"Ellie": Hard to Explain

So like I said, I'm Ellie now. I'm a senior in high school, although if I get this body back to Ellie next summer she'll still have to make up a few credits, I've been told. Extra years in high school. Ugh. If this is what High School's always been like, I don't regret missing it.

I guess, though, before I get into any of that, I should explain more about how I got here, and who's with me. This is a long story. I'm in a creative writing class right now and we're encouraged to keep journals and do exercises. Since I can't be honest with them, I'll be honest with you.

I had made the deal with Fletcher/Beatrice at the beginning of the year, and I did always intend to honor it. I never gave a second thought about it. It felt like the right thing to do to ease my guilt about getting Roger into his predicament, spending a year as Beatrice's young daughter. I had promised to do everything in my power to leave him with my "Max" body.

Of course, that assumes Max's body was mine to give. A lot of people wind up in bodies they can't get out of; it's sad but it's true, and when I investigated I found this had happened to the original Max, Tanya and Melanie, in a way. Max and Tanya had wound up as parents to a newborn: Melanie. And there was no telling what effect bringing a newborn to the inn a second time might have. I told them there was a case in the blog where someone was turned into an infant and grew up comfortable but with memories of her past lives, and they seemed comfortable with that. I don't know if they ever reached out to the original parents, but in any case it always seems like there's a break in every chain somewhere.

I just have to throw up my hands at this point or else the guilt would come back. Roger's fate is the only one I'm responsible for, I can't fix everything now can I?

It was Fletcher who arranged my return to the Inn. He set me up with a reservation for three, assuming the girls -- the ones I was calling Melanie and Tanya -- would both want to come, and to complement her party of three.

Neither of the girls actually seemed that interested. If neither of them had to give up their new lives, why should they? And I didn't blame them. Melanie, formerly a guy, was really accepting of her new role, and Tanya was starting to soften too. I thought at least Melanie would appreciate the opportunity to get back to a form resembling her original, but they'd both given up contact with their original selves. To them, it was a matter of being "healthy and safe" here rather than risking it out there. This caused a rift between them and me. I even called Beatrice and told her I couldn't get them to come, and had to give up two of the reservations. She wouldn't allow it. My job was to fill two empty beds by any means I could. I said I wasn't intending to drag two innocent people to Maine when they had no idea what was going to happen to them. Beatrice told me it wasn't her problem. My case got more desperate.

The conflict between me and the girls got to the point where I had to move out of their house, as we were all living together with their "mom." It wasn't that there were hostilities or fights, I just harbored resentments and felt uncomfortable continuing to live there. By this point I had a few options.

See, after I made the deal, all I wanted was to keep my head down and my nose clean and get through to the end of Summer, when the reservation was set for. But life doesn't work that way and you meet people and make connections sometimes even when you don't.

There was a girl waitressing at the restaurant where I was washing dishes, and I guess she got really interested in me somehow. I had no conception of how I came across to her, but I guess because she's quite attractive, with blonde hair and a busty figure, she's used to guys being intimidated by her. I certainly couldn't help noticing her in the wake of my fling with Beatrice, when my sex drive really started to crank into overdrive. But I really, really didn't want to pursue. But somehow, the more I avoided her, the pushier she got until I finally just decided to let her into my life. We started dating not long after I posted about the deal, March.

So when I had to leave Tanya and Melanie's house, I had someone willing to put me up.

It was weird. I haven't written much about my past lives, but a lot of stuff that happened during my time as Sam made me very guarded about relationships. But I was determined at least to treat her with respect and kindness, and appreciate all she was doing for me. And I really, really cared about her. Hell, despite the fact that I had this secret hanging over my head, this deadline, I maybe even loved her.

Over the summer, things got worse for all of us. Eventually, my secrecy and sketchiness caused fight after fight, ending it after a few months. But during this time, something worse happened: Tanya was attacked.

I guess her "new life" wasn't as clean a slate as she thought. Some guys representing an old boyfriend with a drug problem and connections -- or maybe someone who was owed, I don't know -- found her behind a bar and cornered her. She escaped with a black eye and stitches, but the message was clear: this body, like any body, came with baggage. She needed out. I was happy to hear that, but obviously upset about the circumstances. We tried to convince Melanie, to no success.

Then one day, my girl came back home to me and said, "So, I ran into your friend Tanya today... I was wondering about this Maine trip you guys are planning."

I just about hard a freaking heart attack right there.

I mean, I don't know how I thought I could keep this whole thing a secret. I guess I figured we were bound to break up before the trip, and somehow the Inn power would work everything out without a third on our reservation. I'd break her heart, maybe leave her sad for a while (she's a good girl, she'd rebound fine I think) and never have to explain what really came between us. But before any of that happened, this did.

"Maine? Uh, I don't know what you're talking about."

I tried to play dumb but it was no use. She said she couldn't believe I was going about this all in secret, and I had to make like this was meant to be a surprise for the both of us, and I didn't tell her sooner because it wasn't confirmed. It was by sheer coincidence her birthday was in August. As to why Tanya was coming, well, "she's my friend and she's been through some trauma, you must understand, and she could use a vacation but she'll leave us alone."

Amazingly -- and much to my dismay -- that line of reasoning worked, and my girlfriend got her heart set on a vacation to Maine at the end of summer. I searched desperately for any way out but all the walls were closing in. I couldn't go back on my word, I couldn't let my girl down, I couldn't let Tanya stay in this dangerous lifestyle. I had to hope Fletcher and his friends were more able to handle it.

And that's how, on a humid August night, I found myself sprawled out in the darkness feeling my long, lean, lanky, rough-haired male body contract and curve and mold into a young, fresh-faced girl named Ellie McClay. And as interested as I was in my own strange transformation, I kept looking over to the figure in the darkness, the girl in my bed, who just rolled over and kept sleeping as her curvy, sexy self performed a change of its own.

And I wondered, what "magic" would the Inn perform tonight... would she be sister, brother, parent... lover? A man of age and distinction, a girl of twelve?

She became a teenage girl like me. Emily. A friend of Ellie's she'd dragged into this mess. The change must've been so subtle it didn't even wake her up, even as the muffled shock of others vibrated through the walls. There was a soft knock at the door. I opened it to find the face of a man. The girl I knew as Tanya was now my father, Mr. McClay.

