Tori: Space and Time

It's been a bittersweet couple of weeks, ever since I found out I was getting laid off. I was hoping to find a different position in the newly-merged company but the boss couldn't find anything for me. There were also a few other layoffs in other departments as the new owners merge duties. Alex, luckily, is safe.

I've been furiously applying to every job I can that I think I might be qualified for. IT, Systems, Data Entry... even a few secretarial jobs. Nothing so far. I don't like the idea of being without money. I've saved up a lot, but I still have rent and groceries and cost of living, even if having a boyfriend does give you a bit of leeway, I don't want to be dependent on him. If I'd known I was gonna be out of work, I might've reconsidered a few of my recent expenditures.

Back in February, I dyed my hair. I was Supergirl for Halloween, and completed the outfit with a blonde wig. Alex said he really liked the look, and the idea kinda took root (so to speak.) Every so often I'd pull the wig out just for him and then I'd think "I do look good with light hair... why not?" It's my body, I can make this sort of decision. Girls do it all the time. It's like if I was a guy and I decided to grow out a beard. Hardly irreversible.

Expensive, though. Since I'm naturally dark-haired, I went to a salon and paid a pretty good sum. The results were worth it, though. People who've known me "my whole life" were shocked by the new look, in a good way. I've always felt good about my looks as Tori, but suddenly I was a new woman, with a new confidence.

Only now, sadly, my roots have been growing in and if I want them done I'll have to do it myself. Which is funny because theoretically, Tori is a trained hairstylist but I am really not comfortable taking this into my own hands.

Which leads me to my next point, which was brought up in a comment on my last post. One of you fine Anons mentioned it was maybe time to start thinking about moving in with Alex. I had kept it pushed out of my mind for a long while, because we were already co-workers. Moving in together would mean that literally my entire life would be based around him. And I love him, and I still get butterflies when I look in his eyes or hold his hand, but I worry what it means to put your entire life in someone's hands. It's not like I think we're ever going to break up, but as much as I love him basing my entire life around my relationship has never been my style... until now.

I like having my own place. I like having somewhere I can get away and just hang out with my best friend, and where my boyfriend is still just a visitor. The past few years were such a string of changes that I wasn't even thinking of boxing my life back up and moving again.

It's making more and more sense. Now that we won't be carpooling, we're probably going to be spending more and more time at his house or mine. I'm feeling less like I have secrets I need to protect, not just about my past but about who I have become, the girl he's dating. He's seen pretty much the whole show. He's laughed at my lame jokes, put up with the way I sprawl out on the bed sometimes, even seen me without shaving my armpits. Why do I need my own room?

It's getting harder to answer that question. I don't think I'm there yet. Last week I had a late night chat with Raine about it. She was letting her "visitor" out, and I decided to get some water, so we ended up talking for like an hour. I asked her how she would feel if I did decide to move out.

She said she'd deal, but I could tell she was a bit disappointed. With Sara getting married this fall, and me in the best relationship of my/Tori's life, she's maybe feeling like her life is stalled.

I tell her not to worry. I can hear her sneaking the same guy in and out a few times a week. It's weird to me, though, because she's really never been shy about her hookups before. All she tells me about him is that I probably shouldn't ask, but there's not really a future. I wonder if that means he's married, or has some other defect. I choose not to push for further info.

In time, I think, I'll be ready to make the leap and move in with Alex. The nice thing about getting younger -- hey, I'm only 25! -- is that I feel like I have all the time in the world to make this work. I want to be sure that, if I do, it's because I feel it's the right time, not because I want to save money.

Greg/Alexis: Hmm...Annabelle

So I spent pretty much the entire month of March without a home computer. Our home internet went out and rather than restore it the company decided that we had to upgrade, but upgrading took about 10 days while they restored the line. Despite living in the biggest city in VT, our broadband is pretty inferior. I had better internet in Mississippi (mostly because I was right next to a college), but I also had stretch marks in Mississippi, so its a fair trade.

And right after the internet was restored my tower started overheating. Apparently the CPU needed a new radiator, at least it looked like a radiator. The irony of this situation is that I get paid pretty good money to fix computer issues, and I was pretty helpless. It's not like I could take this to my employees and have them think their boss was an idiot, so I had to very silently pay someone out of town to fix it.

