Marc/Mary: A Walk on the Beach

Following the transformation, there was the usual fuss and chaos of helping others with their own transition, imparting whatever information and guidance we could, making connections -- you never know who it is going to help to know or what you can do for someone else.

We hadn't really left the Inn much in days except for practical purposes, when on one of our last evenings there, John asked if I would like to take a walk with him on the beach.

I was a little taken aback. I don't know why, other than I was in practical-problem-solving mode, talking to one of the new transformees about some difficulty he/she was having. I think John read my flustered response as rejection and seemed a little sullen, retreating to our room.

I hurriedly ended the conversation and followed after. He explained it felt like I was avoiding him, throwing myself into the role of "Inn spirit guide" and not really focusing on what was going on with us. I supposed that was true, but I felt like as the person who has been to the Inn the most times (and there were some returning people in the group as well) I felt a little bit called to a leadership position, I supposed, and I felt like he and I... we had stability, and lots of time to figure it out, compared to the ticking clock when all of these transformed people would go on their ways.

He stood and put his hands on my upper arms -- whether he's doing this consciously or not, it feels like it underscores the "He man, me woman" dynamic between us, when I have to look up to him and feel his comparatively hands on my comparatively small person -- and sighed, saying he supposed he was just a little eager to figure out where we stood. "You know, you say we're not married, but you did willingly become my wife..."

I agreed it's complicated, and then upon giving it more thought, a walk and some "us time" sounded nice. The only problem, I pointed out, was that my hair was a rat's nest and I'd been wearing grimy sweats for the past three days, as I hadn't quite let my sartorial style catch up to my physical transformation.

"I saw a lovely dress in your luggage," he said with a suggestive eyebrow.

Deep breath, in and out. I haven't lived as a woman for several years, but it's nothing new, and it's exactly what I knew was coming.

I found the dress, a colorful zigzag pattern ankle length summer dress. Spaghetti straps, low neckline, presenting my very moderate cleavage (this -- being relatively slim and modest-chested -- is different from my earlier, curvier experience of womanhood.) I was about to disrobe, when I instructed John to go wait in the hall.

"Excuse me? Do you think I haven't--"

"Not on my, you haven't. Just... humor me, okay?"

He took a beat, then snapped his fingers, "You got it," and complied.

I slipped my sweats off, took the opportunity to slip on a fresh set of underwear (Mary -- now Iris -- and I had bought some fresh ones that could just be mine, in advance of our trip) and stepped into the dress.

I went to the mirror to check myself out and... well. It's funny how, when you've been at this a while, your brain doesn't  quite reject the idea of a new person in your reflection, because I liked the way I looked. In fact, I took the time to dab on a little bit of make-up (I'm pretty out-of-practice but can still do something with a brush) and put in a pair of earrings. God, I thought as I struggled with the backings, I must really be diving in with both feet. But hey, I've been a guy for a few years, and I made the choice to become a woman. Why shouldn't I let myself get pretty?

I came out to meet him at the front of the Inn, and he gave a low, approving whistle, which tickled me a bit. I was handsome as Dustin, and as Koti John never let me forget it, but this feels a little more intentional, if that makes sense. He placed his hands on my hips and embraced me, attempting to get a kiss -- I turned my cheek for him to kiss me there. I just wasn't ready to go full-couple.

With a purse dangling from my arm, we went toward the beach and walked just near the surf.

"Are you excited?" he asked, "to get to this next phase?'

"Excited isn't quite the word," I said bashfully, "It wasn't exactly Christmas morning, waking up like this. It's more like starting a new job. There's nerves, fears, hope, and yes, a little bit of excitement. Things feel fresh, and... possible."

"I like that," he said in his warm, manly voice. 

We held hands.

"You're not wearing the ring," he noted, flatly. I'm sure he meant it to come off neutrally, but I could tell there was disappointment in his tone.

"It's... not really mine to wear," I said. "It would be part of a costume, and I respect Mary too much to take it from her."

He let out a deep, half-frustrated exhale. "You're really going to keep me in limbo, huh? I'll get you your own ring, if that's what you want."

"Life is complicated," I reasoned. "And so are we. I'm not looking for a ring just yet. I want proof that this is what we really want with the rest of our lives."

"Fine," he said gamely, "I like a challenge."

One of us suggested we find some place for dinner, and there was a little seafood place we managed to get a table. I will say, eating a good meal with someone else's tongue is a highly underrated part of this experience. Something about Mary's palate is a lot more sophisticated than Dustin's. It's interesting to inherit those sensory pathways, whether it's something natural or that comes with age.

After dinner, we went walking again, until my legs got tired and we got a ride home. The driver was playing music: Fleetwood Mac. I quietly sang along, "Thunder always happens when it's raining..."

"I didn't know you liked this song," John noted.

"Sure, who doesn't like this song?"

"I introduced Mary to Fleetwood Mac when we met. She was young, the only thing she liked was pop."

"Hm..." I simply said. Was this going to be the future, him looking at my new face and being reminded of his... ex?

We got back to the Inn. Some of the others had initiated a card game -- nice to see people coping -- and John was keen to join, since I had indicated that this night wasn't going to end with anything overly physical. I walked toward our room. On my way past, I heard a noise coming from Mary's room.

Sobbing.

I knocked and called in. She didn't answer so I entered. She was sitting on the bed, crumpled tissues around.

"Honey, are you okay?" I asked, feeling a pang in my heart for her.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," she sniffled. I immediately felt self-conscious. Was I the last person she wanted to see right now? Was it my fault?

"If you want to talk, if you're having regrets..." I said, struck with guilt.

"No, no, nothing like that," she said, collecting herself. "Sometimes it just hits you, you know? I literally just gave up my life and everything I knew. And it's just crazy that I was willing to do that. I wonder if I didn't appreciate what I had... not with John, but with everything else in life. Or was my life just not fitting me anymore?"

She went on, "It's got me all messed up, but it has nothing to do with you, or John. I did what I did for you, happily. I want you to have this. Even if you end up killing each other, at least you'll know."

She laughed a bit, slightly bitterly, "Watching you guys try to dance around each other for a few more years just sounded like too much of a nightmare."

That made me laugh, and relieved me. We talked a little longer -- not about heavy issues, just about the past few days, and what I had to look forward to as her, and other stuff. Fleetwood Mac.

And that was that, I guess.

More to come...

-Marc "Should I just start signing these as Mary?" Green

Marc: "How does it feel?"

"About what I expected," I tell John, stretching out my limbs. "I've been a woman before."

I go over to the mirror and examine the way Dustin's huge tee-shirt covers my body like a dress. I feel familiar -- and unfamiliar -- aches in my joints from aging decades overnight.

My cheekbones. My eyes. My nose. My lips. Anything I'm not sure about, well, I guess I'll have to get used to it. I fuss with my bangs and try to determine what side they want to be on.

"Was this a mistake?" I wonder.

I turn and lean against the wall, folding my arms under my breasts, which feel both big and small, after having a man's muscles there. Small arms against a small abdomen.

"The furthest thing," he says, standing and crossing the room. He's in his boxers, and I can see his somewhat unflattering physique, love handles, salt and pepper body hair. Half-naked, he looks so vulnerable, but in a weird way that makes him seem more powerful. It's not a turn-on the way it was when he was Koti and I'd see her little body, but I'm not not looking. I've seen it, after all. I've been with it.

He puts his hands on my arms and I flinch a bit before looking back up at him. He's only a little bit taller than me, which is reassuring. He wraps me up in a hug from behind.

The door opens and someone pokes their head in. "It's Mary," says a strange voice. When she enters fully, I can't even meet her eyeline, keeping her in my peripheral vision. I observe her dark skin and elegant features. She's extremely beautiful, a fact that his me strangely in the gut, rather than any other part. "Don't let me interrupt," she says wryly.

Feeling exposed, I move to sit on the bed. I was a woman for about two years, but after being three different men, the sensation of not having a male piece between my legs is unfamiliar all over again. I feel fidgety, like I don't know what to do with myself. It's a lot of hair on my head, albeit not as thick or as voluminous as Chantelle's. It fine-textured and falls above my shoulders; I could live with that. 