It was a while before we learned that Ellie had been here before, that her body once belonged to Bryan, a friend of Alia's. That raised more questions: Why had she come back? And it couldn't just be a coincidence that we're in these bodies. Fletcher had only told us we'd be all right, but he claimed to have no knowledge of where we'd end up. I don't believe him, but I don't know what to think.

But none of this was on our mind at the time. I just kept running over the question I had had in mind ever since "Emily" decided we were definitely going to Maine together: what the hell was I going to tell her about me?

Max: Affair

I never imagined I'd be the other man. I mean, I never imagined myself as a man until a short while ago anyway, but I always thought certain lines weren't meant to be breached. But as always, when you're dealing with Inn-folks, things get blurred, lines cease to exist.

It was just after the holidays, after all the chaos and putting out fires of feuds between Tanya and Melanie, that I got the message. "Hey!! Coming 2 canada. wanna c u." The e-mail was attributed to one "Beatrice Tran." I felt a lump in my throat of nervousness and fear when I realized "Beatrice" was the current identity of the man I'd known as Fletcher, the sketchy drifter -- I'm sorry, "Traveler" -- that wound up as guardian of a Roger, a guy who thought that by staying at the Inn, he might get a chance to be in my panties. I wasn't going to let him, and he ended up in a pair of panties of his own as Beatrice's daughter Lily. I didn't mean to lead him astray, and it's something I've been carrying around with me ever since.

I was not happy about the idea of Beatrice coming to New Brunswick, and part of that was fear that she was bringing her daughter with her. Eventually I got the balls (love that expression) to get back to her, and she clarified her statement: she was coming to Canada alone. Apparently, her life as a housewife was boring, so she took it on herself to do some traveling between stays at the Inn. Whether I invited her over or not, I was going to have to see her.

In fact, she came into my restaurant on New Year's Eve. It was lunch, and I saw from my dishwashing station in the kitchen a statuesque Asian woman dressed in a dark suit with a short skirt. I recognized her, but did not remember thinking she looked that hot. She was, after all, much older than me (mentally, physically, everything,) but it looked like Bea had put in some real effort to make herself... sexy.

She was still here when my shift ended, so I approached her. "What are you doing here?" I immediately asked.

"I told you. I'm bored. I like to travel, whether it involves Maine or not. I know I'm not your favourite person, but we have to stick together."

"We don't have to do anything," I hissed, "I just want to live my life."

"Oh yeah?" she smirked, "And how is that going?"

I was about to say "fine," but paused myself, and, well, let a lot of it out. About how Tanya and Melanie were on bad terms and I was caught in the middle, and how I had a thing for Mel but she turned me down, and how I was sick of all the resentment and bitterness that was flying around the house.

She got a flicker in her eyes. "Sounds like you're thinking about running away."

That started me off. I told her in no way was I considering going back to the Inn again, after all the shit I've had to deal with. It tempts me every day to go back and start again, to wipe the slate clean, but sometimes in life you just need to take the hand you're dealt. Going to the Inn really is a curse... knowing it's there makes you question every moment of your life. But I told her I was determined to ride it all out and keep going with this life as long as I could.

"That's a shame," she rolled her eyes, "Because you know, I've been trying to help my daughter with something, and I was hoping you'd want to take part."

That struck me. She knew I was carrying some guilt for Roger being Lily and was using it against me. I had no choice but to hear her out. Damn my conscience.

"Well," she continued, "As you know, January will be the time to start making plans to go back to the Inn. I don't usually go on an annual basis, but this situation warrants it. Despite what those people reading your blog think, I'm not a monster" -- she sneered while saying this, and used a far less polite expression than "people" -- "They think I'm doing this for my own amusement. Believe me, I'd like nothing more than to be free of responsibility. And if it weren't for you, I wouldn't have a daughter whining about going back to his wife and kids."

"No, you'd have me."

"Exactly. And you could handle it. Being a little girl, having the childhood you never got, or else having to go back to a different body altogether, you're a pro. Look at you! I bet you're even dating. Come on, there's some hot waitresses around here."

I probably looked embarrassed as I muttered that the misadventure with Melanie was my only foray into romance. She smirked. "And here I thought you were all man now. Whatever. You're still pretty adaptable, but as you can guess, Roger isn't up to it. So I'm trying to help him."

My eyebrows perked up. "Is there a problem?"

She nodded. "They've got his body," she said, "Roger's."

I paused, "Who've got his body?"

She cleared her throat. "I don't know who they are. Maybe they're those Pygmalion people your blog friends are always babbling about. Maybe it's someone else. I tried to negotiate with them to get his body back, but he told me not to call anymore. What does that sound like to you?"

I said quietly, "So what now?"

"Like I said, I'm not a monster. I don't want a daughter who's going to spend the rest of her life complaining about how she used to have a dick. And I'm not going to go through the guilt of leaving her behind when I make my next trip. So what I want is assurance that she can get a male body."

I said flatly, "You want me to give Roger my body?"

"If necessary, yes. Please. Consider it a favour to me. Consider it a way to ease your guilt. Look, there's something else I want to give you. Come by my hotel room tonight around 9." She wrote her room number on a napkin, then paid her bill and left.

Against my better judgment, I went. She answered the door in a lacy red bra and panties. I was... surprised. She pulled me in.

When I asked her what the hell she was up to, she made her pitch quickly. "Look, it's sad. If you can't get your little girlfriend to feel the same way, that sucks, but you shouldn't let it stop you from enjoying yourself. So consider this a freebie."

"What if I politely decline?"

"Then you're the biggest pussy I know. Come on. I'm gorgeous. I don't like my husband very much. I want this. Go on and tell me you don't." She had her hands all over me.

I got an immense headache just trying to deal with the mental whiplash. I was still somewhat thinking of this person as the scumbag who had come onto me in Maine. In effect, she still was, but in a body I liked more. God help me, I couldn't resist. At the first sight of her, my dick made it perfectly clear of its opinion.

I began to disrobe. When I was down to my boxers, I sato n the bed next to her and began to kiss her.

"Uh uh," she stopped me between pleasure moans, "This isn't high school, Maxy. I'm not your girlfriend. If you're gonna kiss me, it's not gonna be on my mouth." Jesus, who talks like that?