And since blogging on a touchscreen impossible and I dont dare log into this blog at work, that kept me from the Trading Post Inn blog. Or at least that's what I told myself. Maybe I was avoiding writing while I wrestled with what else was going on in my life.

So after my last post, one of the commenters posted "Hmmm, Annabelle" and that pretty much summed up the way I had been thinking. Heck, it's probably why I wrote that post. It was pretty clear to me that there was sexual tension being created, but I wasnt sure how far it went or how I was going to respond to it.

The answer to the first question came in the first week of March. I was over at her apartment watching a movie on the couch with her when our knees accidentally touched. Normally when that happens you move your knee, but I just let it linger there,and so did she.

Ok, So I know this next part is pretty high schooly, but the movie became a game of "who can touch the other one more without them saying anything or moving" and I would say we both won, because by the time the movie was over we were pretty much cuddling.

We started talking, rather whispering to each other, while we looked in each others eyes. I forget the exact exchange but I said something along the lines of not having a chance at something at which point she straddled me, looked me straight in the eyes and said: "If you need it, nows your chance to take it"

I'd be lying if I said I acted in the moment, because the truth is I had been thinking about this for weeks. I have needs, and theres only so much a toy can do. I had been a lesbian for 7 months and still hadnt had sex. I felt like I owed it to my 15 year old self to at least try it. I'd be crazy not to, right? When does anyone ever get that chance?

I leaned up and kissed her. Long and deep with tongue. She smiled and said "Finally" before taking me by the hand and leading her upstairs to the bedroom. We undressed each other slowly, admiring each others bodies. Annabelle doesnt have a traditionally attractive female body, but she's an amazing combination of curve and muscle. Plus she has ENORMOUS nipples. When we were naked I was kneeling on the bed and she came up to me and said "I've been wanting to do this since college" before pushing me onto the bed and kissing my neck, and then moving down to my shoulder, then down to my nipples and then....down.

A bit of info for all you non lesbians out there: It's NOTHING like you see in porno movies. Those are actresses doing what looks hot to a primarily straight male audience. In real life it's a lot less theatrics.

Not like I had my eyes open much. I spent most of the time writhing on the bed while Annabelle went down on me. She's a fucking expert. Not just of what to do but how to do it. It was a perfect combination of speed and rhythm and pressure. After my 3rd orgasm she came up and kissed me, smiling. Perfectly aware of what she just did to me. It was kinda of intimidating because I was a bit nervous as she lied down next to me and guided my hand to her pussy.

I've been with women before, albeit none in almost 3 years, but I've also owned various vaginas over that time period so I probably know more than most men about how to pleasure a woman, but I wasnt even on the same level as she was. Still, with some helpful guidance I managed to get her off.

While we got under the covers and cuddled ourselves to sleep she held me tight and whispered. "Never thought you'd be the submissive type, Barco"

"Neither did I" I whispered back with a giggle.

When I woke up the next morning I wasnt overcome with any guilt, shame, or regret. In fact I was glad I did it and I wish I had done it sooner. I gave her a good morning kiss and then went to work. It was the best encounter I've had since I became a woman, I loved it. Annabelle mustve loved it too because since then I've slept over there at least a couple of nights a week.

It's really had a positive effect on me. Most of my last 3 years have been doing things to not screw up. This I did for me. Because I wanted to experience it. Being around her makes me relaxed and happy and it makes up for the real sourpuss I had to live with for the first 6 months in this body. Being in a loveless marriage really made me miss human affection, and now I'm getting it.

Sharon and Alex are still going to be married when they get back here, and I'm still legally bound to Malinda in Sharon's body. But right now I'm going to enjoy myself and have a girlfriend...even if the only people I can tell about her are you guys.

-Greg/Alexis

Anthony/CeeCee: This isn't a game

I was livid when I found out Zane was pursuing this arrangement with Wes. I think it's irresponsible and immature.

Let's start with the alcohol, which she shouldn't be mixing with her medication anyway. That resulted in the blackout episode she described in that post. That's an unhealthy behavior and if she was going to therapy like she is probably supposed to, any therapist would advise against it. She's lucky she didn't die, and that Wes didn't do anything unethical (that we know about!) to her unconscious body.

