Caleb/Rylee: Never liked pool parties anyway...

Hanging around the house getting used to being Rylee was starting to get a little suffocating, so when one of her friends reached out to hangout I decided “fuck it”. Even if the time to head out to college was coming soon, where I theorized that I could be a lot more myself without raising any eyebrows, it was still the case that sometimes I was going to have to be “Rylee” around people who know her more intimately. A casual hangout seemed the perfect time to practice that, so I sent the confirmation, made sure I looked presentable enough (still very tied to the “jeans and tee” look for now), and headed out.

With the lack of good teen “hangout” spots, we had agreed to meet up at some local sit-in restaurant and get some lunch. Heading inside, I spotted a girl sitting at a booth waving me down. Thank god for social media and caller ID having given me both the name and face to connect to this stranger. Her name was Grace, and from the photos I took it that she was a schoolmate of Rylee’s and fellow drama enthusiast. Plenty of pics of them from practice, messing around in costumes, that kind of thing. I think I had a couple inches over her, balanced out by her being a bit more curvy. And girly, sporting a nice summer dress and well maintained blonde hair over my androgynous clothing and simple ponytail.

“Wow, you look like a mess,” she says as I slide in across from her.

“Sorry, I’ve been, uh, packing for the move,” I say, giving the best excuse I could think of for why I was dressed down.

“Uggh, don’t remind me,” she groans. “I can’t believe we’re going to be split up. But you know my parents, wanting me to keep up the family tradition of…”

And that’s how things went for the first few minutes, exchanging complaints about the whole college experience. If I hadn’t been the one in Rylee’s shoes right now I’d feel bad for two friends getting split up over silly things like alumni status and such, but being her I couldn’t help but feel a little glad that it seemed Rylee was the only one of her friend group heading to the particular college she was in.

“Anyway, I think I got the perfect idea of how to forget about it all, at least for a little bit. If, you know, you’re up for it,” Grace says, eyeing me warily.

“Shoot?”

“Well, Evan is apparently holding one last pool party at his house before everyone splits up. If you don’t want to go though I’d totally understand.”

I still haven’t exactly gotten over my aversion to wanting to be in a swimsuit, but seeing as Rylee did have some conservative enough one piece suits and I was really starting to feel the cabin fever, I figured if I wore some shorts and a top over it and went in if I felt like it I could probably make it work.

“Yeah, I got no problem with it. Sounds like fun!” I say, digging into some of those exercises to try and up-regulate myself into sounding actually excited.

“Wow, good for you! If it was me I’d totally avoid going to a party my ex was throwing.”

That threw me for a loop as I did not, at any point, recall Rylee mentioning an ex. I could already feel the awkwardness of having to navigate that situation, but I couldn’t back out now that I had agreed to it and gotten praise for it.

“Pfft, yeah, of course. We’re all adults now, right? We can stay friends and hangout and stuff,” I say to save face.

Once I got home, however, I immediately started texting Rylee wondering who this Evan guy was. The response I got back felt a little dismissive:

Yeah we broke up a couple months ago cause going to different colleges.
It was mutual so should be cool, don’t sweat it!

So that was the situation when the weekend arrived and it was pool party time. I ultimately chickened out of going for a swimsuit. Even with a one piece, I still wasn't quite feeling up to it. Perhaps having had high school friends gawking at swimsuit issues or girls getting in and out of the pool while bothering me for my opinion on things had just soured the idea of swimming like this in general. Still, it was hot enough outside I had at least relented to wearing a pair of shorts and a white tank-top. That by itself was fine, but the decision to go without a bra, thinking it would be more comfortable, would in retrospect be a bad one...

I had been hanging onto Grace as a social life line for the party at our little station at a poolside table. She had been facilitating most of the conversation with the rest of Rylee’s friends and acquaintances as they filtered through, my chiming in only when I could comfortably say something about college worries or some random bit of pop culture I recognized. My age gap with Rylee was small enough that we theoretically would have similar spheres of recognition, the gender and personal preferences being the main thing keeping me unaware of some of what got brought up. 

Still, I must have been giving a bit of a vibe of not wanting to be bothered as it was all quick, and most people eventually let me be there in presence even if I wasn’t talking much.

Eventually, though, he made his way over to us and…look, even as a guy I could appreciate on an aesthetic level if a guy was handsome. Dirty blonde hair, white teeth, a physique fully in line with his status of a student athlete (think Rylee had said basketball), and in just his swimming trunks he was making sure everyone was seeing it. Magnifying the effect was the glistening of water dripping off him, a quick run of the hand through his hair to get the excess out managed it leaving it a mess of curls.

Point is, he was out, he knew it, and I was not appreciating the warmth in my face that was starting to creep in as I watched him approach. 

“Glad you two could make it,” he says as he takes a seat across from me. While he said two, the way he looked at me made it clear he meant he was glad I made it.

“Y-yeah, of course, wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” I spit out as my mind races to figure out why all of a sudden I was feeling warmer. Had to have just been some kind of residual memories of Rylee’s body’s feelings towards him or something, right?

I did my best to not look like I was drooling over him no matter what Rylee’s body wanted to do, but it was eventually clear he must have noticed. Directing the conversation towards me, attempting to playfully touch me, eye contact. If Rylee was under the impression he was over her, I’m pretty confident in saying she was dead wrong.

“I, uh, think I’m going to get me some more soda,” I eventually say, wanting the excuse to leave the conversation.

In my rush, however, I didn’t notice another partygoer coming by, and in a sitcom-esque loss of balance I found myself tripping into the pool. Quickly surfacing, I glance down and see that the choice of white tank-top had been a bad idea. As soaked as I was, it was turning translucent, and with no bra or swimsuit to provide a second layer of coverage...

Grace and Evan were quick to act, getting a towel and helping me out of the pool before escorting me into the house and into the bathroom.

“I’ll grab some clothes from my sister’s stuff. I think you’re about the same size,” Evan says as he shuts the door, leaving me to dry myself off.

As I was just finishing getting undressed and starting to dry off I heard the door open. Thinking it was Grace, because who else would it be, I turned around, having just finished drying off a leg, and gave the clothes-handling Evan a nice flash of…well, everything.

“What the fuck dude!” I yell out as he quickly shuts it again with a million apologies.

“Sorry, I did not think you’d get undressed that quick,” he says from the other side of the door. “Though let’s be honest, it’s not like you showed me anything I haven't seen already.”

That froze me in my tracks.

I guess it should have occurred to me that Rylee and Evan, both being perfectly healthy, attractive, likely allosexual teens and dating meant they likely would have had sex. Considering my personal baseline, however, it had just never crossed my mind, and now that the fact Rylee's body was up for it was something I wasn't quite mentally ready to process half-naked in a stranger's bathroom.

“Oh shut up, Evan, and just let me handle this” Grace says, shooing him away from the room entirely before politely opening the door a crack and handing me the change of clothes Evan had brought.

Once I was ready I gently opened the door and peeked out.

“Don’t worry, it’s just me. Can’t believe he pulled that shit. I mean, he’s usually a nice guy but guess even he has his moments of stupid boy brain,” Grace says, giving a death glare to the door as if trying to telepathically fry Evan.

“Yeah, well…yeah,” I say. In my head I had thought of maybe making some kind of quip or whatever. Rylee felt like the kind of self-confident and theatrical person to respond to faux pas like this with a quip to reassert herself. Perhaps I was going to need some improve classes or two cause I was coming up blank. Even now, writing this up, best I could figure out was maybe something about how for bragging about seeing anything he still couldn't get my sizes right cause his sister's clothes were just a little tight.

After that, the rest of the party didn't really matter. Evan gave his apologies again but otherwise kept away, I mingled a bit more with the rest of Rylee's friend group and took the appropriate pictures for the social media, and then we left. 