So I laid her back on the bed and began to run my hands all over her as sensually as I could,. I wanted to savor the sensation because, as eager as I was to get down to business, I hadn't felt a woman's body since well before I realized I had the desire for one. She grunted and moaned with pleasure, and it was music to my ears. Soon she began to speed up, and I upped my pace to match. She thrust her legs open and dared me to "show her what I've got."

We had hot, sweaty, illicit sex for about ten minutes or so, and then suddenly she stopped and said "Okay, okay, just finish up already." I swear, this woman. She didn't even seem like she'd had an orgasm, and I like to think I would've noticed.

It was really mercenary and frankly gross, and after it was over I remembered exactly what sort of person I was with. I asked her what all this was really about.

Re-clasping her bra, she told me that in this body, she felt sexy, and wanted that acknowledged, if just this one time. She had had sex with her new husband, but they apparently didn't click. I asked her whether we "clicked."

She flashed that evil smile of hers and said "If you have to ask, you have your answer. Still, it was quite nice. And I consider it a favour to you, and if you want more, you know how to get it."

"I'm not going all the way out to find you just for a booty call," I said flatly.

"I wasn't talking about me. I'm just helping you take a step in a direction you were already looking. now put your pants on, I have an early flight and need my beauty rest."

Women.

She was right, of course. I'd been yearning for female companionship, and was really starting to get a bit down on myself after Melanie's (quite justifiable) rejection. It didn't mean I couldn't look elsewhere.

Max: Moving ahead

I guess I'm a bit lazy when it comes to writing my story out here. It's not that I don't have the time, but as we get further and further from the starting point, the story seems to change. But let's jump forward a bit.

All through the winter, it got colder and we all got a bit closer. Melanie continued to mesmerize me with her attitude. From everything I know about men, about people... about this blog, a man who's been transformed into a woman should not take it so... well. I don't mean she was out in skimpy outfits clubbing and hitting on dudes, I just mean, to watch her, to see her walking around and dressing herself, and speaking for herself, you'd never guess anything was amiss with her. Nothing seems to bother her. Hell, she even kept up with her homework. I found this confidence in the face of life-altering trauma... fascinating, and yeah, really kind of attractive.

Tanya, on the other hand... did not keep up so well. From the beginning, she took the change very hard. She's a very controlling woman in a situation where she has to play by someone else's rules (or the Inn's, or whatever.) Plus, it's become increasingly apparent she has some real body image issues... I don't think she's taken it well that Melanie is the "thin, modestly-curvy" sister and she's the, well... "big" one. I wouldn't say she's fat, but she has a noticeably fuller figure. And maybe, yeah... she's a bit overweight.

I guess around late fall, the cracks in their "relationship," such as it was, really started to become visible to her. It's not like they could present themselves as a couple out in the world, but Melanie was, I later learned, no longer willing to even pretend they were "together" in any sense. From my room beneath them, I could hear arguments.

Tanya: Where is this all coming from? You can't deny we had something! You can't pretend this never happened!

Melanie: I wouldn't! I wouldn't pretend it never happened, Tanya--

Tanya: Don't call me that, you know that's not my name--!

Melanie: It is! While we're here, it is, and I can't switch back and forth like that. Max knows exactly what I mean--

Tanya: Shut the fuck up! This is all so convenient for you, isn't it? You pretended like everything was fine but suddenly we get here and you--

Melanie: I "what?"

Tanya: Now you want to play girl, and dress cute and date boys...

My ears perked up. But it got quiet, and after a few minutes I heard the door slam and footsteps toward the door. I wondered which one was coming. Of course, it was Mel.

"Hey," she said. She had streaks of tears down her eyes and her arms folded across her body for warmth. "How much of that did you hear?"

"A lot. What was it about?"

She sat down on my couch-bed. "Who knows? I may be a woman, but that doesn't mean I've got them figured out."

I snickered, "Join the club." Mel was unamused.

"I guess," she said, "That was our breakup. Officially. I mean, we've been broken up for a long while now, but I just had to break the chain, just finally get it out there."

"So it's over? I mean, what if you guys go back, and..."

I trailed off and she picked up my meaning, "Even if we go back, even if we get where we belong, it won't fix things. I've seen a side of her, and she's seen a side of me, we're just... we don't belong together anymore, no matter who we are."

"Well that's unfortunate."

"It's okay. She's just mad she's not in control anymore. And she hasn't gotten laid in a while."

I wanted to laugh at it, it was intended to be a joke, but maybe there was some serious to it. Sex can be a real stress reliever, and some women don't handle dryspells as well as they'd like to. It's not like sitcoms, you know. And seeing her now-ex happy and confident and uninterested in her body must've really stung. Like, I get it. I've got my own crap to worry about, but I get it.

I just wanted to know if this meant there was room for me in Melanie's life.

Weeks passed. Things were tense. Tanya, like Melanie, began venting to me and I got to know her a bit better, but she remained guarded. She would repeat her claims that Melanie was clearly eager to start "playing girlfriend," for some male, but Mel insisted Tanya was way off base. As I was kind of into Melanie, I found this a bit hard to deal with, because if it was true, it gave me hope, but I definitely didn't want to push her before she was ready.

It was around early December that I "manned up" and put it on the line.

Mel and I had been seeing a lot of each other, spending time together outside the house, and I guess I began to take it as a sign she was ready for something. Progressively over the early weeks of winter, she got more and more familiar with me.

We were out at dinner one night and I just... came out with it. "Melanie... do you see me as a boyfriend?"

"What?"

"I mean, we hang out a lot. You don't socialize with many people other than me. We talk about everything. Am I, like, a boyfriend substitute for you?"

She hesitated for a long while before saying "Is that something... you'd want?"

I played coy. "Maybe... I mean, we seem to have some chemistry."

"Chemistry?" she balked, "I don't really think so. I mean, you're a great person, guy or girl, but... I mean, I don't see you that way. No offense. I mean, you know I'm not trying to date or anything, right?"

"Right."

"I've been in relationships for so much of my adult life, I don't know... I like not being with anybody. If anything, I see you as a way to protect against that-- Oh God, that came out wrong. It's just... it's not sexual, this thing. I'm not a sexual person, I don't think. It's a friendship, you know? It's companionship. But it's not... I don't want to put a label on it or... yeah."

