Dave/Chris: Meeting Chris and Sylvia

A few days ago, I was waiting tables in the cafe, when a couple in their 50s walked in. They had a look around the cafe and then sat down. When the man caught my attention, he called me over. He looked familiar, but it took me a moment to realise that this was the original Chris, and the woman he was with, was Sylvia. "What are you doing here?" I blurted out as soon as I recognised them "Sorry, that was rude of me. I just didn't expect you to show up here. I'm Dave, and Shane is behind the counter at the moment. It's nice to meet you in person". "Likewise", he said. "Sorry we didn't announce ourselves, but we have a few days of vacation, and decided to come here spontaneously. Come back home to some familiarity and see how you guys are doing....as us. It is strange to see yourself through someone else's eyes though." We were actually quite busy that day, and didn't have time to talk, so we decided to meet up later for dinner in an upmarket seafood restaurant that they suggested.

Shane was really stressed getting ready for that night. He complained that he didn't know what to wear. "This is where I really miss being a man. It's easy for you. Just put on a pair of pants and a shirt and you're fine. I don't know what to wear. It's a nice restaurant, and I'm still not sure what's suitable" He went back to his room, and came out again a few minutes later with a couple of dresses and a skirt and a couple of tops. "Which one should I wear?" he asked. "I spotted the blue dress he wore the first time he put on a dress and suggested that. Shane went back to his room and came out again half an hour later.  He had put on his make-up and jewellery and was wearing the blue dress with matching heels.

Dinner was interesting. I don't think I mentioned Chris and Sylvia's new names or what they do yet. They're Roger and Deborah, and both have office jobs. Roger is in middle management in a mid-size company, which Chris said was daunting at first, but that he'd managed to find his way around reasonably quickly. He said that once he realised that he could delegate most of what he didn't know, it became a question of just being organised, rather than needing too many specific skills. Deborah is in marketing, and it seemed like it's been a lot harder for Sylvia. She doesn't have the years of experience that Deborah does, and has messed a few things up. The original Deborah has told her that she loves her job, so Sylvia is now just trying very hard to not get fired before they can switch back.

Shane asked Chris about whether they had considered staying who they are, or maybe trying to find other bodies, given that he's gone from being a trans man to a biological man. "In the beginning, I really thought about it", he replied "but I quickly realised that I miss being a part of the LBGTQ+ community. It might sound strange, because for my whole life I've wanted this - to be a man, with all the right parts, but we have a life here and friends, and to be honest, I find this life dull and lonely. I wish I could keep my penis, and I think Sylvia would probably like it if I could keep it too" he said, winking at her, which made her blush "but I don't think it's worth it. Besides, we've lost about 20 years of our lives. In any case, the original Roger and Deborah want their bodies back. We'd also really like our bodies back, and would be very grateful if you help us to make that happen. We've managed to get reservations in the correct room, so we should be OK." Sylvia chimed in: "yeah, I'm a much older woman, and I don't fit in with other women 'my' age. It might also sound weird, but I really miss being bisexual. Deborah is 100% straight, and women do nothing for me now. I feel like a part of me that I liked a lot, has been ripped away. But what about you?" Chris asked Shane. "You look pretty comfortable as a woman. It's hard to believe that you were a man only a few months ago."

Shane shifted in his seat a little, adjusted his dress and recrossed his legs. "It took me a while to get past the embarassment of wearing women's clothes. At first, I felt like I was crossdressing every day, but when everyone looks at you like it's normal, and you even get a lot of compliments on your appearance, then you get over that pretty quickly. I'm looking forward to getting back, though. It takes far too long to get ready, a lot of the attention I get is too much for me, and I really hate periods. As for your sexuality...well, it's weird because I'm still attracted to women, but now I feel like I'm attracted to everyone....not everyone, literally, but you know what I mean." Sylvia looked at Shane and asked. "Obviously sexual attraction comes with your body, and that body is attracted to Chris' body. You don't have to answer, but have you two....you know, done anything about it? It would definitely be a different experience for both of you." I think both Chris and I felt equally awkward then. We admitted that we hadn't, and tried to change the subject, but the embarassment stayed with us for a while. 

For most of the rest of the meal, we chatted about fairly mundane things, but as we were getting to the end of dinner, There was something I had to ask Chris. "Aren't you worried about how Trump is taking away trans rights? I mean, as far as the government is concerned, I...and in a couple of months, you will be classed as being a woman. It scares me, and I only have to deal with it for a few more months. Do you really want to come back to that?" Chris leaned back and nodded, and said "Yes, it's a very worrying time to be trans, but I've been through worse. I don't know if I told you, but we're originally from a small town in Montana, and when we came out as gay, we were rejected by our families and lost almost all of our friends. When I came out as trans, it was even worse, and we felt like we had to move away to be happy. San Francisco seemed like the obvious place. If we can survive that, then we can survive this. With any luck, it'll be over in 4 years, and I think the Californian government will also protect us as best as they can. I love being a part of this community, and we have so many friends that I'm missing." 

After dinner we decided to go to a bar for a few drinks. It was a gay bar, and I've never been to one before, and I doubt Shane had either. I don't think I had a problem with gay or trans people in my previous life, but I was definitely ignorant. Ignorant of the hardships and challenges they face. I always wondered why you would need bars that define themselves as gay, but having gone to "regular" bars as Chris, I definitely felt safer here, even though Chris does pass quite well, apart from a few things you'd knowingly have to look for, but there's always that fear of being found out. But now, I didn't feel like I had to worry about hiding the fact that I'm a trans man. We found a table and ordered some drinks. Chris and Sylvia are actually very friendly and easy to get along with, so we stayed for a lot longer and had more to drink than we intended.

At some point, we did call it a night, and Shane and I took an Uber home. It had turned out to be both an educational and fun night, but as we walked inside Shane grabbed me and started kissing me. Between kisses, he said: "I've been thinking about what Sylvia said the whole time, about having sex with each other, and it's a huge turn on. I'm really horny." I was too, and we kept going, and we ended up in Shane's bed. I helped him take off his dress and bra, and started playing with his nipples. After a while, my hand went lower and lower, until I reached his pussy. I pulled off his panties and started to rub him around his clit. "Oh god....yes, right there" he moaned. He was very wet, and this would have been the time to fuck him. I couldn't do that, so I did the next best thing and went down on him, licking and sucking, until he tensed up. "Oh...oh...oh" he screamed. 

We lay there for a couple of minutes and caught our breaths. "OK. My turn", he said "If it's too weird or you don't like it, then we can stop at any time." I watched as he pulled down my briefs and pull out the prosthetic, and then he went to work. I closed my eyes and tried to imagine that I was getting a blow job, and if I tried hard enough, I could almost imagine it. It felt a bit strange and different, but having a sexy woman between my legs, regardless of the genitals I had, was a big turn on. Shane kept going and I was getting closer and closer until I finally let out a long, loud moan, as I came. He immediately turned around and maneuvered himself into a position between my legs, where he could grind his pussy into mine. "I've always wanted to try this", he said. It was already a weird feeling that I didn't need any downtime before going again. I could feel his rubbing against my very sensitive enlarged clit, as we scissored and it didn't take long before we both came again. We held each other for a while, before we kissed again and I got up and went to bed. I lay there for a while, thinking about what we did, and whether we should have crossed this line, before drifting off to sleep.

It seems like we're making up for lost time now, because we've had sex for on each of the 3 nights since then, and last night was the first time we used some of the toys, which meant it was the first time I'd put something in my pussy. It's a weird feeling, but the nerves are all there and working. I don't get as wet as Shane - maybe due to the hormones, but with some lubricant, it feels really good. 

So it looks like our pretend relationship is turning into an actual relationship. I don't know how this will affect us when go back, but our friendship will probably never be the same again...

Andi/Andy: Done with that!

Of course, by "that" I only mean high school - Andy's life is still mine for another month or so, barring anything else going wrong.

Everyone else I know talked about how senior year, especially the second semester, is a chance to coast and skip and all that, but it's been pretty nerve-wracking for Andy and me.  Andy never really pulled out of his funk, and we both kind of stumbled doing each other's Zoom interviews as part of our college applications, so by the time acceptance letters (and the opposite) started coming, we were pretty nervous, and some of them were provisional on our final-semester grades.

And the results were pretty disappointing for me - I got Andy into Northeastern University in Boston, as much as I'm surprised he wanted any part of New England after the last couple years.  I guess he really liked the real-world-experience program.  Meanwhile, I'm looking at a state university this fall, which isn't bad, I guess, but feels really frustrating because I've been doing pretty well in school and he's going to get the benefit of it.

It hasn't been a good look for me, especially since only my brother and my parents know why I'm frustrated, and everyone else is more worried about "Andi" clearly struggling with things this year.  It's been genuinely scary at times, because even last summer, I don't recall ever feeling this angry, and I sometimes wonder if all this testosterone just super-charges it or something.  Like, Mom and Dad have been very good at making sure Andy and I both understand that "men can't help themselves" is bullshit, even before our first trip to the Inn, and maybe if situations were different, things could still piss me off like this did, but the fact that it may be all the male hormones just makes me even angrier...

Now, don't misunderstand, I haven't been walking around in a constant rage for the past three months, but it's really unnerving.  You read a lot of stuff on this blog about guys grappling with their self-image because they're starting to find other guys attractive or enjoy wearing a nice dress, and get fewer posts about girls who become guys and start being attracted to girls, but getting mad like this doesn't come up.  Dad's been great about it - he's always been good about spotting when stuff has been bothering me and saying the right thing, and while he hasn't done anything goofy like hanging a punching bag in the basement or anything, he has helped me just get it out physically, even if it's just not questioning when I go on an hour-long run or something.  Andy has been a little freaked, but I've at least got some sort of circuit-breaker in my head that stops me from really lighting into my own face or getting anywhere near violence.  He mostly just doesn't want to believe that's potentially in him.

Weirdly, Cindi was kind of on-point without even knowing the half of what was going on.  The way she figures it, the fact that "Andi" and I were looking at being separated must be what's messing us up.  She doesn't have siblings, much less a twin, but she sees how inseparable we are, how I initially resisted her advances because she'd been mean to "my sister" (which is to say, me) back in middle school, and figures I must be mad at "her" for not keeping up and myself for being selfish enough to go to the good school.  She's an annoyingly great girlfriend.