What does matter, though, is the implications of it all. 

Having read through the blog, I know it’s pretty much the case that whatever body you end up in you eventually start to find yourself sharing the original person's sexual tendencies. Maybe not in the exact preferences and such, but the overall orientation. Kaitlyn made some comments about how it relates to a biological basis for orientations and such, but, I don’t know, I guess I still had it in mind maybe it’d just be a thing I wouldn’t have to worry about? After all, sex was just a thing that never really interested me as a guy, but even I have enough awareness to know that the way my body was reacting to Evan, well, it definitely had a curiosity about the idea.

Then again, it all could have just been a one off, a remnant of the fact that this body had been intimate with Evan’s. Once we’re off at completely different colleges I can just hunker down on making sure I don’t screw up classes and I won’t ever have to worry about this stuff again, right?

Isaac/Ainsley: If you know what's right...

I was awake at about 2 AM the night we finally got thirteen people at the Inn. The change hadn't happened yet, and really, I don't understand how anyone who knows what's about to happen to them is capable of sleeping through it. I wasn't even looking at my phone. Something felt dirty about doomscrolling while waiting for something with this much significance. Instead I just sat there, cross-legged and staring at the wall in some kind of meditative pose as if meditation's something I actually know anything about. But when my phone buzzed, I picked it up anyway.

It was Heather, calling from the room next door. Physically visiting was out of the question for fear of ending up in the wrong bodies.

"Hey, hey Isaac, you're still up, right?" Sara's voice sounded like she'd been drinking. The last year's keyed me into a lot of the tells.

"Yeah? You okay?"

"Y-yeah. I'm fine. Totally." I think she sniffled. "I want you to give me one good reason I shouldn't run away right now."

"What?"

"Like. Like from the Inn. Away from here. Before... y'know."

"You're not actually going to--"

"Tell me."

"Well." I took a deep breath. "You'd ruin everything for Sara. You know that. And for Ainsley, and for me and everyone else at the Inn right now if we can't get get someone to take your body on short notice, and it, it's wrong, you know--"

"I know!" Heather sputtered. "I know I know I know I know I know!!! I'd be horrible, a-a monster, it fucks everything up forever, I know. I don't need you to tell me that. 'Cept for how I just did, I guess." She found it in herself to laugh a bit at her own joke.

"So why--"

"I wasn't planning on it when we came in here. To Maine. I mean, Marvin put you through all that crap and he still handed over your body, and I'm not gonna be worse than him, right? But it's- it's different when you know it's coming for real, the gun's aimed at your head and you know you're gonna wake up sick and it's all gonna hit you all at once and I. I can't stop thinking about it! It's a whole, fight-or-flight, thing. God. Does this happen to everyone here who knows they're about to get a couple decades older and they're all too ashamed to admit it or did I just screw up my life that bad!?"

"It's gonna be okay," I said, after a lengthy pause in which I failed to come up with anything besides a platitude. I didn't really believe it. I picked that one up from Ainsley's friends and I don't know if they believed it either.

"Pfft. Sure." She sniffled some more. "Y'know? This was the best year I've had since, since... I don't even wanna think about it. I got to be bright and fun and cool and risky and energetic and I stole it all from someone else!! And I feel terrible about it, but, I won the Inn, Isaac. So many people get completely ruined by this place but I won, and if I were more of a piece of shit than I am I just never would've come back here. I don't have anything to come back to, I was, I am this warped, bitter shell and my kids don't want anything to do with me 'cause I ruined that too and I'm on track to die sad. I see it coming. And now I'm in this body that wants to live but I'm going back, by choice, 'cause if I don't ignore everything in me screaming to run away I'll never be able to sleep at night again."

I didn't know what to say. I've never been any good at comforting someone who's just venting and doesn't need any actual advice I'm capable of giving. Especially over the phone, where I can't use my body language. This kind of thing happened to me a lot with Ainsley's friends and I always felt like I was doing something wrong, more so than usual. I think I kind of suck at being a girl. And what does anyone even say here? I wasn't about to get thirty years older, I couldn't go "that's just how life is" or something worse. I can't understand where she's coming from, not really. Or should I have congratulated her for not doing one of the worst things anyone can possibly do to a person?

"It'll be okay," I sighed. Was that really the best I could think of? "Just... Just stay here. We can keep talking. If that helps."

"Wow, really? You oughta be a therapist." Heather started snickering before she abruptly cut herself off. "Actually, no, no, that was cruel. I dumped all that on you and I-- You can tell I'm a cruel person since that's the first thing I thought to say. Like, wow, what a bitch! I-I'm sorry. Really."

"Heather, I said this when I first met you, and I'll say it again-- I've had worse roommates."

"Heh." Her laugh didn't sound conflicted that time. I imagined Sara smiling to herself. Heather didn't hang up, but the line stayed quiet long enough for me to slip back into my own thoughts (and maybe even emotional exhaustion-induced sleep) before she broke the silence again.

"Am I really the only one who thought about what it'd be like if we didn't go back?"

Not this again. "Huh?"

"I mean. You've never seemed like you got much going on in your life, I guess? You complained about Ainsley's life a lot but I never really heard you say much about stuff you miss, besides the lower expectations. And your plants."

"So because I'm kind of pathetic, you think spending the rest of my life pretending to be a sorority girl would be an improvement?"

"If it was permanent, you wouldn't have to. That's the thing. You could ditch her friends and do whatever you want. Hang out with me and Sara's friends, maybe. I could tell you're kinda jealous."

"Are you kidding? You saw exactly what happened that time you dragged me to a concert and-- no." I'm never telling her she's vaguely right about that last part, but everything else about that spiel was out of line. "No. Back up. Did I think about what I'd do if I were stuck and had to like, cope with it? A little. But it was never a-- I can do whatever I want and not have to put up with someone else's friends in my own body! And as a bonus, I get to see my parents again. And, y'know, for someone who's spent the last year talking about how I don't appreciate my life enough, you're being incredibly cavalier about the idea of me throwing away five years of my twenties. You remember I'm really 21, right?"

That got her quiet again for a little while.

"Yeah. Okay, I-I shouldn't have-- I guess it was just, part of the fantasy I made for myself which I hate that I have about getting to stay but-- Sorry." Heather sighed. "I'd just miss having you around if it was only me who stayed."

"You really think that?"

"Yeah. You're on my mind, kiddo. You know, during that whole thing where you just threw yourself into being Ainsley, I just, I was really worried about you. I don't know if I ever properly told you that. And that's the other reason I asked about if you'd thought about what it'd be like to stay. I just... the way you tried so hard to be someone else, I don't know if someone who thinks they're leaving a lot behind would've been able to do that. So, I... I worry. That's all."

"...I care about you, too," I said after a while. "After all that, it'd be weird not to. You've helped me a lot. So, yeah. Though I'm not about to pretend you do were always the best roommate."

"Oh honey, you don't gotta, I know." Heather laughed again, full and genuine. "You know, sometimes you remind me so much of my Violet, before she-- oh shit I think I see--"

She hung up. I felt it, too.

I don't know if it happens the same way for everyone, but in my case the first sign was the hair, thickening, darkening, everywhere. I'd always had a lot of body hair, and after a year without it it felt only more so, great black vines breaking through my skin as it went subtly paler. Even on my face, which was a surprise-- I always kept myself clean-shaven, and Marvin didn't have a beard when I saw him two months ago. I barely even registered my head hair slowly retreating into my skull despite that being a far more blatant violation of the laws of physics. For a little while, I had the odd sensation of full breasts entirely covered in coarse chest hair (God, did I always have that much?) before the rest of my body began to catch up. Every second I inflated a little more, grew more rigid, and I hate that this is the least uncomfortably phallic terminology I could come up with to describe a masculinizing torso. My hands doubled in size. To my surprise a regrowing penis was far overshadowed by how I felt just above it, the entire abdomen churning inside or less frequently descending. My breath quickened until well after the changes subsided.