I was stunned, heartbroken. She could tell I had been hurt and from then on has been a bit more distant from me. I tried not to let it show, but... I don't know. I guess I never really "confessed" my feelings, but it's clear she now knows what I was thinking.

Max: The Grind

Hectic early days of transformation turned into routine. Life slowed down. My life became a blur of work and home, nothing really seemed important. I was in serious danger of going on autopilot, which is bad news. When you step into someone else's body and life, stagnancy is hard to stave off, because you just don't know what to do.

I had the monkey on my back of attraction to Melanie. I would catch myself glancing her way at dinner, trying to find moments when she wasn't looking to get a glimpse of her face, her body. Wondering, if I was feeling this way about her, what was to stop her from thinking about me? But I was loaded with doubt. It wasn't likely she was there yet, not to mention, her "sister" slash "girlfriend" or whatever you want to think about their relationship, in plain view of the both of us. I couldn't in flinch in Melanie's direction without Tanya being aware. For a few weeks I barely spoke to anyone.

I can see the dining area from my station at work. Every time a pretty woman walks in I look over at her and try to think of her the way I had thought of Melanie. Sometimes I could see it taking shape. the way the blonde in the black dress might flick her hair to the side, or how the hipster girl with the glasses might look naked... and I thought to myself, I have the desire and the opportunity to go talk to any woman out there, if I want to. So what was stopping me?

A hot woman would walk into the store, and I know she's hot... like, guys, I know you have trouble admitting it when one of your own is attractive (and even pretend like you don't know) but women know. One of the guys in the kitchen would give me a nudge, and I'd just shrug like "She's ok," because she wasn't giving me that feeling.

Then the guy eventually asked, "Come on, man. What are you, gay?" And that question bothered me, so I just said "I don't know, maybe," expecting him to keep making fun of me for it.

But he didn't, oddly enough, he just went back to his work and said "Okay, let me know if you figure it out." Canadians!

Then a few weeks later, Melanie must've noticed I was acting weird around her, because she cornered me and kinda called me on it. She came down to the basement while I was playing Mario on the Wii and sat down next to me. I had no choice but to sit and talk with her.

"I just notice you getting really shifty around me, looking in my direction. We never talk, you don't hang around much. What's going on?"

She's got this "girl" thing down. Maybe it was the spell of the Inn putting her in that light for me, but she seemed so sensitive and delicate in her mannerisms I nearly spilled my guts.

But instead, I just kind of stammered out a response along the lines of, "Oh, I've just been giving you guys space, you know. I worry about you guys. I know this wasn't your first choice for how to end up..." I struggled to complete the thought, "It must be taking a real toll on you and her, and I'm not her favourite person, so I thought it'd be safer to just... keep my distance."

"Don't say that," she said, "Tanya thinks very well of you. She just doesn't show it well. She had a lot of anger pointed at you at the beginning, but I told her over and over that you had no more control over this than we did. Now she just wishes she felt like she could talk to you."

It's sad -- I had thought Tanya and I had had a nice moment early on, but I guess she wasn't immediately convinced about me. In faking concern for the two of them (well, it was real but not the real answer to her question) I found out how hard we had to work to bridge the gap between us.

I turned the subject over to two of them. "How are you guys... doing"

"Us?" she smiled that pretty, innocent smile, "There isn't really an 'us' anymore. We're done. Just don't tell her. I don't think she's ready to hear it."

"Oh really?"

"Well, come on, Max. Let's be honest here. We're not only both girls, but we're sisters, living under their mother's roof. It's been very hard to feel like a couple."

"Do you feel like sisters?"

She laughed, "To be honest, I feel like we're strangers. She still wants to talk to me like I'm a man, but there's this very obvious fact that I'm not. And it's sick, but this whole change has shown me how weak our relationship was. I'm starting to feel like it was always about sex for us. Without that, without planning dates and talking about work, and... and fucking, we don't have a lot of common ground."

"Sounds like you've thought about it."

"Believe me, I'll miss it. I'll miss her, but she's gone. She's not the woman I loved-- thought I loved. And I'm not her man anymore."

"But you say she's not ready to hear it?"

"I don't think so."

"So what does this mean for you?"

"It means..." she sighed. I watched her breasts raise and lower softly. "It means I live my life. This life. And she lives hers. And whatever happens to us, happens."

"And how does it feel you'll be living, at least for a while, as a girl?"

She scrunched her face up with a smile, "I'd rather not talk about it. Is that weird? I mean, I feel really comfortable around you and everything, I just... I'm not ready to dig into it. It's very... one day at a time. I know you used to be a girl, and Tanya's been really good about stuff, but I'm not going to want to start talking about it for a while yet."

"Well, whenever you're ready to talk, I'll be here."

"Thanks," she said, then laughed slightly, "That almost sounded like a come-on!"

I bit my tongue. It almost was.

Max: Dawning of a New Day

By the end of my first month as Max, I had a considerable chip on my shoulder. I was living with a lot of hostility, from Mrs. Kearn, who held a lot of Max's actions against me, and from Tanya, who saw me as the enemy in her quest to return to normalcy. Of course I wasn't actually antagonizing her, just trying to ease her into acceptance of her (yes, likely temporary) situation.

It was exhausting to try to take on all of their problems, avoid confrontation, prove that I wasn't the bad guy, and go on with my life, working five or six days a week on top of it. I was understandably frustrated.

Between us all was Melanie, the former man in Tanya's life, who had wound up as Tanya's sister. She stayed quiet ever since the change and I was worried she'd taken it badly, and that nobody was looking out for this possible mental trauma case. She seemed to fade into the background while Tanya did all the thinking for both of them, despite Tanya's insistence it had been Melanie's idea to come to New Brunswick.

I learned a fair bit more about this fellow in a young girl's body one morning in early September when I passed by her bedroom. She was still in her PJ's, sitting on her bed cross-legged with her eyes closed.

Curious, I poked my head in. "What's up? Am I interrupting?"

"Oh. Max. No, no, I'm just... meditating. It's a stress-management technique I learned while I was an air-traffic controller." She laughed slightly, "It really helps."

"I'll bet. How are you doing with all this?"

"You mean being a girl? Being far from home, stuck in this house, with my girlfriend transformed into an unrecognizable... well, bitch? As well as can be expected, I suppose."

"Not well?"

"Not perfect, but what choice have I got?"