Which brings us to prom.

Shockingly, Andy was more into it this year, probably in part because he didn't have a date, but was mostly just going with Shawna and some other girls, hanging out, dancing with guys, but no kissing or hands on butts or making any sort of statement.  I mean, he spent the whole afternoon at the hair salon with them, and was even wearing two-inch heels and showing some cleavage in his dress as Mom took pictures, when he's really not into girl stuff that much.  He shrugged and said he might as well have some fun with it in our last few months as each other, and this was all going to be part of my Instagram page come next month, and he wouldn't want me to look bad.

And, yeah, I was kind of disappointed that I didn't get to wear the pretty dress, although I got to have Cindi wear one on my arm, which is a dumb guy thing to be proud of - she did all the work! - but it's kind of real, at least for a few more weeks at least.  And I don't really look bad in a suit like this, myself.

We didn't cross paths that often at the dance, but we didn't avoid each other.  There was a point when Cindi was in the restroom and I was at the refreshment stand grabbing a Coke Zero when he came up and got a Diet Coke, and we kind of laughed at there be boy and girl soda, and were we going to have to switch back lest folks call us weird.  I commented that he was having fun, and he said he was, but might have to get off his feet soon because he'd been dancing all night and that was way more than he'd ever done in heels.  "Can't wait for those to be your problem!"

He actually did wind up heading out fairly early with someone who had to get up early the next morning, while Cindi and I stayed more or less to the end.  We got in my car, and she put her hand on mine.  "Hey.  There's nobody at my family's lake house."

I don't know whether it was the touch or the suggestion, but the thing in between my legs just reacted instantly.  "Uh, I don't know, I told my folks I'd be home by--"

"Don't worry, I told your sister and she was sure your parents would be cool with it, and they'll at least know.  I want to do this, and you've been waiting long enough."

I didn't say anything out loud, but all the way there, "she thinks she's been the one who's been keeping me waiting" bounced around my head.  We kind of didn't talk on the way, just nervous "remember when this classmate did that" from earlier in the night, before we got there and made our way to her bedroom.

We stood there for a second, nervous, and then she took a deep breath.  "Andy, I've got to warn you - I'm not a virgin."

How do you respond to that without suggesting a girl is a prude or a slut?  I tried to think of what I would want to hear, but it suddenly seemed like an eternity since I'd been a girl.  "Okay, I mean, I didn't think, you know, that you had, uh, denied yourself anything.  Or anything."

She smiled a little at me being flustered, but got serious again.  "It's not like that.  When I was thirteen, and puberty decided to be really generous, my uncle..."

She trailed off and I gasped.  Like, I could fill in the blanks, and while I'm lucky enough that nobody ever did more than "accidentally" brush me at that age, I sure remembered a lot of guys giving me more attention than a random kid should get.  I wanted to say I understood, but I knew right away that she'd know "Andy" didn't, couldn't, really, so I just said I was so sorry that happened and had no idea.

"Well, I made sure nobody had no idea.  I didn't even tell my folks until a few weeks ago, when we saw that uncle again and he made some sort of remark about what you and I must be doing."  She took another breath.  "But this isn't about that, this is about you being great and me wanting you especially since you've been so patient with me and not acted like there was anything wrong with me."

She looked scared, and not having any idea what to say, I kissed her, she kissed back, and then we were getting clothes off and...

Well, neither of us really had any idea what we were doing.  We'd seen movies and I kind of remembered exploring a bit a couple years ago, but you know what?  It was good.  It was really good, and as much as I've spent so much of what had been leading up to it upset about being a guy, it was kind of nice being the big spoon as we fell asleep, her hair against my face and my hand on her belly, though it moved as we slept.

We were still in that position when I woke up, and she soon did the same, feeling that I was aroused, and we tried it again.  We were a little better.  We had a little swim and then headed into town to get some breakfast since there was no food in the house, and giggled until I finally dropped her off.

Andy was waiting for me in the garage with a smirk.  "I am so jealous!"

"Well you don't necessarily have to be fore--"  I stopped.  "You know what, you do.  I don't know how we'll handle things when we switch, but--"

"Dude!  What kind of creep do you think I am?"

"I know, it's just...  It was kind of a big thing."

"Yeah.  I know."

"You do?  Who?"

"None of your damn business!"  I must have given him a look and he shrugged.  "Just a random guy at the regional one-act play thing."  He smiled and then asked if I wanted something to eat, knowing that you can always get a teenage boy to answer yes and change the subject.

Mom and Dad said absolutely nothing when they got back from Sunday brunch with their friends.

After that...  Well, graduation, which is a long, hot day in robes that just suck up heat but having your parents and grandparents and all your friends there smiling like idiots makes you smile like an idiot too.  Andy and I walked to get our diplomas from the principal together, and not just because of alphabetical order.  As we went back to our positions, we whispered "we did it" to each other, and that was maybe the most satisfying part of the day.

Daryl/Zee: Meet-Cute

J.T. put on a pretty darn good performance Thursday night, acting like I just randomly caught his eye across the bar, buying me a drink, pretending like he didn't expect me to recognize him but would be hurt if I didn't.  It's a funny thing, our lives - if you've been to the Inn, you're eventually going to get into a position where you've got to perform as someone else, and it's different from what he does in that you don't really have to be convincing, because there's no reason for anyone to actually doubt you, but there are so many ways to be "off" that make it harder for people to follow their own part of the script, so to speak.  When you throw a professional actor like J.T. into it, though, it's something else.

At times, I'm not so sure that's a great thing - he was so convincingly Elaine that I fell for her, and hasn't that made my life crazy over the past few years?  Everyone else either just tries to keep their heads down or commits to living their new life, and while that inevitably makes a mess, because humans are messy, it's usually a clumsy mess that we can stumble out of awkwardly.  But he was just too good.

On the other hand - that night was exciting.  Like, we've kind of been doing some performances together for a while, like our "breakup" in June that got me a bunch of sympathy from the friends and co-workers I had as Magda but which left him a fair amount of time to have his friends start pushing him to find someone new, while I've been sort of laying the groundwork to leave the next Magda able to do whatever she wants without it seeming weird.

Still - it was kind of surprising to see just how well he was selling it.  I mean, I know J.T. well already, and I never really thought of myself as a woman who wanted a man to pay attention to me.  Sometimes I don't even think of myself as a woman, but a guy who has wound up in a woman's body because the girl I liked was really a man and this worked out easier.  But here's J.T., doing that, and it's kind of working on me.  I mean, I've never been a single girl looking for a guy's attention, but I did kind of worry that maybe with this new shape and voice and smell or whatever, we might lose chemistry, but, nah, he's interested and I'm excited by that.

He calls a taxi and we get back to his/our apartment, and we kiss for a long time, letting us get used to how my new lips feel before we do much else.  He's really excited to undress me, though, and I let him, not letting him touch anything until he's got me completely naked, and even then kind of making him look me all over, starting from how I've actually got pretty nice toes (I don't think prior Zees have crammed them into the sort of shoes that squish them together than much) to the shape of my legs.  Then he's laying hands on my firmer ass, and from there it's not far to my tits, and he's kissing those and being kind of cute in how he's not sure whether I want to hear how much better they are or if I'll take that as him saying that he didn't enjoy what I had as Magda.

Eventually, we get to the bed, and for all that it's exciting, I'm tighter down there than I was, and he likes it but it's also a little harder than he's had to work before.  We both get a little surprised when something that had always brought be to orgasm before feels good but isn't quite the same, although we get there eventually, and it's good enough to leave us both lying there, panting.

We hang out as much as we can over the weekend - he is in a show, after all - and most of today, before I get on a plane (ugh, paying for airline tickets!) and head back "home", where I will act so spacey and distracted for the next couple of weeks that everybody will hopefully take my not knowing who they are as being head over heels in love.

--Daryah (maybe? I'm pronouncing it dare-ee-yah in my head)

Jonah/Krystle: Who Are You and What Have You Done with Jonah Glass?

I don't date much.  Pretty much everyone I know who has wound up staying or stuck where the Inn put them seems to put their old life behind them much more practically than I do, including the parts where they go decide their body has different needs or unlocks something they didn't realize was there.  Especially that - every once in a while I'll be talking with Jordan and she'll just casually mention the way the guy she was with picked her up and put her against a wall or had her wrap her legs around him and that it's super hot because of how much she used to weigh, and I don't really know how to respond to it.  Like, my history since the Inn is avoiding being around other people, getting pregnant from a one-night stand because the guy with my face wouldn't give it back otherwise, pregnancy/new motherhood as an excuse not to, half-assed husband hunting, one guy who dumped me when he found out about Krystle's history, and then a lot of things that didn't take.  Well, mostly.  I'll get to that.

There has been someone over the past month, though.  It started at work, a day where I've got the chance to do more than be eye-candy at the front desk because someone's out sick.  He's a guy who comes in alone, about forty or so, not in bad shape at all but probably starting to notice things are getting a little harder.  You work in a gym, you get kind of familiar with that sort of guy.  Some of them stick with it, a lot don't, either having trouble fitting it into an already busy life or just deciding that, shit, having a bit of a gut is a natural part of hitting middle age, and why pay this much money and that much time to fight nature?  Anyway, a thing a lot of them tend to do at first is either think that something is as easy as the people with some experience are making it look or figure they can start at medium difficulty and move down if they have to.  Anyway, this fellow is part of that last group, which means he gets halfway up a wall and freaks out.  I've got to help him down, and he just won't stay still and let me help, so my breasts are in his face at various points, I'm tightening his harness and pushing at his butt, and, believe me, it's not nearly so sexy as it sounds.  It's kind of embarrassing for us both, and he kind of dashes away afterward.

He shows back up a few days later, though, and starts on a beginner's wall, and does okay.  He comes by the front desk to apologize afterward, and I say it's no big deal, but he persists and asks if he can buy me dinner.  I'm not quite Krystle enough to make a wisecrack about if he always finds out whether or not a girl's breasts are real in advance, but I do say yes, maybe because I've got June already being engaged on my head.  Long story short, he's a good-seeming guy, doesn't freak over me having a kid or being more into sports than fashion, and I think I'm pretty level-headed about him being divorced.