It's not me, in the selfie camera. It's not Isaac Strauss, not anything like the way I left him. This man has a full beard and a tight haircut and actual muscle and is missing a year's worth of babyface. He looks like he belongs somewhere. I kept staring, kept looking at every angle to find the old me in there, as if I could tear the Marvin off of me if I found the right seam. All I got was ephemeral flashes of what I wanted to see. Is my self-conception so awful that I'm just not myself if I don't look pathetic? At least Ainsley's body was supposed to be different.

I heard a knock on the door. I stood up, steadied myself, feeling like a lumbering giant although I only had a few inches on Ainsley and weigh about the same as her. I opened the door to see Heather Flynn, just like the in the old photos she used to show me of her with her kids, except she's gently crying. She reached out for a much-needed hug, and I embraced her with a hollow strength no body I've occupied ever had. I wanted to cry, too, but it's not as easy as it used to be.

Kiara: Life and Stuff

I made it through Donovan's class without incident. He and I were obviously frosty with each other, but I behaved myself and, in the four walls of the classroom, we were able to interact like a normal student and teacher. I finished with an 88 but he never really lavished my work with praise, simply writing "Very good," and "well observed" on my papers. Okay, fine.

Auto shop... haha, I got a 60 there, but I passed and now I could change my own oil if I wanted to squish my tits under a car.

I have one term left. Looking at the courses available, there wasn't much I could take, so I bit the bullet and went for cosmetology. It's going to be a test of just how much of a woman I've become. I don't have a knack for it so far, but I'm keeping an open mind now that this stuff is semi-relevant to my life. It's "the family business" after all. 

Which gives me pause to think about what comes next. I am 18 years old and have basically chosen to stay in this life for the long haul. Simply drifting through it and making the same choices my adoptive mother made doesn't appeal to me, but there are limitations. I have a kid, I need to support her and myself, and as time goes by my younger siblings are depending on me a bit more. 

Sometimes I lie up at night and I cry because of where this train of thought goes. Trying to find time and energy to get an education and enter the job market and establish myself -- sheesh, could you think of a worse time to be a young person starting out? I thought I had it bad in the 2010's -- all on my own, with all of this on my shoulders. It would be so much easier with someone else. I've never really yearned to be in a couple, and I still don't, but it's a horrifying thought that partnering up with someone would really ease the burden. This is how people get trapped. This is how they get stuck in bad situations. That's when the tears start. What would I do for Kiara-and-Sienna?

In other news, Cerie and Byrd are no more. Thank God. Having your younger sister date your baby daddy is a complicated and uncomfortable situation. I obviously don't think much of Byrd -- his record on child support is spotty, but he's around. Cerie, weirdly, is growing on me. Ever since her brief pregnancy, she's changed and matured. She told me that Byrd wanted to try to have another kid with her, and she told him she wasn't interested, a huge turnaround from when she expected all of us to be happy for her when she was pregnant (and most of the family was.) I took her out for mochas and she told me privately she wasn't sure if she wanted to try to have kids ever again after that experience. I told her that the time might come when it feels right, but there was definitely no rush, and she agreed. You love to hear something like that, to watch someone mature and develop before your eyes... but she still hogs the damn bathroom in the mornings.

-Kiara

Isaac/Ainsley: And the trees are sweetly blooming

Even after everything I've been through in the last year, I still don't like feeling visible in public. Or maybe that's not much of a surprise, but you'd at think I'd at least be acclimated enough to just suck it up and deal with it, right?

Well, kind of. In practice there were never very many places I went to by myself as Ainsley. I learned to tolerate and tunnel-vision through the commute to work, the grocery store, the small loop where I walked SugarBunny. (I imagine Ainsley's walks with SugarBunny had a lot more variety than my own did.) The Lounge, eventually. There were some others during my, manic episode, like the gym, but even if I wanted to reproduce those days I don't think it'd be possible right now. Not while I'm on the precipice of being Isaac again. Regardless, I hardly ever went out without a group, besides a few specific places I had no choice but to tolerate out of necessity.

Old Orchard Beach isn't one of those places. Like I said a lifetime ago, being alone in a place like this feels inherently suspect to me, for no good reason, and being Ainsley hasn't changed that besides replacing some of the suspectness with other vulnerabilities. But I have Heather to wander around with me this time, so it's not so bad.

Of course, she's still Heather...

"Heather? Is this yours?" A lavender bikini sat on the bed in my room at the Inn. Heather and I have separate rooms connected through a shared bathroom.

"Pretty sure it's yours," came the muffled reply from the bathroom.

"It's definitely not mine, I know I didn't pack any."

"Well, I did." Heather opened the door, wearing a sundress clearly meant to be a coverup. She sat down on my bed like she owned the place. "I snuck into your room while you were dropping off SugarBunny at the kennel and dug up a couple from Ainsley's drawers to throw in your suitcase. So. I think it's yours."

I didn't dignify that with any expression stronger than blankly staring at her. "God. Have you been reading the blog?"

She laughed. "Look, I'm never gonna look this good in a bikini again, and I'm not the first Inn guest to realize that. Some things are traditions for a reason."

"That doesn't expl--"

"And the same goes for you. C'mon. Don't you want to at least try something you'll never get the chance to do again? You might as well try being girly when Ainsley's friends aren't making you do it."

"And it's so much better when you're making me do it?"

"I'd like to think so." I wonder if she'll be this enthusiastic when she's thirty years older.

I rolled my eyes, which must've made me look to Heather like one of the far too many teenage girls she's encountered over her career, and I choose to assume that's why she giggled at me. "You're just saying all that because you don't want to be the only one of us in a bikini."

Her eyes narrowed. "I'm the one who's scared of that? You gonna think about what you said for five seconds?" I couldn't argue that she had a point; she's been wearing Sara's skimpiest clothes since we got to the Inn. "Please. Y'know, some of us call that projection."

I wore the bikini.

I wish I'd brought a book with me to Maine. I get why that's a stereotype now; the sun's glare was so strong that it was nearly impossible to see my phone's screen, and you really need some form of distraction from the fact that you're just sitting there in what amounts to socially acceptable underwear. We really should've just shelled out for an umbrella, I don't intend on giving Ainsley an accidental sunburn as a parting gift and I don't think Sara's body is even capable of tanning.

I don't know how much time I spent in my own world before Heather tapped me on a bare shoulder. "Y'know, I don't think I've ever seen you take a selfie, and now you've been trying out angles for like, ten minutes. Like what you see?"

I blushed. "It's not like that!" I turned my phone towards her to show the screen was off, not that it'd make much of a difference if it was on in this lighting. "I'm looking at my reflection on the screen-- don't look at me like that, it's the only thing our phones are good for right now and what am I gonna do, sleep? I can't sleep like this."

"I could sleep like this." Heather theatrically stretched out and yawned.

"Yeah, well, I know most people would be totally okay sleeping basically naked in public, but I guess I'm just built different."

I sat up a bit higher and pulled my knees closer to my torso, sighing. "I just thought I'd be more used to this, I guess? After this long? We're on a crowded beach in the middle of summer, there's women in bikinis in every direction, I've been wearing bras for a year, I know nothing looks out of the ordinary here and I still feel like I'm a freak."

"Wow, I can't believe I'm talking to the first girl ever to be insecure with how she looks in a bikini."

"Oh, fuck off, you know it's different. And I know I look, Ainsley looks... fine. Good, even." My voice got lower the closer I got to genuinely complimenting Ainsley's appearance, before I caught myself and cleared my throat. "It's not a logical thing, okay? I was like this before the Inn, too. Not that I was wearing bikinis, but I always thought I looked gross shirtless."

