Greg/Alexis: Phone Calling

So once Malinda and I settled in at the apartment, me basically just started taking inventory of all the things in our new lives. The distraction seemed good for her. I have to keep remembering what it was like for me when I first changed, but even then it was into someone I knew. She's a total stranger, and thats gotta be difficult for her.

The first morning after a nights sleep on the Barco's very comfy couch the first thing I did was pick up the phone and dial the number I had for Selena Bookman, of Minneapolis. She wasnt really Mrs. Bookman, she was in fact the real Alexis. A young boy picked up the phone.

"Hello"

"Hi, I'm looking for Selena Bookman"

"Who's calling"

"My name is Alexis Barco" (I figured that would let her know what this is about)

I heard a door shut on the other end and a hushed voice saying "Who is this?"

"Alexis Barco" I reply, not knowing who it was at first

"Yeah, But who are you REALLY?" she asked

"Among other things...Greg Schmitt, from Chicago"

"A man....thats surpising" she said almost as if she didnt expect it.

I gave her my life story, told her about all my inn visits and gave her a link to the blog. She gave me a lot of insight into her life.

Both her and Sharon are from Vermont originally, although different parts. They met in college at U of V. Alexis had been a lesbian all her life and her parents were cool with it, it was something she had felt from a very young age etch. Sharon was more of a popular girl type who had dated guys up until she met Alex, fell in love, and realized that she had been lying to herself for years.

Alex was apparently a tomboy/geek. She had played hockey in college and had a degree in Computer Science. Sharon was the girlier of the two and her degree was in Fine Arts. After college they stayed in Burlington, got married, and Alex took a job as an IT manager while Sharon pursued her painting.

Fast forward to this summer when they were on a road trip through the New England coast and they stopped at the wrong inn. Alex is now playing house in Minnesota with two teenaged kids and a husband who I can tell she resents.

Sharon, on the other hand, wound up in a truck driver named Jack, based out of Rochester, NY. The former cheerleader apparently isnt handling being big and burly very well. Apparently they talk online but not much to avoid arousing suspicion. There is a definite melancholy tone when she talks about her. I can relate, although at least they know who they are, unlike me and Amber were.

We talked over a few more details and I gave her a quick play by play on how to get her life back and she seemed relieved at that. She had to go to some household stuff so I let her go and went in to talk to Malinda.

"You should call the real Sharon"

"And say what?" She asked rolling her eyes

"Youre body is OK what do i need to know to pretend to be you?"

"Being a lazy ass artist isnt a really complicated life, I dont think I need her to explain that to me"

Her denial was starting to get on my nerves, but again, not everyone reacts as well as us bloggers do. I think all the authors on here share the same level headed pragmatism. Clearly Malinda didnt.

I called the number I had for Jack the Trucker but it went to voicemail so I left a message.


That brings us today when I was checking the comments on my last post. A reader named Kiai posted this.




From prior posts here it's clear that brain-patterning trumps prior preferences, big-time. Your new wife is in for a rough landing as that soaks in. Be ready to catch; maybe even ready to get her on a 72-hour watch. Anybody know of a counselor or therapist who's been through the Inn? She might need somebody who can discuss the true issues with her. I suggest getting in contact with the original Alex first thing; she'll be a lot more knowledgeable about BLGT resources in the hometown.

Working marriages are inclined to be person-to-person, not type-to-type. Check your premises: is her original hardcore-lesbian, or 'bi and married for love'? How about the original Alex? You need to know so you know what to expect.


The first thing I did after reading that was shut the bedroom door, lock it, and look up some internet porn, you know, for science. Sure enough after a few minutes of watching some girl on girl action I got a little turned on. I then tried a few stills of naked women and felt something similar to what I felt towards men in my last few bodies, so yeah I'm totally gay now.

Which means that Malinda is probably gay now, and she was brought up in an environment where it wasnt very OK to be gay. When she read that comment she chuckled sarcastically.

"I'm not gonna need therapy" she said, clearly resolved to make it through the year chaste.

I will be keeping an eye on her, because I dont want her to kill herself.

I might want to do it myself...

Mostly Kidding, Greg.

Greg: Directed by M. Night Shamalayan

I think I spelled his name right. For someone who was Indian for a year I can't spell Hindi worth a damn. Anyway the title refers to the massive twist that my current Inn caper took last week. I waited a few days to tell you because 1. I had to organize my thoughts, and 2. Tori was working on a big sensitive post and I didnt want to steal her thunder.

Anyway, I didnt find the elusive Alex that first day, even after I asked every male I saw. Which made me worried he had left already. Resigned to the fact I was going to be here awhile and didnt have any clothes that fit me, I headed into town wearing baggy sweatpants tied with a belt and an oversized tshirt. I looked ridiculous but a tourist town like Old Orchard beach sees all sorts of people who need clothes for whatever reason.

I headed to one of the shops and picked out a few shirts, panties, bras and shorts after trying them on. (Size 6, 36B in case you were all curious) as well as a pair of flip flops and made my way back to the inn and did vacation stuff, keeping an eye out for any newcomers.

I chatted up the girl who had been helping the other guests out that first night. She was in her early 20s and had just gotten her correct body back. Her name was Helena and she headed back to California on Friday. When I explained my situation she was like "Oh, Youre Greg!" because she apparently is a lurker on this blog. I told her she shouldve added to it but she said she wasnt much of a writer. She offered me condolences over all that happened and asked me a few questions. I almost feel like I shouldve autographed something for her.

Everyone else was slowly coming to grips with what happened and were leaving for their new lives. I told everyone about the blog because apparently it offers a blueprint on how to get your life back. After a few days of vacationing still no Alex.

On Sunday morning It was nothing but me and Malinda, my neighbor who was a total bitch to me and had turned into an even prettier girl than before. She didnt have a note to go on and seemed really upset about the whole thing. I went to my room to blog about the whole lack of Alex thing when I read the comment on my last post.

"Alex=Alexandra?"

I had never thought of that. I ran outside and persuaded a grumpy Malinda to come into my room and try her thumb on the locked laptop. She rolled her eyes and looked annoyed when her thumbprint didnt work.

But mine did.

I know, I shouldve tried it sooner, but its hard to be logical around here sometimes.

The laptop opened turned on and the desktop background was a photo of my body and Malinda's body at an amusement park. "So I guess were sisters or something" Malinda remarked.

The only file on the desktop was a video labeled "Inn instructions for new Alex and Sharon"

When it opened there was a webcam vlog style video of a woman in her 30s and a big hairy man in his 40s. The woman did most of the talking because the man was crying and sobbing off and on, being hugged and consoled.

Apparently Malinda and I are now Sharon and Alexis Barco (Respectively) of Burlington Vermont. And they are not sisters, they're married.

Ill pause a moment while you all react. A little part of me that was still male geeked out at a strange teenage fantasy come true. Lesbians! Yay!

Malinda, however did NOT have a similar reaction. I had to pause the video because she got up, screamed, looked at me and kept saying "ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew ew. Im not some (D word for lesbian thats not polite to repeat)"

She went into her room and I finished the video for more details. They Barco's had been married for about 6 years, been together for 10. Alexis was the head of IT at an ice cream company (not that one) and Sharon was an artist. Apparently Alexis, or Alex as she went by was a big techno nerd and thats why she had something like a biometric locked laptop. (Thank god she's not a spy)

They had stayed in the same room but it had only been single occupied the previous time, meaning they wound up in separate lives. Alex became a stay at home Mom in Minneapolis who had been given a Mother's Day vacation to Maine. Sharon had turned into a big burly trucker who was staying at the Inn while his truck got fixed, and from her body language she hated everything about her new body and life.

I pitied them, but soon got the luggage combos unlocked my clohtes, which were pretty tomboyish. I wheeled the suitcase for Sharon into Malinda's room and sat down on the bed next to her. She seemed wary of my touch so I didnt put my arm around her.

"It's OK, its only temporary, its easy to get your body back"

"How do you know" she snapped "And why would you go back to your old body, this one is so much better"

I then proceed to come clean about my history. How I was a guy who turned into his fiancee's best friend. How I then lost said fiancee' when the person in my body ran off with my secretary. How I spent the last year in the body of that person, and now how I was playing musical bodies for the forseeable future.

Malinda couldnt get past two things. First that I used to be a man and second that I knew what the Inn was going to do and didnt tell her. I tried to explain the curse but she was pretty upset.

Apparently Malinda was from a rich conservative family out of Highland Park, Texas. (Suburb of Dallas) Fresh with her degree from SMU she had decided to take a year off and travel America, and she landed in the wrong place at the wrong time. I left her to go through Sharon's things and started formulating our exit from the Inn.

Burllington isnt far from Old Orchard Beach but it's a long drive without a lot of Insterstate. The Barcos had driven up in their Range Rover and it was parked outside, ready to be driven home. I packed up all my Dee clothes and wrote my note. I then turned in, waiting for the long ride home.

The next morning found Malinda very much in denial. She seemed to be of the impression that she was going to just assume her old life. It took a lot of convincing and a lot swearing and a lot of crying to get her to write a note and get into the car.