John's eyes are on me. No matter what he says, I think he's a little unsure about this.

Two weeks ago.

I returned to the house to pack up. Everyone was going their separate ways. We found somewhere for Dakota, Dustin and Cassie to live. PJ will be living there too -- that confusion will be for the "originals" to work out.

When the three of us had a private moment, we put it all out there. At some point over the summer, I had revealed to Mary when my affair with John started. Because their relationship has, in their words, crumbling for years, she took it reasonably well. She was hurt, but altogether very understanding. "I blame one person for John's behavior, and that's John."

John -- as Koti -- just kind of sat there as we went over the facts. How Mary and I deduced that he had manipulated the situation to not only get back to the Inn when I was going, but also make it seem like a coincidence.

I wouldn't say I love John. The chemistry we have is sometimes hot, sometimes frustrating. I'm angry with him but I also understand him. And in a weird way the idea of cutting him loose and making him someone else's problem makes me uncomfortable. I wasn't going to commit to him, but neither would I definitely say I was walking away from any version of "us." I felt like we had unfinished business, and that I would probably stay in his life in some form, if only to make sure he gets his own body back and stays there. But what about the unknowns? He and I hemmed and hawed over it. "What if I'm married, what if I'm too young, what if I'm a straight man or a gay female, or someone from overseas or..." I ran over all of these scenarios that I felt could keep us apart, and he said he didn't think it was all that important and that if I wanted, I would find some way back to him.

Then Mary cleared her throat and said, "I can't believe you two haven't come up with the obvious solution."

"Which is what?" he asked.

"Marc should be me."

Excuse us?

"Marc's prepared to be a woman. I'm not that much older than him. If I go back to being myself, John, we're just going to have a shitty, drawn-out divorce nobody wants. Marc, you should just be me, and figure out for yourself how to define that relationship. That's your best shot."

"Mary--" I started to say.

"What am I going back to, really? How does it make any more sense for Marc to roll the dice than me? Let me go, get me out of this, and you two can figure it out."

We just kind of looked at each other, John and I. A wide grin crossed Koti's face, something mischievous and sinister that filled me with dread.

"I could go for that," John said. "Marc, would you?"

I sighed. Rolling the dice is one thing. Pronouncing I will be this specific person, this woman, for you, is different.

But... what else was there to do? I'm about 40 years old, in spirit, it's time to do something on purpose for once.

...

I was not asleep when it happened. I was jolted out of whatever dream I was having and I noticed my pecs had already softened. My hair grown shaggier.

I stood up and paced the room. This was real. My hips became too slender to hold up my boxers, and then my manhood receded into me and they dropped and I knew I was a woman again. A specific woman. I had a new life.

John stirred. Daylight was breaking.

"Marc?" he murmured, his voice rough.

"I guess not anymore," I said in my new soft voice.

"How does it feel?"

-Marc/Mary

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

Marc/Dustin: Heading Out On My Own

With our return reservation to the Inn still months away, I was thinking there has got to be some way to fill the summer besides punching the clock at the front desk of the gym.

Dustin's ambition in life is to be a phys. ed teacher. We agreed at the outset that there was not much point in me doing much to pursue that on his behalf -- sure, it might feel like a viable shortcut for his resume but it doesn't help his development. So I've been fairly idle this year. But we managed to put our heads together to try to figure out something I could do that would suit "him" without taking experience he should be having for myself.

We wound up finding a youth soccer program I could coach. There's a two-week training course, which of course I will be needing because I've never coached anything in my life, before the kids arrive. It's a weekend-and-after school thing until school lets out, and it runs until July, meaning I'll be free of commitments by the time we go back to Maine.

It's not the world's greatest career opportunity, and without the financial backing that my not-so-bottomless war chest provides, it probably wouldn't make sense to do, but it's fine.

Thing is, it's kind of a ways away -- over state lines -- meaning that to work there, I'll have to move out of the house.

And that's fine! Aside from Mary, who has assured me she will be okay, there isn't anything there for me. I'll miss hanging out with Ifena and Charly watching cheesy reality shows and procedurals, but it's best if I find a reason simply not to be there anymore.

It just feels a little weird to have been bunkered down for so long, and then to leave just as we're getting close to the end. I'm moving on Thursday, so I have a few days to get settled in before training starts.

Koti, meanwhile, has been incommunicado. Which is worrying to me, because I can never speculate where her head might be at, if she's going to do something a little out-of-pocket as the kids say. I've let her know what's up with me, signaling that it's safe for her to return to the house, which I would love because it would mean that one of us, Mary, could keep tabs on her until it's time to go back. I'm hoping that this shakes something loose in that situation.

That's all for now

-Marc/Dustin

Marc/Dustin: Internal Affairs

I guess you can say life has been on a low simmer for the last couple of months, which is why you haven't heard from me. I've been working: I picked up a job working the desk at the gym, which is great because gym membership is pretty much my main expenditure (along with rent for 2 people and the enormous grocery bill this body generates.) That's kept me busy and away from posting, and also away from moping about my life.

Koti took my declining of her proposal to be a complete rejection and breakup, which was not really what I was going for, but at least acknowledges that we had an expiry date. I would love to make peace before we leave these lives, but there's a lot of time for that. We haven't booked into the Inn until August, because of the number of people in our "chain" who want their bodies back.

After that, Koti left the house. Left town, in fact, and went back to Dakota's family. I personally thought that was absurd and immature, but I figured it was best to give her the space she needs. By now, I've earned the kind of goodwill from the house that I don't need Koti to be living here to justify my presence. It kind of came out that I was paying both of our rents and that turned sentiment... not against her per se, but certainly toward my favor.

In a possibly unintended side-effect of Koti's absence, Mary and I have been hanging out a lot. I don't know how Koti/John would feel about me and their (ex-?)wife bonding, but that's out of their control. We spend a lot of evenings together, given that when she gets off her shift, PJ is usually working. We hang out in my room or her room, always with the door open so that nobody thinks anything shady is going on. I will admit to providing the occasional back or foot rub.

Even though we've made connections with the others in the house, being the two who share a secret means that we're going to lean on each other a fair bit, because sometimes you just need to let the mask down and talk to someone who knows you're not who you look like. 

Mary, for instance, has very mixed feelings about what she describes as her "fake" relationship with PJ. "Don't get me wrong, they're a lovely person," she sighs, "And without realizing it, they've taught me so much about the world and young people today. But if I were choosing a partner for myself, it wouldn't be them. But it's what they and Cassie want, and I didn't see any reason not to. I needed something to take my mind off of what was happening between you and John."

"I understand that," I said with a sigh, feeling guilty. "I feel a bit like what Koti and I had... what John and I had... was a bit of a runaway freight train. Once the momentum started we just had to let it go until it crashed. I got so caught up in it, I worry I didn't think about your feelings..."

"John and I have felt like a lost cause for years," Mary said. "But he hates to lose, hates to give anything up. He wouldn't divorce me. He just stubbornly insisted we could make it work. He and PJ are a lot alike in their forceful nature, which is probably what turns me off about them, actually. It bothers me to think I have a type like that. Sometimes I wish it had been you and me, Marc."

"Hm?"

"I mean, fate, and the Inn, put my husband in the body of Dustin's girlfriend and you into Dustin. And that's the only reason anything sparked between you two, because you had to pretend. Suppose I had become Dakota. Would we have had the same spark? You're such a kind person."

"I'm... I'm not, really," I said modestly.

"Don't sell yourself short," Mary chuckled. "Even now I'm lying here on your bed, and you won't make a move because, well... because it's not for Dustin and Cassie to do. You won't even consider it because of who you are and who you think I am, maybe because in spite of everything you've done with my former husband, you still think of me as John's wife. You dating Koti... that was a kindness, and it had the fringe benefit of her being a cute little thing. And maybe you can forget she's a man inside, and an irascible one at that. Or maybe it doesn't matter, I don't know."

I said nothing.