Heather thought for a moment. "Well, at least you're admitting it's not logical, since I'd say you're wrong abou-- actually forget I said that."

"Oh, so you're agreeing with me that my old body's--" Then I remembered the particular circumstances in which Heather actually had seen Isaac Strauss' body shirtless. "As I was saying. I've never liked showing much skin. There's swimshirts but those just look stupid. I've always kind of hated the beach except when I was a little kid."

"I'm sorry, the guy who spent money to spend two weeks in a town called Old Orchard Beach hates the beach?"

"Ugh. I wasn't supposed to be alone, it wasn't my idea, the booking was non-refundable, I was going insane. You know this already, come on."

"I know, I know, I just couldn't not make that joke after you said all that."

"Well, I already know everything's a joke to you."

That got her to quiet down for a while. Served her right, I thought at the time. I've spent the last year dealing with her and Marvin and Ainsley's friends trying to prod their way into my issues even well past the point where it's called for.

I went back to alternating between staring at my phone and the sky (it'd be nice to be able to sleep like this) for a while. The next time I looked over at Heather, I saw tears welling up in her eyes.

"Hey, are you crying?"

She sighed. "Don't worry about it."

"You know, if you saw me crying and I went all 'don't worry about it', you'd practically want to interview me. But I'll--"

"It's hard to stop being a mom," Heather spoke softly. "Even after everyone leaves you."

I had no idea how to respond to that, so I went back to laying down and just kind of feeling bad about the whole thing. Eventually she sat up, dusted off a part of her hand which had strayed from her towel, and started packing up her things.

"Hey. Want to take some selfies?" I asked.

Heather grinned a bit. "That'd be a first, coming from you."

"Well, people keep telling me I need to try these things, apparently."

We took some selfies before we got back to packing up. Heather was really fussy about her exact facial expression and it took us a while to get one she found acceptable. I'd rolled my eyes about it, but then I didn't like how I looked in the one she got, and we must've spent a solid five minutes trying to get one that satisfied both of us before I finally had enough of my fit of vanity and we left the beach.

Heather kept looking at the selfies as we walked back. "Where'd you learn to smile like that?"

"More time practicing in front of a mirror than I'd like to count."

I looked at the selfie again and saw two completely ordinary young women on a beach trip. I looked at Sarah, and down at my body in the bikini, and back at the crowd, and I saw the same thing. Crazy.

Elias/Meadow: Us-Day

Francis and I both had Saturday off, which was a pretty unusual situation. When we realized that at the beginning of the week, he kind of came to me and said, "Hey, should we do something? Spend the day together?"

I kind of froze. I've gotten really good at tip-toing around him but I'm warming up to him. It's nice to have meals together and to talk a bit at the end of the day. Comfort is growing. The other day I found myself putting my feet up on his lap and he reached for them and started rubbing them and I didn't mind it. And I was kind of wrecked like, what does this mean, do I like this?

It's part of my job as Meadow to be in this relationship... that's a favor I'm doing for her, because there's no reason to let a good relationship go to waste right? But this felt like a new step. Am I ready for this, and on some level was I... excited about it? How do I separate Elias from Meadow, if I even should?

So the idea was to spend all day doing stuff together. It would be the most relationshippy day I'd had since getting here.

We woke up that morning around the same time, with the sun coming through our window, and he wrapped his big arm around me. Immediately this was different because we're on different schedules we don't really get up at the same time. And I could feel his wood against my leg, which... I don't know about, but that's just a fact. I don't have time to process it or anything before he starts kissing me. Okay, we're starting with kissing.

So we're kissing and touching and the part of me that is Meadow's body is fine with that and telling the part of me that is Elias' mind to be quiet for a bit. Then he reaches into my panties...

"Ah, ah ah..." I stop him. "Um... I don't know if I'm... up for that right now."

"Oh, okay," he says, probably a little disappointed, but respectful.

We got dressed. I put on a nice dress... I've had enough time in the wardrobe with Jennie to know what a nice dress is and how to appreciate it... and I even did a bit of makeup, even though it makes me face feel hot. And we went out for breakfast.

I have this trick I do where I just let him talk. It's called the Solid Snake method, from the video game. Whenever someone says something you just prompt them to keep going. People love it because most people just want to talk about themselves and they don't notice that you're not really part of the conversation. It saves me from having to stay "in character" as Meadow too much and speak as her, and I highly recommend it for anyone in my situation. He spent most of the time talking about things that had happened at work, and things he had seen online.

From there we went furniture shopping. I don't think we need any more furniture at the apartment and I don't think we could afford most of the stuff there but apparently it's one of Meadow's favorite things to do. He made a remark that he was surprised I hadn't already filled a cart with knick-knacks and throws and I had to be like "Oh, I'm just waiting for the right thing to jump out at me." I ended up buying some handcrafted coasters I thought were pretty neat, and a blanket just because.

Then we got ice cream and people-watched, then went to the movies. He was surprised I was interested in seeing the new Spider-Man. I guess that's an Elias thing not a Meadow thing, so I told him he could explain it to me afterward if it would make him happy. 

After that we got dinner from a food truck, then went for drinks. He talked about his philosophy of life and his art. He wants to do mixed media stuff and sculptures, and apparently Meadow hasn't always been supportive, at least not to him. I tried to offer him some encouraging words while also staying true to the Meadow "character" by saying I was glad it made him happy and he should make time to work on it.

I was kind of tipsy when we got home, and I kind of thought if he makes a move I might not say no... I mean why not. I was enjoying the day, and I've already kind of resigned myself to the idea that this is part of my duties.

So we got to bed and we started kissing and touching some more, and he started moving pretty fast and I was bracing myself...

He got a condom out, and I was kind of clenching like... here goes nothing...

And then he tried to put it in but...... it wouldn't go.

It was like he hit a wall inside me. It was painful. I told him he had to stop and I was sorry. I didn't want to say "this is wrong" because I don't know what it's like, but... I'm pretty sure that wasn't right.

He started going like, "Well, do you need me to do more? Do you need to get in the mood? do you need lube?" and I just didn't want to think about it so I kind of shut it down.

If he was disappointed, he didn't let it show. He kissed me goodnight, and I kind of rolled over like... what does this mean. Am I going to be able to... you know? Should I? Should I not?  And if I can't, is that going to be a problem?

The next day, I messaged Meadow to be like, "Hey, I don't want this to be weird, but this is what happened... do you have any experience with this, is it normal?" And she said it wasn't her experience and maybe it had something to do with the transformation (of course) and being a guy inside and... I guess... but I felt like, if I was ever going to do it, it would have been then. I don't know. Is this something to go to a doctor about?

For a few hours I was really happy, but now I've kind of crashed out. I want to be good at this.

Caleb/Rylee: Enter, Stage Right

I figured now that I’m officially out and about in the world as “Rylee Thomson” it was appropriate to borrow a bit of lingo from her world.

With our entire lives reduced to a letter stuffed inside a suitcase, it was time for Kaitlyn and I to start the journey back “home”. We both had to admit that getting through TSA was a little nerve-wracking. As paranoid as it might have sounded, there was just that little bit of fear that, somehow, security would call us out as not being the real Clint and Rylee. But nope, we got waved through with the appropriate “Sir” and “Mam” that our new genders required and that was that. Just a regular old flight, one where admittedly I appreciated the extra room that my reduced body size gifted me.

After that, it was just a drive-share ride back to Shannon’s place, where the original Clint had left his car and where Rylee was currently living. It really shouldn’t have surprised either of us that “Mom”had custody of Rylee, even if she was basically an adult now. For a brief window of time there we had thought about trying to convince Shannon to let me finish out the summer with "Clint" before heading off to college, hoping to try and stick together a little bit longer for support. Having already gotten on her bad side with this “last minute extended vacation”, however, we ultimately decided it’d be easier to stick with the current arrangement. It wasn’t like Kaitlyn was going to be that far, anyway, as Clint was currently staying in an apartment elsewhere in the city.