We have sex on the third date and it's good.  It's been a while for both of us and I kind of know that I'm not nearly as good at this as folks would assume someone with my appearance would be, even if they don't know Krystle's life before me being in it.  We start seeing each other once or twice a week, although I don't take him up on his offer to watch the fireworks show on the Fourth from a boat in the river.  Moira had been really excited about that and I'm not quite up to including him in family stuff.

So that's all nice and normal, or at least feels that way, but then we zip ahead to this past Thursday.  I'm heading into work more dressed-up than usual - blazer, pencil skirt, pantyhose, heels - because I'm coming from a job interview.  I like my job, a lot, but this fall will be "my" thirtieth birthday, Moira's bright enough that I really should be saving for college in addition to trying to move out of Momma Kamen's apartment, and jobs that give you raises to keep up with your needs is just a myth boomers tell.  I'm not qualified for a lot, on paper maybe, but I've filled in for a lot of roles that aren't technically part of my job description over the past couple years, and while I don't really get what all the low-unemployment statistics mean, everyone tells me that it's a good time to find something that pays a little better and has better health insurance.

Anyway, I look pretty good, although maybe a little deflated because maybe I aimed too high looking at an assistant-manager gig, but the point is, as I'm walking toward the gym, I'm getting looks, and it's a little tougher for me to pick up the pace as someone gets up from the bench he'd been sitting on and walks to me because I'm in four-inch heels.  Fortunately, he's not a threat, although it takes me a minute to recognize Gabriel.

I mentioned him once on here, but all we did after that was go to Flour the next day, chat a bit, and then follow each other on Instagram before he went back to New York.  We like and comment on each other's photos and stuff, and I consider him a friend in the way I do a lot of people I've only met online.  I seemed to recall he'd talked about being in Boston at some point in July, but it never got farther than that.  But, apparently, Momma Kamen really likes him and pointed him at where I work.

And I do get kind of excited when I see him - my voice goes up a bit, I talk about how I'm looking to see what's out there.  He asks me out for dinner after I get off work, I say sure, he comments that he'll make sure he gets into a suit by then, and I say there's no need, if we're just hanging out.  As soon as I get into the changing room, I sent Karla a text asking if she minds Moira staying a bit late, and she says it's fine - as much as we don't always see eye to eye, Moira and her cousins adore each other - and sends me a couple eggplant emojis after saying she expects to stay over.  I roll my eyes.

I roll them a little less when Gabriel texts me a shot of himself in a suit, although I kind of grumble about getting back into my interview clothes.  He looks even better in person, and he's booked a table at a fancy Korean place near the theater district, and I won't lie, I really enjoy being there and not feeling out of place.  We talk way past dessert, and then it turns out we're close to his hotel.  We get a drink at the bar, he invites me upstairs...

... and what we do next is motherfucking amazing!

I'm not going to describe it too much, because I still kind of think that's private, but sounds came out of me that I'd never made otherwise, and even after he'd gone limp, there were still waves passing through me.  He looks at me with this weird grin on his face, and we're both like "what?" a couple times, and then I start laughing, because he'd never believe me if I actually told him that this was the first time I'd actually had an orgasm.

He falls asleep with his arms around me and I just kind of think about what that means rather than try and get out.  I mean, I grew up pretty religious, and while most of my friends sort of got to "well, maybe getting laid won't immediately send you to Hell" at a certain point, that's when I became Krystle and was sure this was some sort of test, and then my first sexual experience was just awful and degrading - Ashlyn tells me I shouldn't even think of it as consensual! - and made it easy for me to think of the whole thing in pretty bad terms afterward.  Even when I started dating, I felt kind of weird about enjoying sex - it felt good, but it was something where I felt bad about it feeling that good, if it makes any sense.  I was supposed to be a guy, and even if I wasn't, good girls shouldn't be doing this, if only because what can happen (I love Moira more than anything, but I don't have any idea how Karla handles three kids; it would break me).

This feeling, though, was sent from God.  Or maybe the Devil, but God's the one who made women able to feel it, right?  I don't know; I just kind of felt like I understood something for a moment and felt like maybe living this life wasn't just some sort of responsibility I couldn't shirk because of Moira.  It felt pretty good to fall asleep with Gabe's hand cupping my breast.

I wasn't thinking such grandiose things when I woke up in the morning, but I felt a bit lighter than I usually did.  I answered one of Karla's texts with a smiley face and let Gabriel treat me to breakfast.  I kind of felt like I should feel awful - a terrible mother still wearing yesterday's clothes after leaving my little girl with someone else on short notice - but I didn't.  Heck, when my boyfriend saw me kissing Gabe goodbye as we went our separate ways on the T and tried to make me feel terrible for it, I just kind of shrugged it off.  I liked him, but this one night had been better than the past month (it was at least almost as good) and he didn't have any sort of claim on me.  I felt bad, but also kind of wondered whether I'd just been accepting that my future might be determined by whoever was interested enough to ask me out at a moment when I was single and didn't have any obvious warning signs.

(That's why I haven't bothered to include that guy's name in this post; what's the point?)

I don't think that's just about "wow, I came, and now I know a woman's life can be more!"  Still...  I dunno, between I feel like having willingly had sex with two guys in the past week and it not entirely being a step toward something else doesn't feel like me.

-Jonah/Krystle

Val: Long stories short

Sorry if these posts have become so few and far between but when the world changes so fast it becomes a mite bit hard to figure out when to stop and talk about it. Over the last two months, talking about my own sorry life has been real low on my list of priorities, but I feel a little calm and comfortable now, and am just a bit in need of distraction, even if we as a city and country ain't nearly out of the woods yet.

After the wedding, Ariel and I both kind of recognized that what had happened between us was a one-off - two women in need grabbing a little piece of excitement from the best possible source. We had a single conversation loaded with nervous laughter where we both agreed to admit we had expected it a little based on all the buildup we had had, but that there wasn't more to it than that.

The idea was, we were going to go back to our normal lives. Ariel would give herself some time to move on from her relationship with Charli, and I would go back to pining over irritating men.

Then COVID happened, and suddenly we were all we had for company.

We both recognized early on the potential for danger here. We were two of each other's closest friends in the world, confidantes and emotional support at a time when everyone needed someone to fill that role. Complicating it could be a disaster.

True, I said, but in my experience, denying yourself something you want is a complication. It's simpler to give in and deal with the fallout later.

She smiled and said that's why I like you, you say stuff like that just when I need to hear it.

I added, it's more fun, too.

So began our sexual odyssey. We gave it a few weeks before confirming to Maddie what we were up to. She took it strangely, like she was disappointed in me, but understood it was my business. Eventually she adjusted, but she always maintained a weirdly conflicted attitude about it. Maybe she didn't like us becoming a faction. Maybe she was insecure about her formerly-supposedly-straight friend falling in with a girl, and her sister's ex at that. Part of me hoped it was because she wished she were in Ariel's place, but I pushed that aside and tried to appreciate the girl I had.

At times I had doubts myself. I had been pursuing men for so long it hadn't occurred to me to be with a woman in this way. I think because I felt such guilt over myself for my past relationships with women that being with men exclusively felt like my... punishment? Realizing I am bisexual as a woman was actually a hard step to take because I had to try to figure out whether I was just faking it to feel like Tyler again, or if I, Valerie, like this girl. And the answer is I do, because there is a lot to like.

I mean, she's beautiful, with tan skin and great hair and a really great fashion sense. And an incredible figure. She's funny, she's smart, she's informed. A joy to be around. She makes me feel good and - and I don't say this lightly - I feel like I can be myself around her.

After a few weeks of casual sex, we began to morph into an actual couple with the closest things you could think of to "dates" in lockdown. Movie nights, special dinners. She would light candles and read me poetry she loved (that would mostly go over my head). I would tell her long stories with no real point and make endless breakfasts. And at the same time we had all the perks of being girlfriends - long talks, fashion advice, gossip.

Sometime in May, it became a little tricky for me because I recognized I was on the verge of becoming vulnerable. I did some math and realized it had been years since I had really been in a relationship of equals. That would be Meg. At times my relationship with Kitty felt that way but it always had that element of just playing house, occupying time until we moved on to other things. This was the first time in a very, very long time I was with someone, fully and unambiguously.

It scared me. I became a little sensitive to relationship things. Wanted some space. Maybe even snapped at her once or twice.

And then something crazy happened.

We talked it out.

Without revealing that I used to be a man called Tyler who was victim of a magic Inn, I explained my past as best I could and how badly behaved I was in some past relationships, and how I was seeing similar behavior in myself again and I'd understand if she wanted to cut her losses. She told me she wanted to work with me through it, if that was what I wanted, and I broke down crying admitting, I do, I do. We kissed and made up.

I was falling in love.

So in June, when the world erupted in chaos and violence and protests about racial inequality, my Black girlfriend was insistent that I make fighting for what was right part of our relationship. And admittedly, I was a bit stuck in some of my old backward ways thinking this was all a lot, but she brought me up to speed and told me that this was her life, where she came from and what she is, and her need for me to see all of it and make her struggle part of mine.

It was one of those "Wow, I really am not Tyler anymore" things. Not that he was a racist, he just... didn't get things. The person I once was would probably never have put himself in danger even once, but it took me very little convincing.

I do feel guilty about how it all had to come about - relying on the person I am dating to explain the fine details of "systemic racism" to me, but I figure growth is a good thing by any means. And she seemed happy to help me because she wants me to be good.

It has been an overall turbulent few months, which I have summed up as quickly as I can because I don't have as much "alone time" to write in a blog anymore, but this is all to say in this crazy fucking world... I have found love. I am in love, I am loved, in ways I never expected. And yeah it's a little surprising that it's with a woman (which maybe that's still surprising that that's surprising but after everything I really saw myself with a man!) but if you know this woman you would not be surprised at all.

I don't know if this is the end for me at this blog. I know I have had a long-ass journey to get to a place where I feel this good all the time. There is still more to do to make me the Val I want to be. But if you don't hear from me again know that I left off on a good note.