We rode home in silence, mostly because she saw me as her captor or something. She did read the blog though, on her new body's Droid (I think she misses her iPhone). I didnt receive much feedback because she started from the beginning and read through the first year or so. She did let out a grossed out gasp when she read about Arthur having sex in Liz's body.

Finally, exhausted we made it to Burlington at about 9pm. The Barco's had a pretty nice condo that they owned. We put our stuff away in the bedroom and I began to take my clothes off and crash on the bed when Malinda looked at me like I was crazy.

"Uh uh, just because the real Sharon is some deviant doesnt mean I am, now get your butt on the couch"

I hadnt planned on trying anything, but I'm not gonna start fights with this person. She's still in a fragile state and I dont want her throwing anything at me.

The couch was comfy enough anyway. After this blog post I'm gonna get more familiar with the new life.

-Greg/Alexis

Tori: Father's Days (part 3)

In case you missed it, tonight I'm double-posting the last couple parts of my "Father's Days" story, so scroll down!

The next day I went to the hospital. I didn't think getting in to see my dad would be easy, but it was surprisingly not a big deal. Now, it's not like they just let strangers in to see patients, but Willy had sent advance word that "a friend of his" would be by to drop off a card he'd written. The thing is, there wasn't a card... but there was a letter.

When I couldn't sleep the night before, I opened up my laptop, and started composing some thoughts. I'd transcribe the letter for you here, but it was obviously very personal, and frankly kinda rambling. But I guess after all this time I still wanted to get some stuff off my shoulders, clear the air with him. Even though I've gotten pretty good at writing about myself through this blog, when I started thinking back on my old life, it came out confused and clumsy. Eventually I ended up writing a short note, from Willy's perspective, about how no matter the differences between us, no matter how far away I am, I'm still a part of this family, and even though we had problems, I'll always love and appreciate everything he and mom did for me.

And that part's true, and it was very difficult to get out. I printed it at a copy shop and left space at the bottom to add the personal touch... my signature, "JHCliff--" so he'd know it was from me. I haven't signed anything that way in years, of course, but surprisingly my hand made the signature exactly how I remember it looking.

When I got to the room, I found my dad resting. I said I wouldn't be more than a minute, I guess figuring I'd read the letter out and be, even though he was asleep it was going to be a token gesture on my part. But when I got in there, I was just, so overwhelmed by the sight of my dad, the unstoppable tough guy in a hospital bed. It stopped me cold.

I set the letter on the side table and took a seat next to him.

"Guess you can't hear me, huh dad?" No response. "Maybe I shouldn't talk. It's not like you're in a coma or something. You need rest." Again, he didn't flinch. I crossed my legs and straightened out my skirt... I had dressed formally.

"I never thought I'd see you like this. I never thought I'd see you again at all, and I'm sure you never thought you'd see your son looking like this. I sure as hell hope you can't hear me, dad, because I haven't admitted who I am... who I was... to anybody in a long, long time. Christ, Dad, if you could get a good look at your boy now, you'd have another damned heart attack."

I put my hand on his and watched him breathe a moment.

"It was exhausting being John Henry Clifford. Trying to be the good son, but having no clue how to live up to your expectations. You never really made me feel like it was okay that I wasn't the same as Bret. That I was shy. That I wasn't athletic. And when he went off to war and I didn't... it was like there was something wrong with me for not joining up. God, it's no wonder Willy knocked him out. But none of that's your fault. I don't blame you. You just wanted what was best for me, and in the end... I think I've got it."

"I was put in a bad situation, dad. Something happened to me that was beyond my control, that I never asked for. I know it seems like I should be embarrassed, but I like to think you'd be proud of me, for handling it so well. Making the best of a bad situation. Maybe you'd be shocked to hear that somewhere along the way I went from putting up with this life, to preferring it. I like myself better this way, dad. I won't apologize for that. But I guess we'll never know how you'd feel, because even if I could tell you where I've been this year, you'd never believe me."

I dabbed my eyes, which were slowly tearing up. "Sorry I'm getting so emotional here, dad. PMS is rough and I've had a weird week."

I couldn't think of anything else to say, so I left the note by his table, and walked out of the room.

In the hallway, I ran into my mother. It's weird being looked at by your own mom like you're a stranger, but I nearly called out "Mom!" but managed at the last moment to change it into "Mu-issus Clifford!" She leveled her eyes at me trying to figure out how she was supposed to know me.

"I'm Tori. I'm a friend of your son's. I actually came to Thanksgiving once."

"Oh! Of course, dear. You were dropping something off for Johnny."

"Yes, yes... dropping something off for Johnny. Look, I'm sorry about what's happened here. Can I buy you a cup of coffee?"

"Oh, that's not necessary."

"Please, you've been through a lot this week. I won't let you say no."

My mom's a woman that understands a thing or two about hospitality. We went down to the cafeteria and I bought her a tea and we chatted only as long as the walk back up to my dad's room.

"Is he going to be okay?" I asked eagerly.

"He'll live, they say, but if the bastard doesn't change his diet he won't have much time. I guess that's where I come in. I love him, you know, but he can be stubborn."

"Hah! Tell me about it!" I said, as if I was supposed to know the man.

"He'll put up a fight, but if he wants to live, he'll change. It's just a matter of making him want to change."

"I'm sure he'll find his way," I told her.

She nodded along, then asked, "So how exactly do you know my son?"

"That... is a really long, complicated story." Fortunately by this point, we had reached the room, so I excused myself.

Alex and I got some lunch and set out for the road home. Once we were in the car, I decided the time was right to clear some stuff up with him.

"Can I ask you something?" I asked timidly while I was driving. "What's your deal, man?"

He glanced at me. "My deal?"

"Listen, I don't wanna pry... I mean, I am, but only because I really just don't know. You know my friend Danny, right?"

"Sure... the gay guy."

"Yes. He mentioned, after I introduced you, he'd met you before."

"Really..."

"And he implied there was some kind of history between the two of you. But he's never been specific as to what."

Alex rolled his eyes some and finally relented. "It's not what you're thinking."

"I don't know what I'm thinking," I said.

"Well whatever happened, it wasn't anything serious. It was a very G-rated... thing."

"But what was it?"

"It was two guys meeting. One gay, one... not sure."

That gave me pause. I don't think I've ever met a man who would admit to something like that.

I stayed quiet. He continued. "It was at a time when I had reason to doubt... who I was. Who I am. What I want. I'm only telling you this because I feel like you'd understand."

"Why would I understand?"

"I don't know, I just... get this sense about you. Your story about how you couldn't be a baseball player. Going from dating popular guys in high school to dating someone like Buddy... that's not the same, but I think you get a sense of how someone changes over time."

"Uh yeah, definitely," I said, as if he should know my real past.

"So I'm telling you this in confidence." He went into a bit more detail about a period of his life, a couple years earlier, when he had just arrived in Philly and needed some company, and wound up, of all things, hanging with a mostly-gay crowd. I won't share the details, and I guess as far as Danny's recounting of the situation, there was a misunderstanding because of how unseemly he made it out to be. And for all I know, Alex is still covering for something.

But this left me with one question. Why didn't he like Raine when I set them up?

He said with a knowing smirk, "She wasn't into me and I wasn't into her. Two people don't have to want to fuck just because they're opposite sex and single, you know." He said it kiddingly, but it's something I've had weird time realizing since I realized I like guys... I haven't been "just friends" with one (straight and unattached anyway) since when Buddy and I were "just friends" he was pretty upfront about wanting to date me. Alex's words here seemed to indicate that's how he sees me, though.

Since "activating" this part of my life, I've jumped from Leo to Buddy, and maybe if I were someone else it would be healthy to be on my own for a while. But I've had plenty of time in my life to be alone.

It would probably be healthy just to have a male friend and not feel obligated to want to be with him, but at the same time, it hurts. There's nothing "keeping us apart" like attachments or orientations or distance... just a lack of interest on his part. Feels pretty familiar. Like rejection.

We got back to Philly and while I felt like I had managed to get some closure with my old life, my new one is still a wide open mess.

Thanks for listening. While I was typing up this long-ass story, I set up a Twitter account for some of us at the inn (we'll see if anyone else is interested in sharing) just for little thoughts between posts, updates... if any of you are on there, if you wanna follow us, it might be nice to interact that way because we don't always get around to replying to blog messages. For those of you still reading, it means a lot to us! (As specially since, as Greg seems to be finding, this story never seems to end!!)

Tori: Father's Days (Part 2)

The night that I heard about my dad's heart attack, the first thing I did was price a bus trip to Buffalo. It's expensive to get there from here, as well as time-consuming, which is why I didn't keep close contact with my old body.

Unfortunately, I simply did not have the time or money to do that. I was desperate to get to Buffalo, though, and at 7 hours, the Mapquest-plotted course was looking a lot more realistic than the 15-hour one suggested by Greyhound. I ran down the list of people I knew who might be willing to help me. My first call? Alex.

I've only known him a few months, a lot of which I haven't really blogged about, but he and I had this instant connection I can barely describe, so I was hoping I could trust him to help me with this and not ask too many questions about why.

It took some convincing. I had to deal with a lot of awkward questions like "Who do you know in Buffalo?" and "Why do you need to drop everything and go now?" I think part of the reason I asked Alex was that since he hasn't known Tori all her life, like say Raine or Sara, I could roll back on the fact that there are simply things he doesn't know about my life.