It was early evening by the time we arrived. The house was nice enough, just a standard slice of American suburbia with it’s two floors, a two-car garage, a front yard with like one tree and a flowerbed to give it some decoration. Taking deep-breathes we headed in to the first real challenge of our new lives.

“Well, it’s about time you two got back,” a woman’s voice calls out from the open-concept kitchen/dining room area.

Rylee gave me real type-A personality vibes from the conversations we had, and looking at Shannon, I could take a real good guess where she got it from. Apparently, she’s an accountant, and she looked the part sitting at the table, papers neatly stacked as she typed away at a computer. Her graying but still brunette hair was done up in a sloppy looking bun, her white button up shirt slightly unbuttoned to get some relief from the warm summer air. At our arrival, however, she promptly closed the computer, folded her hands in front of her, and stared us down from over her thin-framed glasses.

“So, how was the play?”

“The pl-oh, right, the play…”

I briefly go into the details of that community play, doing my best to come up with some kind of analysis or commentary on it befitting someone who was supposed to be a huge theater nerd. It had been something about a woman finding out more about her recently deceased younger sister’s life through a D&D campaign she had wrote. Shannon didn't seem too interested in the details of it, but whatever comments I had about it seemed to satisfy her enough to not require me to relive English class all over again (I was going to have plenty of that later after all). She dismissed me to my room to unpack, but it was clear that “Clint” wasn't out of the doghouse yet. From upstairs I could hear everything, especially because I just snuck around the top of the stairs just around the corner.

“Seriously, Clint, you can’t keep indulging in her every little whim just because you want to be ‘supportive’. We had an agreement!”

“I know, Shannon, and if we had known about the play before we left we could have worked it into the schedule. The circumstances just lined up that…”

“I don’t care about what the ‘circumstances’ were, I care about whether you’re going to get some backbone one day and tell her no. Do you know how frustrating it is to have to always be the bad guy, especially when you go around behind my back and – ”

“Look, it’s all my fault,” I said as I revealed myself, startling the two of them. I figured if I didn’t intervene then things were going to get rough real fast for Kaitlyn.

“I know it was wrong to take advantage of being ‘daddy’s little girl’ like that just to go see some play that, honestly, was just okay. I was impulsive, and I swear it won’t happen again.”

Apologizing must have been an unusual occurrence for Rylee as Shannon’s expression quickly flipped between confusion and frustration as she tried to process things. Sensing an opening, Kaitlyn came in for the emotional kill.

“No, I’m the one who should be apologizing. Your mother’s right, I really should have told you no and stuck to the agreement. I guess I was just being a bit impulsive myself, seeing as how this is going to be the last real vacation we have together before you go off to college…”

Setting aside my own feelings of being reminded of that impending separation from my one ally in this new life, it apparently worked to disarm Shannon enough that she just let out a frustrated sigh.

“I…appreciate that you two recognize you made a mistake,” she said, still clearly surprised to have been saying it. “Let’s just get ourselves all settled for the night. Rylee, go get yourself unpacked, and Clint, have a safe drive home.”

With one last round of good-byes and promises of keeping in touch by text, Kaitlyn was off to go and be Clint and I was left here for the first time, alone, with being Rylee.

What’s crazy is, I’ve slowly started getting into the routine of it all.

The first day or two I got away with sleeping in, and once Shannon went off to work I was left to my own devices to explore.

Rylee’s room definitely screamed want-to-be actor. Shelves with various little awards and picture frames from past performances. A tv stand stuffed to the brim with DVDs of movies and recordings of stage plays. And perhaps it had been a bit judgmental of me to have expected posters of, like, boybands or something, but instead her walls were decked out with posters of the latest big hits and what I presumed personal favorite shows. Clearly she knew what it was she wanted to be, and now I had to be that too.

But hey, I got through that first night convincing enough, right? Maybe there's an actor in me after all. 

Things started to pick up once Shannon noticed I wasn’t doing Rylee’s exercise routine and started shaking me up at six in the morning to get started.  I was surprised that for someone who clearly wasn’t happy with Rylee’s career choice she was so adamant about getting me back onto this schedule. Once I thought about it more, though, it made sense. First off, Shannon seems to have the attitude that if you’re going to commit to something then you better damn well see it through. Second, I think morning exercises were the only thing the two of them did together regularly, making these moments some of the few times the two truly had a moment to bond before things got full teenage angst again.

Still didn't exactly make me enjoy doing the exercises, though. 

Like many of the other guy’s who had gone to the Inn and woke up on the other side of the gender fence, I wasn't exactly wanting to think about my body. Stuffing it all into athletic wear that left little to the imagination wasn’t helping matters, though I did appreciate the sports bras helping to flatten things out on top a little. I’m not exactly an expert on sizes or anything so I have no idea if Rylee’s particularly gifted in that department, but there’s enough there that they dominate my view whenever I look down.

More important than what I was wearing, however, was the actual exercises themselves.

First off was stretching, and not just any stretching, but apparently rotating and moving every single joint in the body followed by hip circles, squats, spine rotations, shoulder passes, even jaw stretches of all things. If there was a body part it was getting moved, all in the name of encouraging body awareness and loosening up those parts that were at risk of injury or wear when doing a performance. Appreciated the latter, not so much the former. Even with the rational awareness that this was my body now and I was going to have to get used to it for at least a year, it was hard to not feel just a little like a creep to have to become so intimately familiar with every last bit of it like that.

After the warmup, depending on the day, we’d either go on a run for cardio, do some strength training to help build up endurance, or my favorite option, rest day. It was usually at that point Shannon would break off to go shower and get ready for work

Which, ugggh, leads to the second half of the routine”: “emotional and sense work”.

Look, I’ll admit, I’ve always been a little bit emotionally…God I hate that the best word I can think of is “constipated", but it's the most appropriate.

Basically, it's always been really hard for me to get really emotional in any kind of way outside of the strongest stimuli. If I'm put in a situation where people expect a strong reaction, I just can't. I remember one time my parents threw me a surprise birthday party, and when the result was just dull surprise all I could offer was “I saw all the cars and balloons on the way in.” So, when I get tasked doing an “emotional ladder” where I start at the lowest level of an emotion and slowly escalate, I can’t help but feel that my personal “10” isn’t exactly what’s expected of me if I need to perform at a “10”.

Except anger, I think I can do anger pretty good right now.

After that my options include “think of an object and act like you’re interacting with it” , “tell a story about an emotional event and try and recall every detail you can”, “describe everything you see in a room for five minutes”, and my personal favorite “stare at something with full attention for five minutes straight.”

Obviously, I’m not doing all these every day, but regardless of which ones I do by the time it’s all done I can't help but feel a little exhausted. Not physically, at least: Rylee's in good shape and clearly conditioned for all this. Emotionally, though, it can feel weirdly draining to force yourself into these emotional states when you've always been so bottled up.  Unfortunately, I have a whole life to live now so I can’t just hop back into bed for the rest of the day, but Rylee, if you’re reading this, I hope you’re appreciative of all the work I’m doing on your behalf.

…and whoever ends up being me, perhaps, if you could, maybe take up some of those exercises? Apologies if I wasn’t in the greatest shape but, well, guess it wouldn’t hurt to pick some of them up once I’m back in my body…

Marc/Dustin: Whistleblower

What luck to be coaching kids' soccer during the year when the World Cup is not only in the U.S., but practically on our doorstep. Not like the tartan army was up here, but I do have ties to Boston, and it's been kind of interesting experiencing all that even from afar.