I'm also not fond of the fact that she's accepting money from this guy. To my knowledge, there's no official agreement what her obligations are, but the implication of what she's supposed to do for him is clear. That isn't healthy.

When we talked about it, she called me a hypocrite. I was sleeping with a photographer named Blake to further Clara's career. Or rather, to keep it afloat so that Zane would have money for essentials. My situation was considerably more complicated. Not that I'm proud of it. A woman's body deserves more respect than to be used as a bargaining chip and to the real Charlotte, I apologize.

For what it's worth, that's done with. I knew it could not be permanent, as I did not want to upset Charlotte's life when I returned it to her. It's pointless now anyway, now that apparently I am of no professional use to "Clara."

She got mad at me for "lecturing" her about the riskiness of her behavior. I'm sorry I care. Remember, this is not a vacation, there are consequences to the things we do while in these bodies, both for ourselves and the people we appear to be. I don't want to see my friend die or end up in a coma while in this girl's body. Clara obviously has a very different tolerance to these things than Zane's did. And it bothers me that he's not learning.

It's careless to put yourself in a life-threatening situation for money that could be earned more honestly. I don't think that's really my friend in there. I understand, they share the memories and some personality traits, but I think our bodies influence us more than we know. Something inside of Clara's body has hit Zane like a ton of bricks and she's not willing to admit how hard it is. I see my friend in trouble and I want to help, but she won't accept it.

In a weird way, I kind of understand it. Without saying too much, I know how strong even these foreign bodies can attract us to others. How a situation changes you. We all get lonely, we see others taking notice of the way we look and options start appearing. You want to be in someone else's life, you want others near you, you want to be appreciated... you just don't want to be lonely. Whether you're a man or a woman, that makes sense. If things were different, I'd be very happy to let Zane find her own happiness, but they are what they are and we all have responsibilities, and one is not to be reckless with other people's lives.

When she found out I had had sex with a man, she said I was treating this like a vacation. If so, I'm working harder than on any vacation I've ever seen. It's not like living Ceecee's life has been a picnic, it's not like managing careers and juggling other peoples' lives so they get their proper bodies back is a hobby. I'm not living one life or two, I feel like I'm living three or four. All in the name of righting a wrong. All the while I have to wake up in the morning and face this woman's appearance, come the knots out of her hair, apply her makeup so she looks professional, face those last couple inches of lovehandle over her panties, the judgmental types in the office who know what I get up to on weekends, who think my life, my problems, are the office joke. I've been living a constant migraine of a life for some time now, but do I break down, do I quit, do I drink myself half to death? No, because I have a job to do. Zane, you need to grow up.

I need to make sure all my friends get back where they belong. That's my responsibility, because it's my fault they're here to begin with. I made a stupid decision, I brought them to the inn, I brought them to this. And I probably won't "chill out" until this waking nightmare is over.

Lisa/Eve: What's been going on with me

I'm here. I'm still here. I don't know if anyone reading this has really wondered about my whereabouts... I've just been quietly living this life, kinda thankful and kinda resentful.

Ok. I'm thankful, because if I do everything right, I can still get back to my real body and this won't have been a traumatic experience. Just kind of a boring one. I mean, really... all my friends and I were transformed into different people, and I get stuck as an 18-year-old college girl. It's stressful, it's annoying, and there's really not a lot to say. Compared to Shaun, Anth and Zane? Yeah, I'm okay.

And I'm a bit resentful because I feel like I really shouldn't say anything. Compared to the recent shit Zane's been through, or even Anth, I should be happy. I stay out of trouble, there's no hassle for me. It's annoying that all my complaints seem minor. At one point I read how Anth (aka my "sister") was hooking up with that Blake guy and I wondered why he was fine getting some action but I wasn't. Then I realized I'm surrounded by boys just out of high school, and even when they show an interest I'm just not interested in the slightest. I'm just sitting in my dorm pretending not to notice while my roommate and her boyfriend make out.

Every so often, though, Shaun comes by. I've been separated from the others most of the time, but Shaun and I have been in contact. I think he and I relate, because Anthony and Zane became girls, and his situation is... different. Sometimes, when he can sneak away without his wife knowing, he comes to the college and we go out for a drive and have a coffee.