So I told him it was a favour for a friend, who couldn't make it. I had to deliver a letter, in case "his" dad didn't make it. "That's quite noble," Alex said, "Y'know, I'm a sucker for a good story. This'll make me feel like a good guy."

I smiled at him, "You are a good guy."

He gave a weird, self-deprecating wink, "Sometimes it's hard to convince myself of that."

There were other reasons I wanted to spend all this time with Alex. Even though we hang out a lot, I still don't feel like I know who he is. He lets me talk on and on about my relationship problems, my issues with finding work (prior to him hooking me up with my current job,) and anything that bothered me about anything, but when I turn the conversation over to him, he gets gives the bare minimum. "How's life?" "It's all right." Etc etc. I feel awkward making myself an open book and yet being unable to pry anything out of him.

We hit the open road Friday after work. I had to break the silence to get my mind off my dad. About forty minutes out of Philly, we get to talking and I ask what he wanted to be when he grew up when he was a kid.

"I don't know," he chuckles self-deprecatingly. "Not this, I don't think. I mean, I like the job and everything, but I guess I wanted adventure, I wanted to be rich. Indiana Jones. I didn't see myself hunched over a computer."

I smiled. "Yeah, I guess I didn't either."

"Yeah, there never was an IT Girl Barbie was there?" Before I could respond he flipped the question back to me, "So what did you want to be?"

I sighed, "For a while... this is embarrassing, but when I was really young, I thought it would be fun to be a baseball player."

He did a double take, taking his focus off the road so he could share his look of skepticism. "Uh, what?"

I started to reformat the story so that it fit into my backstory as Tori. It turned out not to be that far from the truth "I mean... when I was really young, before I realized it wasn't really an option, you know? As I got older and my body developed... the way it did... that idea sorta faded away."

"You never talk much about your past," he pointed out.

"Neither do you."

"Touche."

"Were you popular in high school?" he asked.

"Yeah, I guess so." I recited unenthusiastically. This is the part of being Tori I hate, having to pretend the life I read about in her diaries was mine. "Lots of friends. Dating. Boyfriends. Sexual exploits behind the bleachers. Stuff I'm not really proud of."

"I always wondered how a girl like you wound up working with computers. Most of the hot girls I know can barely download apps for their iPhones."

I blushed a bit. Even after this time, it gets me that I'm 'hot.' "Something changes along the way," I said. "Being hot isn't a job, at least not one I was interested in. I spent a lot of time trying to find myself."

"Well I'm glad you did," he glanced over at me, "Otherwise we wouldn't be here, would we?"

"No," I breathed heavily, "I suppose not."

I was feeling it. I squirmed in my seat. He was doing something to me, something Buddy and Leo didn't quite. He can command a conversation and make me want to know spill my guts without ever saying much about himself. This whole time I've been Tori I've been the one on guard and suddenly I just wanna let it all out. He has so much more confidence in himself than Buddy, so much more charm than Leo.

Much of the rest of the ride was spent talking about work and singing along to the radio. We arrived in Buffalo after dark. I wanted to go straight to the hospital but it was way too late for that, so we checked into a motel and I brought him to my favorite neighborhood bar for a drink. The place hasn't changed, it was like stepping back into 2008. I tried to shrug off any discomfort.

We were done our first pitcher when I spotted a familiar face glancing my way. It was Justin, my best friend for years. I don't know how long he had been watching me. Suddenly I felt like I had been punched in the gut. It was one thing to be here among all the familiar buildings. It was another to come face to face with someone from my past, although I guess that was why I was there to begin with. I just wasn't prepared for it yet.

I excused myself during a lull in the conversation and crossed the bar to see him. He noticed me and got this awkward deer-in-headlights look. His eyes fixated on my breasts until I started talking.

"Hi there," I said nervously. "Justin, right?"

"Yes, yeah." I wasn't the only one who was nervous. "I'm sorry, I just can't remember where I know you from."

That hurt a bit, but I guess it was fair. He met me in this body once, a year and a half ago, at Thanksgiving just after I had transformed and was pretending to be "Cliff's" date so I could get one last look at my family. He and Willy set up a cruel trick where he would come in and pretend to hit on me, and then reveal he knew who I was. It was cruel because at the time he was going with a really great girl named Randi, and because Willy should have sensed how deeply uncomfortable that would be for me.

I reminded him of where he knew me from, and he nearly spat his drink out when I mentioned the name Cliff. "I haven't talked to that guy in forever."

"Yeah, he's been over in England for a while I guess."

"Sure, I guess, but even before that. Dude was getting weird. He was a really cool guy, but sometime after that Thanksgiving, he totally cracked."

"Hm. Maybe you just don't know the whole story."

"Oh yeah? What's the whole story?"

"I'm not saying I know, I just think maybe he was ... 'cracked' ... before that. Probably cracked before I came along."

"Well he hid it. Still, whatever happened, he got the balls to leave this place, which I'm kinda proud of."

"What does that mean?"

"So, his brother's a soldier. Been to Afghanistan and everything." (It was actually Iraq but whatever.) "They never got along. Total opposites. His brother, Bret, was actually a dick because, Cliff was kinda nerdy his whole life and Bret was the fave. Then, I guess right before he leaves for England, he decides he's sick of Bret's crap and picks a fight with him right behind this bar. And he knocks him the fuck out!"

My eyes widened. Willy could not have made a more out-of-character moment if he'd tried. I had my problems with Bret but I never would have let it come to blows, especially because I knew he could kick my ass. "Bret knocked Cliff out?"

"No!" Justin swigged, "Cliff knocked Brett on his ass. One punch. I never saw anything like it."

One punch?? I didn't know what to say. I stammered to change the subject. "Hey, wh-when, uh, last time, um, back then, you were dating this girl, um, how's that... uh, are you still together?"

He got real sullen and turned back to his beer. "Nah, that ended a while back." I didn't press him for details. I thought it was sad, though. I liked Randi a lot, even if she was indirectly responsible for me going to the Trading Post Inn (I don't hold that against her.) I actually liked her when she and I first met, and I always thought maybe if Justin hadn't been more charming, I might've had a chance. But I was probably too much of a geek for her, and now my life's taken the direction it has.

I felt bad for Justin though, in that moment. I know he really liked Randi, and I felt sorry I couldn't be there for him when the relationship ended. I guess that's how girly I've been because comforting someone wasn't really my forte when I was a guy, that wasn't how our friendship would've worked, aside from, I don't know, going to a strip club and watching Star Wars to get his mind off her.

I decided I wanted to keep him company and express my sympathies. He asked what I was doing in town and I said I was just passing through on an errand and I remembered this bar. He said that was lucky for him, and there was some cool stuff he could show me if I wanted.

Oh my God, I realized. My best friend was putting the moves on me.

I felt like an idiot. It was warm, so I was wearing a top that showed some cleavage. I was bending over him at the bar. For fuck's sake, you'd think I'd know what effect this body has on guys. I began to fidget.

I couldn't bring myself to shut him down cold like he was just "some guy." This is someone who was friends with me for years even though we could've been in totally different crowds - Justin was a good athlete in high school and well-liked, and he always tried to include me in shit. I've always felt like I owed him a debt.

I don't know what's wrong with me, that I even briefly entertained the idea. He was just so sad and he was such a good guy to me as Cliff. I knew this would cheer him up, but is that really who I want to be? Alex, a guy I really like, was sitting just across the bar from me, and whatever lies in his murky past, I didn't want him to see me going home with some random dude I apparently met.

It would also be such a bizarre experience being with this guy I've known forever, without him knowing it was me. I couldn't imagine all the hidden layers of awkward that would occur if I let him put his dick in me. It didn't feel fair to him. Shit, we used to watch scrambled porn together in his basement, back in the day.

He looked at me expectantly as all these thoughts went through my brain. "Listen, I appreciate the offer... but I don't think this is right. I'm not looking to... I'm not up for anything right now. I hope you understand."

I was about to back away, when I felt his hand enclose around my wrist. He looked up at me with these utterly pathetic eyes. "Please. Just let me buy you a drink."

Doing my best not to lose my shit on my former best friend, I said in a calm, measured tone, "Justin. You should probably let go of me. Right now."

Alex appeared behind me. "You heard her."

"What are you, her boyfriend?"

"I'm her friend," he said sternly.

Justin's eyes shifted back and forth for a second. Thankfully he didn't hesitate in releasing his grip. My heart was pounding.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to get so carried away."

"Yeah..." I sighed and backed away, as Alex kept himself between me and him. When we were a safe distance away, her asked, "What was that?"

"It was a misunderstanding," I told him, "Maybe I'll tell you the whole story sometime." Probably not.

We settled up and found our way to a motel. Having dragged Alex all the way out, I insisted on paying for the two-bed room we ended up getting, but Alex wouldn't let me. What is it about being a girl that makes guys want to pay for stuff with you? (Oh yeah... boobs.) Sometimes that's really inconvenient.

I tried to lie back and go to bed, but I was having difficulties. I guess ever since 2009, I've had problems falling asleep in strange beds... for fairly obvious reasons, I should think. (It took ) The only times I've slept well in strange rooms is when I'm "with" someone, and that sure wasn't happening.