I don't know if this is why certain parents are having strong opinions on what goes on in under-twelve soccer games, but it's certainly been noticeable

For the first little bit, I just wanted to be in Dustin mode. I would be here for months, and nobody around who knows my secret, so was good to just act and be treated the way I look. Now, when some of the older fellas in the program see me, a "young stud" turning down female attention when we go out for beers, they're a little bit aghast, but I just shrug and say I've had too much female drama in my life lately and leave it at that.

After settling in and getting comfortable, I reached back out to Mary to see how things stood with John and to co-ordinate our return. John had been back to the house and things seemed to have reached a good place so in my view it was time to make peace and try to move forward.

Both of them ended up coming up for a weekend, one of the last of the program, but Mary wasn't feeling good in the heat, so she stayed at the Airbnb while Koti visited me at work, mostly just standing on the sidelines and watching me lead drills. After practice, I saw a number of texts on my phone along the lines of "Those shorts really work for you." "Yes coach!" and "I'd blow your whistle."

But before I could address that, she accompanied me into the administrative building to hand in some logs.

And when she saw who was behind the desk, she let out a throaty, wicked laugh. "You've got to be kidding me!"

And Christine just looked at me like, "Um, what's going on here, Dustin? Who's your friend?"

Yes, okay. I happened to find out about this job because it was hosted by the school board that Christine works for; the job I enabled her to get by funding her move from Maine when I was Ed. There's a connection there, and I also thought it would be nice to check in on her, even if she didn't know who I was.

So when we got to the car, Koti kind of nudged me playfully. "Are you hitting that?"

"Am I-- what? No! I'd never... she'd..." damn, Koti got me stuttering and stammering again.

"Good," she said, "I mean, I want you to be happy, but I'm not sure I'm ready for you to move on."

I let out a big sigh.

We went back to my place to talk some more. She asked if she could take a shower, because we'd been out in the sun so long, and I said fine.

She came out fifteen minutes later with one towel wrapped around her body and another around her hair. I invited her to have the room to herself so she could get dressed, and she declined.

"I want you to know something," she said, leveling her gaze at me.

"What's that?" I said, making sure to maintain eye contact.

"I'm actually, weirdly excited to be John again."

"Really?" I raised an eyebrow. I was skeptical. John has always seemed so enthusiastic about the Koti life.

"Oh yes," she leaned back in her chair, her towel's tuck loosening. "I've come to realize this is not meant to last."

"This what?" I asked, wondering if she meant this 'John and Marc' stuff.

"This youth," she said. "It's been said no wise man ever wished to be younger, but whoever said that hadn't been to the Inn to test it out. It's exhausting, and the only reason it was bearable was having you. You made me feel like I was living in a fantasy every day. But without you, life is just life. It's boring tasks, made worse by expectations and assumptions and trying to fill a role. It's making the decisions that will see you through for the next several decades. I've already done all that. I'm tired of it. I can't live Koti's life for her. I'm in my 60's, I've earned my rest. You're younger, all this jumping around feels different for you. Thanks to Koti's body I have the energy to do it on a day-to-day basis, but then I remember what thirty or forty years actually looks like and feels like, and I don't want it."

I nodded, but then asked, "Why are you telling me this?"

She sighed and adjusted her towel. "Because I don't want to waste time. and I don't want you to walk on eggshells with me. I want to be my old self again, and I want to keep you in my life somehow. Man or woman, you know I'm easygoing."

I blushed a bit and kind of exhaled a laugh. "If it's just about sex, I'm sure you can find somebody to have sex with."

"It's not about sex, it's about connection," she said. "It's the thing I've been saying forever. I want us to stay connected. Maybe trying to call it a marriage was... presumptuous. Idealistic. But are you really just going to let life take you away from me without fighting?"

"I literally don't know," I sighed. "Nothing's changed about that."

She nudged her towel open.

"Then I guess we'd better make the most of our time together."

"Koti..."

"No strings attached, I promise. In less than two months, all of this goes back to its rightful owners. Let's live for today, man."

"Koti..." I said again with exasperation, "John... I know."

"Know what?"

"I know it wasn't an accident. You didn't just happen to wind up at the Inn at the same time as me."

She leveled her gaze at me. Those piercing blue eyes with a long life behind them.

"That's crazy," she said firmly, like she really thought if she sounded convincing enough I'd believe her. "I told you. We went when we went because of Mary's meeting."

"Did you think Mary and I would never, ever talk about this?" I snorted. "At a certain point, I had to come clean."

"What do you mean come clean?"

I sighed again.

"A few weeks ago, Mary and I got to talking. She knows you were bisexual. She knows you were cheating on her. She was trying to put the pieces together, but she didn't understand how it all fit and it was bothering her. You know, she was having this moment, like how did we get here? And I couldn't let her keep going without filling her in."

"Filling her in on what?"

"I told her I was Ryan. I mean, she knew I was Ryan, but she didn't know what that meant. She didn't know about the connection. I told her that you and I met, and I could tell you were lost and I thought it would help you if we went to the Inn. And that I was the reason your lives have been so chaotic for the last two years."

"You... you had no right..."

"I had every right, it was my secret to tell. She already thinks you spent that year down in Florida chasing boys, so when I told her you were actually in a Maine grade school, she laughed."

"You told her I was Cayden..."

"Yeah, John," I said. "I was sick of lying to her. She's become a good friend and I may have ruined her life. So I pointed out it was some weird coincidence that brought us back together, and she told me you practically forced her to come. That she had to cancel commitments."

"Marc... no... the text... I showed you..."

"You faked it, man. You texted yourself from her phone, a cover story about a meeting she had to go to, then deleted it from hers. So you could show me, so you could be blameless. Because you didn't do anything I didn't do. But the truth is, you didn't want to save your marriage, you wanted to end it. And my God, what a lucky stroke. I'm a guy and you're a girl and we just had to pretend to be dating. Did you rig that up too?"

"No, Marc, how would I do that? That's crazy..."

"At least admit you came on purpose," I said.

She lowered her head, then gazed up at me under her brow.

"Fine," she huffed. "I did that. I thought if I was close to you, then something would happen, and I was right. Either I could fuck you, or fuck you over, and either way I'd be happy, because I wasn't done with you. I love you, Marc, and I don't want you to be with anybody else for the rest of my life."

I exhaled a sigh of relief. It was very liberating to hear what finally felt like the truth from Koti's, or John's, lips. Things I have had vague ideas and suspicions about for months. She looked miserable to be doing it too.

I couldn't help but smile, and she asked me what was so amusing.

"When I told Mary about all this... as we pieced it together... she wasn't even mad. She practically had her life stolen from her, and the two people she trusted most keeping all this from her, and she was grinning. Because it was all out in the open now. She said 'God, John must really love you, to go to all that trouble.' She said she didn't think you would do something like that for her."

Koti joined me with suppressed laughter. "Maybe once upon a time," she sighed. "When we were young."

We laughed a little longer, before she sheepishly asked, "So... did I ruin it? Is this the end? I mean, are you and Mary going to punish me for all the ways I've fucked up?"

I kind of shrugged. "I don't know, John. I don't want to hate you and I don't want to punish you, but I don't want to reward you either. This cycle of going to the Inn and messing with each other and dragging innocent people into our drama... we've got to end it somehow. But if I leave you now, if we shake hands and walk away, it's not going to feel like it's over. 

"All I know is, we don't know how we end up until we get there. Me on my path, you on yours, and maybe they intersect."

She sat there quietly for a moment, maybe contemplating what I'd said, then sheepishly pulled up the bottom of her towel, revealing her bare leg.

"Until then... there's no harm, right?"

I rolled my eyes. "You..."

