty-two-year-olds dating, not an old married couple. There's leeway there, we think, and if questions are raised, they could have answers that are not 'we were magically transformed into other people and it's very complicated beyond that.'

"How do you think that will go?" I asked.

"It's a win-win," John shrugged, "Cassie's quite attractive, don't you think?"

"I guess so," I nodded hesitantly -- it's clear to anyone with eyes to see, as long as you don't mind a lot of ink, but in the moment I certainly wasn't going to push the point hard.

"And she keeps telling me how cute I am, you know, when she brushes my hair and helps me pick out an outfit. Perhaps there are some sparks there."

"I'm happy for you, if so," I said coolly -- I'm not entirely sure it will play out that way, but it's not for me to know.

John turned toward the full-length mirror and examined himself, his posture, his stance. He stands up straight and he's Dakota, he slouches and he's John again. "It's taking a lot of getting used to, you know. Looking like this. Being looked at like this. Come here."

I stood behind him. He guided my hands to his hips, which caused me to freeze briefly before pulling away in embarrassment.

"I just wanted to see," he tittered. "They do make a nice couple."

"Go to your wife, John," I sat on the bed, exasperated.

"After I finish putting away what few clean pairs of underwear I have left, Dustin," he snickered wickedly at me.

I laid on the bed and stared up at the ceiling while he worked away. A moment later, he said, "You know, if it doesn't work out in Mary's bed, I could always just camp out."

"Huh?" I sat up.

"Sure," he said with a grin, "Looks like plenty of room in tent you're pitching."

I looked down and sure enough, Little Dustin was making his presence known -- I had thought it was a little more inconspicuous. I rolled over and buried my head in the pillow, saying a muffled, "You can leave now!"

"I couldn't help myself," he said with a cackle as he left, closing the door behind. I kept my face buried and tried to clear my mind. This was a little different to what I've been used to... even as Ryan, it took a lot more to rev me up. I haven't had sex with a woman in years (since the very night of my first transformation, as it happens) and between Dustin's young body and my psyche, something got very excited about such a minor touch. Part of me -- I'm a bit ashamed to say -- was glad to be back as a "straight guy," in such a clear and decisive fashion. 

Now if only there were an appropriate way to channel that... besides the obvious.

-Marc/Dustin