After a few hours of tossing and turning, it was nearly 4 AM. Finally, I permitted my hand to travel south. Now, I've done this plenty of times, but rarely with someone else in the room, especially if they're not my current partner, but it wasn't that long ago I had gone on a stealth mission with Buddy in bed next to me anyway.

I rolled over and buried my face in the pillow to muffle any inadvertent sounds that might squeak out of my face, hiking my butt in the air. The danger definitely added to the sensation. I suspect he may have heard anyway, because I heard him tossing and turning, but at that point I couldn't break away from my deed. Maybe he got a show. He didn't say anything about it the next day.

It helped me relax, although it was still a long while before I got to sleep. Probably around 5 AM. Thankfully, Alex let me sleep 'til nearly noon, which I really needed. I woke up and looked over at him, reading one of George R.R. Martin's Game of Thrones books. He gave me a "Morning sleepyhead" and asked what we were doing today.

I responded by rolling over and trying to fall back asleep. When I finally realized this was pointless, I began to plot out the day... and severely doubted that I had the balls to go through with what I was planning.

Greg/Sharon: Answers and Questions

So its a little after 5am on Wednesday morning and I'm happy to say that the curse kicked in a few hours ago. Those of you astute enough to read the title will know already that I'm still female, having turned into the body of Sharon Barco.

I knew the change was going to happen tonight. Ive been doing a modest headcount the whole visit and last night we finally hit lucky number 13. I dont know what exactly causes the curse to kick in, but I stayed up all night waiting for it, like a kid waiting for Santa in a weird twisted way. Its nearly impossible to fall asleep anyway around here when you know whats going to happen. Most nights I drink heavily to fall asleep, but not last night.

Around 2am I felt that "hard to describe unlike anything else" feeling of the changes starting, and I did what so many of us Inn veterans do and I stripped naked and ran to the bathroom mirror.

The first thing that happend to me was the rapid weight loss, meaning that whomever I was turning into was smaller than a size 16. Wrinkles, stretch marks, and cellulite were also disappearing so they also took better care of themselves or were younger.

I got about two inches taller but it stopped there, and the sagging off my breasts disappeared. When they stopped in a more perky position is when I realized that I was going to stay female.

My hair actually got a little shorter, which was surmising. As Dee i'd been wearing it about shoulder length curly in the back, very easy to style. This time the hair went halfway up my neck in almost a Bob haircut. It also turned a light brown and all my gray went away :).

Then of course came the awkward slightly painful experience of having your face change. Its almost like having to sneeze but the sneeze never comes. Or an itch that cant be scratched. You figure everyone's face is different and there are a lot of bones and muscles and tissues that gotta be rearranged. The eye color is the weirdest one of all. It doesnt happen all at once though, like it gradually changes. Mine went from greenish to what people call hazel. Once it was all done I was much younger looking. No crows feet or laughlines and very nice teeth.

This whole time the pounds were just melting off. You cant imagine how big of a relief it is to be fat for a year and then just to see it go away. It wasnt just losing weight though, I gained a little muscle tone. Definitely could see some definition in the legs and butt as well as the arms. But the best part of all was the abs. I'm now the proud owner of a six pack.

After the tingling sensations stopped I looked myself up and down. I'd say my age is a little under 30, much younger than Dee but slightly older than Priya or my original self. Still white, but slightly tanner than before. Clearly lives a fit lifestyle and completely hairless except for a "landing strip". No kids, or at least I dont think so. There were no stretch marks or lines that would indicate something was living inside of here.

I was broken out of my exploratory daze at around 4 am from the screams and shouting and general hubbub in the commons. This meant I had to get dressed, which posed a problem. I discovered yesterday that the biometrically locked laptop belonged to Alex, only his thumbprint was gonna get me the electronically recorded note that included the combo to their luggage. I wonder if their spies, I dont look that atheltic but I could see myself as a spy now.

Either way, I'm not getting dressed until I find Alex's body. So I put on a Dee nightshirt that covered everything but fit miserably and went out to calm everyone down and tell them what was up. Only when I got to the lobby I discovered that someone was doing just that. Apparently I'm not the only veteran here and this younger looking guy was giving out instructions on what to do. Eventually everyone headed back to their rooms to look at their notes.

I knocked on Albert's door and a man about my age opened. "Hi, I'm Dee from next door, or I was last year...its a long story. I suppose youre wondering where your note is..."

He looked at me puzzled. "No, Ive got my note. Says Im someone named Neil Pane from Arkansas. I cant go to Arkansas, Ive got a family" I reassured him and sighed, figuring that bitchy girl next door (whose name I learned was Malinda or Mal or something) was Alex. But when I knocked on her door a woman opened the door, looking distraught.


"Hi, I dont suppose there's a 'man' in there" I ask

"No, I'm not that kind of girl, who the hell are you?" She asked, looking pissed off in a mannaer that told me it was Malinda in there

"Dee, from next door"

"You mean the old chubby lady? Man did you luck out" she said in a patronizing way.

I was mildly offended but wished her good luck, I have bigger things to think about.

I went back to the room and began this post...I'll start looking for Alex's body in the morning. Hopefully he doesnt panic.

-Greg

Greg: 1 week down

So, with the first week of my Trading Post Inn reservation in the books, I now find myself in the body of.....Dee.

Yep, we haven't had guest magic number 13 arrive yet, which is strange because it didnt take this long my first two visits. I got to Maine late night on Tuesday, and found it to be pretty much deserted, just me, a single guy in his 30s, and a middle aged couple. I didnt say much to them but they didnt appear to be aware of what awaited them.

I, on the other hand, am only partially aware of what awaits me. The first thing I did when I got to my room was to check for luggage, but my closest had two suitcases. One belonging to Alex Barco and another belonging to Sharon Barco. The tags had the same address so I presume that they are some kind of couple. I didnt find anything more out because they didnt leave a note other than a post it saying "info stored on laptop". The suitcases were combo locked and I couldnt go through them, and the laptop case was next to them.

This is where it gets ingenious/tricky. The laptop had a special add on to it that in order to get access to it you had to put your thumbprint down and have it read it. Obviously, no one was going to get that information without Alex or Sharon Barco's thumbprint, meaning that until I possessed either of their forms. (I hope they arent spies, Id be a terrible spy and wind up geting captured or killed)

That leads me to the next big puzzle of the week. Which one will I be. From what we've learned over the past 5 years of this blog, the magic doesnt turn you into the person who slept in that room previously automatically. It turns you into the person who was sleeping nearest to where you slept, or something.

So while my room had two occupants last time, this time it only has one. Meaning I'll turn into one of Barcos, and someone else in the near vicinity will turn into the other.nThis means Ive taken great interest in the two rooms adjacent to mine, because in all likelihood, whomever stays there is going to wind up being my spouse.

The room to my left filled up the day after I got here. A guy by the name of Albert Connell. Albert doesnt know that the Inn is cursed. I found this out by talking to him around the hotel. He's in Maine trying to expand his business in the northeast or something. He's from Ohio and and has a wife and two teenagers back home. Its hard hearing his story, because I now that in a few days he's gonna be ripped away from his family and replaced with God knows who. I dropped hints at what happens but he didnt seem to notice, so this is clearly his first time here.

The room to my right didnt become occupied until this weekend. I havent done much talking to the girl who's staying there because she appears to do most of her communication in text form. She's actually really cute. Blonde, cute little body. Drives a nice car and has an iPhone. She looks to be about 24. Old enough to be out of college, young enough to still have sorority letters on her totebag. She gave me the brush off every time I approached her, apparently caring too much about her tan to bother with talking with older people. I kinda hope she turns into a fat person.

Of course, this is all speculation and this place has done nothing but send me curveballs. As of Monday night there are 9 people staying here. I thinks the economy is causing attendance to dwindle. If we dont have 13 by Saturday night Im tempted just to put an ad on Craigslist or something, because come hell or high water I will be getting out of this body.

Stay tuned

-Greg

Tori: Father's Days (Part 1)

Sometimes I get sad when I think about the fact that as much as I love my dad, he's only been my dad for a couple of years. It makes me sadder to think of the fact that the love he has for me is the love he means to give to someone else, someone who walked away from her own life. I have a complex opinion of the "real" Tori, because she was gracious enough to let me keep living a life that is rightfully hers when it turned out I wouldn't get mine back. But the way she gave it up, sometimes I wonder if she appreciated what she had.

I put off talking to my family for a while after I got back from Houston. I really didn't want to talk to anybody, but of course I live with Raine, and I work with Alex, but I was quiet about it, and they respected that. They knew things with Buddy were complicated, but I never really could explain why, obviously. There were a lot of issues, even stretching beyond the "I used to be a guy" thing, because of who I was as a guy... partly, he reminded me of the old me, and that was both a good thing and a bad thing. Things I liked about myself, I liked about him. Things I hated about myself, I absolutely couldn't stand about him. But I guess I felt I owed it to myself to try to make it work, because I was just so high on being able to be in a relationship anyway.