We should all hate each other. I should resent John for lying. Mary should despise both of us. Yet somehow, I don't know, there's that thin line between love and hate. Somebody can't drive you this crazy without some serious feelings behind it. We're all in this weird vortex together.

Our trip to the Inn is still a few weeks away...

-Marc/Dustin

Elias/Meadow: Love is Blind

That was a show my mom and aunt really liked watching and I would sometimes catch it with them but I never understood how people could just slide into a relationship with someone without a long period of getting to know them. And now it's kind of happened to me.

There isn't really any other way to put it besides "I am in a relationship" although one that doesn't yet involve sex. Francis is always around, and I've kind of gotten used to him, and he sure treats me like I'm his girlfriend. The stressful part is actually that we work in the same place, but after a while I started taking opposite shifts from him so that we had a bit of space. That made the "relationship" easier to manage.

I don't know how the Inn magic works I think I've inherited some interesting body chemistry from Meadow, because I have good stamina, can be on my feet for a long time, and am more used to being up and active early, while Francis is a night owl who works the evening shift at the restaurant. So he understands why I rather work the day shift. I think also, leftover from that relationship, he understands that after a long day his former nurse girlfriend is not always in the mood for intimacy. I've just been stretching that as long as I can.

But I think he might be ready to start pushing harder soon because I've noticed him excusing himself to go um "take care of himself" and I feel a little guilty. I don't know what's going to happen with that.

Another interesting thing is memory. I don't know if it's me or it's Meadow's body/brain or what, but I feel like I have a really sharp memory right now. Which I guess she would need from being a nurse. So that helps me as a waitress. But even I make mistakes. One day not long after I started I got two tables mixed up during the lunch rush and the kitchen manager made some remark like "No wonder you quit being a nurse, you probably mixed up everyone's IV bags." Which stung.

So I came home that day feelin kind of defeated and crummy about being Meadow, and I found that Francis had taken the night off and ordered dinner from "my" favorite Indian food place. I've never had Indian food, but I'm up for anything. It turns out I really like it. The parts I liked the best were the dal, the chicken masala, and the paneer, which I guess is just cheese. Oh and garlic naan. We've had it every week since then.

After that, we sat around watching youtube together and I thought "this is kind of cool." Like I could get into this. So that was the first time I gave in and kissed him, which I'd been trying to work up to. It felt weird but not... bad........ I don't know how I feel about being touched more than that yet, but my mind is open I guess. It's all part of this process of trying to play Meadow's role. And me just wanting to, I don't know, live life and experience things.

Isaac/Ainsley: Karma?

Is it common for Inn people to start slacking a bit in their current body's life when they know they're about to return to the Inn? Like, the Old Orchard Beach version of senioritis? You end up in a strange body, freak out about it, come up with as many excuses as you can to avoid their commitments, eventually have no choice but to throw yourself in, you slowly and painfully adapt, and then when the light at the end of the tunnel appears you start to give yourself permission to let go a little?

Well, I've been trying to not do that. This isn't really because I feel like I owe it to Ainsley to be perfect; I think I've done an okay enough job keeping her life together under the circumstances (whatever that's worth) and her friends can handle a few no-shows if they're about to get the real her back. She's doing the same thing right now herself. No, I'm not cutting myself any slack because I've read enough of the blog's archives to know just how many opportunities there are for things to go wrong at this part of the process. I've got this basically superstitious instinct which tells me that if I act like I'm about to leave this life, I'll get hit by some kind of karmic whiplash which keeps me from returning to Isaac Strauss. And I know it doesn't work like that-- the Inn is anything but fair-- but the idea of letting myself relax just makes me feel deficient right now.

I don't even need the archives or my instincts to know that right now. The situation going on with Penny is absolutely horrible, and I considered not even posting this and holding off on any updates until after my Inn block is over. And yeah, this kind of thing has happened plenty of times in the past, but talking about the possibility of getting my own body back from a difficult-to-trust youth-seeking man with a chip on his shoulder just feels wrong.

But Marvin kept his word. I didn't give myself the luxury of fully believing him, but he's been communicative about his trip to the Inn, and even sent me an unsolicited video of himself mid-transformation while reciting a lengthy disclaimer about he's returning my body to me and how I shouldn't waste it. There was a lot more to it, but I think we've all had enough of me transcribing that guy. He's made his point very thoroughly by now.

So, entirely justified paranoia aside, I'm all set to arrive at the Inn next week. Everything looks good with Heather's plans as well. Speaking of Heather, I actually haven't seen much of her lately. She's usually gone whenever I get back to the apartment and doesn't come back until well after I've gone to bed, if not the next afternoon. As far as I can tell from when she does talk to me, it's the same kind of youthful hedonism she's been doing this whole time, just more of it. I don't really like to pry besides the occasional snide comment, and I'm not gonna stop her. The more things change...

I get jealous of her, sometimes. I kind of hate admitting it, but it's true. But then I remind myself that I've been clubbing as Ainsley, and went to a concert, and other stuff I never would've come close to a year ago. And, well. Look at how those went! I think I'm just not capable of being that type of person, and I say that as someone with experience in semi-successfully forcing myself to be a different type of person, so I at least kind of know what I'm talking about here.

Heather and I have done one interesting thing together since the last time I posted; not long after the Marvin incident we made an impromptu trip to the Grand Canyon since we were both feeling particularly bad about ourselves. It seemed like simply the thing one does if you find yourself in Arizona, despite being several hours away from Phoenix by car. Honestly, it kind of sucked? Neither of us wanted to spend Ainsley and Sara's PTO on anything not Maine-related, so we left very early Saturday morning and returned after midnight the next day. The view really is as beautiful as people say it is, but it was brutally hot the entire time and we spent most of the weekend in at least one of sleep deprivation or heat exhaustion. Neither of us felt up to doing any hiking, and between that and the horrible motel we slept at the trip felt more or less like a wash. I suppose that's the cost of doing something mostly so you can tell yourself you've done it. Of course, that's the same motivation that brought me to the Inn in the first place...

So I'm alive. Things have gone okay for me thus far after looking questionable for a while, especially when I last had anything to say. But the work isn't done. I hope it won't be much longer, and I'm not going to let myself upgrade past hope until it's no longer needed.

Caleb/Rylee: Catching up with the originals

“You’re sure you haven’t got any kind of performance experience? Didn’t even, like, go do drunk karaoke with friends?”

“Nope, nothing. Sorry.”

“Ugggggh.”

I watch as the blonde-haired woman in front of me on the Zoom call leans back and groans in frustration. The similarly looking woman next to her, wearing a UCLA sweatshirt that I doubt was comfortable in the LA summer heat, rubs her shoulder sympathetically.

“Come on Rylee, you knew whoever got your body wasn’t likely to be an actor. At least we’re lucky this young, uhm - ” 

There’s a slight pause as Clint is just as uncertain as I am about what gendered term to use for me when in private.

“ - man at least wants to try and help. From what I’ve read on the blog things could have gone a lot worse.”

“I know, dad, was just hoping maybe I got lucky and some celebrity got roped into all this Inn nonsense. I mean, it’s happened before, right?”

“Sorry to be a disappointment,” I reply.

“Oh, no, I didn’t mean it like that! Dad’s right, at least I got someone right out of college, even if there are, uhm, complications.”

Her assurance I was not a disappointing replacement for her was not very convincing.

“Sure, you probably won’t get any on stage roles in the semester productions, but you should be able to keep my grades up. It’ll be totally fine, right?”

She looks between myself and Clint. It was then that Kaitlyn leans in from beside me to get her say in.

“Don’t worry Rylee, I can promise you that you and your dad’s lives are in good hands. While we maybe aren’t the first choice of replacements, we’re both well-meaning and intelligent people and I’m sure we can keep things stable enough for you two to come back to your lives intact.”