"I kind of want you two to be  together, but... I also want my own Marc, you know? When he disappeared, and it was clear he wouldn't be back soon, I... I got on the apps, I'll admit. I flirted, I went out. I wanted to see what life might be like as a divorcee. But when John came back, I thought, this is safe, this is right, this is what I know... even thought it's hard to put up with at times. My whole adult life has been wrapped up in him and it was hard to let go of that."

"And now?"

"I think that, one way or the other, when we get back to ourselves... if we get back to ourselves... we'll have to talk to some lawyers. I'm done, and I need him to admit he's been done for a long time. Maybe having you will soften the blow... if he still has you."

"I... I don't know about that."

"Well, I want you to be happy," Mary said. "And I want him to be happy. And if you can be happy together, that's great. And if you would be happier without him, but he's miserable... I think I could live with that." She smirked. "This isn't anything he doesn't know, but I think he thinks I'm not serious when I say it."

I said nothing, I just stared up at the ceiling.

Then after a while, she giggled. "I don't suppose I could convince you to become a 62-year-old man? Just long enough to sign some papers."

"I think it's probably best if I go my own way after this," I said tentatively, "If I had a choice. Let you two work things out amongst yourselves."

"Smart," she nodded. "Get out of this black hole we've sucked you into."

"Cheers to that," I sighed.

"And take me with you," she added, then sat up. "PJ'll be up soon. I think they'll want a little attention."

"You shouldn't have to force yourself," I said sympathetically.

"I've done worse for worse, and less in return," she sighed, then smiled wryly. "Plus, that non-binary sucker can screw."

"Okay--!" I guffawed as she departed and left me on my own.

-Marc/Dustin

Marc/Dustin: Flowers

In a sense, my little falling-out with Koti was pretty ill-timed since it fell just before Valentine's Day. I had made reservations for dinner and even planned for a bouquet of roses because she's always drops hints that there are times when she'd really like to be treated as a girly girl, and the 14th seemed like the exact case for that.

While I was fretting over this, we were communicating via text. I did my best to be conciliatory. "Even if I don't see this relationship going the way you do, I'm still invested. My feelings haven't changed. We click, and you're the person that makes being in this place good."

Her initial response: "What is this American clicking?" (We watched Heated Rivalry, repeatedly, often while having a little heated rivalry of our own.)

She continued, "I juts don't know if there's a point if we have different objectives. Continuing this relationship when we see it differently feels... delusional."

"Well, let's talk about it," I said. Talking this out is one of the things we do best, and at the very least it often becomes foreplay for us.

February 13th, she arrived at my door dressed in a suit with her hair -- which is just above shoulder-length -- pulled back into a right ponytail (pigtail? Can you have one pigtail?) with a dozen roses in hand.

I eyed her up and down. "You're early."

"I couldn't wait," she said. "Let's get dinner."

We went to a cantina. She loves getting Mexican food because it's not something she was able to enjoy as John, with all the attending heartburn. 

Over carnitas tacos, she apologized -- or gave the Koti version of an apology without ever actually saying "sorry," -- for "blindsiding" me with her proposal. "I can see how that must have seemed abrupt."

She went on, "I realized at that time that I've lived a long life and that if I go back to being John, then I really won't be getting any younger, and I just wanted to take the happiness that I experience with you back with me to that life."

"Okay," I allowed, "But in that life you have a wife."

"I think Mary and I are prepared for an amicable split. There will be... negotiations, of course, we don't have a prenup, but we also don't have children together, so that simplifies things. I think it will be easier than ending my first marriage. You've always told me I should end things with Mary."

"I've told you to be honest with her," I interjected, "And to do what would be best for both of you."

"Synonyms," she said. "If I become John again, I just want some assurances that it's for somebody and something, not jumping into the great unknown."

"And me? I could be anybody, anywhere," I said, "There's no guarantee that we'll be compatible."

"I don't consider that a problem," Koti said, "I think at this point, Mary would be the only person on Earth I don't want to make love to. Well, her and PJ."

"That doesn't preclude the possibility that I'll be in a body where I can't, or wouldn't deem it appropriate, to couple with you."

"We can make it work," she said tactfully. "It won't always have to be physical."

"You're disregarding the needs of other people," I said, "What if I become a married man, what are my responsibilities? What if I become a little kid or I have to move to Texas?"

"You think I'm not cognizant of all that?" she balked. "We could go years without seeing each other but still remain faithful in spirit."

"You're asking for assurances and guarantees and commitments I can't make," I said, "I'm trying to be reasonable here."

"I'm asking for effort," she retorted. "I'm asking you to defy that thing in your mind or your heart that says you have to be safe and careful and behave yourself, and instead do what you want. For me."

"I can't," I said, "I just can't. All we can do is play it by ear, take it as it comes."

She sat back and gazed down at the floor behind me. "I guess I just think that what we have is special. So help me, Marc, I'm in love with you. And whatever face you had, all you would have to do is say two sentences and I'd fall back in love with you. In my wildest dreams, we go the distance. You find a life and a body that suits you and you become mine and we wouldn't have to wonder what the future held because we were living in it. You can't tell me that doesn't sound good."

I sighed. "It does." I went on, "And if it happens, it happens, but like you said, you won't be getting younger and the idea of waiting for me to be in a life where that's possible... we're at an impasse here, as to whether we think that's possible. I can't marry you because I can't make a promise. I have to take my life day by day, year by year."

Her mouth tightened and her expression became focused. "Let's not talk about it anymore," she said. "Let's just enjoy our meal."

We did and though there was a shadow over the rest of the evening, eventually we did find a way to communicate about something else and lighten up.

By the time we got back home, we were back in our usual revved-up mode. In retrospect, I think it was Koti's idea to show me what I might be missing out on if I passed up her offer, because that night we had, I would say, the most sex, by quantity, of any single night of our relationship in any form. As soon as we finished, she was ready to initiate it again, in some other position. She used her body to the fullest that night, and I Dustin's.

And then when it was all over, around 3 AM, she sat up and began dressing. When I asked what she was doing, she sighed. "I think that we've just done it for the last time. As fun as this is, if you don't see a future here, I'm not sure I can continue. It hurts too much to think we're only killing time until an inevitable parting. So let's just part."

With that, she went down to the basement. When her flowers arrived the next day, I took the card off and told PJ to give them to "Cassie." I let the single girls in the house have the dinner reservation. And I've been sleeping alone, again.

For what it's worth, I don't think this is the end of me and Koti, or rather Marc and John. I just think we have very different ideas about what a marriage is and what a promise is and what this Inn-life is. I hate to be so wishy-washy, but I'm definitely feeling like, "If it's meant to be it'll be," and if this is where she wants to blow the whole thing up, then we're into "not meant to be" territory. I'm not saying I won't fight for it if I think it's right, but right now it's simply too many unknowns to make any kind of forecast about the future.

-Marc/Dustin

Marc/Dustin: Questions Without Answers

In my last post -- in my rush to relate the situation between myself, Koti, Mary and PJ -- I made a few offhand references that I later saw raised eyebrows in the comments.

One was the nature of Koti's Christmas present to me, which will have to remain a secret.

The other was that Mary revealed that Koti had told her that I had pressured her into the relationship. Like I had somehow taken this otherwise unwilling straight-man-turned-girl and squeezed her into something sexual that they maybe weren't ready for. I'm not saying that my account of events isn't biased, but I think we all know the truth of that, considering John and I slept together when we were both men.

Mary was good enough to say that she hadn't given it any credit, which I think tells you something about the way John is perceived even by those who know him: that anything he says is going to be a bit self-serving, a bit manipulative, and should be taken with a grain of salt.

Which is to say, no, I wasn't angry. That was John being John, or Koti being Koti. But I think the bigger question is why wasn't I mad, why wasn't I hurt? Why do I expect the worst from this person I am currently in a relationship with? I keep her at arm's length knowing that, as much of a connection as we have, I take our relationship to be transient, something that will eventually end, something not to be taken seriously. Whatever she needs to do to feel comfortable, I don't think I care and I don't think if affects me.