Love and peace

Valerie

Steven-Shona: Hit hard

Georgia was one of the states hit hardest by the pandemic (51K cases in a state of 11 Mil, aka 5% of everyone who lives here) largely thanks to what I would characterize as insanely poor leadership, but I did not come here to get political. Only to talk about the toll it has taken on on me - as the floor manager of a Big Box store, I have spent the last two months in the trenches as people fought for the last scrap of toilet paper, water, and for some reason flour (you all people know you can buy bread, right?)

We're through the worst of it now, although unfortunately that has led the news cycle to focus on even more harrowing things, but in March and April things got way worse than I ever expected when I took this job. "Lower management at a superstore? I have an MSc from Georgia Tech." Little did I know more lives would seemingly depend on me while I'm wearing a gray polo than when I wore a lab coat.

I saw the worst in people. Frenzy, panic, frustration, abuse heaped on our underpaid and overworked employees, many of whom took this job as an after-school position because they're, you know, teens. Entitlement, ignorance, and outright flouting of the rules as time went on, as if this disease weren't taking more and more people into the hospital for two months, many of whom never came out - and a lot of whom never made it there in the first place.

I don't want to harp because we're past it now and things have moved on, but I saw awful things. I saw 15-year-old girls spat on for trying to enforce the posted limit of certain items per customer. I saw one of my brightest workers, an honors student, shoved down and nearly trampled. I've seen disadvantaged folks and seniors not being able to get things they need because - and there "ain't no rule" - the same wealthy people come back day after day to scoop up what they want. It hurt, and many days I would just go home and hold my head in my freshly-washed hands and hold back tears.

Amidst all of this, three things happened that have changed the trajectory of my life.

One was a chance encounter with an old classmate of mine from high school. Ricky West. Ricky was practically the king of the school, or at least the prince. He was an offensive first-stringer on the football team, was in homecoming and prom court, married a teen pageant queen from our school at 18. All the guys envied him. The worst part is you couldn't even really hate him because he was humble and kind, and not that dumb - no genius but not dumb.

So when I saw him in the liquor aisle of the store, still looking just like an older, more tired and potbellied version of the handsome guy from high school, I momentarily forgot myself and gave him a smile - "Heya Rick!" Oop. The moment it came out of my mouth I remembered - not Steven. And Shona didn't grow up around here.

So as expected, he looked at me sideways. "I know you?"

"Oh uh, not personally, but we have friends in common. I'm Shona. I... used to date Steven Blassie."

He scratched his chin. "Oh, uh... yeah, him." I could tell he only dimly remembered me, if at all. Saying we had "mutual friends" was a big stretch but not a total lie.

He looked rough, his hair unkempt, unshaved, and like maybe he wasn't sleeping good. "Is there anything I can help you with?"

"Well, I don't really drink, but uh... that whisky is looking real good."

"Tennessee's finest," I said.

"I uh... I just got laid off. Been with that company for eight years. It took them a week into the pandemic to decide I wasn't worth paying."

"I'm sorry to hear that," I said. "You're just gonna drown your sorrows?" He looked rough, like maybe he was on his way to rock bottom.

"Don't have much of a choice. Nobody's hiring."

"Well, we happen to need some help on the loading dock - these are really tough times you know. Why don't I get you an application?"

He backed off. "Hey, I don't want any charity..."

"It's not charity," I said, "We need help. And I can't give you anything except an interview. You have to get yourself the job."

He stepped forward and went to hug me, but I backed off - "Woah, pandemic remember?"

He turned red. "Oh yeah. Sorry about that."

Well, he did get the job. And he was good at it. Nice guy, friendly, hard worker, lively conversation. And I think he always had a lot of gratitude to me for reaching out because he always made sure to talk with me, check in on me if I maybe needed help or someone to vent to. He became somebody I actively looked forward to seeing during my day, probably because it felt so good to be on friendly terms with the prince of high school, even if those days were long past.

And I was the same for him. He was working long hours and it led to a lot of disagreements with his wife, and he felt like, he's out here trying to put food on the table and why can't she just accept that? And I said that being a woman doesn't mean I understand them, and he laughed.

And then one night, after yet another stressful day, it was just him and me finishing up some receiving and paperwork, and we're talking about what we're going to do when we got home - which was not much since it was nearly 11. Then he said we might as well sleep here and I said yeah, let's make a bed out of toilet paper.

And then he kissed me.

And I didn't stop it. I didn't know how to react in the moment. It felt right even though he's married and I'm not who I look like. In that moment it felt good to be wanted by somebody, and extra good for it to be him. As Shona - being as big as I am - a lot of men don't look at me as a sex object, and the ones that do think I should feel lucky that they do, not realizing I don't want their attention or care. But this guy... he has a beautiful wife at home and we struck up a bond that felt real and... well, my head was spinning.

I had a split second to decide what happened next and... I had sex with him, right there on the loading dock floor.

I'm not proud of it, and it has been weighing on my conscience ever since, but in the moment I needed the release badly, both because of how overworked and stressed I was, and because I thought the opportunity would never present itself again, and because of... the second of the other two things I have yet to explain.

In March - not long after the pandemic started and Ricky was hired - I received a letter from Shona. It read in part:

"Dear Steven,

It has come to my attention that for the past several months you have been inhabiting my former body and living as me. Please know that this was in no way my intended or hoped for outcome, even when I learned that the Trading Post Inn had transformed me into a new person. But I'll admit it is not the worst outcome in my eyes. I was so afraid that whoever got that body would hate it, disrespect it, resent it or harm it. and i know you would do none of those things. You had always claimed to love how I was, and I hope you are capable of bringing that same energy to the challenge of being me.

I had made my peace with the physical fact of my body since I was 14, with how it was to me and how the world treated me. But I never made peace with being me.

I felt guilty for accepting your love because I never felt the same way. I did not love you the way you loved me, but i did my best to convince myself to try. You are a good man and treated me well, and it's nobody's fault those feelings aren't there on my side. I stayed with you so long because I felt you were the best I could do, that I could never hoped to be loved more than you loved me, and never hope to find someone I loved that way too.

I am so sorry to tell you this, especially under these circumstances.

My friend Reby, who knew of the Inn's magic, and knew of my inner conflict, took it on herself to arrange the trip for me. I resent that, but I know that if she could have explained it beforehand - if I could imagine it were real - I would have agreed. This is what I want.

I will always remember you fondly.

-Sho"

This was accompanied by pages of directives on how best to live as her and other notes, some of which would have been very helpful months ago.

To learn, this far in, that the woman I devoted my life to, whose legacy I now proudly wore, was lying to me for years about her feelings, felt she was settling for me and never truly loved me, destroyed me. I carried that with me, privately, for weeks, trying to suppress the hurt and confusion as I navigated the high pressures of the pandemic world, until finally it exploded that night with Ricky and we both made a major mistake.

FWIW - It's completely immaterial whether the sex was any good because it was so WRONG to do, but I do have thoughts that I would like to share someday in a more appropriate venue, and maybe when I have more "data." Which may never happen, or it may.

I spent days afterward feeling completely ashamed, unable to look him in the eye, and he seemed ashamed too since it took days for us to work up the nerve to look at each other again. In his case, he let me know that he was feeling bad about it, and how he was going through so much and I said clearly, it was a mistake we both made - nothing excused it (although he desperately seemed to want to justify it by talking about issues in his marriage, which... get those sorted out yourself.) I said it would be best to just pretend it never happened and he said it would try.

"I just want my friend back," I said. He seemed to agree.

Then he muttered something about asking whether there were any "loose ends" that needed to be tied up. I did a double take at that but realized what he was saying. I had opted to take a morning-after pill the next day because being that it had happened so fast neither of us had any contraceptive handy and didn't exactly stop to ask questions in the moment (if we had, we probably would have come to our senses.)

That brings us to the last thing that happened, in April. I was notified that, due to COVID-19 causing all out-of-state travel to be cancelled, my reservation to the Inn would be refunded and I would have to re-book for a later date.

I was unsure exactly what this meant but I could feel safe in assuming that, since I was relying on going there at a certain time to recoup my body, that whenever I did end up getting there, my body would no longer be available.

Not knowing exactly how the Inn works, only having what I've read on this blog as "evidence" it seems like I have completely lost my chance to become Steven in body again. Perhaps ever. How long will it take for the Inn to find someone to transform into me? Has it already happened? Is there some kind of holding pattern for when there is less than enough people to trigger the change, or can it only stay dormant for so long before it just... randomly starts assigning bodies? I guess we'll have to watch the news out of Old Orchard Beach for that but I doubt the local Bangor CBS Affiliate covers body swapping.

Damn it. Damn it all. Honestly after Shona sent me her letter telling me she would never be herself again, it's not like I thought that was my cue to stay as her - it was still not a life I wanted to lead for myself, even if I wanted to ensure that her body was respected per her wishes. I was too hurt by what she had said about our relationship. Honestly, I hoped I could go back to being myself and abandon this body to fate, out of spite and hurt a little bit. But now... well, if I ever get back to Maine, why should I bother? Why leap into the great unknown when history has shown that I would probably just end up someplace worse, still female, probably not as free as this?

So... am I Shona forever?

I honestly don't know. I feel lost.

-Former Steven

Valerie: There goes the bride

For the past few months I have been thinking about what I would write if I came back to the blog. The world I left off in seems so different and alien, and while changes of lifestyle are nothing new to me, this is the first time everyone else has been along for the ride.

The coffee shop has been kept open for grab-and-go and mobile orders, but business is way down, which means shifts are way down, which means sitting on my butt at home like everyone else. You would think this gave me time to write, but living in an apartment with two other girls doesn't give me a ton of private time to collect my thoughts. I've started this post five times in the last month.

Indulge me for a sec while I go back to the Pre-Pandemic world to explain what things are like now.

The last thing that happened was on February 29. That was the day of Meg's wedding. To say I had mixed feelings about the situation would be putting it lightly. I'm not still in love with her or anything but I can hardly look at her without feeling a really complicated sense of loss, disappointment, resentment and guilt over how things ended between us and never resumed. I've accepted the situation but the feelings stubbornly wouldn't clear. I've been open about them, and she understands, and she wants my friendship, and I wanted hers. So, she said, her wedding wouldn't be complete without me there.

Besides, I thought. Things had fizzled with Rafe, maybe I would meet a guy.