But breaking up hurt even though it was mostly my own doing. I didn't want to show it because after all this time, I should know it's better to have loved and lost than never at all. I'd fall asleep clutching my pillow wondering if I'd made a mistake, and feeling guilty and irrational and emotional and embarrassed.

A while later, my dad called to see if I'd help him paint the house. The weather was getting nice and mom had been on his case about the window sills and the garage doors. Even though I didn't quite get why he'd ask me -- I don't think either the old Tori or myself showed signs of competence with that -- I was glad to do it, because I hadn't had an excuse to see them in a while, and wanted to stop avoiding them. Mostly, it just felt like a fun normal afternoon.

So I found an old t-shirt and some shorts and we spent an afternoon painting the place up. He goaded me into going up the ladder he'd rented to do the top floor windows. We ordered a pizza for lunch, and then he came out with it.

"So... I'm gonna guess you and Buddy are off."

I sighed heavily. "What was your first clue?"

"Well, he moved off to Texas, didn't he? Dallas?"

"Houston."

"Right. And weren't you thinking of joining him?"

"I was. I was looking for work down there. In case it worked out."

"And it didn't?"

I gave a moment's thought and answered "No. It did not."

He took a long time responding to that. He took a bite of his pizza and chewed, and then another. Maybe he was waiting for me to elaborate, but I didn't know what else to say.

He stopped chewing and looked at me and said "I didn't like him."

I smiled uncontrollably, but had to twist my face into a sour expression. "That's sweet of you to say, Dad, but I know it's not true." Although he wouldn't have, if he'd known how badly Buddy handled the break-up.

"No, it's not true. He was smart, nice enough, very polite. Your mother and I liked that you were with him."

I winced. "I've dated a lot of assholes." I haven't, but part of being someone else, unfortunately, is having the balls to own up to their mistakes.

He laughed, "Yeah. Sure. Some assholes here and there. But I never protested, did I? I let you find your way. And now look at you. I liked him fine, but I liked that you were dating him. He never got a ticket for street racing, I bet."

Dad brings this up from time to time and I have no idea what the story is behind it.

"He was smart and he had a good job and he didn't seem like he would've been popular in high school. Really different choice for you, if you don't mind me saying so."

"I don't."

"But that doesn't mean I'm upset you broke up. If there was a problem that couldn't be fixed, I'm glad you did what you felt was right. You're a very strong girl, Tori. You're a very different person than I thought you'd turn out to be, and I'm always surprised by what an amazing person you became."

I wanted to cry, I was getting so choked up, I had to throw my paint-covered arms around him. He had no idea how much those words could possibly mean to me, or what he was truly saying. I actually felt guilty because I'm not the girl he raised, but knowing he approves of who I am just means the world to me. You don't get to choose your family, and I'm so glad that when I landed in this body, I got one I love so much.

I was struggling to open a can of paint and I said jokingly (but not without meaning) "I bet at times like these you wish I was a son, right dad?"

He just grinned at me, popped the lid open and said "Hey, I could have called your brother up... what would I need another son for? I've got the best daughters ever."

He paused and added, "And the best son."

I was on such a high about that weekend, but it didn't last. A while later, I got an e-mail from "J.H. Clifford." Willy. My heart sunk and I almost didn't want to hear what he had to say. I clicked the message.

He had just gotten word that my dad -- My real dad, in Buffalo -- had had a heart attack and was in the hospital. Willy's still in England, but maybe I would like to have a look in on my family, in case he doesn't make it. There wasn't anything else in the letter. No "This is what I've done with your life," no question of returning to the inn. Just this fact.

I was looking up bus tickets to Buffalo that night, and before I knew it, I was back home...

Greg/Didi: Saying my goodbyes.

I know at times Ive made it seem that I have no friends as Dee and that I lived my life as a hermit, but thats not entirely true. I have co workers and neighbors who Ive been friendly with and enjoyed their company and Im gonna miss a little when the Inn takes me on my next great adventure. I left work last Friday saying goodbye to all my friends, although they didnt seem to get it. As far as they were concerned, Dee was going to Maine for the 3rd year in a row and she always came back so much nicer. I realize now that I'm going to miss them, but theres one person in particular I am going to miss.

Let me start at the beginning, and rewind back to January.

The holidays were just finishing up and I was feeling really depressed, what with Dee's son spending xmas somewehere else and me being alone for the first time in years. That loneliness was compounded by a certain itch that needed scratching, as in sex. Dont get me wrong I had no qualms masturbating in this big lonely house, there were even toys for it. It feel very attractive doing it but it got the job done. But as any woman will tell you, there is no substitute for the real thing, and I dont know what Susan's sex life was like therefore I had no idea how long it had been since this body had had sex.

I had no idea how to go out and get laid as a girl, at least not as this girl. As a guy you went out with a group of friends at a bar or something and went on the hunt. As Priya all my encounters were on the receiving end of things like this, but Dee's was much to old to go to a singles bar, and I was to nervous to get all dressed up and try to look sexy. So I did the shy and dorky thing and one night I drank a whole bottle of wine and set up an online dating profile.

I didnt do it too seriously, just a profile and basic info. I actually wrote it like Greg would write it. Like I wasnt pretending to be Dee, like I was someone who looked like Dee with Greg's likes and dislikes. I went to bed and forgot about it. It was when I woke up the next morning and saw that I had 38 new emails, most of them responses from the site saying I had new messages. Turns out girls on the internet are so rare that even ones in their 40's get tons of attention.

A lot of the messages were from weird people with incomplete profiles who were clearly just looking to get laid. They werent even subtle about it. A lot of them asked about the status of some of my private parts, others linked me to pictures of THEIR private parts. And even though the main reason I started the website was a drunken desire to get laid, I figured they'd at least have to make an effort.

I started corresponding with a few of the ones who were serious and eventually gave my phone number out to one, whom I'll call Mike for anonymity purpposes. Mike works in some office job in Oxford and was also a divorcee empty nester. He had gone through the typical midlife crisis and had a really cool car to show for it, but lately he had come back to earth and was looking for companionship his own age. He was 2 years older than Dee, had a beer gut, a lot of body hair, and was pretty much bald. Not exactly romance novel material but who was I kidding, I'm not exactly pinup girl material either.

We met at a bar outside the student inhabited part of town. He was impressed that I ordered gin and tonic instead of some girly drink. He was even more impressed about the lengthy conversation we had about Rebel football and their chances next season.

We took a walk after that and I dont know if it was the gin or just my nothing-to-lose attitude but I found myself opening up to him. Talking, laughing, even flirting with him at times. After awhile when it was time to part ways, I found myself asking him back to my place.

He didnt immediately pounce on me once we got there, in fact he talked to me for about 40 minutes, slowly warming his way up to a kiss on the couch. (I later found out that part of the reason was to let his Viagra kick in). After a few minutes of making out he followed me upstairs and we got undressed.

What followed after that was mostly instinct. Its hard to explain, but when youre having sex as a woman its much easier to go on autopilot. That is just zone out and lie back and let it happen. Thats not to say that I wasnt there mentally or that I didnt enjoy it, because man did I enjoy it, but Mike was definitely in charge. It wasnt pretty to look at and Im glad we didnt make a sex tape, but it was just what this body needed. When he finished he cuddled me and we talked for about 5 minutes before he fell asleep.

He woke up in the morning and left early, before breakfast. Which was good because I was really regretting what I had done. I kinda liked the guy but didnt want to lead him on because I had no permanent plans for this body and didnt want to be his girlfriend before I left it. I told him as much when he called me back,(That part about not wanting anything long term, not the part about being a man cursed to look like this), and he seemed to understand, but didnt take it as a permanent goodbye.

We kept emailing and texting each other causually until about 3 weeks later when I called him in a haze of wine and hormones to come over. He did, we enjoyed ourselves, and he left in the morning, fully aware of what the situation was. This became a pattern throughout the rest of my time here. And Im sorry I didnt blog about him or talk about him, I'm not like other bloggers where I post about every new sexual encounter I have immediately.

Anyway, fast forward back to last week. I called him up and had him meet me for dinner, with the intention of telling him we'd never see each other again. The problem is, he was such a witty and polite southern gentleman that the opportunity truly never came up. Either that or I was too chicken to tell him. We wound up going home together and I found myself giving one hell of a performance in the bedroom. Doing my best to give him a good sendoff that way. As I watched him fall asleep I looked at his awkward naked body and decided that whomever gets this life next should have some option of companionship, and decided not to cut him loose for now.

But yeah, thats the one loose end I didnt tie up. Im packing as we speak and should be in Maine by the start of next week. Who knows what changes are in store for me there but I'll blog before the change (Or at least try) and let you know what happens to me and or other people there.

Nervously yours,

Greg

Tori: Houston and Philadelphia

Houston

I wake up at 2 AM. I can feel him breathing on the back of my neck. I remember when we fell asleep, his arm was draped over me but now it's pressed between us. It's hot in our room under the covers. Sweat clings to my body, my chest and between my legs.

Slowly shifting my body weight, I sit up and plant my feet on the floor. Right where they land, my toes catch, tossed carelessly at the bedside, the panties I'd had on earlier. I slip them over my legs and feel the elastic over my hips. Aside from that, I'm naked, folding my arms across my breasts to keep them steady as I stand and step softly across the room, sneaking out the door.