Koti is good company and a willing sexual partner, and I'm not sure where it all goes beyond that. Ordinarily that would be well within the parameters for me to consider her a potential long term partner, but as you know this isn't an ordinary situation. And there's still the stumbling block of, in a way, she's still married. Separated, but not completely, from Mary. As long as we're all tangled together like this I don't know what kind of future we should have, so I'm "in the moment" with it and happy about it.

That's how I've chosen to survive this situation, right or wrong. And lord knows my compass hasn't always pointed true north in that respect -- ethically or from a "what's good for me" standpoint but... it's all I've got to go by.

With that in mind, we were happy in our bubble through January. Being young and hot and horned up is not the worst way to live your life. Being snowed in doesn't really make a difference when you barely want to leave your bed.

That changed on the 30th when we got word that one of Dakota's uncles had passed away.

The real Dakota, obviously, is not in a position to attend the funeral, but she asked that we go and try to comfort her mother who had just lost a brother. This involved helping a bit with logistics and providing food and just generally "being there." Koti and I both observed that it was weird to be so involved in the funeral plans for a man we'd never met, but it's all part of the role we play. We spent some time in Dakota's hometown where Koti did not want to let being under the same roof as her "parents" get in the way of our usual nightly routine (Sorry Mr. & Mrs. Culbert! Hope we weren't loud.)

The funeral was on the Wednesday morning. I wrote Dustin's only suit, Koti wore a black skirt with stockings and a cream-colored blouse with pearl earrings, looking very mature.

We went to the viewing, kept to ourselves, attended the service and about halfway through... Koti started to cry.

Obviously my instinct was to be there for her, provide tissues, but it was very strange. Koti is not an emotional person by nature (at least not outwardly) but here she was weeping at the death of a man she never knew.

I asked later how she was feeling and if she had anything she wanted to talk about, and she just snapped that it was right to cry at a funeral and to leave it alone. Fair enough.

The next day as we were packing to leave, she was feeling more open. She explained that it got her to thinking about death, of course, and how John's body is so close to the end, and she was wondering who we were going to die as. I reminded her that I was under the impression that she intended to go back to being John, and she kind of dismissed that as something that was nor guaranteed -- although she didn't explain whether that was because of her own doing or because the Inn does get its lines crossed sometimes.

"It's a little hypocritical," she said, "That you push me to get my body back, when you never went back for your own. What's stopping you from being Marc again? That was a choice you made, why don't I get to make the same?"

"I guess you've got me there," I said. "I left my body to someone who seems to enjoy it, and I guess... we're all just happier with the deal."

"You're happy like this?" she raised an eyebrow, skeptically. "Not knowing who you'll be next year?"

I sighed. "Living as Marc was not healthy for me, and I feel like I can do more good like this."

"How nice for you," she said pointedly. "And living as John is supposed to be healthy for me?"

"Two and oh," I acquiesced. "I can't force you to go back to being yourself, but you're the one who has to live with the ramifications of that. Why do I get the feeling there's something you want to say?"

She got a faraway look in her eyes and smiled as if a happy thought had just occurred to her. "Just wondering about where it all goes. How we end up. What happily ever after looks like for people in our situation." 

"Uh huh," I nodded.

She reached down for my hand. Her little one in my big one. She felt my knuckles.

"Look at me," she said, gazing up at me. I looked down into her crystal blue-green eyes. Her lips curled up into a smile.

Then she said: "I want to marry you."

My heart, my stomach, my whole insides sank.

"Koti..." I could only say with a sight and a groan and a grunt all at once. "What are you talking about?"

"I know it sounds nutty, but hear me out. Whoever we become whatever we are supposed to be laer, we always keep each other first in our hearts and mind. That we find a way to commit to this, to each other, through whatever life makes us into. For lack of a better cognate... a marriage."

She went on with barely a breath, "I want purpose. I want pleasure. I want a destination. I want a home. We could be that for each other. In every life, every day, every year forward. Not as Dustin and Koti, but as Marc and John and whoever we become."

"You're not thinking clearly," I said.

"I'm seeing this more clearly than anything I've ever thought!" she continued, "I think it's meant to be! You found I, we found each other again, and we could be the only good thing in one another's life!"

"No... no...!" I protested, "It's not right! It's not fair to anyone. Even if you leave aside your life, your body, your old self, we don't know who we'll be in the future, we can't make any commitments."

"Yes, we can!" she insisted, holding my hand tighter by the fingers, "That's what commitment is, sticking to something even and especially when it's tough! You are worth committing to! Fate could toss us to opposite sides of the planet and I would get by knowing that I had you to find my way back to!"

"There's no way," I continued, "There's no way to do it, there are too many unknowns."

"That's what makes it right! To be each other's one certainty in an uncertain future! We can transcend the so-called curse... we already have!"

"Absolutely not," I said, pulling my hand back, "That's not what this is. This is what works for now and someday it won't and we both know that. Whether it's this summer or next, we have an end date."

"So did Mary and I," Koti said, seemingly having ended that marriage sometime between conversations -- possibly without Mary's knowledge. "That doesn't mean that was never real, and it doesn't mean that we aren't real. I love you, Marc."

"No, you don't," I said, with a huge lump in my throat. "You think that because it's easy and fun right now, but you and I both know -- or at least we should -- that this is not a permanent situation."

"Is it because you're afraid of commitment or because you don't love me?" she whimpered. I had hurt her. I'm not sure I've ever hurt John/Koti in that way in our lives.

"It's because we can't, and it would be insane to try," I repeated.

"It's insane to drift through life with nothing to hold onto, Marc. I give you purpose. Don't lose that. Don't forsake it. Don't throw it away."

Long silence.

"I'm sorry Koti," I said, a catch in my voice. "This is not how I see things going."

She set her jaw out. Now was a more recognizable version of Koti -- the pissed off one.

"Okay," she said. "Fine."

Tense ride back, and then every night since she has slept in Mary's room while I'm upstairs wondering just what the hell kind of future she sees for us... and what I see for myself.

-Marc/Dustin

PS: Let's not get into the irony of running to her literal wife when things get tough between us...

Marc/Dustin: A House Divided

As you might expect, the last several weeks between me and Dakota have been more about exploring our physical connection than about debating the philosophy behind our coupling or the way we live our lives. There are certainly a lot of unanswered ethical questions about who we really are and whether we should be doing this, and we could very well debate them all night every night, as two the very argumentative people we are. But there's an overriding principle that seems to be guiding us in our actions, which is... well, we're pretty hot for each other.

I'm sorry, but after this sentence I won't apologize for it any further. Physically, we are two young, desirable people in close quarters. We know and trust each other -- to a certain extent -- and are in a position to make this decision. It's certainly less problematic than John's and my first dalliance. Call it rationalization, call it horniness. It's part of the human experience and after many confusing years there's a relief in cutting the knot.

We are, proverbially, going at it like a couple of kids.

In the midst of all this, I began to get tired of saying "Dakota, Dakota." I can't call her "John" because she's "not John" and doesn't wished to be called as such. But if you try saying the name "Dakota" a hundred times per day in a variety of contexts you find yourself tripping over the syllables. "Can we shorten it? That'll give you something to feel like your own person."

She thought, and I thought, and we sounded fumbled through it together. "Dak, no. Kota... still a little clunky... Dee, too short for me... Ko... hm... Kody? Kodi?" We kept repeating it. She wrote it a few times to test her preferred spelling, settling on "Koti" for what she termed its "Certain offbeat childish Gen Z cuteness."

We then found a way to awkwardly premiere her new preferred shorthand. "Koti this, Koti that." Maddy and Charly were into it. "Cassie" pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes, I'm not sure what she was thinking about it. Was I getting too chummy with her husband? Had I crossed a line that was somehow worse than the dating and sex?

"Don't worry about her," Koti said dismissively.

And so, it was the Dustin and Koti show all month, mostly a private engagement. There's the physical side, and then afterward we tend to engage in weird post-coital pillow talk where she'll be like, "Look at this article I saw about the way they're foisting so-called A.I on teachers," and "I realized yesterday I kind of look like Grace Kelly. Look her up, don't we have the same eyes?" (Flattering herself just a bit there.)

We spend so much time in our own little pocket universe that it's a bit of a shock sometimes to be reminded there's a world outside our bedroom door.