"Melanie..." I said, still under the impression she needed me help, "Don't be afraid to let it out. If it's all too much, it's not going to do any good to bottle it up. If you need somebody to help you, I'm here. Don't avoid talking to me just because your gir-- sis-- Tanya doesn't like me."

"I appreciate the offer, but I'm more worried about her."

And I realized it was true. From what Melanie told me, Tanya was not typically a panicky or angry person, but the change had brought out her more erratic side. By now she had gone from trying to control the situation to resentfully going along with it. Neither of them was "in control" now. According to Melanie, Tanya had still not yet come to terms with that.

I told her Tanya had told me it was Melanie's idea to come to New Brunswick, even though they had apparently gotten permission from the new-them to stay in Washington.

She straightened her legs out over the edge of the bed and ran her fingers through her hair, sighing with resignation. "If you'd seen our place in Tacoma, you'd know. It was pretty small, a one-bedroom apartment. Where were the two of us supposed to sleep? What were we supposed to do with our time, enroll in school? Move around the block and get shit jobs to pay the rent? Take our older selves as our caregivers, watch them live our lives from a distance? Supervise them? That wasn't going to work, and she was in denial for thinking so. She thinks I just wanted to get away, but for crap's sake, you'd be crazy not to. You get it, don't you? You said this is where we belong right now, and you're completely right. It wuold be stupid to pretend not to be these girls. Right? Right?"

She was right, but it felt harsh to hear it laid out like that. I nodded along anyway. "Yes, of course."

She lay back on the bed and motioned for me to do the same. "I like looking at the ceiling," she said, "All these posters on the wall, Melanie's possessions, Melanie's furniture, Melanie's clothes son the floor... but there's nothing on the ceiling, so when I look up, I can forget my hair, forget my clothes, forget my boobs and just... be nobody. So lie back for a minute, will you?"

I did. We were shoulder to shoulder. We stayed quiet, all we could hear was each other's breath whistling through our noses, all we could see was the white plaster on the ceiling.

Suddenly, I couldn't resist the urge to look over at her. She looked so at peace. She looked back over at me and smiled. "It's nice, isn't it?"

I felt my heart get heavy, and a warm, stuff jolt from inside me down to me... crotch.

I sat up quickly and stammered, "I gotta, uh, get to work."

Oh, no. I hoped to God she hadn't realized what had gone through my mind.

Max: Missing days

I haven't had a parental figure in my life since I was a 14-year-old girl. After the first change, I was pretty well cut off from my first family, and I never really got close to Sam's. So sitting down to dinner with Mrs. Kearn was pretty brutal.

I had no idea how to read her. She was quiet, and I could tell she did not care for the fact that I had come back on my own without her daughters without any concrete explanation as to where they were and why. But I couldn't tell what she really thought about the situation, about Max, and what she wanted to do about it. She was still letting me live in her house, apparently rent-free. That alone was enough to make me want to make any concession she had in mind.

I had faith that Tanya and Melanie would arrive sooner than later. I just had to endure the awkward silence until then. I didn't expect either of them to be better-equipped than I was to handle their new mom, but them being there would make our adjustment easier anyway.

In the meantime, I was sneaking out of the house to go to Max's job. He's a dishwasher, so I wasn't exactly in over my head, and I was able to smooth over things with the kitchen manager so I was able to keep the gig, not that it was all that precious to me. I just needed something to do while I waited and figured out what, if anything, my next move was going to be.

They did show up about a week and a half after I did. Jet-lagged, or maybe body-lagged, they stumbled through the doors looking exhausted, dragging a their luggage with them.

Mrs. Kearn rushed to greet them while I stood coldly in the kitchen doorway, saying "I knew you'd show up" with my eyes. They pushed past me to find their new rooms. I didn't go to confer with them immediately, instead I retired to the basement, figuring Mrs. Kearn would want a night with her daughters to get their story on why they'd left me in Maine.

Apparently they weren't too forthcoming. I was making my bed the next morning, the girls still asleep, when Mrs. K came by to interrogate me again.

"They won't tell me why they left off from you," she said.

"Well," I sighed, "If they ever do, can you let me know? Because I'd like to."

"You're saying two teenage girls just went out on their own in a strange country and you couldn't do anything to stop them?"

"Pretty much."

"I don't believe me."

"Yeah, I don't believe it either, but that's what happened."

"I can't even believe I let you go on that trip!" She spent another half hour laying into me, but I faded out of focus and just let her go, not really trying to stand up for myself, until she said, "I swear, if I find out you laid a hand on those girls--"

"What?!" I stopped her immediately, "Lady, I don't know what kind of guy you think I--" I stopped myself. I really had no proof even to myself that the old Max wouldn't have hit a girlfriend, but knowing that wasn't the specific case here kept me from being able to take that one on the chin. "It's just... no, okay? I didn't. You can ask them."

She didn't respond, but just left the room the conversation unresolved.

That day, when Mrs. Kearn was out, I asked Tanya what had happened out west to change her mind.

"What does it matter?" she snapped, "We're here anyway, isn't this what you wanted?"

"It's not what I want, it's what has to happen," I explained, "If you think you can make a go of it out in Washington, be my guest, but I have my doubts they'll let your boyfriend resume his duties--"

"You don't say a word about my boyfriend, you don't even talk to him!" she shrieked.

"Woah, calm down, okay? I just want you to know why you're here."

"Uh huh. Why am I here?"

"Because this is what yuor life has become. For better or worse, your life isn't that anymore. Not for now. It belongs to someone else. You can get it back... if you're lucky. But not for a long while. So I'm sorry we got off on the wrong foot."

She muttered, "Yeah," agreeing sarcastically.

It was a tense few days after that. I couldn't speak to anyone in the house. The official story was that "Tanya and Max" had broken up, but Mrs. Kearn was at least willing to let me keep sleeping in the basement, albeit with extreme reluctance. Tanya and Melanie weren't all that interested in sharing the details of the trip with their new mother, who still believed I had traumatized them somehow. Melanie still seemed shellshocked and led around by Tanya, who was on bad terms with everyone else.

It was a week or two later that I was walking by Tanya's room and I heard sobbing. I knocked softly. No answer. I opened the door a crack.

Tanya was lying on the bed with her face buried in a pillow, sobbing her eyes out. She looked up at me.

"WHAT."

"Nothing! I just wanted to see if you were okay."