I told him "You know what I see when I look at you? A lucky man."

"Why's that?"

"You could've wound up in Zane's position, or Anthony's, or mine. You can do Doug's job, you get his wife..."

He stopped me. "You're right. I can't lie, I feel lucky. And I feel like a jerk for not being happier about it."

I say, "You weren't ready to get back in a relationship were you?"

"It's not even that. Believe me, it's nice to have somebody there, but I know she doesn't like me for me. She likes me because she thinks I'm her husband. And I like her because I try not to think about the alternative."

"You wouldn't want to be with her if you were yourself?"

"No, it's just exhausting being a yes-man for her. I'm not a partner in this relationship, I'm a placeholder. I don't rock the boat, even when the real Doug probably would."

"Well," I said, "You have a voice. If there's anything you object to, I'm sure you can reason with her. They're married, so I doubt the whole marriage is gonna fall apart because you wanna eat somewhere different or watch a different show."

He can tell me things like this. He can't phone up Zane, even though "Clara" is his sister. He can't get any sympathy from Anthony, because as much as I love Anth he turns any complaint into a pissing match, and he's definitely got the ammo to top our complaints.

He changes the subject. We talk for a while about Zane and Anthony's lives, mainly comparing notes between what they tell us and what they tell the blog... not that there's a huge difference, but obviously we get a different "version" from the official record. Then I mention something I thought Anthony would already have said, but he doesn't post here often either.

Back around New Year's, Anthony and I took a drive out to Arizona to see the original "us." They became a family of six with two others. Charlotte and Clara, for example, became a married couple, the Tysons. The original Eve became the wife's sister, a rather large woman. When I saw her there was so much sadness in her eyes. Doug became a middle-aged man, and there were two other women kicking around the house who I didn't really talk to but had also been to the inn.

Then we talked about the new "us." As we draw closer to our reservation, we've been in contact with them more and more. The man and woman in our bodies, for example, were a married couple. And Shaun and I were both same-aged single people of the opposite sex. We both agreed that we didn't need to discuss what they were probably doing with our bodies.

I've looked at our old Facebook profiles. There's a lot of recent photos on there with "us" looking very coupley. A lot of people who have known us for a long time have "liked" them, and there's a few comments about how "cute" we look together.

None of these people would have seen us together in our real lives. I was the forever-single girl, he was the relationship guy about to get married. I never would have risked our friendship on that, although in Maine my self-esteem was super low and I admitted having some thoughts (before I knew this was a public blog!!)

I guess he has his rebound now. Between him and me, there are probably some doors best left unopened. That said, I'm back at my dorm, and he slipped me a bottle of scotch, and I've been drinking it all night and I'm starting to consider knocking on doors and seeing who answers.

Ellie: Keeping on

There are things you learn without knowing it. A really obvious example of this is math. Since my tutoring sessions started with Iris, I've been getting 70's rather than 40's.

I think I just benefit from the environment. I think I mentally check out when I'm in a classroom, but with someone sitting down and explaining the principles to me, I can follow along and retain it. Everything's a bit more clear. Iris is a very good tutor, although she's still sometimes awkward socially.

Before she was hired to be my tutor, I'd seen her around the school a bit. She didn't look like someone I wanted to know. It bothers me that I can be this superficial, but she's the textbook high school outcast who might grow into a beautiful woman but for now, is stuck with glasses and acne and an underdeveloped body. She's shy and doesn't have a great sense of conversation, but is also clearly unnerved by silences, leading her to ask every so often "So what's new? Seen any good movies?" I try to humor her.

I ran into her at the mall on the weekend. I hate how often I go, but there's not a lot to do in this town. I go by myself, I window shop and eat mall food. I watch the teenagers a bit, trying to figure them out. I wish I could've had a time in my life to be young and stupid. Well, I did end up being young and stupid, but in my own way.

I saw her across the food court. She smiled and waved and I nodded back and she took that as an invitation to come over. "Hey, how are you? How about that math test?"

I told her how well I did, how good she was as a tutor and she got a bit embarrassed. "It's not hard really. It's just my way of helping. What are you doing here today?"