So when we got the news that "Cassie" was arranging a birthday party for P.J., we were a little startled out of our bubble. It seems that Mary found out that P.J.'s birthday is only a few days before Christmas and they tend to get sidelined, so she decided they should have their own day. The rest of the house took up the idea, assigning Koti to please whip up a batch of her famous vegan cupcakes. This Koti certainly isn't a baker or a decorator, but it was apparently one of the original's famous skills.

"I'll have to politely decline, I'll find something else to do that day."

"Oh, why not? These are our housemates, and we like them. Well, some of them."

"They're expecting cupcakes. Vegan cupcakes. They'll taste like dry cat food."

"They seem to like them. Koti, we can't just stay in our room and screw all day every day."

"And why not? We're adults, we've earned that right."

"If you won't, I will. I'll call up Dakota and ask her how to make the damn cupcakes and I'll pretend you did. And you can hide in our room and pretend to be sick."

"That would be the second-meanest thing you've ever done to me," she pouted. That's kind of her catch-phrase, she's not serious about it. (We all know what the meanest was.)

In the end, Koti backed down, with the ground rules being that I was not to have any unsupervised conversations with Ifena (Koti can be... jealous) and that Koti wouldn't pick any fights with the birthday person. We made the cupcakes together, on a video call with the real Dakota.

The party started out fine, but after a little while we realized it was kind of a soft debut for... Cassie and P.J. as a couple. Not that they were throwing it in anybody's face, but we saw them brushing up against each other, cuddling on the couch, just generally giving off coupley vibes.

"Cassie," Koti said, trying to look as intimidating as possible with her arms crossed looking up at the much larger Cassie, "May Dustin and I speak to you privately?"

We all marched up to the bedroom. Mary stood in the corner looking bored while Koti paced and raved.

"What in God's name do you think you're doing?! How on Earth could you think this is appropriate?"

"I'm living my life," Mary shrugged. "Well, Cassie's life."

"This is beyond the pale!" Koti hissed. "You are fucking with people's lives!"

"Oh, I told Cassie," Mary said. "She was quite flattered. P.J. was simply picking up on a pre-existing flirtation. I'm a matchmaker." She smiled proudly.

"You... you can't..." Koti sputtered.

"Everyone involved wants this. How it is any of your business?"

"It's... an unnecessary complication!"

"Explain to me the difference between what you two do, and what you have seen between me and P.J."

"It's obvious!" Koti said, moderating her voice to a harsh stage whisper. "P.J. is not one of us! You can't be dragging h--them into our shit! Dustin, back me up here!"

"I tend to agree," I said, admittedly non-committally, "In my experience, you kind of need to keep people at arm's length, romantically, if they're not, you know, along for the ride."

"Thank you," Koti said.

"But I don't think we can dictate to Mary how to go through this experience."

"What?!"

I heaved a sigh. "Just because I would make different decisions, I don't think I can say it's the wrong way to do things here. It's sort of a gray area. All the involved parties have signed off on it, seemingly. Is somebody going to get hurt? I mean, maybe, but that's their business. There's an argument to be made that by rebuffing P.J., Mary would be having a negative effect on their, and Cassie's, lives anyway, by putting off whatever was supposedly building between them. There's precedent for all of this."

I also noted that it might make a difference on some level whether Mary was doing it for herself or for Cassie, but from our perspective there isn't any difference and it doesn't matter.

"I can't believe this," Koti fumed.

"I'm not on board, but like I said, it's out of my jurisdiction. It's not my mistake to make, and not my job to prevent them from it. Above all else, it's sort of consistent with my position that you've got to find ways to enjoy this experience and live life. I leave it to Mary to define this experience however she wants, and deal with the consequences."

"Can you be my fucking partner for ten seconds and get on my side?" Koti spat.

"I am on your side, but I can't condone trying to impose our will on the situation. All we can do is wash our hands of it."

"Both of you get out of my room," Koti sneered.

"Koti..."

"John..."

"Now!"

Mary and I stepped out and walked down the hall to where our conversation would be less audible.

"Okay, is there something else going on here?"

Mary let out a sigh, her posture tensing up. "John really doesn't like P.J.," she noted.

"I know that."

"He's been suspicious of them from day one, that they were coming between us a little bit. You know, they helped me get my Etsy shop off the ground, and we spent a lot of time together..." (I haven't mentioned Mary's Etsy shop, where she sells crochet stuff, but yeah, I guess it was sort of done with P.J.'s assistance.)

"That's kind of why I pushed John toward you," Mary said with a sigh, "There was this anger that had nowhere to go, and there wasn't anything romantic happening in these bodies for us. I didn't expect it to blossom between you two the way it has, but part of me did hope that it would help him."

I narrowed my eyes at Mary. "Help him how?"

"Well, you didn't know John as a man, so I guess you might not have caught onto this... and I don't know how much he's told you about himself, but... he's kind of bisexual."

I raised an eyebrow. "You... know this?"

"Honey, I've been married to him for a long time," he furrowed her brow. "You notice things after a while."

"Has he ever... to your knowledge...?" My heart began to pound. It was so easy to pretend like this was all some big secret but maybe it wasn't.

"I don't know, and I don't want to know, but I have a lot of complicated theories about that year he was supposedly in 'Florida.'"

"Oh?"

"Well, at first I assumed he was partying with boys. Then he got back and he was so keen to go to Maine, and after we transformed I thought... son of a bitch, he knew this was going to happen."

"You really think so?"

"Things add up," she shrugged, "I don't know what to believe and I'm probably happier not knowing. I don't think I want to talk about it. But there's no point in accusing him of it. He'll deny it. Call me crazy. Swear up and down he didn't want this and make like he's a martyr for letting you screw him. He has some really messed-up things to say about you, about how you manipulated and pressured him into sex, but don't worry, I don't believe him. Nobody's making that guy do anything he doesn't want to do."

"Thanks..." I said, heavy-heartedly.

"John will never be happy," Mary said, "He just wants everyone to be as miserable as he is."

"And you married him?"

"I love the guy," she shrugged. "I should get back."

With that, she went back downstairs, and I was left contemplating just what I was mixed up in. Koti and I have fun together, but being with Koti -- with John -- is an intricate web of deceit, frustration, and double-talk. Who is she really?

I slept on the floor that night. We reconciled in the morning, calling a detente and agreeing not to talk about it as much as possible and just enjoy the holidays, paying no mind to what was happening between P.J. and Mary/Cassie.

For Christmas I gave her a unisex necklace that I figured she could take with her through various lives, whatever ends up happening. Her gift to me was not something you would buy at a store, and maybe to be sensitive, not something I should mention on the blog.

A new year will be upon us soon, and yet another shuffling of the deck on the horizon.

-Marc/Dustin

Marc/Dustin: Dating Games

You could be forgiven for thinking that my new "relationship" with "Dakota" consisted of nothing but sex. After all, the first few months we knew each other almost entirely took place in Ryan's bed. She's made no secret of her willingness to explore that side. Hell, we share a mattress today, which does get rather "cozy."

The morning after the events of my last post, I woke up to find her gazing at me with those pretty blue eyes. Given the late night I'd had, it was not my usual early start. 

When she noticed I was awake, she purred, "Tell me I wasn't dreaming last night."

"Depends," I said in a low tone, "What do you think happened?"

"I think you asked me to be your girlfriend," she said as she traced a line up my torso with her finger.

"I guess I did," I said with a half-smile. "I mean, I think what I said was, it's too much work to fake it as much as we have been, so we might as well try dating."

"You're such a romantic, it gets me wet," she snarked.

She leaned in and kissed me. That became a full-on make out session, bodies intertwined, hands searching one another.

She could tell my body was getting "revved up," but put the brakes on.

"I do want this, but I want something else, first," she said.

"What's that?" I asked, kissing her neck.

"A date."

I reared back, somewhat surprised. "Pardon?"

"I haven't dated in so long," she said. "The passion went out of my and Mary's relationship, and then with Ryan -- I mean, you -- it was pretty much all physical."

"I recall," I said, blushing as I remember some of the things we were into during our fling.