In the main sitting area there's a seat by the window. I open it a crack and stare out at the lights of the Houston cityscape. I pretend it's not too dark and I'm not too high up for someone to look in and see me sitting, curled up, half-naked. The scenery is beautiful. I can't sleep.

I made such a mess of my interview, I don't even want to relive it by explaining how. I came off as cocky, but when asked for more detailed solutions to example situations, I stammered and second-guessed myself. I kept my composure, but when I walked out of the office feeling like breaking down and crying. I felt like a lie for the first time in years, dressed like a smart, confident woman when inside I'm still just a kid.

I comforted myself with Buddy. I dressed in the shortest skirt I have and the lowest-cut top, and made a lasagna for him when he came home. I tried to imagine myself playing house for a while, staying with him in Houston and finding something else to do with my life. I tried to imagine being that in love with someone. Make that sacrifice. I was going to tell him over dinner that I didn't think I'd be getting the job, but instead I said the interview went fine and we'd see.

I took him to the bedroom. I didn't want to talk. I didn't want to sit quietly in front of the TV. I wanted to fuck. If I've got nothing in this life, no career opportunity, nobody I feel I can be honest with, I've at least got a body and I know he likes that. I know he likes me for a lot more than that, but I wasn't interested in talking about seeing the Thor movie.

It was wild, and physical, but brief and ultimately disappointing. After he came, I let him drift off to sleep and quietly began to pleasure myself under the covers. I'm sure in his sleep he heard me moan, but he didn't wake. I've been doing this long enough I know how to make myself come, and I wish he'd learn. He's done it before but it was more like a coincidence, and with a lot of prep time behind it. For a brief instant, as I shudder with orgasm, struggling to keep my legs from shaking and kicking him, I think I should bring him to Maine and let him be a girl for a while. It might be good for him. Fortunately, I know these are just the thoughts of a frustrated, sleepy mind, and I don't think anything of it. I finally fall asleep around 11. Oftentimes at this hour back in Philly, Raine and I are just deciding what to do.

At 2, though, I'm sitting at the window, which is opened a crack, feeling a cool breeze between my breasts. I know, in reality, the answer isn't in Maine. And I don't think it's in Houston anymore either.

By the time I left, all the doubts in my mind had solidified into certainties. Certainty that I didn't belong in Houston, that I didn't belong with Buddy. That whatever I was capable of, I deserved more than a guy who is constantly trying to push me just to go along with him, clinging to me because he doesn't think he can get any better. He deserves someone who wants him a lot more than I do, now.

For the rest of the stay, I was quiet and distant. I couldn't bring myself to pull the trigger, though, to tell him it was over. I don't know how. I was hoping he'd notice, but he'd just keep asking what's wrong and I'd keep telling him "nothing." I feel like I need to prepare, like I need there to be a reason other than "we've grown apart." But whatever happens, it's not going to be fair for him and I know deep down I can't avoid hurting him.

When we said goodbye, I still hadn't heard back from the job. I needed to go back to Philly and go back to my real job, helping businesswomen pick suits that make them look confident and feminine.

Philadelphia

When I landed in Philadelphia, there was a message on my phone saying if I wanted it, the job was mine.

I was so close to accepting. A job is a job and it shouldn't have anything to do with my relationship. My mind kept pushing me back to Houston, saying I could either try to make it work with Buddy, or I could take the job and just end the relationship when it got unbearable.

"Before you say yes, there's something you should know," Alex told me when I met him for lunch the next day. My heart jumped. Maybe I've become such a girl that I expected him to make a big speech saying he was in love with me, despite his complicated past, and knew he was the right one for me and I shouldn't move to Houston for Buddy, I should stay in Philly for him. That he needed me and that he could make me happier.

But that's not what he said. What he said was almost as good. "There's an opening at my company -- the people who paid me to take the course, they need more people. I could recommend you. You'd be a shoe in. It wouldn't be IT, but it would be a real job. You wouldn't have to move or anything."

He knows I have my doubts about Buddy. He supported me in the past but now he's trying to get me to stay. I squirmed in my seat and turned it over in my mind. The choices were clear-cut: Buddy and Houston, or Alex and Philly?

I held the phone in my hand for twenty minutes that night, just trying to dial Buddy's number. Trying to psych myself into it. I could barely breathe as I put the phone to my ear and heard it ringing.

It was voicemail.

With my voice trembling, I told him to call me back, I had to talk to him. It didn't seem right that it would end this way, but it was the only way now.

I had fallen into a nap on my bed when the phone began to vibrate. I saw it was him and answered. "Hey Buddy." Lately I've been calling him that instead of baby or honey or anything.

"Vic, what's up, babe?"

Quietly and without much hesitation, I told him, "I'm not getting the job."

"It's okay, it's okay," he went into his prepared remarks, "We'll find something. You're still coming here, right?"

I took my time answering. "No."

"No? but what about... what will you..."

"Alex told me he could get me a job. I want to stay here, Buddy."

"Alex? Goddamnit, Tori." When I first met Alex I made the mistake of gushing about him to Buddy, and he became (rightly) paranoid. I think this may have been why he kept trying to pull me in to Houston.

At this point, I guess, Buddy realized he was losing it and just let off. He accused me of being a cheater, an unstable, immature, indecisive, man-hungry bitch, and a liar. I just sat there and listened to all these epithets and rants and realized what kind of a person I had been dealing with.

"We're done, Buddy."

"Yeah," he said bitterly. "I guess we are."

Click.

And that was it. I spent the rest of May trying to decide if I was upset about this, or if I was happy it was over, or if I felt anything anymore. I met Alex's boss and got a job basically being the "Tech bitch" at the shipping company where he works.

So that's where I'm at now. Sorry I took so long to tell you, but I went from being too depressed to post to too busy.

I'll tell you more of what's happened as soon as I can. Thanks to Alia and Todd, my "writing coaches" for helping me organize all these thoughts. You're the best.

Love, Victoria Pearce.

Greg/Didi: The Home Strech

Right, so its been something ridiculous like 8 months since I updated you on my saga, but since then there hasnt been much to update on. Im still in the body of Dolores Henderson. Im still in Oxford, Mississippi working a desk job in a college administration. Im still pretty bitter about what happened to me. The major blog-worthy change in my life, is that Ive got a reservation at the Trading Post Inn.

To be honest Id given a lot of thought as to whether or not I wanted to become a "Traveler" like Fletcher or whether I would just not tempt fate once again and live out my days in this body, but by January it became quite clear that I wasnt going to stick around.

The most glaring difference is the age progression? Youve heard the expressiong "Youre only as old as you feel?" well I feel ancient. Dee did NOT take care of herself and as a result I get up every morning feeling constant aches in my back and neck as well as all of my joints. It might have something to do with the nicotine cravings but probably a lot more to do with the terrible shape I'm in.

Dont get me wrong, Ive tried to exercise and diet, but when a woman gets to be my age, her metabolism slows way down. Combine that with Dee's genetics and you get almost no results. Its frustrating as hell to spend two weeks eating salad and going to the gym being laughed at in your sweatsuit only to find that you havent lost a single pound. At some point you just think to yourself "Its not worth it, I'm leaving this body anyway" and eat a hamburger.

Another thing that I hate about being her is the loneliness. I'm a recent divorcee who lives in a house all by herself. Dee's son doesnt seem to like her or get along with her either. Its not an actively angry relationship, in fact its rather cold. Like "oh yeah youre my mom". In a way thats worse. Ive spoken to him once, and that was arounnd Christmas when he told me that he was going on a trip with his friends. It wasnt a big deal when I hung up, because I dont even know the guy, but when Christmas morning rolled around and I was alone, I started sobbing. It really hits you how much you lost on holidays, because all your memories are attached to those days. I thought of my childhood, of Amber, even last year when I didnt even celebrate Christmas because I was Hindu was better because at least I had my friends in Chicago. It was that post holiday depression that caused me to pick up the phone and call the Trading Post Inn.

I didnt call on the first day, or even the first week. I waited until the end of January. My reasoning for this is because people would be trying to get back to their rightful bodies. I didnt want to mess up anyones "swap chain" so I waited until I thought most people wouldve had that set up before I called. My goal is to get the body of some unknowing tourist, keep it safe for them, and give it back the next year.

So I made my reservation starting June 19th. Since then Ive pretty much checked out mentally, sometimes not even bothering to pretend to be Dee. Lately ive been more talkative and as the day approaches I get less and less stressed out. Ill probably post more in the coming weeks

-Greg/Didi

Tori: She's got baggage

I'm packing for Houston. The company I'm interviewing with wants to meet me in person, which I guess is a good sign. It certainly says a lot about where I am in my life that this is a decision I have to make.

The further I go from the East coast, the further I go from the Trading Post Inn, the life I used to live in Buffalo, and the one I've come to like as Tori, and the closer I get to having a future with Buddy, having a career and living in a new phase of my life.