Because I had just had my breast-reduction surgery, I needed a new dress that fit my body better. Most of what I liked from before can be taken in, but I'm definitely enough of a woman now that I will take an opportunity to buy something new and frilly when it pleases me. I brought Ariel along for advice because of the girls, she's the one whose fashion sense I most admire - kind of edgy, kind of modern, but also tuned into classic beauty looks. And I know she would never just tell me what I wanted to hear.

Ariel and I have bonded in a way I didn't with Maddie, who is a sweetheart, or Charli, who was cool. It's definitely because her coming out as bi and having her first female relationship with Charli reminded me, ironically, of transforming into a woman and starting to have relationships with men. In the past, I have told her about my past with Meg, and so she understood how this could be complicated for me, admiring that I was really dedicated to supporting my friend - as long as I wasn't there to start shit. I laughed that I wasn't there to start it, but if need be, I was always ready to finish it.

Somewhere in all this, I asked if Ariel would maybe want to come, since being alone would probably be a good way to do something stupid. I didn't even know how to broach that topic with Meg, but as luck would have it there was a last minute cancellation at the singles table, so as long as she didn't mind being "Frank Leoni" for the night, she was welcome.

We drove up to Vermont and checked into the hotel. I texted Meg to say "I hope this is better than the last time I stayed at a hotel in New England..." and she responded, "Haha, well, it could have been a lot worse." Looking down at myself, I thought yeah, I guess so. (Still hate being short though.)

We changed into our dresses. I was wearing a form-fitting black dress that accentuates my curves in a way I never got to when I had the giant boobs. I was stunned to find I really looked like I had a body. Ariel wore a light blue one that set well against her brown skin, and reminded me that my body is nothing compared to some other peoples.

Ari did my hair. She reflected on how she used to do her cousins' hair, and would be jealous, because they were white and their hair was so easy, and it took her years to not want it to go straight down like Michelle Obama's.

The wedding was tasteful and modern, with lots of quirky touches that I would expect from Meg, which goes right along with having the wedding on Leap Day anyway.

At the Reception, I was seated next to this guy Henry, a friend of Justin's. He was tall, with piercing blue eyes and a strong jaw. Very striking. He was good conversation, since like me he has lived in a lot of different places in the country.

Early in the night, the DJ announced a "Kissing Game" called "Show Them How It's Done" where couples go up to the bride and groom and kiss for them to prompt them to kiss - it's one of those things they do instead of clinking glasses because venues don't want you to do that anymore. It was cute seeing young couples kiss each other sheepishly, while the old couples full-on made out. After a few drinks, I was wanting to get in on the action.

"Hey Henry... feel like going up there?"

He stammered, "Uh... sure!"

I must have really intimidated the poor guy because he only barely gave me a faint peck. When we got back to the table, Ariel rolled her eyes.

Naturally, because it was her wedding day, I didn't get to spend much one-on-one time with Meg, but it was great to see her - bittersweet, but she looked beautiful and joyous, and even Justin cleaned up really nice. I mostly saw her on the dance floor, because as she was fond of telling me, since her knee was healed up, she had years of living to make up for. Which is all well and good but it hasn't taught her a thing because she dances even worse than I do.

When the dancing started, Henry was hard to drag out on the floor and moved stiffly, but was fun. Really, we were having a nice time and I was glad to have someone to forget my troubles with, but he had an early flight and left, giving me his number. I wasn't sure if I saw it going anywhere though..

Once that was over with, I was determined to keep having a good time, and so was Ari. We kicked off our heels and danced up a storm, pausing only for more drinks, photos, and to stuff ourselves all over again at the late night table. As the night went on, we got a little less shy about touching each other, holding each other, twerking on each other (well, she did the twerking, I did... some other awkward white girl move.) I got swept up in the moment and I didn't care.

More and more drinks were consumed and we got tired of indulging guys who wanted to cut in. We probably took it a little too far and made a spectacle of ourselves. It's not like we fell to the floor or anything, but our hands were all over each other, our eyes locked. Maybe it was just the liquor and the setting, but I was feeling things, things that I haven't felt in a very long time - not merely attraction, or interest in another person, but real hunger for them. Lust. Fire.

Eventually I just whispered in her ear "Hotel." And she nodded. We were already all over each other in the cab, tongues flecking in and out of each others' mouths, hands furiously finding breasts and hips and legs. I didn't have time to think how strange or different it all was, how unexpected - I was caught up in the moment, and I badly wanted to be.

We fumbled only a moment on the bed as we had to help each other out of our dresses, but as soon as we were it was the quickest acceleration I have felt in a very long time. We explored each other's naked bodies - which I was too excited to feel insecure about my still un-faded scars, and luckily the tenderness in my breasts was subsiding, because she really seemed to relish playing with them.

"I'm sorry they're not big anymore..." I muttered self-effacingly.

"Honey, they're perfect," Ari said to me. Then added, "And they're still bigger than mine."

It was... different, passionate, energetic. It was exciting to know we could go at a pace that women are comfortable with and not worry about the man's needs. After a bit, she said to me, "I brought something... just in case. I didn't think it would be you though."

"Show me," I said.

She went to her duffel and pulled it out. It was a... shall we say, wearable appendage. I welcomed it, let her use it on me for a while, before I decided it was my turn.

Guys.

Do you know how gratifying it is to have a woman say in the throes of passion "Wow, you really know how to use that thing!" And know she means it?

It was a little clumsy, and honestly, I'm not entirely sure I liked using it better than being on the other side, but it was an amazing, exciting night that left me abuzz. We fell into each other's arms.

Then in the morning we just kind of looked at each other in shock. The spell had somewhat worn off and I was really just embarrassed, although I couldn't explain to her why. She said she was starting to feel guilty about using me for a rebound after Charli left, and maybe taking advantage of my feelings at the wedding. I told her I had a part to play too, but my frustration was with myself. After all this time getting used to the idea of dating and making love to men - and actively enjoying it - why did sleeping with a woman feel like a failure, even thought it was an amazing night?

For over a year, I had been having these thoughts, that maybe I'm not 100% straight, ever since I met Maddie, but I pushed them aside as just surface thoughts, residual inklings of who I was and misplaced appreciation for other women. But what I felt that night sure as hell was real, at least for the moment.

We decided it looked like an awkward one-time-only thing, that we could forgive ourselves and move on. Given that we were roommates now, it might be for the best if we don't pursue. I was both relieved and disappointed - relieved because I was not sure I was up to dating women again, and disappointed because I really like Ariel, especially now, and was starting to feel like maybe we would actually be good together.

And then... in the midst of trying to put that behind us and get through all of it and live our lives... Covid hit New York City. Hard. And suddenly we were locked in together.

I'll tell you more about that later.

Love and kisses,

Val

Jonah/Krystle: Game Nights

I wasn't exactly a jock in high school, or otherwise really in a position to call other kids nerds or dorks - I was, after all, the kid going to extra church - but sometimes with Calvin and his friends, I feel like maybe I should have been?  Like, I know that I'm actually five years younger than all them, but sometimes I kind of wonder when they're going to grow up.  I guess it's a bit of everything, in that they're all white and never really had to worry about certain things, and how I jumped straight into adulthood from the middle of high school and then had a kid and I guess stopped having a lot of time for frivolity.

I mean, Game Night.  A bunch of folks in their mid-twenties getting together to play board games, and, like, not even "drink a shot when you get sent to jail in Monopoly" varieties.  One of Calvin's friends orders stuff from Germany that is apparently going to be the next big thing among tabletop enthusiasts here.  It's insane, but I feel like I'll be letting Cal down or looking like some sort of b---- if I say I don't want to go, I sound like a snob, and can the black single mother really afford to sound like she's too good for these folks?  Especially when I've got a while bunch of what Penny calls "Impostor syndrome" going on?

It's not that I don't have fun at these things, so much as how you get to doing them kind of bewilders me.  I feel like I just grew out of board games, or like they're something Little Moira is going to be growing into soon, and I haven't had time to get nostalgic and try to rediscover them.  I felt kind of silly asking Ashlyn not to schedule me to work every other Monday and even sillier asking Momma Kamen to babysit because this is my "grown-up time" with a boyfriend rather than a toddler.

On top of that, Calvin was hosting this week, and somehow that meant I was responsible for snacks - "we" were, but, well, you know.  And because it's important for some reason that I impress these people despite never having learned to do much more than heat food up, I got myself into a panic a week in advance.  I set off the smoke alarms in the apartment trying to make cookies, and maybe cried a little I told Moira and she said "ye work in a bleedin' restaurant and the owners like your fella".

So half an hour before everyone else started to arrive, Ashlyn showed up with two trays of dip, one with peach cobbler, and a bunch of tortilla chips  I thanked her with promises of overtime and handing out menus, but she said not to sweat it, that we all had different challenges in our new lives that we didn't see until they were right on top of us, but that I should remember I'm only dating Calvin and not his friends.

Easy for her to say; she didn't have any of them staring daggers at me because I'd only managed "vegetarian" rather than vegan with the second tray of dip and honestly couldn't tell the couple for who that was an issue whether there were egg whites or any other sorts of animal products in the cobbler.  I didn't have a great night as Calvin's partner, either; I swear someone got a bunch of "stuff Jonah doesn't know" Pictionary cards, and during Settlers of Catan I had no idea what expansions he had and therefore what we could do.

At the end of the night, I waited for him to sit down and then flopped onto the couch beside him, laying my head on his chest.  "Why is having fun so stressful?"

He laid a hand on my belly.  "Because you've got this silly idea that you need to prove you're awesome."

"It's not silly, and I don't have to prove I'm awesome, just that I'm not a screw-up.  I've disappointed so many people."

He leaned over and kissed my forehead, and then I leaned back a little more so he could do it again on my lips, and then his hand was on my back and I turned around so he could pull me in and there could be tongue.  One of his hands went to my butt and I let it, while I felt the muscles of his back.  The little part of me that says I shouldn't be making out with a guy was blowing its whistle but I ignored it, laying back on the couch and letting him stale me while one hand went to a breast.  I pulled him in a little, just close enough to feel that he was hard, which made me break the kiss and scoot back a bit.

"Sorry," he said, "it just happens."