"I'm a lady," she said, "And I want to be treated as such. I'd like to be romanced at least a little bit."

"Oh, you're a lady?" I teased, picking her lips with mine, "Is that why your hand is on my crotch?"

"I didn't specify what kind of lady," she snickered, then removed her hand. "I want to know that this chemistry is real, before our first time."

"And what if it's not real?" I asked, "What if we find out we actually have nothing to say to each other and there's no spark?"

"Then I guess the sex will just be meaningless," she shrugged.

Marc/Dustin: Danger Zone

A few weeks ago, when John was making his pitch for me to, erm, increase my relationship with him, he said something that stuck with me: that if I didn't focus my attention his way, I would probably just go out and find another Christine.

As you might recall, during my time as Ed I struck up a friendship with a woman named Christine that teetered on something more. It wasn't really fair to either of us but she had no way of knowing that. It's just that sometimes people are in a place and they spark. Did I "look" for her? I didn't think so, but the feeling of clicking with someone at least a little bit is pretty intoxicating and it can be hard to know what the right decision is in a situation like that, your head clouded with, for lack of a better word, desire.

I resented the idea that I would be "looking" for another Christine, that I would risk pulling another person into my orbit just because of my own wants. But probably the reason I reacted so negatively -- and it helped get my little project with John off on the wrong foot -- is because there was truth to it, and I knew it. I think everybody wants love, everybody wants attention and affection and to be understood, and when you're an Inn-cursed person, especially one who isn't set on staying in a particular life, it's hard to form connections and get that. In some ways it's wrong to form connections. But if I was as solitary as I make myself out to be, if I was capable of being objective and pragmatic about the situation, I wouldn't have gotten myself into half the messes I've been in over the years.

Ifena.

You can only be so careful when you're bumping around in the world, you know, trying not to rock the boat. You can't hang a "do not disturb" sign on your heart. You can't keep everyone at arm's length all the time and explain to them, "Sorry, I'm not me, any connection you form with me will not be valid and is not worth pursuing." You can't "ghost" or White Fang someone who lives in the same house as you.

It started back in summer, early on when we were just settling into this status quo. I found myself in a body that seemed to enjoy being up with the sun and brimming with energy. At that time, I was sort of bonding with Mary, who was on a similar bio-rhythm. I was trying to get to know her and learn more about the person I had involuntarily dragged into this mess.

Mary's and my relationship/friendship/dynamic is what it is -- cordial, understanding, even with the big secret between us, but eventually when she started working her routine changed and I didn't see her as much. But who I did see was Ifena. Ify. She took over the role of preparing me a coffee upon my return, and then we would hang out on the front porch and play the day's NYT Games (she's got a real knack for Connections.) Being that I wasn't comfortable talking about "life" as Dustin yet, we'd talk about her, her ambitions, whether she would follow the roadmap she had laid out with her parents to go to law school. I had to recuse myself from that conversation since my experiences in the legal profession left me pretty jaded (although as Chantelle I found some more joy.) She's expressed doubts about her commitment to it, which of course signals to me it's a bad idea, but said she likes the idea of being a public defender, "But my parents would disown me if I went to all that trouble to make what a public defender makes."

Through several conversations, we forged a bond that the real Dustin would never have gotten with her, which caused me some anxiety. What happens when the real guy comes back into her life and disappoints her that he can no longer finish the crossword?

I tried to push these thoughts out of my head, even as Ify started accompanying me to the gym, spending time on the elliptical while I lifted. I started sensing we were approaching the Danger Zone. Ify was getting the best version of Marc, and I could feel myself wanting to be good for her, and starting to suspect that perhaps the feeling was mutual -- even if she played it down to appease PJ, Charly and Madison, who still see me as the original Dustin.

That's around the time John and Mary came to me, and I've since thought that maybe they could tell I was drifting based on the timing of their pitch... they need "Dustin" onside as much as I need them. Whether there was some aspect of John being attracted to me, or what, it was necessary to shore up our relationship credentials for financial benefit and social protection: I have to dissipate whatever is generating between myself and Ify. If there's a perceived crack in the Dustin-Dakota relationship, who knows what that opens me up to?

(I mean, if she were to make an advance, I should, and would, say no obviously, but having an existing relationship makes it that much easier to stay safe.)

That all brings us to Saturday night. Madison was having a mental health episode. Everyone else in the house was too high to drive, but John and I were already asleep and sober, so Ify came to wake me up and ask if I could drive Madison and her to the hospital (it's not my place to explain what the nature of Madison's emergency was, only that she needed help.)

Dutifully, I pulled some jeans and a shirt on and drove them, with John staying back. As they examined Madison, Ify and I talked, and she asked "Not that it's any of my business... but why were you sleeping on the floor?"

"Oh, you know," I stammered, "Dakota's a real blanket hog, and we just, kind of..."

"Uh huh," she kind of laughed, "I mean, you guys really seem like you're going through it. I don't understand it. Do you love her or not?"

I hate lying. For a lawyer I'm surprisingly bad at it. "I do..." I said noncommittally. "We're just, yeah, it's been rough lately. I literally could not explain it to you if I tried."

"Feels like she's really shown a different side of herself," Ify said. We are so accustomed to just gliding under the radar of people's awareness that we forget that some people really do know when others are out of character.

I said noting, and she kind of brushed her shoulder to mine -- a gesture that felt both innocent and intimate -- and told me she was there for me. Then we talked about Madison and she said that my being here showed who I really was.

We got home just before the sun came up and I crawled into bed -- literally, next to Dakota.

"Not that I mind, but what is this?" She said sleepily.

"I have a few things to say," I said, having rehearsed the whole drive home. "First, this is not a real relationship. It's a matter of convenience. I still think it will be healthiest if we all go our separate ways after returning to the Inn. But it's so much work to be in a fake relationship. People need partners. People need connections. If we are to keep going like this, I think we need to-- I need to try harder to make it feel real. I just need to give in already. Get over myself and just accept that for the time being, it's us. And there's nothing wrong with that."

"Hm," she murmured ambivalently, "Nice opening statement, counselor. I'm not even sure I was awake for all of it, but if you're saying what I think you're saying, I have two requests."

"Uh huh?"

She rolled over to face me, her eyes glistening in the predawn light of the room. "One, kiss me. Right now, with nobody watching."

I leaned in to find her lips with mine and gave her probably the first real kiss I ever have, maybe even going back to our first meeting.

"That's the stuff," she sighed contentedly.

"And the other?"

"When you blog about this, just call me Dakota."

"Okay," I said. "Starting now."

And so, Dakota and I enter the next phase of our ever-evolving -- dare I say it -- relationship. 

Hopefully I don't end up regretting this.

-Marc/Dustin

Marc/Dustin: Fake It Til You Make It

Sometimes I look at my life and wonder how I get myself into these situations. Mostly, I figure, it's be being an idiot. And a rather emotionally susceptible one at that, as much as I try to keep people at a remove, for my own safety and theirs.

It's been over a month since "Dakota" and I started working on openly portraying a couple. What some of you readers may glean, but others may not, is that as much as it goes with the territory, it's actually not always easy to play-act like that. In my previous lives, I was somewhat lucky -- As Chantelle, I only had to pretend that Damian and I were not involved, which became easier once I realized I had lost my wife to her new life. As Ryan, I didn't have to pretend anything, and as Ed I only had to pretend to be a crotchety old father figure to Pamela. It's easy to fill a role for somebody who doesn't know you're lying, because you can draw on whatever feelings you really are having. But it's really hard to perform and be a co-conspirator.

The truth about the Inn is that while having your body changed (and changed again and again) can unlock parts of you you may not have known, by and large people can't pretend to be something they're not for very long. The Inn's curse, which insulates us from suspicion, does more to protect our secret than any ability to portray the person we appear to be. All of that is to say John makes for a very weird Gen Z: serious and contemplative and icy, a far cry from what I believe to be the bubbly and available blonde Dakota. In terms of John failing to "pass," witness his conversations with housemates like PJ and Ify about the prospects of Mamdani's campaign for Mayor of New York. ("Sure I'd vote for him, but does he really appeal to that many people? And if he wins, don't you think he'll encounter problems governing if he doesn't at least play ball a little?" Doesn't sound like anything a real 23-year-old would say.)