Is two years long enough to forget who I was? Is six months of a relationship long enough to make this kind of choice? Is there any reason to do it other than that? Do I want this job? Do I want this life? Like I've said before, I wish someone would make the decision for me. I certainly never made the decision to become Tori, nor to keep being her after the first year, but it's worked out for the best. If you knew my track record as Cliff, you'd know it's not impressive. If I uproot myself for Buddy, and it doesn't work out... it could destroy me, emotionally at least. But I can't let this fear stop me from taking a chance on something good, at least that's what Alex is telling me. He's so supportive.

I look over at my suitcase at the end of my bed, at the clothes I've folded up into it, all the cleavage-baring tops and low-rise jeans and clean panties... when I first inherited Tori's wardrobe, I didn't know what to make of any of it. Now I spend my days surrounded by it, helping other women size themselves up and accessorize, and I don't feel the slightest bit self-conscious pulling on a cute pair of frilly undies. Buddy still makes fun of me, despite this, because he sees me as boyish because I cut my hair and read Sci-Fi.

If I don't get this job, I've been thinking about breaking up with him. I'm not sure there would be any point. I'll have to see how I feel about him when I get there. Lately, the distance thing has made him so paranoid and difficult to deal with, but we still have our good times. He's been asking about another video of me "going to town" on myself, but I've been reluctant. I tease him, saying he can wait for the real thing, but there's a darker reality.

Mae started dating this guy. She introduced him to neither me nor our parents, which I guess is fine, I could've seen myself wanting that level of privacy if I'd dated in high school. The problem is, she took some pics of herself for him -- not nudes, thank God, but very revealing -- and I guess they hit a rough patch since they ended up as attachments in a mass e-mail. Even I got them.

She has a pretty cavalier attitude about it... she's hurt, but not as pissed as she ought to be. Mom and dad were ticked, though, and Mae has asked about staying with me, and I haven't explained the likelihood that I won't be in Philly much longer. She knows something's up, but I haven't talked it out with the family the way I probably should have. It's a remnant of my upbringing, where we didn't talk about anything in the family unless it was an absolute necessity.

Anyway. I don't want that to be me. I felt personally betrayed when those pictures of Mae came out, and I don't even know the guy. I like to think I can trust Buddy, but can I trust him to delete that video of me if we break up? Am I going to let myself be held hostage because of a stupid mistake I made when I was drunk/lonely/horny?

If I'm having these thoughts, is it really smart to be considering moving forward with this relationship? Or can I go on selling skirts and shoes the rest of my life?

Tori: The easy road

Unbelievably, I finally found a job opening in Houston for an accounting firm's IT department. I've never been so nervous about writing up a cover letter. Hell, I don't even think I was that nervous the first time I let myself have sex with a guy. In it, I wrote of my qualifications, my interest in the field, and the fact that although I am currently located in Pennsylvania, I am eager to move.

Maybe eager was the wrong word, but it's the one I went with.

I think this is going to be it. This is a make or break scenario for my relationship, I think... if I don't get this job, I think all the doubts I'm having about Buddy are going to explode and it's going to have to end. Even though I feel amazing when I'm with him, the distance just magnifies everything that's wrong between us. He also deserves someone who is willing to be there for him the way he wants, and if I can't bring myself to be that girl... sigh.

This is coming largely from a talk I had with Alex. He's helping to keep me on an even keel about this, helping me not feel guilty about considering breaking up with Buddy but also allowing me to consider how much I do like him. He knows this is tough for me, although obviously he can't know exactly why.

It's funny. Whenever we're together, we always talk about me. Since I've been Tori, I've always hated talking about myself because I'm worried I'll slip up and start talking more about Cliff. Obviously I can't be worried that people will "find me out" (although sometimes I wonder about Buddy's accusations that I'm "more of a boy" than most girls) but I just feel like that part of my life is done and it has no point. So now I only have about two years' worth of memories to draw on, and abstract writings from a bunch of diaries that didn't really happen to me. But somehow we always get by and I never stumble.

I'm also very cautious about what I say to him because inside I'm dying to know if he really did have sex with Danny, or if he's gay or what... but I can't bring myself to ask, because I'm worried the answer will affect my opinion of him. Either he's gay or bi or whatever, and he didn't tell me, and I'm disappointed about him lying, or he's not, and I don't... have as much reason to keep him at arm's length.

Okay, secret time, guys. I'm attracted to Alex. There. I obviously don't intend to do anything about it, since I'm still with Buddy and hoping to make it work... but I feel so guilty about it. I wish it could be as simple as "dump Buddy, date Alex," but it's not, because I still have stronger feelings for Buddy, because he was my first... man-love, I guess.

But there was this moment when we were doing laundry and he was loading some of my stuff into the dryer, and I made a crack about how "usually I like to know a guy better before I let him handle my panties." He smiled and said he figured we were pretty close by now, what's a little underpants between friends? That sent a little jolt through me and I thought "That felt nice... oh, shit, that was flirting!" and after being very careful about what I said for the rest of the afternoon, I spent the next few days replaying that moment in my head, feeling happy, guilty, excited, scared, nervous, etc etc.

I've never been good at making choices like this. I hope this job just works out and I can go on with my life.

Tori: Simplify

Okay, so I'm done school... now what?

Alex, for instance, got a job at a company. I, meanwhile, still sell skirts and blouses to girls getting their first receptionist jobs. Like once a week. That leaves me a lot of time to sit at home and browse the web for other leads on jobs. I thought it would be easy, I don't know, slipping back into stuff I used to feel comfortable doing, like there would be opportunities. I've thought about changing paths again, going to culinary school or something, because I've liked cooking since I was a guy and wouldn't mind getting better... but the idea of spending more time to find something else to do, or not do? Just exhausts me.

I've thought about Houston. Believe me, Buddy won't let a conversation go by without reminding me to think about Houston, but it's not like jobs are any more plentiful there than here. And I mean, no offense to him, I still like him a lot, but I don't want to move down there without something to do. I don't just wanna move there for the sake of someone to date. No matter how I feel about him, I don't think that's any way to live your life.

Maybe it's that kind of thinking that kept me away from romance in my old life. Maybe I'm too used to being on my own, even though ever since I started dating it hurts to think of being without someone. How did I get so dependent? It's not like the day I became a girl I thought to myself "I need a man!" As you'll know from reading this blog it took a long, looooong time for that particular idea to occur to me.

But jeez is this getting old. I can barely even muster up the energy to play with myself anymore (sorry for the tease, all, but I know you like to hear about it.)

On the plus side, I have Alex. I was initially wary about what I heard about him, but somehow he managed to keep himself around in my life and I'm glad he did. I never even asked him about it, it just... feels like it doesn't matter. He can be, and be with, whomever he wants, and if he feels comfortable talking about it, he will. We've gotten really close over the last few weeks, and I feel really glad to have him as a friend... which is something that makes me feel guilty.

I'm allowed to have straight male friends, right? I'm in a relationship, but even if I weren't, I wouldn't have to have feelings for Alex in order to hang around with him, would I? I mean, I lived so much of my life with guys, as a guy, I should be comfortable, I shouldn't think there's anything wrong with just sitting on a couch in my apartment with him, staring at the TV, channel surfing (is there a new term for that? Menu-surfing?) and not waiting for the inevitable opportunity to jump him.

It's friendship, but I feel guilty for having it and I certainly don't feel comfortable discussing Alex's existence with Buddy. Is that wrong? He's said some really paranoid things, which is unappealing, but I don't want to give him a reason. Hell, Alex has given me some pretty valuable advice on being patient with Buddy. We were having lunch the other week, and I was sorta... spilling my guts about how annoying it is that he's desperate to get me to go to Texas, and Buddy reminded me that I could put it off as long as I wanted, but if I was going to call it a relationship, I was going to have to put in the work.

I told him sometimes it feels too much like work and not enough like fun, and he said well, that's life.

Sorry for the rambling, disjointed posts, all... maybe it's because I don't get on here much, and I forget to mention specific events. Hope you're all well!

Alia: Not a breakup, not a marriage proposal

I feel like our absence from the blog should tell you how good things have been going in our lives lately, Todd and I. Todd's just finishing up his undergrad and I'm still mulling over whether to go to teacher's college in the fall. It's funny, a few years ago if you'd have suggested I might become a teacher, I would have smacked you. Then I was Rob and didn't feel so bad about it as a possible career plan.

The truth is, I'd like to completely leave this blog and be off in happily ever after, but Todd and I are trying to figure out exactly what that's supposed to be. We love each other, and probably for the first time since we started dating, our relationship is comfortable. But we're not the types of people to get married and have kids, even though that's generally what people do. In a way, we thrive on drama, and spoken or not, Todd and I worry about being status quo.

So it all sort of exploded last month when one of my stupid cousins got pregnant again and Todd and I were invited to the "couples baby shower." Todd expressed irritation at the pressure my parents put on me to give them grandchildren, to say nothing of their opinion of Todd... suffice it to say they don't see him as son-in-law material.

So we were talking it out and it got heated, and Todd asked me whether I agreed with my parents that I should have kids before I'm 30, and I said no. He then asked if I thought I should have kids ever, and I said I was leaning towards yes eventually and he immediately accused me of "parroting" my mother, which as all you gentlemen should know, always gets said about five seconds after you should have shut the hell up already.