"Believe me, I know.  It's just--"

Maybe there's a bit of disappointment on his face as he anticipates me saying that, but despite all the talk on that subject, I don't think I noticed any.  I actually found myself thinking "don't be stupid!" because I could feel myself turned on all over and thinking what am I going to do, run to the bathroom?  So I took a breath and said "it's just that I really can't have another baby right now.  You've got to be really careful."

A big grin spread over his face as he reached in his pocket and pulled out a condom with something about extra thickness on the wrapper, did my best not to look away as he put it on, although I may have taken a little longer than necessary in pulling my dress up over my head.  I suddenly felt really naked and vulnerable in just my bra and panties, though also kind of wishing I'd worn fancier ones.  Still, I was able to put myself in his place, pulling my panties down and letting him, well, you know.

I kind of don't know what to think of it.  It felt good, because he knew what he was doing a lot better than I did.  I mean, I didn't just lay there like I did when I got knocked up, but I didn't really know what I should do!  I felt stupid for not having done anything when I was a guy, or all the things I knew I shouldn't do but which would have left me feeling less ridiculous in that moment.  He said it was okay, I was just out of practice, and I just thought about how it was a good thing that if never let on just how much practice I figure Krystle had before I took over her life.

I talked to Ashlyn about it a couple days later and she started to laugh before apologizing, saying she figured it must be even weirder than usual for me.  Then the next day she brought in a couple of DVDs, saying that unlike most porn, most of what was on them would be fun for both of us and most of it wasn't "too advanced".  I was mortified and kept looking at my purse like it was going to catch fire the rest of the night.  I've seen R-rated movies and all, but never anything like that!  I was almost relieved that there was never a good time to get them out of the back of the drawer I speed them in over the past week.

But now Momma Kamen is out for the night and I've got another date with Calvin tomorrow, and Little Moira just feel asleep.  I really don't want to study how to please a man like this - I can't help but think of the time my dad found the magazine a classmate had stuck in my backpack and what the thought of his son learning how to make a man come would be like for him - but I kind of have to, if not for Calvin, than for the man I eventually marry.

Still...  Why is having fun so stressful?

-Jonah/Krystle

Jenn/Zack: Reaching a conclusion

So, I ended up meeting with Alexa. It was nice. We had a lot in common, even though we're not supposed to. On the one hand back when I was female I'd probably have a lot of preconceptions based on her appearance that would cause us not to get along - that she was shallow, mean... dumb? Which sucks because I try to be about uplifting women. And maybe my male mindset really wants to see the best in someone who looks like she does because on some level - deep down, where I would never do anything about it - I think she's attractive.

All we did was have coffee and chat. I said I wasn't sure if I was right for her job. She pressed on about it, saying she loved my portfolio. I couldn't tell her it wasn't my portfolio. I said maybe I had some colleagues I could send her to. That was about it.

I haven't told David yet because I know he doesn't want me to do anything like that, and I know he'll react very badly when I tell him.

David came home that night, late and tired and complaining about everything as always. There's an added dimension now where he gets home and starts to undress, expecting sex. Now that we're sexually active he expects me to just be ready willing and able 24/7, at his beck and call every night, because that's what guys want, so that's what he expects from me. And it's not necessarily wrong - I do have desires and using his (Lena's) body is certainly one way to keep my attention focussed on him - and not like I don't enjoy it but... I've started feeling very bad afterwards.

I lie there and think, is this it? What do I have to look forward to? Did we ever have real conversations? Because we haven't lately. Did we enjoy each other's company? Because I don't think I do now. Was it really just about sex, and I pushed hard to keep the intimacy in our relationship because I knew we were doomed without it? Did we stay together because I felt obligated after we changed? If we were us, would I have walked away already?

I would have wanted to, I just know it. And it's scary to think I wouldn't have gone through with it because I was getting to an age where you just want to settle down with whoever you're with already. I already had m doubts before we got into this mess, but there was no way I was going to abandon him while we looked like this. But it was hardly any kind of fix for our problems. Resuming sexual activity really just emphasizes how little of a relationship there ever was.

And now - now that it's hard and inconvenient, I might need to do it (end the relationship) more than ever. It's more important now that I've done something he told me not to by meeting with Alexa, and that whenever I tell him I know it's going to touch off a huge fight, I know it's either now, or wait until we get our bodies back, and by then I will probably talk myself out of it.

I need to break up with him. I care a lot about his feelings and what happens, but I realize now that's different from love. I have my doubts because it seems wrong to break up while we're in the middle of this whole thing and I feel like I'd be leaving him high and dry, but I should follow my heart on this one.

Woo. I'm shaking, having written all of that. It's a good thing he vowed never to read this. I needed to put it out there, somewhere I hope he won't see.

-Jenn

Jenn/Zack: "Little" Jenn

I guess I've been a little sheepish about sharing my experiences on this blog because I'm still waiting for... well, something. Something about this situation that I can get excited about. But it's been a few weeks and I feel like I'm learning.

I also feel like I'm becoming accustomed to being a layabout, a live-in housekeeper and a "kept man" - being that my boyfriend, who is living the jet-setting life of home decor mogul Lena Howard, pays for everything, and my "job," Zack's photography career, is really more of a glorified hobby for me.

I started going to the gym. I thought, whatever mysterious force caused that Inn to change my into Zack granted me a killer set of abs, so it would be a shame to lose them. I'm hardly a fitness freak in my regular life - I like low-impact, low-result workouts, I've dabbled in pilates and spin and every New Year I resolve to start running, but really there's not much incentive. Now, I have nothing but time, and a hot new body to flex.

Can I just tell you... it is amazing to be strong. I mean, Zack is not Mr. Muscles by any means but I am impressed with how much lifting I can do! I can just sit there pumping my guns until I get tired, watching that bicep go up and down. It's a bit of a turn on. Which brings me to my next point, of course...

I  have been working on developing a relationship with certain new body part of mine. I know, it's been months, and it's not like this is new-new since I didn't post for weeks, but it did take a little bit of time. When you wake up to this strange equipment situated between your legs, and it's not what you're used to or what you want... and it isn't performing the way you most often experience it... it's strange and off-putting. Gah, I'm getting flustered just trying to talk about it.

I'm a healthy straight girl. I have a love for this organ - in its natural habitat. Normally I only know what a penis was like in a sexual context. I know enough about shrinkage and everything, but in its flaccid form I find the whole thing so goofy that I'd rather not look or think about it. And when I first saw mine, er, Zack's, it was definitely in a relaxed state. And I was certainly not in a position to change that.

Then time goes by. You get comfortable. You've used it for its other purpose enough that putting your hands on it doesn't seem so weird anymore, but as much as you want to regain that sexual attachment it's just... equipment. I worked hard to mentally get over that hurdle and think how cool it should be that I now have access to something I have been curious about since I was old enough to have sex... or old enough to pretend I knew what sex was like! But the thrilling part didn't come because all the stresses and frustrations of our lives were swirling around me. Al my anxieties about my relationship and caring for my boyfriend in the body of this older woman... made me think about him first and me not at all. There were times I would actually forget I wasn't a woman anymore, if you can believe it.

The past six weeks have been sexually frustrating because neither of us had wanted to have sex. David was adamant that he was not interested in letting me explore that region of his new body, and I certainly didn't push the issue because as well-preserved and beautiful in a  "grand dame" kind of way as Lena is, I didn't feel attraction.

Until I did.

We were sitting on the couch - apart, to give him the space he desires now - really not doing anything, bingeing a really bad MTV show I had TiVo'd, when suddenly I became hyper-aware of the person next to me. Something clicked into place that made me think, this is not just an older woman, this is a beautiful woman, and she has the mind and soul of the man I love. When she would get up to get a beer, I would get a peek at her body - her hips, her bum, and think... wow. There's really something going on there.

And then "Little Jenn" woke up.

It was the craziest feeling, good and bad all at once. No wonder guys are so obsessed with their boners, it's impossible to think of anything else when you have one! I tried to adjust myself in my seat, I hoped to God that he wouldn't notice the bulge protruding from my pants, and of course he didn't.

When I could find a moment I excused myself to the restroom to get a look.

It looked huge. Huge and stiff, just like I had hoped. Almost instinctively, I wrapped my hand around it and found it a perfect fit - again, no wonder guys are always doing this, their bodies are designed for it!

Just the sight of it, the feel of it in my hand, the feel of my hand on it, I was so excited I could hardly contain myself. It was like a missing piece of me had returned - different from before but most welcome. It was exactly the fantasy of being the opposite sex that you would think, that I wasn't experiencing and didn't think I really would!

And to my dismay... it didn't take very long. I tried to make it last but just as I was getting off and running... I had a mess on my hands.

I felt drained, I felt ashamed... I felt like... the world must surely know what I had done and how wrong it was, and that David would be so disappointed (for some reason, even though it's obvious he doesn't care.) The unabashed, sexy thoughts I had had just moments earlier turned sour in my head and left me. Sex was the last thing I wanted to think about, as my little unit shrunk back up. It felt good, for the moment, and really great for a split second, and then just like that it was over. And in that moment, I really felt like I understood men a million times better than I ever thought I would. Why they are the way they are, how they can treat women the way they do. Just for a moment though, and that doesn't excuse it for them.

After feeling sour at the end of the experience, I thought that was it - I had tried it once, and liked it a bit and felt down afterwards so I probably wasn't going to want more of it. But lo and behold, the next day, the feeling came back. My mind started wandering and ideating all these scenarios, pushing this confusing but enticing narrative of myself as a sexy, sexual male and any person I could imagine as a potential partner (I'm trying to steer it at David, but knowing how unreceptive he is to this whole thing makes even the idea of fantasizing about him a little dicey somehow.... which is a whole other issue.) It's all this weird hormonal rush, on a schedule that's all new to me.


Up until all this, I was feeling the lack of intimacy, and the lack of desire to be intimate, but also understanding where I was at and where my partner was at. I accepted the new status quo that, sure maybe we won't be a couple that is intimate, at least for a while. But now I've moved into this new phase and I'm really hoping David can join me in this place and maybe we can explore that together. I love him as a person, as difficult as he can be and as hard as it has been to weather all this. And I want to show that love, and support him, and maybe - if he wants - reawaken this part of him, of "us."


Until then... I guess I'm, just on my own.