"Do I look okay?!"

"Not really."

"God, don't you ever say the right thing?"

"Apparently not. What's the matter?"

"What's the matter? Are you shitting me? All of this! God, every day that I wake up and I'm still here is just--"

Yeah, she was still taking it badly. I went to sit next to her, to try to break the tension.

She slid just a bit away to make room. She sat up on the edge and rested her elbows on her knees. She wiped some tears and snot from her face with a pink kleenex.

She sniffed, "You must think I'm an overemotional bitch."

"No..." I lied.

"Let me tell you what happened. We got to Washington, we got back to our apartment, and then a week later, we got a call from the new us." I had actually never received a call from the new person in my old body, at least not at that point.

She went on, "They were going to let us stay, Max. They were going to let us stay in our own home and try ti rebuild our own lives, and then for whatever reason [Melanie] changed his mind... and made me come here. I don't understand why."

"Did you ask her?"

"Yeah, but she-- he-- wasn't making any sense. Gave me some of that stuff you were talking about where we belong. I don't know. I was willing to go along with it, but... I can't take this, Max. It's not right."

I rubbed her back and she said, "I guess I've been unfair. None of this is your fault. You're not a bad guy."

"Thanks."

"I just... I don't want to be here."

Nobody ever does.

But she did get a bit better after that. More soon as I can manage.

Max: Migration

I was so pissed off when I found out Tanya and Melanie had gone to Seattle instead of going to New Brunswick with me. It's not easy to step into a new life, it's best to have someone there as a "spotter," someone who can back you up when you don't know what you're supposed to be doing.

Fortunately, it didn't look like I had much to be doing. As Max, I'm 20 years old. He's the kind of guy who works 6 months in a BS job until he gets sick of it and quits or gets fired. Hell, he's still trying to get his GED. And not that attending adult education courses all day hasn't been thrilling, but I'm starting to sense there's more I could be doing with my time and experience, and maybe leaving my life as Sam was a mistake.

Unfortunately, the woman who has gotten my old life seems perfectly fine with it. Now, she hasn't said anything about wanting to stay, but it's not unlikely she would. Because for whatever reason, after I got to Maine, the "original Sam" backed out of our arrangement. And this all stunk to holy hell of manipulation, which is partly why I panicked and pulled the room switch on Roger. There's a lot of reasons why it felt beneficial at the time, as as rough as things are as Max, I'd rather be here than playing as Fletcher's little daughter. Mostly, anyway.

I stuck around because at least in Maine I had Alia to talk to. As awkward as her attempts to play the guru were, her heart was in the right place and she deserved support. Plus it was nice to get a sense of the good that had come out of it. Alia was elated to be female again, to be going home to her man and her life, and despite whatever uncertainties she's felt since then, I haven't seen someone that satisfied with life in a long, long time.

The other guests trickled out to their new lives, and while some contact info has been exchanged I get the sense most aren't the writing type. I didn't think I was either, but the tail end of my time in Maine was the beginning of a number of occasions when I thought to myself "this needs to be written down."

By the third day it started to dawn on me that I was now locked into form as male. I woke up that morning and found that the rough patch of hair on my chin, jaw and upper lip had grown in thicker and darker. I was growing a beard. I hadn't given much consideration to this eventuality. I was wearing a guy's clothes, I had a guy's shape and yet I didn't feel especially guyish. I initially reached into my bag for the razor, but stopped myself. I wanted to see where this was going.

Every day began by looking myself in the mirror. Mirrors play an important role for anyone who's been to the inn. In your first life you take your reflection for granted, but when it changes you can't study it enough.

Max was not an unattractive body to have... a bit on the skinny side, with gangly limbs and bad hair, but if I'd met him in my past life I would've given him a shot. Something in his eyes made him -- me -- look dangerous, but also sensitive, like a short-haired Johnny Depp.

There was just one little aspect I was trying to wrap my head around... the downstairs situation. I had been led to believe by certain jokes and stories, that guys are prone to unwanted reactions down there at any given moment, yet by that day I had yet to experience any measurable reaction... if you know what I mean. It was just hanging there in limbo, and I had no idea what, if anything, it was going to do.

It was a nice day and Alia asked me if I'd wanna hang out by the beach, since with all the worrying about pre- and post-transformational stuff we'd kinda forgotten to have a little fun. I said sure, and dug through Max's luggage for a pair of long, bulky swim shorts, which feature (as I guess all guys' swimwear does) ball-hugging mesh inside that made me feel a little awkward as soon as I put it on. Like everyone who looked at me could tell how tightly-bound my junk was just by the way I walked.

I made my way over to our agreed meeting place. I got there early, watching couples traipse up and down the beach, dudes on the lookout for girls and girls trying to fend of male advances. I didn't concentrate on anything in particular until I saw a shadow approach me. I turned and saw her standing there in a blue bikini. This was a different Alia than I'd seen before. The Alia I'd first met was ragged from trying to keep a lid on the madness. She wore white t-shirts and jeans, wasn't overly concerned with her appearance, but here, now, she was looking... different.

I don't want to say I was attracted by her or turned on by her, but I definitely found it hard to resist looking her over. Maybe it was because I wanted to stare, maybe it was because I wanted to see if something would happen if I did, to test myself. I realized what I was doing about the same time as she did and turned away, looking at the sand or the ocean while she awkwardly fumbled to recoup the conversation.

"The crowd's thinning out. I think it'll be time to head out soon," she said. I told her I was most nervous about that. Here, we were in limbo, between lives. Physically I was Max, but mentally I had some claim as Sam. Once I got "home," that would be it... "Sam" would be a figure of my past, and Max would be the future. I wasn't prepared for that, I guess. It isn't like I wasn't expecting it, I just forgot to brace myself, with all the plotting and scheming, I left the aftermath out.

The last time I did this, I was so far from in-control of my life that I can barely remember feeling anything except an all-consuming panic about what I was leaving behind. I was 14 years old in the body of a 21-year-old and completely oblivious to what that meant. Now I feel so much older than my years that all I can do is wonder about what comes next. Alia told me there was comfort in the fact that I didn't have to worry about the future anymore, if Max's note was honest. His life was mine to take or leave. In Inn, it seems, will always be there.