That was a big fight, comparable to ones we've been having for years. The weird thing is, he's actually talked about having kids before: he was so impressed with Anne-Marie's kids, he admitted to me, he wouldn't mind having a couple of his own someday. I do, however, think he gets freaked out by babies.

Anyway, the whole thing is still unresolved, but we've called a detente, as you can guess: he does read this blog and probably wouldn't like me saying anything here I hadn't already said to him. I think the main thing we can agree on is: no kids for now.

Cheers,
-Alia

Tori: Maybe too much truth

I have a headache. I'm lying on my bed refreshing the same boring-ass websites and re-reading old webcomics because I just can't bring myself to go out. Hell, it even took me this long (and opening my third beer) to realize this is pretty much exactly why I blog.

So my attempts to make Alex and Raine into a thing went bust, pretty much for the most bizarre reason. After it all went down, and Alex was getting a little awkward around me at school, Danny clued me in to something I would never have expected. He and Alex have... a past.

Excuse me?

Now, maybe I don't have the finest-tuned gaydar in the world, but I could've sworn Alex was all about girls. I really thought when we met he was into me, and he certainly didn't bring it up when I offered to fix him up with Raine. Anyway, Danny and Alex apparently agreed not to tell, but Raine dragged it out of Danny while I was away from the table and Alex was having a smoke. Even Alex doesn't know she knows. Danny ordered me not to tell. "Don't worry," I assured him with a smirk, "I'm great with secrets."

But of course, those are mainly my own secrets. Now when I'm around Alex, I can't read him and I just want him to be honest with me, because I feel like that's a barrier to our friendship. I don't know if he's gay or bi or what.

Meanwhile, I can't talk with Buddy without him pressuring me into looking for jobs down in Houston. Even though I want the relationship to continue, I don't feel like we're at a good place where I can make that sort of commitment. I get frustrated with him because he's single minded about this sort of thing. I guess he feels, because he's "doing something" with his life, he's entitled to me making decisions for mine based around him. Anytime I've ever hinted that maybe I'd prefer staying in Philly has been met with an instant fight. Add to that the layers of sexual frustration and loneliness that pressure the relationship even further and... bleh.

I didn't ask for this life. Fuck, fuck, fuck, I didn't ask to be this person. I'm doing my best to be her, though. Believe me.

Tori: Regrets of a fifth wheel

Ah, uh, ok.

My social life has jostled around a bit since Buddy went down to Houston. It was one thing when I could go to New York and see him every weekend, I didn't need to worry about going out and doing stuff without him. Now, I try to stay in, and when I want to go out I have to play wingwoman to Raine (and avoid being hit on) or bring Danny along to be my gay shield.

I was determined to make St. Patrick's Day work, because that was supposed to be where my plan to fix up Raine and Alex came together. I made sure to let them know it was a fix up (I mean, what was I gonna do, trick them into hitting it off?) or at any rate an "introduction." To make sure I didn't become a third wheel, I invited Danny along. Problem was, he had a date for the night, so I became a fifth wheel. But I was determined to have a good night, so I pulled on a green top and hit the town.

This worked fine at the beginning, when I was helping Raine and Alex get into a groove while Danny had his date, and we were outside the bar waiting to get in. Once we were in and the drinks started flowing, I let myself get shut out while two dates happened around me. One was Raine desperately trying to find common ground with Alex, and the other was Danny and his boy getting really drunk really quickly, and then getting really handsy.

It's weird: I was a straight guy, and now I'm a straight girl, I guess... so the sight of two guys kissing is really weird for me. Yes, I kiss guys now, but I guess I'm still really "hetero," so seeing two guys kissing is... well not wrong, but still unusual. Maybe I was gawking. Actually, I know, as I got drunker, I was pretty much just staring. They didn't seem to mind. I had nothing else to do and no desire to talk to anybody else.

When I excused myself to the restroom, I met a waitress who told me she was getting weary of being hit on. I told her that since I'd been in a long-distance relationship, I was missing the attention I'd gotten when I was single. This was unthinkable just months ago... when I was turning guys away all the time, because the idea of any man showing interest in me was just too odd. Now I would've killed for something casual just for the night. And I felt super-guilty about that.

When I got out, Raine and Alex were gone, which I took as a good sign. Danny and his boy were on the dancefloor, and it was nearly 1 AM and I had class the next day, so I excused myself.

When I got home, I made sure Raine and Alex weren't around (I deduced they'd gone to his place,) I went to my room. But I was restless (and friggin' horny, I'm sure you won't mind me saying) and desperate for contact, so I turned on my cam and made a video of pleasuring myself and sent it to Buddy.

Now, if I had ever been a teenage girl, I probably would've learned by now that sending out naked videos of yourself via the internet is not a smart idea, so when I woke up the next morning, it was all I could think of. I felt so stupid and embarrassed and frantically wrote up an e-mail explaining myself. But not before getting his response: a polite "thank you" and a photo of his erect cock.

And I mean, it was a nice gesture, but what am I supposed to do with a picture of a cock? I mean, I know it's his, but his face isn't even in the photo. It's just a dick. As comfortable as I've gotten handling the equipment (and being handled by it!!) just the sight of one isn't enough to get me wet in the panties. All I could do was laugh nervously.

I'm really a silly stupid girl sometimes when it comes to stuff like this. Not feeling like a credit to either my current gender or my old one.

Then the next day, I asked Alex about it. He was pretty sketchy on the details, saying they fooled around a bit but it ended when she got a bit sick (ugh, that green dye, I think) and he let her sleep on his couch. (The gentlemanly thing to do would've been to let her take the bed, but WHATEVER.) I pressed him for more, his opinions on her and prospects of seeing her again, but he was shy about it. I guess I've forgotten guys don't really talk about this stuff the way girls do. Huh.

Raine gave the same account, with an equal amount of weariness. I'm not sensing a lot of enthusiasm from either of them, which is sad, since I like them both a lot, and I think they'd make a nice couple.

Tori: Someone around here needs to get laid

And for once I'm not talking about myself.

Don't get me wrong, it's absolutely frustrating having your boyfriend halfway across the country, but at least I have someone to talk to (slash show my girly parts to via webcam) but Raine has been moping around the house for weeks after a few really negative experience with the opposite sex. When I was a guy, I was of the belief that it wasn't hard for a woman to find sexual attention -- and that's not wrong -- but it's about finding the right guy.

I feel bad, since Raine was pretty instrumental in getting me and Buddy together, so I'm thinking about paying her back. I'm doing something I would never have thought about until recently: I'm fixing her up.

Okay, this is where it gets tricky, since I haven't blogged in a while, you're not really up to speed. I started day classes in tech services last month. It's an 8-week course (I may have accidentally said 6-week in my earlier post) and it's pretty intensive. It's also almost all dudes -- some young guys, a few middle aged guys, and some middle-aged ladies. The reaction I got when I walked in was... well, it's the sort of thing I've got accustomed to over the last few years, but amplified since this is a crowd of computer enthusiasts. I'm striking, but in most contexts not unusually attractive. Here, they just did not know what to make of me.

They're pretty straightforward lessons, with hands-on assignments. Some people have been partnering up, but I'm mainly left to my own devices. It's the first time in a long while that my looks have made me feel like an outsider. It didn't help that the minute I got my hands on a harddrive, my introverted Cliff tendancies reactivated and suddenly I wasn't a pretty girl, but a skinny guy without a date.

For a while, I tried to make myself more accessible by dressing down, with plain white button-ups and cardigans, but I guess it was in vain. I don't know why I was so desperate to socialize with these folks, I just wanted them to accept the fact that someone who looks like me might be interested in computers.

Finally, in the middle of the second week, we were doing an exercise and I was having a bit of trouble. I used to be very good at my job when I did it, but it does require constant updating. I don't feel like I've lost knowledge, but I'm out of practice and much of what I know is a bit behind the times, even after only two years. This guy I'd noticeed with shaggy black hair and a hoodie -- heh, he kinds reminded me of the main guy from Questionable Content came over to me and asked if I needed help.

Embarrassed and self-conscious about seeming like a helpless girl, I declined and went back to studying the problem but he just stood there. "Look," he said, "I was having trouble with it at first, too. Let me show you what I did."

I rolled my eyes. "Okay, help me out here."

He showed me what I was doing wrong and I felt a little flush because of how obvious it was. He introduced himself as Alex. I shook his hand and said "Tori." Suddenly I had made a new friend.

I was a bit wary, though, so when I saw him the next day, I was sure to work into conversation the fact that I have a boyfriend. "We use Skype a lot, I like computers, he's in Houston right now," blah blah. It probably came off as really forced, but I pushed it out there because I didn't want to mislead this guy. Maybe he wasn't even attracted to me, because he didn't seem very put off by all this.

He's funny, he's smart but not too smart, and not overly shy... he's got kind of a Paul Rudd level of jokey confidence, which I think most girls should like. So after a few weeks, when I decided he was still going to be my friend once we were done learning about computers, I began to hatch this scheme to fix him up with Raine. I haven't told either of them about it yet, so we'll see, but I feel good about helping. Raine's been such a good friend to me since I got here, it's time I do something for her.

Max: Affair

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No, you'd have me."

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

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

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

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

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

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

I said quietly, "So what now?"

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

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

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

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

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

"What if I politely decline?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Women.

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