Daryl/Magda: Clean Breaks, Maybe Not Clean Starts

I didn't exactly have a farewell with Harmon, and I'm sure that surprised the neighbors who had lived near Magda and Alicia for years, but what can you expect?  We just met a few weeks ago and he's still angry that my deciding to do what I want with this life has thrown a monkey wrench into his.  But how long did someone his age think he was going to live rent-free with mommy, anyway?

I can't say I exactly traveled light moving to New York, but I did purge a fair amount by sending them to the original Magda in Austin.  We're still kind of feeling each other out via Facebook Messenger right now, kind of unevenly, with her giving me pointers on how the various bits of her work go, although that's going to become a bit less relevant now that I'm at a different airport.  I think we both kind of want to find some common ground in how we both wound up where we are because of a relationship, but we're also both looking at the others situation as being kind of weird.

Still, we're doing it, and I couldn't help but feel extremely excited when I got off the plane in New York.  This want the life I'd originally planned, but even though I was going by Magda's name, I was starting to make her life my own.  As I walked past the crowds and chaos of the airport, I started arriving the pros and cons of keeping this job in my head.  As what is basically a retail job goes, it's not bad; there's a union and benefits and Magda has earned herself some seniority.  But it's neither the specific job or the kind of job I spent for years in college for, and it's not one that has a lot of potential for advancement.  But what else am I going to do?  My Microsoft certifications are in someone else's hands, and I don't necessarily have a lot of my own skills with which to start over at this point in my new life.

But J.T. was home when I rang the bell, and he smiled when he got a look at me.  The months as a woman and one as this one hasn't really given me the chance to figure out "subtle" yet, at least in terms of dressing, so I showed up at his apartments in jean shorts that, while tight, still go almost reach the knee, and an orange tank top that shows my boobs off with a pretty tight bra.  And sandals, because I have been spending a lot of time in airports and know not to go in for a lot of strappy or knotty bullshit when flying by now. 

"Hey," I say, "we're doing this."

"We are," he says, and pulls me into his apartment.  It's been a few weeks, and our clothes are on the floor fast.

We spoon for a while, and then I get up, slipping on my panties and his t-shirt.  I start walking around the place opening closet doors.

He looks up.  "What're you doing?"

"Looking for a spot to put my clothes.  Even if I were inclined to live out of a suitcase, this stuff wrinkles."

He got up and pulled some things out of the closet I was looking in.  "I guess that'll do for now."

"Oh, that should be plenty. I don't have a whole lot more on the way."

"Yeah, but that'll go to your place, right?"

I stopped putting dresses on hangers.  "What do you mean, 'my place'?"

"Just that, you know, I figured... at first...  I mean, we've only been together a few months."

"Dude, it may only have been a few months, but in case you haven't noticed, I'm pretty damn committed here!  You can't tell me you haven't noticed the big white tits."  I smiled while I said it, but I have to admit, I felt a tiny bit of panic.  Were we coming into this with such different ideas?  I know neither of us had really talked about forever or even really specifics, but, still...

"I know you are, I just...  Look, I know we've got something really special here, but sometimes it's good to have your own space, you know?  And if it doesn't work out, I mean, it's not like you haven't told new-Daryl that he can be you for good...  Have you?"

"No, but the way I see it is, the very fact that he's planning to go back to the Inn next year means we can't afford to screw around... metaphorically."  I smiled, hopefully wickedly.  "We've got to be all-in.  I didn't become Magda because I wanted to be a middle-aged white woman, or because I wanted to play the field.  I did it so we can make sure that this, you and me, is gonna work.  Should I bail now?"

"Oh, no.  I just didn't really realize how, uh, intense this was gonna be."

"That's okay.  And remember, intense isn't a bad thing--"

I grabbed his unit (confession: I bought something in a San Francisco sex shop so I could get used to the feeling of it in both my hands and pussy, though I haven't had the guts to put it in my mouth yet), which responded quickly, and we made it back to bed.  He fell asleep after, and I went back to unpacking.

Still, I hope Pete texts me soon, given that it looks like he's coming back to New York.  We might have stuff to talk about.

-Daryl/Magda

Daryl/Magda: One Hot Mama

I'm a relatively new Inn Person, so I haven't talked with many in the community, but it feels like what I am trying to do right now - changing and then immediately trying to start my own new life on my own terms - it's pretty rare.  That's natural - most people, upon having their identity torn from them, aren't going to say "what would I do with a clean slate?" even if their new face didn't come with a letter asking them not to mess things up.  But a life's got inertia to it, too, and just picking up and starting over isn't easy even when you can.

And I didn't know if that was going to be the case when I got back to the Inn.  The room hadn't changed since I left it but I was acutely aware that there was no leftover bag in the room to tell me what I had in store.  I tried to be chill about it - like, okay, if these are going to be my last days as a woman, try a few things, like having a spa day or putting on a kind of sexy dress and doing some light flirting at a bar, not looking to get picked up, but just to see what it's like to be on the other end of some guy's game, maybe be more empathetic later.  Don't get me wrong, I brought along pepper spray, but thankfully didn't need it.

Still, it was a nerve-wracking week or so, knowing that I was going to come out of it as neither myself nor Elaine, but I could be pretty much anyone else.  It was a relief when I finally felt the tingle other folks talked about, although I couldn't stay up for the change; it had been a long day that ended with a few drinks.

I didn't really feel different when I woke up until I saw that my arm was white.  And not just Caucasian-white, but "Eastern European girl who hasn't been out of the house all winter" white.  I knew that was the way to bet - Jonah becoming Krystle probably used up all the odds of one black person becoming another by random chance in this place, given how white Maine is - but, man, that is a hell of a thing to be confronted with.  I felt like I'd lost something profound in that moment, even more so than when I watched Elaine's breasts grow out of my chest.

And speaking of breasts, yeah, as soon as I'd examined my hand enough to think about how weird it was that the designs on my nails were now kind of off-center, I sat up in bed and let the sheet drop away from my chest.  I could already feel just from sitting up that I was still a woman, but sometimes you need to see it.  My breasts had grown a bit and sagged a bit overnight, and the darker space around my nipples was a bit bigger.  They're not bad at all, and when I copied them in my hands they felt pretty solid, but not as close to perky as is been as Elaine.

The rest of my body was like that too - a bit softer around the waist, a bit more spread to my butt, more in the thighs.  I did feel weirdly guilty about the shape I'd left my bush in for Elaine when I saw how nearly trimmed I was down there (I was kind of skittish with the razor). After I'd seen all I could from that angle, I went to the mirror.

Not a bad new face.  Some lines around the eyes and dimples that tried to make up for the fact that it didn't seem to smile quite as wide, brown hair that was thinner than Elaine's but not really thin, decent lips.  I pegged myself at about forty or so, which was disappointing, but doable.

There was noise outside the room, so I figured it was time to find out how things had shaken out.  Elaine's clothes mostly fit, although I wouldn't recommend going up a bra size or two overnight (the amazing cleavage doesn't really make up for the straps digging into your skin), so I want like the guy in a way-too-small bathrobe trying to figure out what had happened.  It was a weird scene, 'cause by the time July rolls around most of the "reversal chains" have broken and it's just people who don't know what they're in for.  I explained what little I knew about the situation five times while asking if anybody had a suitcase that looked like it belonged to a middle-aged white woman in their room. 

Nobody did, but someone was able to get into one connected by an adjoining bathroom, and I found my new identity.  My eyes went kind of wide at the driver's license I pulled from the purse, because on the one hand, damn, Magda Polawski, you're doing pretty darn all right for almost 48, but on the other, that's almost two full decades lost on my part.  Then I got to the letter which Lindsey had left me, which spent a lot of time filling me in on Harmon but kind of soft-sold that Magda's life was mine, free and clear, should I want it.

None of the people at the Inn, looking at a year of trying to live someone else's life, really wanted to hear me talk about how that's some monkey's paw shit, but Cary and Elaine at least put on a good show of being sympathetic.  I mean, yeah, I want to make things work with J.T., but 47-year-old white woman isn't exactly easy mode.

But you've gotta try, right?  Lucky for me, Lindsey left me notes about how to "deadhead" on a flight, so I got to fly to New York for free.  I watched a bunch of YouTube videos about making yourself look younger via makeup before flying out and then got my hair done as soon as I landed.  Lindsey, not knowing who was going to become Magda, had traveled to Maine with a bunch of different clothing options, but probably didn't figure on someone like me being grateful for a little black dress and matching four-inch heels.

Heck, it was surreal to me as I changed in a food court restroom and then did what I could with the makeup, texting with J.T. about dinner reservations and how, no, I wasn't going to send a selfie so he could recognize me.  But I was kind of riding high on the idea that somehow the universe was arranging things so that two people who would never have been paired two years ago could be together, kind of excited about Act III.  I must have spent a half hour on the makeup, staying completely over twice and just being real timid, but eventually I decided I didn't look too bad.

J.T. had reserved us a table at a nice restaurant, and I managed to get in and sit across from him quietly enough to make him jump.  The dress showed plenty of cleavage, so his eyes were drawn there before my face.  "Wow.  You're, uh--"

"Older?"

"I was thinking 'not Elaine', but I guess that's part of it.  You look good, though.  Really good..."  I briefly felt ashamed for how easily we guys let boobs distract us.

We spent the meal making small talk, about sports and how cute real-Elaine being excited about getting her life back was.  He mentioned that he'd had an audition the other day, well off Broadway, because he was getting excited about digging into and creating character histories again after the Inn.

It was delicious, and we took a can back to his place, as I mentioned I had no place of my own in New York, and it was too late to spring all this on Pete.  We drank some wine, and then made hilariously flimsy excuses for heading toward the bed.  It felt really good for him to unzip my dress and then undo my bra, supporting my breasts with his hands while kissing my neck.  It felt good being a little softer in his hands, and we played around a lot before I was on my back his face right above mine, him entering me, both of us excited but kind of terrified about what might come next.

About that, let's just say that the over-sharing ladies at a previous job were maybe onto something when they told us embarrassed millennials that a woman's body doesn't really figure out how to princely orgasm right away.  I was like, well, shit, that part works when we got done.

Of course, I couldn't just stay there right away - Magda had a job, a lease, and a biological daughter on the other side of the country, and I couldn't just abandon them without causing trouble.  So, just a day later, I was flying "back" there to figure out how I could easily get myself back in that bed on a permanent basis.