I tell her I'm just here to hang out. She gets a bit disappointed, I guess because she thinks I'm about to shoo her away. She asks who I'm with.

"Nobody," I tell her. "I'm just here by myself."

"Really?" The idea seems completely impossible to her, that I could be alone willingly. "I thought you were friends with Emily and all them."

"It's... complicated. I'm friendly with them, but I'm not friends with them."

"Do you hate them?"

"No, they're good people, just not the kind of people I'd wanna spend a Saturday with."

"What kind of people would you wanna spend a Saturday with?"

"I like being alone," I tell her.

She admits to me, "I hate being alone. I'm alone all the time. If people wanted to be friends with me, I'd be near them all the time."

I don't tell her she sounds desperate. That the "cool" people don't cling to others so desperately. But I'm not one to pass judgment, because I was pretty needy in my youth.

"With the right people, you know exactly how much time to spend together," I tell her, seriously sugarcoating things.

"So you don't wanna date anyone?"

"I'm not really the dating type," I tell her. I've learned my lesson, especially in the hormonal tiger trap of high school, when you're a Trading Post person, relationships are... practically impossible.

"Is that why you didn't wanna date James Callahan?"

I nearly choke on my soda. James Callahan is a tall, all-American looking boy in our grade. I've had almost zero interaction with him. I've never heard my name mentioned in the same breath as his. After a moment I realize this is probably referring to something from before my time as Ellie. But I later found out it was still "current" enough that Iris had recently heard about it.

I didn't really know what to say, so I said "Not everybody always wants to date everybody else." This is the hard lesson I've learned lately, and perhaps the most blunt thing I've said to this naive young girl.

To my surprise she understands this. "Life would be so much easier if they did."

By the end of the meal, I think I could stand to spend a bit more time with this girl, so we ended up going around the mall together. When I was Sam, I was sort of a fashionista. I treated my first "new" body like a Barbie doll. Even when I was Max, I would go shopping with Tanya and Melanie and help them pick outfits. It changed when I was with Emily, though. I became less interested in the appearance and more interested in the girl herself. I became kind of a guy cliche of "Yeah, she's dragging me along shoe shopping." Even since I've been Ellie, I'm the least girliest I've ever been. I dress in tomboy clothes, jeans and tees and don't think twice about it, even though Ellie's got an impressive wardrobe for a 17-year-old, because I'm not interested in playing the game, not interested in putting myself on display, not interested in showing off this body. I feel strong.

Iris is someone who clearly doesn't know the first thing about the girly stuff, but what surprised me was that she seemed interested. This girl who dresses in corduroys and Converse shoes was eyeballing sundresses and even glancing in the lingerie store. I bit my tongue. I didn't want to say "You should try that on" because I don't want to make her into a project, I don't want to give her a makeover, I don't want to give her the idea that her entire identity is tied to her appearance.

See, that's the other thing you can learn without knowing you learned. I realized, when I was a guy, how much women do to look good for guys. Some of it's for themselves, and sometimes it's to get attention because the attention feels good.

I thought I was escaping. I thought I was invisible at school. But if Callahan has still been asking about me to Emily (and Emily to Iris, hence how she knows) it means I'm still visible, and that the tomboy thing isn't keeping the boys away.

On Monday, I saw Callahan in the hallway. I didn't talk to him, I acted like I didn't know anything about him. But knowing what I knew, I really looked at him. Handsome. Good body. I don't know anything about his personality, but I had him written off as a dumb jock and now I'm not sure. He could obviously date if he wanted to, so it's his bad luck if he's hung up on me... because I'm really not sure what to make of this.

Zane Clara: Expectations

I had another date with Wes last night. I was nervous, I knew it was a big deal, but I didn't puke or pass out or call it off or anything.

I prepared myself. The last time we met, he basically told me he wanted to pay me to be his girlfriend. The more I think about it the more it makes sense. I like being around him, he's really handsome and I can see a lot of girls giving him looks when we're out together. But he's always focused on me and that both makes it weird and nice... because he sees me as more than just a set of tits, it makes me comfortable. Part of me has been thinking I should just try to be his girlfriend for a while now. He deserves it, if he wants me. I just don't know if I deserve his attention.