“Thanks Kaitlyn, I appreciate it,” Clint says. “I’m sorry you’re getting roped into Shannon and I’s issues, but hey, maybe you can use some of that psychology stuff to get her off my back,” he says with a weak laugh.

“I can assure I’ll try and keep things as amiable as possible for all our sakes,” Kaitlyn says flatly.

“Best I can ask for under the circumstances. Anyway, we got to head out. Rylee and I got work to get to.”

Clint was not exactly enthused about this, the two of them having picked up waitress jobs till the semester started and they could get something on campus. I was sympathetic to his discomfort in having to “flaunt” what the Inn gave him to get more tips just to scrape by in LA.

 We’ll keep in touch, and if you got any questions just email us.”

I close the laptop and sigh.

After the chaos of these first few days as Rylee and Clint, and getting some of our own affairs in order, the two of us had thought it a good idea to try and get in touch with them, give them some peace of mind about who was now living their lives. In the process, we also got the rundown on what had happened to the two of them.

Rylee had become Hailey Holder while Clint had become her sister Natalie. The two of them had been college students at UCLA who had went to Maine to escape the summer heat of southern California for a little while. Rylee had gotten lucky, with Hailey being a junior and therefore close in age to the real her. Her only real complaint was that Hailey was a business major, though at least there were courses about the entertainment business she determined could be helpful for her own future career. It was clear that Clint was still adapting to being a hot young co-ed, though, if the baggy clothes and constant squirming and uncertainty about where to place his arms so as to not push up his breasts were any signs.

Not that I can exactly blame him, though, as about the only reason I wasn’t doing the same is that Rylee had packed for summer beach weather. Tank-tops, shorts, and sundresses were pretty much my only options, and figuring out how to wear them without the bra straps showing was a battle I had yet to win. The one bright spot for him at least is that a materials engineer major is a smidge closer to his previous work as a carpenter than being a theater major is to mine as a data analyst. Just needs to be a careful talking about how much of an expert in “wood” he is around guys…

“So, now that that’s over with, why don’t we get out of the room for a bit?” Kaitlyn says as she stands up. “Shannon’s going to want some pictures of us enjoying our vacation, so I figured we could get lunch, hangout on the beach, go see that show ‘Rylee’ just had to see so badly.”

“I’m not sure I’m up for the beach. Only swimsuits she brought were bikinis,” I say, glancing warily over at that lavender colored suitcase. Considering my usual outfit consisted of khakis and polo shirts, even the tank-top and shorts I was currently wearing were showing more skin than I ever had before.

“You do know girls can go down to the beach in normal clothes, right?”

“Fair enough,” I say, standing up. “Let’s get this father-daughter date over with."

- Caleb/Rylee

Kaitlyn/Clint: In my 20s, divorced with a kid…

“Alright Shannon, I’m glad we were able to work things out. I’ll let you know the moment we hit the road.”

I hang up Clint’s – well, I guess my – phone and let out a groan, rubbing a calloused hand through the buzz cut that was my hair now.

“Were you able to work things out with ‘mom’?” Caleb says from his – I’m holding off on using “her” till he says it’s fine – spot over on the bed.

In his tank-top and thigh cut shorts, he looked just like any other teenage girl, especially with his face stuck in his phone.

“Yeah, she seemed to buy the story our phones got left at some restaurant in town and we didn’t get them back till now. Thank god Clint had used the ‘Inn’s complimentary computer’ to e-mail about how there was that community theater play that you just had to see. Bought us a some time to get adjusted."

When I decided to get into psychology with the intent to help people, I figured that would probably involve some couple’s therapy. What I didn’t expect was that my first couple was going to be myself separating from my wife with a kid involved.

Before we dig into that, however, let me back up a bit.

My name is Kaitlyn Woods, and as you likely read from Caleb's posts I'm a recent psychology graduate. I figured that enjoying some sunshine on the beach in a sleepy little town would be a good way to get some rest and relaxation before heading off to graduate school to get my masters. After all, being in a calm and collected mind is an important part of starting a new adventure, and now I’m just repeating that to myself as I handle the flurry of post-curse life management. No offense to the real Clint Thomson, of course, but he did not exactly leave the easiest of situations, and I think he’s rather lucky that someone with at least a little bit of training in handling contentious interpersonal relations got his body.

To sum it up, Clint and his wife Shannon are currently separated with a very high likelihood of divorce. Their daughter Rylee – now currently “played” by Caleb, to use her love of theater as a metaphor – lives with Shannon, but the two had agreed to let Clint take on vacation for some father-daughter time before the big move to college. They were, of course, supposed to come back by now, but, well, the Inn had different plans. It was a stroke of luck their transformation into the Holder sisters had 1) left them as adults and 2) happened with enough time to come up with a story about missing phones and a community theater production of She Kills Monsters that Rylee just had to see. Having to do all that over email really strained Shannon’s patience, but it worked to buy us the rest of our two week stay. Hopefully that will give us enough time to get accommodated to our new bodies and get a crash course in being the Thomsons.

That's probably easier said than done, though.

Cliff’s job as the owner of a woodworking shop is not one where my education quite transfers over. Clint he assured me that no one would think it too unusual if he "stepped back" from the floor to focus more on management, but it’s still going to be rough to fake any technical expertise. My experience with woodworking stops and ends with popsicle art projects in middle school (which, to be fair, I did get As on).

Related, I had the rather disappointing task of getting in contact with my graduate program to request a one year’s deferment due to “health complications”. Even if we wouldn’t be doing clinicals until the second year, any courses missed would impact my ability to treat any future patients, so I couldn't in good conscience let someone else do the work for me. In my letter I suggested to whoever becomes me that the safest alternative for now would be to move back home and get a job working as an administrative assistant for my mother's practice. It would be a little embarrassing, but better than taking out student loans for coursework you wouldn't be qualified to complete.

“How’s your letter writing going, by the way?” I ask Caleb

“It’s on my list of things to do. First I’m working on transferring over some of my social media,” he says without even looking up from his phone. Clearly he’s already mastered the first skill of a teenage girl.

“Wouldn’t it be easier to just make a clean break?”

“I kept an anonymous and public facing version of just about everything. Whoever becomes me is free to use my public Facebook and stuff, but lot of my other accounts are just sparse enough on personal details I can keep them up without any real change."

“Alright, if you think that’s the best way to handle things,” I say, not unsympathetic to the desire of wanting to holding onto things. I mean, I moved a few things myself, but we are ultimately going to have to live as these people, not ourselves. Trying to cling too hard to our lives just feels like it’d be too much of a source of anxiety and resentment.

“Just don’t forget to get that letter written. I know it probably feels scary to have to hand your life over to someone else, but just, you know, think about this as getting some valuable experience in being in someone else’s shoes, literally,” I say, admittedly just as much to for myself as for Caleb.

“Alright, dad,” he says, finally looking up from his phone to give me an annoyed glance.

“Sorry, just, you know, trying to help. If you’re wanting to talk about it…”

“I’ll be fine. I mean, I’m basically just redoing freshman year. Different major, different parts, but at the end of the day school is school. Keep up grades, stay out of trouble, and it’ll all work out. And if I want to hang on to a Discord account or two what does it matter?"

Recognizing I probably overstepped, I back off.

Even in only knowing him a few days, I couldn’t help but notice Caleb tends to redirect his attention to some kind of “task” to avoid working through his anxieties. During our little 4^th of July date, for example, any time I got physically closer he’d immediately steer towards some kind of shop or offering me a drink or snack (which in retrospect makes a lot more sense knowing that he’s asexual).  It’s a coping strategy that does have me a little worried about what’s going to happen once all this initial rush of letter writing and figuring plans is over and we’re left with nothing else to do but to just…exist as these people.

- Kaitlyn/Clint