Naturally, Harmon and I met when I was going through Magda's closet, trying to figure out which clothes to keep and which to give away.  As much as I had fun pushing my boobs into J.T.'s face that first night, there was some stuff theft which had either been there a long time or which probably was the result of Magda still seeing a younger woman in the mirror.  I may look somewhere halfway between my real age and what my new passport says, but I kind of think Magda was still stuck in an even younger mindset, not quite competing with Alicia but thinking she was still that girl.

And I can see how she thinks that - there's a box of Polaroids in her closet, and young Magda had a lot of what her daughter does.  And Alicia is hot as fuck, just everything I am now but tighter and smoother.  I don't feel desire when I look at her, but I probably feel a little more appreciation than someone who currently shares half my DNA with her probably should.  On top of that, she's got this attitude to her where she knows exactly what she's got and she won't barter access to it, or even her attention, cheaply.  I've dated enough girls like that to know it gets exhausting fairly quickly, but even though I know how insanely inappropriate the thought is and how uninterested Harmon is in being someone's girlfriend, I notice.  And, yes, I couldn't help but think of the roughly twenty-five extra years I might have gained if Harmon had come to the Inn.

That he didn't pay me much mind is kind of useful,  though - if he doesn't want to play family, that's a load off me.  I can decide some stuff is going to go and just email the original Magda and Alicia about it rather than finding time to schedule talks with him.  I can ask the airline about a transfer to New York and feel confident that the option to quit is in my back pocket, because he's not attached to working with "Mom".  I can get all the way to "hey, either sign this or don't" and only feel a little bad about how losing the apartment is going to mess with his life.

That got him upset, although he really had no right; was he sure that every future Magda was going to look after him like Lindsey?  Quite honestly, I kind of think she should have put her foot down earlier, but then again, I'm not exactly the posted child for letting pay relationships go after visiting the Inn.

Still, I'm looking forward to really making a new start in New York next week.  It's crazy how much I miss J.T. already.

-Magdaryl

Daryl/Elaine: Time to Find Out

This is almost certainly a bad idea, but it's too late to turn back now, and if I didn't do it, I'd be second-guessing myself for the rest of my life, but, Jesus, it seems like a crazy leap.

It makes a little more sense if you know a bit about what I left out of the last update.  We were "just being friends", but we kind of played at being more.  Not by getting all syrupy in public or anything, but whenever something would strike as kind of ironic or funny considering our situation, we'd break out some exaggerated way of talking, with me playing the boyfriend half the time.  It was a joke, but it was also a way to accept that we were in a weird situation.

So, Tuesday, it's hot as hell in New York, enough that J.T. had actually mentioned that he missed booty shorts and a halter top being a viable outfit for him, and I decided, what the heck, only a few days of this left, and if anyone got a picture, it wouldn't stick to me.  That's kind of the funny thing about being turned into your girlfriend - it's actually not hard to make yourself all sexy in the mirror, even if you do wind up thinking that it's kind of a weird power trip at times, but stepping out the door is maybe twice as hard, because you've got both "do I want guys looking at me like that?" and "do I want guys looking at my woman like that?" going around your head.  But, it was hot, and I didn't want J.T. or Pete to think I'd chickened out.

Pete wasn't pay off the group Tuesday night, so I didn't have him to measure my drinks against (I've gotten into the habit of staying even or one drink behind him,  since he's smaller and thinner than Elaine as Brigette), and it, uh, enhanced the "singer's girlfriend" thing I was doing, so I wound up shooting "that was awesome baby!" (or, later, "woooooooooo!") rather than kind of saying it to myself.  J.T. wound up playing along, pointing at me the first time and comically rolling his eyes by the end.

Eventually, the gig ended, and I helped him move his gear to the car.  He hoped that the only thing missing from that was him inviting me up on stage.  I laugh, saying there were photographers and phones and Elaine didn't need to deal with any of that shit.  He nods, but says it's too bad, because he knows I've got the pipes for it.

It's hard to be modest, because I'd certainly complimented him when he had those pipes, and meant it.  But...  "Karaoke with friends is different than a stage in front of strangers.  Besides, those were y'all's songs, not mine."

"But you're a big part of them."

I didn't know what to say.  We'd arrived at his place, and I grabbed the guitar and mic stand while he picked up the amp.  We rode the escalator in silence, up to the tenth floor.  He unlocked it and I walked in, giving it a good look.  "So this is where you live in your real life."

It was nice, bigger than Brigette's, though not huge.  There were a couple awards on a mantel, a full-size keyboard, and a separate dining area, all fairly tidy.  I wondered how much dust had gathered while he was Elaine.

"Yep, this is me, although it's just starting to feel like home again.  And kind of plain."  He reached into the fridge and handed me a beer.

"It's nice.  Not much of my Elaine in it, though.  Or would that be your Elaine?"

"Yeah, I didn't keep any souvenirs.  Maybe I should have.  But until you showed up, I just..."  He trailed off, and then pointed at a blank space on the wall.  "Heck, I used to have a Josephine-Baker-in-Paris print over there, but I was having a hard time looking at it.  Made me remember and wonder what if."

I used the corner of my top to twist the off my bottle and took a swig before walking out onto the balcony.  "I should certainly hope you wondered what if.  I thought we had something special."

He walked up behind me.  "We did.  I told you things that I never told anybody else, and they were true, even if the facts weren't."

I laughed.  "So, basically, your parents pushed you into acting rather than math?"

"Pretty much.  Figured I'd have become a huge adult star by now, just like Wil Wheaton, Macauley Culkin, and Haley Joel Osment."

I snort-laughed.  "Obviously, you should have turned into a girl much earlier.  There's Jodie Foster, Dakota Fanning, Christina Ricci..."

"Don't think they wouldn't have considered it.  Kind of glad to be a man right now, though."

He put his hands on my shoulders, then kissed the base of my neck, and I felt my temperature go up.  "What're you doing?"

"Kissing my girlfriend.  Or maybe kissing my ex-boyfriend.  Do you like it?"

"Mm-hmm.  Of course I like it.  You're cheating, already knowing where it feels good."

"I suppose so."  His hands slid down my sides until they reached my midriff, then moved up underneath my top to cradle my breasts, gently stroking them with his thumb while each nipple rested between two fingers.  I gasped and made a half-step back, enough that I could feel him hardening when the small of my back made contact with his pelvis.  His teeth found the knot keeping my top on and disengaged it just slowly enough to build some anticipation, giving my brain just enough time to start working the buckle on my shorts.

We turned around and went back into the apartment as a unit; he instinctively knew I wasn't quite ready to be looking in a man's face while doing this yet.  Once I had pulled my shorts and panties down and planted my hands on an end table or something, he let go of one breast to work his own belt and zipper, then guided himself in from behind.  I moaned as he found my spot again and again, gently thrusting the tip of his unit over it, sending waves of pleasure through my body.  I felt something let go inside me as I came, and then he seemed to swell a bit more.

"Hang on," he said, pulling out of me and opening his wallet to find a rubber.  I didn't realize that's what he was doing, though, so I turned around, and I see his face go from being a little stained at holding back to being concerned that he'd upset me.  Something lightens in my chest and I say "put it on".  He does, and I guide him to the corner of the sofa.  I sit him down and then lower myself onto him, kissing him and then trying to find the rright rhythm as I moved up and down, thinking how is liked it when the roles were reversed, right down to his face in my rack.

It doesn't take him long to come, and he slumps back, spent.  I roll off of him and adopt a similar posture next to him, looking up at the ceiling.  "Well, fuck."

He looked concerned again.  "Did I do something wrong?"

"No, and that's the problem.  Right up until you, you know, got in there, I figured it would feel wrong, but it didn't and you were so nice, and now I know we've got something good.  But it's not like I can just steal Elaine's life!"  He shook his head in agreement and we had kind of a sad cuddle.

I must have fallen asleep there, because when I woke up I was in his bed and he was making waffles.  I figured we'd burned enough calories that Elaine wouldn't mind.  Despite all we'd done last night, it felt a little strange to kiss him before leaving to go back to Pete's place and get changed.

Pete was there and waiting for gossip.  I told him it had happened and was not what I expected, and he removed me that women always share details.  Fortunately, it was interrupted by a call from my own phone, telling me that he knew I must have gotten nervous by now, but there were more than enough people arriving at the Inn to change back tonight.

"That's good, that there are more than enough."  I took a deep breath.  "So, ______, you've been enjoying my life, right?"

"Yeah, man, and so's my girlfriend, if you know what I mean!  Heck, I'm actually kind of jealous of the job I landed for you."

"Good.  How would you like to do the full year?"

Pete's eyes billed as my voice on the other end of the phone stammered.  "What, dude, I was kidding!  Just because I said it would be weird to go home to a family of strangers... and you'd be stuck as a chick--"

"I know, it's just it turns out I've got something to see through."

"If you say so."  He tried to sound reluctant, but there was some relief in his voice.  He hadn't really been thrilled with the luggage he'd found in his room, even if he had been willing to help someone else get back to normal.

"I do."

"All right, man.  I don't get it, but all right."

We said goodbye and hung up, and Pete exploded.  "Are you crazy?  This is--"  He didn't have words.

I shrugged.  "He may be The One."

He shook his head. "That is one severe case of estrogen poisoning you've got there.  I can't even."  He was even more dumbfounded when I told him the whole plan.

Contrary to what you might expect, J.T. and I went our separate ways after the fireworks; that night was special and not to be repeated as such.  I slept at Pete's, and then got on a train to Old Orchard.

Pete was right about my head kind of overflowing with female hormones, and although I had certainly been asking for the ride, I also knew that there were a lot of people out there whose experience with the Inn does not exactly suggest that everything happens for a reason (or at least, not an obviously positive one).  But I certainly can't deny that it certainly feels like things have come together for me and J.T. in an unlikely-enough way that is hard not to talk about destiny.

So we're putting it in fate's hands.  I go to the Inn and get turned into another man, or a lesbian, or a kid, and it's not meant to be.  But if I stay Elaine, or become another woman, and there's still a spark...  Well, it's tough to argue with that.

So far, no change, and no luggage in my room, obviously.  But I've got a good feeling about this.  It didn't all happen for nothing.

-Daryl/Elaine