I was scared of sex. I'm scared about how he kinda makes me want it. I've barely played with myself since I've been on the meds, but ever since he kissed me, I can't help but think "Oh yeah, no wonder he wants me, look at what I look like." I'd wanna see me naked, if I didn't already see it every day. I spent all week watching porn in my spare time, thinking about how easy it could be... just lie back and let him do it to me. I could do that, he deserves it.

I kept thinking about Anthony. This is basically the same thing as what he did with Blake. Except he was doing it for me, and now he won't have to. I can quit modeling and still pay for stuff. Plus, if he could suck it up and let some guy bang him, I could too.

Anthony told me she didn't think it was a good idea. She said it would get to a bad spot if I ever felt like I owed Wes, and it might be hard to get out of the arrangement to go back to Maine. I told her it wouldn't be a problem, and I'll probably figure it out. She's pretty mad at me, but I think she's just arrogant, thinking she can make all the plans and make decisions for everybody. I'm feeling better than I have in months. I knew I could do this.

I still wasn't sure what I was gonna do when I saw him. There was still a chance I was gonna chicken out. I spent all day putting on an outfit... I shaved my legs and my pussy, picked out a nice pair of lacy panties and crammed myself into a tight red dress. Six months ago I wouldn't even look at that part of Clara's wardrobe. Now, with my boobs popping out the top of my dress and the curve of my hips stretching out the fabric, I knew exactly what he was gonna think when he looked at me. I even used some of the makeup tips I got from the girls at the modeling agency, wearing lipstick and painting my nails. I needed the costume to be complete.

He arrived at 8. As soon as we sat down I was squirming. I didn't wanna eat. I wanted to get this over with. I wanted to know. I nodded my way through the conversation, looking at his eyes and watching him eat, listening while he told me about his business trip to China, but I was only halfway through the meal when I said "Let's get out of here."

"Are you sure?" he said.

I was downing wine all night. I couldn't eat my food. I needed to leave and I tried to sound as nonchalant about it as I could but I think a little hiccup of excitement got in there.

"You get the check, I just need to use the ladies room."

I was a bit wobbly on my feet, but I figured I just needed to walk it off. I don't do a lot of drunk walking in heels, so I tried extra hard to make sure I didn't faceplant into someone's dinner. I got to the washroom and ran some water to splash on my face.

The girl in the mirror didn't seem like me. I'm used to seeing myself looking normal, with my hair messy and my face plain and my clothes comfortable. The girl in the mirror was gorgeous. I hardly ever look anymore, but I took a second to stand with my chest sticking out, my hips curved... I wasn't me anymore. I wasn't there. I was just watching Clara's life. It's like a video game... I'm in control, but it's not really me.

I smiled at her and flecked my hair out of my eyes.

Next thing I know, I'm in the car watching the streetlights overhead.

"Are you okay? Are you sure about this?"

"What's my name?" I ask him.

"Clara?"

"Yeah," I said. "I'm Clara."

He pulled into his parking space. I leaned on him in the elevator up to his condo. I remember my hands were on his waist. I even put my fingers in his front pocket. He was hard, but keeping his cool.

We got to his door. "Want anything to drink?"

"No, I'm good. Hey look at me."

When he looked, I reached behind and unzipped my dress. It fell to the floor. I was standing there in my bra and panties. All I could think was how hot I'd look in a red teddy or something, I love when girls wear that shit. I knew he would've liked it too.

"What do you wanna do with me right now?"

He smiled "So many things."

"Let's take it slow though, okay? I've never... I mean, it's been a while."

Then we were in the bedroom. I let him take my bra and panties off me, and then I was naked, and he wasn't yet. I laid back and let him play with me... tried not to think about how weird it was that some guy was getting his fingers all over me... teasing my skin, making me all wet. I was shivering. Something was so wrong but so good about it. I had to let it keep happening. It was killing me! I remember thinking how weird it was to let a guy kiss me.

I couldn't look when he took it out. Outside of porn, it's been a while since I've seen one, and I couldn't bring myself to look. It's just instinct, you don't stare at another guy's junk.

I laid back and let him come over to me. By then I was ready. I wanted it to happen. I was feeling so good and so ready... and then I don't know.