John and Mary have both noted how stilted it sounds when I call "Dakota" "Babe" or fumble to make tentative physical contact with her. Even though I have known John for a long while at this point, it feels like this person is a stranger to me.

John doesn't seem to have the same issues, I can see it in his big blue eyes and the slight smile he gives me. That's the kind of stuff that sends a really mixed signal because part of me thinks it's authentic, that John really likes me and is using Dakota's body to express that. Getting all this attention is a little bittersweet, especially when Mary happens to be in the room -- John certainly isn't modifying his behavior out of sensitivity to her, he'll behave the same way whether she can see us or not. Mary, for her part, just seems to endure it. 

The strange thing is, away from everyone else, as Marc and John, there actually is a connection. I feel like John has been trying to actively remind me of reasons why our fling became so strong in the first place. We'll go out to run errands and he'll strike up a conversation about serious topics like what it would look like to finally stop hopping from body to body, what I hope for the future, what the difference between performing and real feelings... rational debates that remind me he's a smart, insightful, inquisitive guy.

Things that make me wonder why I'm holding him at arm's length because he's all that in a cute, seemingly available package. The other day we were at the pharmacy and I reached for his hand without thinking, without anyone being around, and he held on and smiled at me before I realized what I had instinctively done. ("We can table that," he snickered when I seemed visible uncomfortable.)

We've bonded. At night in our bedroom, we'll watch old movies like Rocky or Apocalypse Now or the French Connection. He told me he cried afterward remembering how Gene Hackman and his wife died. ("It just hit me in a different way all of a sudden. It just hit me and made me feel.. strange.") Then afterward I'll slip onto my makeshift bed on the floor, and as usual he'll ask me, "Isn't your back getting sore? There's plenty of room..." 

And there are nights I wonder why I just don't give in. The Inn has given so much to others and taken so much from me that I wonder, on balance, how it could be wrong for me to just submit and enjoy this. I have some guilt toward Mary -- as much as she seemingly endorsed this scenario, I'm not sure I can feel like I have clean hands until she knows the truth and every party involved has full knowledge and informed consent. Yet at the same time, I'm not rushing to spill the beans, maybe because I want that barrier there (maybe I think I don't deserve happiness?)

And then there's John himself. Though he denies it, how can I truly believe him when he says he didn't time his return to the Inn to coincide with mine? To make a deliberate effort to cast his wife aside in a way that absolves him and positions him intimately with me? Is that paranoid? John is a savvy individual and must have recognized the Inn's potential from the start. I wonder if he's capable of something like that.

And even if not, doesn't the fact that I have such a suspicious mind mean something? How can I commit to this person if this is what I think of them?

And all the same... if not John, who could I ever find happiness with, in this ever-changing chaotic life?

-Marc

Marc/Dustin: Peace in our time

As you might expect in a house with so many people, not the least of which are three Inn-transformees, there are some pretty complicated interpersonal dynamics at play, and simply navigating them can be exhausting.

Our initial instinct was to stay off the radar while carving out a dynamic that worked for us. John and Mary were bunked downstairs in Cassie's basement bedroom while I was on the top floor in a room of my own.

Unfortunately, questions were being asked about why Dakota was suddenly so distant from Dustin. Personally, I was keeping John at arm's length, giving him space to work out his issues with his wife. I sat next to him at the table for meals, being that he remained my closest ally in the house and someone I have a shared past with (read: scandalous secret.) I figured this would fall under the domain of "nobody's business but ours." So we don't go shopping together? So we don't kiss in public? Who's to say what's right?

Unfortunately, when you're 22 and in a full house, everything is everybody's business. People wanted to know whether we had broken up.

And there was a reason why we couldn't just do the easy thing and say "yes."

Dustin is not very popular here.

Only having been here for a few months, I obviously don't have much first-hand understanding, but I gleaned it almost from the moment I walked in as the girls would mostly give me the cold shoulder when I tried to be cordial and sociable. I chalked that up to "Oh, he's Dakota's boyfriend and they don't want to cross a certain line of appropriateness with him" but the pointedness became undeniable. At some point, the girls of the house -- and PJ -- had enough of this guy. There are guys here too, but mostly as boyfriends, add-ons and transients. It's all the women's names (and PJ's) on the lease. The guys don't really have a say as to who lives here, and Dustin is here on a boyfriend visa. If he and Dakota aren't a couple, there's really no reason for him to be in this house.

Perhaps your next question is -- why do I have to live in the house at all? Wouldn't it be easier if I just excuse myself, let John and Mary live their lives, and find something else to do with myself until it's time to go back to the Inn?

I couldn't agree more, but unfortunately, our lives are slightly more entangled than all that. You see, for the last several months, I've been paying both Cassie's and Dakota's share of the rent out of my own pocket, out of my "war chest." Mary is trying to become more financially independent, working at a restaurant, but is pretty underpaid. I'm not asking her to repay everything she owes me, but she's having a hard enough time getting on her own two feet. John gave it a try too, but wasn't cut out for the service industry. He just gives off this vibe of being "above it" that employers don't seem to like. He worked two shifts with Cassie and washed out, and hasn't been able to get anything else since.

"Sexist," he grumbled, "If I had the same attitude as a man, they'd say I was independent, but because I'm a woman, I'm a bitch."

"Welcome," Mary teased.

Until we can get that straightened out, it doesn't make sense for me to live elsewhere. But what it all amounts to is a few weeks ago, Mary and John sat me down in my (and Dakota's) room, and told me that I was going to have to start getting more lovey-dovey with my "girlfriend."

"We need them to see that you two still care about each other," Mary said, "Holding hands, joking around... touching, laughing... kissing, occasionally," she added, with a bit of queasiness in her voice.

I looked at John, who feigned discomfort, probably for Mary's benefit.

"You can't just force that sort of thing," I protested. "We're... practically strangers..." I stammered over the lie that I had never met John before the Inn.

"That's what we're counting on," Mary said. "You know John's himself inside, but... you never met him. You only know him as Dakota. So why not..." she sighed, "Why not try to forget that isn't all she is?"

My eyes shifted between the two of them. I wasn't entirely sure what they were saying.

"Mary, no matter who this looks like, that's still your husband," I insisted.

"It's more complicated than that, Dustin," Mary said, using my false name, maybe to distance herself from the reality. "We have been at it over and over and over again, and we... we aren't getting anywhere. And we can't keep fighting over how to approach this situation."

I was aware that, behind closed doors, John and Mary were having an understandable difficulty coming to terms with the dynamic. I don't think it was quite the sexy fantasy John was hoping for. And I know it's created some friction. I also know that PJ, who shares a wall with Cassie, has had a lot to say about them disrupting their sleep with their constant muffled bickering.

"I want John to be happy," Mary said, holding her husband's little hand.

"And I want Mary to be happy," John replied in a low murmur, "And she's never going to be happy with me like this."

"So, you're what... giving up?" I balked. I had been through this myself, so I slightly took exception.

"We're hoping we can find our way back to each other," John noted -- a statement that rang falsely to me, the person he once cheated on his wife with. "In another time, when this is all over and we're ourselves... or different people."

"John and Mary love each other," Mary said, resignedly, "But Cassie and Dakota are just friends. Does that make sense?" Having had my mind and body warped multiple times by now, it did, but that didn't mean I didn't sense something else afoot here.

"It's for the best," John shrugged. I glared at him and thought I'm sure it is.

"I'll leave you two to sort some things out," Mary said, wiping her tears away and standing to leave.

Once she was gone, there was a pregnant pause in the air, until I finally asked, "What the fuck, John?"

"It's exactly what we said," he shrugged his little shoulders and flicked a lock of hair away from his face. "We're not meant for each other anymore... right now... what have you."

"You wanted this," I said, accusatorily.

"I wanted resolution," he reasoned, "I wanted a status quo we could all live with. And I didn't want to hurt Mary."

"Well, congrats, she's hurt," I groaned.

"But I didn't hurt her," John noted. "The situation did."