She offered to chauffeur me to New Brunswick and I graciously accepted. It was the long way back to Toronto for her, but I think she needed time to collect her thoughts on returning home. The next day we hit the road for Fredericton, a 7 hour drive. We bonded on the way, girl-talked, gossiped, shared more observations about girlhood and manhood.

"I'm not going to say it's easy... you're going to be on your own a lot, even when you're with people, even with fellow victims of the inn. There was this... isolation I felt, as Rob. Even though I had Tori to talk to, I never really felt like I had someone, because I didn't want to... well I just felt like I needed to keep strong. Wow, I guess I became more male than I thought. Maybe it won't happen for you," she said, "But my point is sometimes these experiences can have effects we never would have expected." I guess my first transformation I was so young that I wouldn't have known the difference between the Inn's effect and my own emotional developments. I probably do have a much different perspective than most because of it, but, I don't know if I know anything special. I might even know less because I took so much of it for granted.

Alia saw me off at around 8. It was early August by this point I guess, a warm summer night. She offered to help me get settled but I told her I needed to do this alone. It would be easier to attempt to explain myself without some strange woman at my side.

Max is a 20-year-old guy who isn't living at home, but with Tanya and Melanie, and their mother. I was not looking forward to explaining why her daughters were not with me, and we were much later than expected.

I got in the door and just stood there in the front of the house taking it in. Trying to imagine myself as if I'd walked into it a thousand times before, like it was my own house. But it was disorienting. I saw their mother, Mrs. Kearn, poke her head out of the kitchen: a short, thin, 50-something lady with short hair and good skin, dressed in a hoodie and sweatpants.

"Is that you? You didn't call! I was worried to death!"

"It's just me, Mrs. Kern," I said, slipping my shoes off. She asked where the girls were. "They took their own way home. They'll be along soon enough."

I didn't know this for sure. The last I'd heard of "Tanya" and "Melanie" was that they were headed for Seattle, but I knew this wouldn't last and felt certain they'd be in New Brunswick by the end of the week.

Mrs. Kearn sneered at me. It was clear she didn't care for my response, and she had some tension with Max that wasn't certain to me.

"Well, I didn't make any supper, so we can order something... pizza, I guess..." she said this all very passive-aggressively.

I didn't know any pizza numbers off the top of my head, but there was a yellow pages by the phone, so I called a place called Mario's and had them deliver. We ate in chilling silence sitting across the table from each other. I was becoming desperately afraid for my situation. Finally, she asked, "You guys have another fight?"

"Something like that."

"I never thought she'd take off from you like that. That's not like Melanie..."

"It was Tanya's idea."

"It's not really like Tanya either."

I wondered if maybe, if I told her what had happened at the Inn, she'd be willing to believe me, just based on this evidence alone. I decided against it: the last thing I needed was to be kicked out of my only shelter.

When she finished her pizza, she went back to the TV room to sit. I went walking through the house, first through the bedrooms -- finding the room Max and Melanie had shared, and Tanya's. It was clear Max wasn't such a permanent fixture that the room was part "his." It was very much a "girl's" room, with lots of posters of boys; Twilight and Justin Bieber among them. The bed was tasteful, and there was a dresser split between Men's and Women's clothes. I reached into Melanie's top drawer and pulled out a pair of her panties, just to hold them and remember what I'd lost. They just smelled like laundry.

It didn't feel right to me to spend the night in that room. When the two girls returned, I figured, they'd want their privacy. I opted to spend the night in the basement, a half-finished affair with an old couch and a TV, full of old books and boxes of old objects. There was a single throw pillow and light blanket. I slept in my clothes.

Max: Where it began

You already know a lot about my trip to Maine this past July, and someday I'll work up to explaining what brought me there, because Alia there's a lot those posts don't say about me, both good and bad. But it's almost been a whole month since I promised I'd start writing in here and you haven't heard hardly a peep out of me. It's harder than I thought.

I'll start with the night of the 25th, when I became Max. As you can imagine, I didn't sleep well that whole week. I had switched rooms with Roger, a married man who had stayed behind because he was having problems with his wife and because, I think, he thought he had a shot with me. I want to make it perfectly clear that I never gave him the impression I was willing to let him cheat on his wife with me. After all, we weren't even in the same room that night. How I got him to trade rooms with me, well, that's maybe a different matter.

The point was, this body was meant for him, and who knows what he would have done with it.

Once he gave me his room, there was no turning back. I immediately sought the suitcase. I found a gym bag with a couple of changes of clothes haphazardly tossed in, and no letter or ID around. I dumped out the bad and found Men's jeans and well-worn black t-shirts. I wondered if it was too late. There was no way of knowing who Roger was going to turn into, and I wondered if I had made a mistake, now that I was certain what sort of person I was going to be.

The whole bag was laundered and neatly folded, so it seemed like someone must have taken care of this for Max. It still smelled faintly of detergent. Out of curiosity, I stripped down to my bra and panties and dressed myself in the man's clothes. The jeans came down past my feet and had no hope of staying up without a belt, being very roomy in the crotch. I've worn boyfriends' clothes before, so I could guage how big of a guy Max was from how loose his shirt was on me. My last boyfriend was 6'1 compared to my 5'4 self and modest chest. Max's shirt wasn't as billowy on me.

I spent the night turned on my side, as usual unable to sleep. Around 2:15, I felt my heart starting to beat faster. The hairs on my arms stood up. I can't even describe what it's like to feel hair pull itself into your head, it's like a tingling, like a super-thorough rinse but... inside your scalp.

I was wearing my pajama bottoms and a tank top. I thought the tank would be stretchy enough to survive my metamorphosis, as I only had a vague idea of what my new physique was like. Luckily, Max was a slender guy with slim shoulders. My breasts stiffened and flattened themselves against my torso. It was like losing a limb, to be perfectly honest. But that was nothing compared to the feeling of... being turned inside out.

I didn't see it happen. The whole time I had my eyes clenched shut, mentally chanting "Make it stop, make it stop, make it stop," my palms resting flat against my chest. It wasn't painful, it wasn't erotic, it just slowly, slowly, emerged from me, this alien device in my pants.

When it was over with, I curled back over on my side, flannel pants tight against my thighs and waist, now not reaching the bottom of my calves and tightened all around me. My feet were bare and my toenails were now protruding and scraping against the comforter. I didn't even know what my face looked like, but my first instinct was to rub it and see how recently-shaved it was; there was just a faint wisp of stubble. I couldn't bring myself to get out of bed. I was seized by a deep, sudden feeling of regret for leaving my life behind.