"The situation you organized," I noted.

"Excuse me!" he scoffed, "I didn't sign up to become Dakota and Cassie! I could have easily been anybody walking out of that Inn and the odds were good that she and I would have been people who were meant to be together."

"And the odds were good that you wouldn't," I said, seeing through his convenient plausible deniability. "Either way it's a win, right? A little bit of short-term pain, a few late nights crying into each other's arms, oh, I can't do this, I'm not myself... we're not us anymore... and you get to walk away. I've heard it before."

"And so what?" he put his hands on his hips indignantly, "Is that not legitimate? Do my feelings not matter? Don't you think if I could be sexually attracted to Mary, to Cassie, I would be? She's gorgeous. That's part of a relationship, as far as I'm concerned, and without it, she and I are exactly what these two girls are -- friends. That isn't nothing. It hurts, but it isn't nothing."

"You seem very hurt," I said sarcastically.

"Don't minimize me here," John huffed, "I want what everyone wants, to be happy. To feel love and excitement and cared-for. She's not a saint either! You don't know her, you weren't married to her!"

"Don't make this about her," I said. "You could have divorced her like a normal fucking person," I hissed, trying to keep my voice down in case anyone outside could hear me.

"And if I didn't know about the fucking Inn, I might just have," he said. "Maybe last year, Ryan should have told me to divorce my wife instead of Shanghai-ing me to Maine."

I sunk down. I certainly didn't come into this with clean hands. I made one grave error in judgment and I've paid for it ever since. But I know that at the time John would rather have killed himself than go through a divorce. And most likely, done neither.

Did that make what I did right? And if not, was I responsible for any and all decisions John made since?

John sat next to me on the bed, our thighs touching. I shifted but he still closed the gap.

"Let's focus on us for a second," he said, now fawning, seemingly remorseful that he had taken that last shot. He reached for my hand and I let him take it.

"There isn't an us, not inside this room," I insisted. "I can try to put on an act, and you can vouch for me, but it won't be real, John. I hope you know that. I'm going to sleep on the floor -- one of the advantages of a 22-year-old back."

"Okay," John said, coldly, "But the second I don't need your money, what then? You're out on your ass."

"Believe me, I'll live," I said.

"I'm not your enemy, Marc," he said, activating Dakota's big doelike eyes, "We've had fun together. We understand each other. And with you as Dustin and me as Dakota, we... we're kind of all we've got. I know you're lonely. You're not going to start a relationship with anybody else, because that would upend the real Dustin's life. But that logic won't stop you from finding the next Christine. Why not make the best of the situation? I'm willing if you are."

I looked at him, he fixed me with that glassy, pleading stare. I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

His lips curled up in an inviting smile that, in other situations, I might have found very cute. "Tell me you're not a little curious."

I let out a heavy sigh. "Like I said, I'm sleeping on the floor."

"Suit yourself," he sighed.

"If... if... there's to be anything here between us, it will have to develop over time," I said. "Dakota and Dustin may be in love, but John and Marc are just two people trying to navigate an extremely messed-up situation."

He nodded slowly in agreement. "Fair terms, I think."

And that was that. The time since has proceeded exactly as we laid it out. In front of everyone else we're fun, flirty and physical -- I set the limit at three kisses on the lips per day for the benefit of others, and not around Mary if it can be helped. I've also spent a lot of time talking to her, but that's a subject for another post. 

As to what's really going on between John and I, I don't know. I'm just taking it day by day. For now,  we have some semblance of peace... but I do wonder, at what cost?

-Marc/Dustin

Marc/Dustin: Early Risers

As days passed, we started to develop our routine, inasmuch as eight or nine people (there's one guy drifting around named Garrison and I'm not entirely sure where he fits in) can have a routine. Naturally, John, Mary and I stick by one another, which I don't think is all that eyebrow-raising for the others, especially with Dustin and Dakota being an item. They were close enough to go on vacation together, and beyond "Wow, didn't you get enough of each other already" between the "girls," there's clearly a dynamic there that people are free to interpret. What are they doing having sleepovers in the basement every night? That's nobody's business - it's 2025, after all, right?

I found out early on that Dustin is an early riser. All my previous bodies had the sort of sleep cycles you would expect -- as Ryan I sometimes stayed out late but would end up sleeping in equally late. But Dustin seems to have an ability to wake up at 5:00 AM no matter how late he was up the night before, and still be brimming with energy. It's been borderline supernatural (well, I guess it's literally supernatural.)

At first I resisted this -- I really do like sleep -- but when it became obvious I wasn't going to get any more sleep and my body was ready to start the day, I decided to do something, so I went for a walk, which seemed the most sensible way to burn off energy without disturbing the rest of the house. Then as I was walking I thought why don't I see what it would be like to run? So I started to run, and I ran and I ran and I ran, and my legs just kept carrying me, without even thinking about how soon should I turn around in case I get out of breath. I ran as far as the local athletic center, really only a few blocks away, which I reached without tiring. I returned home and saw that, sure enough, I had a membership card. 

So the next day, I decided to go in. It's not hard to imagine this being Dustin's routine, running to the gym, spending twenty minutes on the rowing machine or the elliptical, lifting some weights, and then running back. Only then did I feel somewhat spent. This body is something else.

After a few days of that, I returned to the house today to see Mary sitting on the porch. She was waiting for me with a mug of coffee for each of us.

"A tablespoon of milk, a bt of sugar," she said.

"Wow," I nodded, "That's just how I take it." I sipped and told her it was right on.

She smiled. "I like to notice things about people who are important to me."

That made me blush a little bit. "Oh, am I...?" I stammered.

"Of course," she sipped her own coffee, "You and John and I share this secret. You've been... a stabilizing influence. And you're a nice person. Even when we disagree on things."

"I do what I can," I muttered, trying to downplay whatever goodness she sees in me. "Are you always up this early?' It was not yet 7 AM.

"I like to be," she said, "I'm trying to get on a better sleep schedule, but it's tough. This body is resisting my efforts. Have you noticed these garden plots here? They've got a lot of potential, but nobody's tending them. I thought that could be my project."

"I'm no green thumb, but isn't it a bit late in the season?"

She sipped and shrugged. Maybe she knew better than I did, or maybe she had other reasons for wanting to be up early and the garden was just an excuse.

"How's John?" I asked. Of course I had seen plenty of him that week, but we hadn't had a lot of private time lately -- nor would I have wanted to.

"John's... John," she said, then laughed musically because of course, John isn't John, to the world. John is the John that he is when he's Dakota, and do we really know what that means yet? In fact, given all that John hides from Mary, do we really know who John is?

"Things are all right between you two?" I asked, hopefully, but trying not to pry.

She looked down into her cup and smirked bashfully. "Next question, please."

"Okay, so tell me about Mary," I said. It occurred to me that I know strangely little about the woman in her own words.

"I'm going to be 42 on September 1," she said, "Where does the time go? Married for 15 years. Together for 21." She got a faraway look as she seemed to contemplate how that was half her life.

"Kids?" I asked. "I don't mean to pry." John had once said something about a daughter, but the topic hadn't come up with Mary.

"John does, from his previous marriage. They don't speak." Mary didn't let on how she felt about that. She abruptly changed the subject. "I would love to ask Cassandra what possessed her to get all these tattoos. Look at this."

She held out her left forearm and there written in script -- amidst colorful butterflies and birds and flowers that comprised that sleeve -- were the words "BE YOU TO A T."

"Isn't that funny?" she snickered. "I keep staring at it, since it's been etched in my arm without my permission. What a thing to see when you are being someone else."

"To thine own self be true," I said, "I think that's Shakespeare."

"Polonius from Hamlet," she nodded. "Of course, he was a windbag. Among the Bard's best jokes."

"I didn't know you were an expert," I said.

"I was studying literature when I met John," she said, and got that faraway look again. "A lifetime ago."

"Multiple, some would say."

"I haven't lived a lifetime as Cassie... yet," she snickered.

We both sipped, letting that remark hang in the air. Soon after that I heard a rustle at the door and Ifena joined us and we had to get into character.

-Marc/Dustin

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