But in the morning, all I could think was "What's done is done." More pressing issues were about to come up.

I was examining my new face when Alia knocked on my door. As Max, I'm thin and taller than I was as Sam, but still under 6 feet. I have a strong jawline, good facial structure... really, he's quite a handsome guy, except he looked and felt at the time like a bit of a dirty lowlife. I was already sweaty and bristling with body hair on my arms, legs, armpits and chest. Not thick, not unappealingly so, just... it was different. It irritates when you're not used to it.

I tested out my expressions, moving the muscles of my face to see what I looked like surprised, angry, happy... how straight my teeth are (not overly) how my nose looked in profile. Whether my Adam's apple stuck out enough. I tried to angle myself in the bathroom mirror to check out my own ass, but I couldn't get a good look.

It's weird, though, it didn't feel like I'd grown, like my hands and feet had gotten bigger, but holding my flats up to my new foot, it was clear I'd gotten some serious bulk. I marveled at how tiny all the clothes I'd packed as Sam now appeared in my hands. How I stood taller in the mirror.

When Alia saw me, she told me I still stood and walked like a woman, but that I would probably re-learn that in time. By now it feels like I have. Looking down at her when she came to my door I was more impressed with how much taller than her I was (head and shoulders) than say, how attractive she is. She's really pretty, but at the time it didn't occur to me that I was a male looking at a female. At that time I still didn't know who I was or who, if anyone I was with.

This was the result of more room-switching before us. In the next room were the bodies of Tanya, Max's girlfriend, and Melanie, her sister. The room I was in had belonged to Melanie, but Max had taken it while Tanya looked after her in their room, because Melanie had over indulged in booze. They'd had the presence of mind to move Max's luggage over, but not his wallet, which was in with Tanya's stuff. So when a short dark-haired girl showed up at my door later that day holding a wallet, I was glad to meet her.

This was just after Alia's somewhat embarrassing attempt at a speech. They'd seen me when I made my brief cameo, and recognized me from the mysterious wallet left in their room. "Tanya" introduced herself and brought me over to her room next door to meet her "sister."

The sisters are just a year or so apart, with Tanya being the younger one. They look similar enough, but Tanya is a bit heavier. I followed her next door where the other girl was sitting on the bed looking shameful, miserable, pensive. Sulking. She was wearing a Men's white button up over a plain tee and cargo shorts, which all obscured her form. I could just barely discern the dark outlines of her nipples, they were poking through a bit. "Tanya" explained, she and Melanie were a couple (I don't really see the use in revealing their names) and it had dawned on them that they were now sisters. Not a pleasant development for them. They showed me their letters, and mine, which basically read, "Max McGill: Good luck." Most of the details of my new life were outlined in Tanya's letter. I asked if they were okay with hanging around here a while. They agreed.

Melanie was quiet the rest of the night while Tanya and I spoke in hushed tones. Not having been gender-changed, she was in a better frame of mind to take control of the situation while Mel sat on the bed with her legs curled up running her fingers through her hair.

"We're not going to Canada," Tanya told me, "[Melanie] has an important job in Washington and we can't let someone else take his life."

I joked, "What are you guys, the Obamas?"

Tanya didn't laugh, but grumbled "No. Not D.C., Washington State. He's an air traffic controller at Sea-Tac. You think the new person in his body is going to know how to do that?"

"No," I sighed, "But do you think they're just going to let that girl walk in and claim that's her job?"

"When he proves he can do it--"

"Look at her!" I said, "She's a wreck. The last thing she needs right now is the safety of thousands of passengers on her mind."

"Stop it!" she said, "Stop calling my boyfriend a she. It's still him in there, isn't it?" I nodded. "Don't you dare tell me what he needs. What we need is to get back to normal, and we can only do that back home."

"This is not a good idea," I told her. "It's not going to work, and you might risk your ability to get back to your own body."

She snapped, "Did you get your own body back? No? Then you don't know what you're talking about, so stay the hell out of our lives."

I wanted to hit her. Wanted to throttle her. I wasn't prone to violence as a woman but that didn't mean I couldn't get frustrated and lost me temper. I stood up and banged my fist on the desk. It hurt but I didn't let on.

"The two of you are making a huge mistake. For the time being, you belong in New Brunswick, and we can figure out a strategy from there. I'll be here for the rest of my reservation if you change your mind."

She looked at me coldly as I left the room. They were gone the next day.

Next time I get around to writing in this, I'll tell you about my trip up to Canada and where things went from there.

Max: Ready to talk

This isn't easy for me. Opening up to people. Back in the day, I learned quickly to keep my mouth shut about my life because I knew nobody would believe me, and the people who knew about my condition weren't in much of a state to care.

My name is Max. It used to be Samantha, and before that... before that isn't important and I'd rather move past it. I've spent a lot of the last 5 years trying to figure out who I'm supposed to be. I still don't know.

What I do know is that this past July, I came back to Maine to give up being Sam. My time in her life was scary as hell and even after years of adjustment, I still wanted to get out. Maybe it wasn't smart, especially not knowing where I was going to end up.

I ended up as a guy. Max. It definitely wouldn't have been my first choice, but any woman should be able to recognize the advantages to being male. Alia told you all about this, or some variation on it. Here's some stuff she didn't tell you.

Max wasn't alone. And he wasn't really forthcoming with details about his life. He wrote half a page that amounted to "I dunno, do whatever." Not so succinctly, but basically gave me the distinct impression that he did not give a shit about what happened to his life. I guess wherever he is, he feels like he's better off, selfish jerk.

But he wasn't alone. He was traveling with his girlfriend Tanya and a third girl, Tanya's twin sister Melanie. They were in the same room that night because Melanie was sick from drinking. Yes, I know that about those two, but Max wouldn't even tell what his own mom's name is.

Anyway, I've decided to post this because... well, it's complicated. I felt like the time was right to get over my tensions about speaking about myself. Even when I was at the Inn, with people who had been transformed, I found it difficult to open up and I don't want to be like that anymore. It's helped that I've had to sort of guide the new Tanya and Melanie through this experience. I'll tell you more about them when I'm ready. For now it just helps that I've opened the lines of communication.

Thanks
-Max