I woke up the next morning, naked in his bed with his arm around me. I felt frozen in place like stone. I had to completely rebuild the night in my head later, and when it got to the part where he got naked, it just... blacks out.

I would remember, right? If I let him do it to me, I wouldn't just forget... but I can't remember the end of that night. Just a glimpse of him in the darkness, and then nothing, but sleep I guess. But I can't even remember what it felt like, if he did anything. I just can't believe my body conked out like that.

I snuck out and took a cab home trying to shake this feeling that something bad happened... I mean, I was ready for it. I wanted him to do it. I've had plenty of nights I can't remember, but for some reason, this all just feels... wrong. I really don't like how this all played out.

Tori: Bad day.

Did you ever have one of those days you just knew was going to suck? You stub your toe getting out of bed, you get shampoo in your eyes, you feel fat, your coffee tastes like rust... and before anything's really happened you've made up your mind to hate that day?

I have to be careful when I have a day like yesterday. I work with a bunch of guys and if I show up to work in a huff or seeming short-tempered, I know what they'll say... they'll think it's because of PMS or hormones or whatever they think goes on in a woman's body. I can't just be upset for normal reasons, but today, after the hot water ran out in my apartment and my boyfriend was late to pick me up, I was starting to get a bit edgy.

But I was keeping calm and rational right up until I got summoned to the boss's office. See, Alex and I work for a small shipping company that handles mainly the Philly area. He oversees IT, I handle the warehouse database, overseeing all the comings and goings, basically ensuring everything winds up where it's supposed to. It's actually a lot of headaches for not a ton of pay, but I'm good at it and it sits neatly with my skill set. It's all part and parcel of the comfortable little life I've built for myself.

Last month, we learned the company was merging with a national chain. We were told this was not a big deal, that it was a management issue and they didn't acquire a whole company just to gut its staff. We were comforted by this, so I didn't think it was a big deal when the boss called me in.

He admitted that although they had said no big changes were on deck, a few key staff positions were being eliminated due to redundancy: specifically mine. The new boss' people were overtaking my duties after this month. He was really apologetic, saying he didn't realize this aspect of the deal affected me, and explained how pleased he was with the work I'd done and will gladly provide a reference and so forth. But I still felt like total crap.

I got home and I was in such a huff. Alex was trying to talk me down a bit, saying "At least they gave you this much notice, at least it's good terms" and blah blah blah. I don't want to downplay that they're doing it in a pretty nice way, but it feels crappy. And when I was ranting to him about it, I might have said more than I meant to... what I said was "I thought I was done getting my life jerked around by random forces."

That comment probably confused Alex... I guess I never realized how much I tied my life since the Inn with some problems I had before I became Tori, how I always felt like my life was defined by the actions of others and so much bad stuff happened to me because of chance rather than me doing anything. I've always felt sort of antsy about how much of my life wasn't decided by me, up to and including transforming into a girl. Having my job eliminated by someone who's never met me definitely counts. But Alex has never seen this, as far as he knows I'm not someone who blames the forces of he universe for all my problems.

I scrambled to explain to him that, (and this is at least part of it,) when I was with Buddy, I felt like our relationship hinged on factors beyond our control, as well as my tendency to go from job to job based on what was available (also true.) I don't think this was quite satisfactory to him, but it ended the discussion. I wasn't in much of a mood to do anything for the rest of the night. I stayed up editing my resume, drafting a cover letter, looking for job leads. After all the shit that I went through to get this job... I nearly moved to Houston for a job! ... I'm not looking forward to going through it again.

Tonight's St. Patty's day, though, so I feel like I should put on a good face. I've still got friends, I've still got a life to run. I'll put on the green top and get wasted and forget my problems.

Zane Clara: Can't sleep

That's a new thing. Usually I'm Mr. Sleepy but some stuff happened today that's got me all wound up. I thought about taking an ambien but I'm really weary about how many pills I put in my body.

Yesterday, Anthony told me about this job that came in for me... it's a one-day shoot but it's as much as I've ever made in a month. This guy runs a website "Girls at Home" or something, where he gets girls to hang around their houses in lingerie, doing sexy poses and talking about themselves. It sounds like an easy paycheck except for the part where it's basically stripping.

I've been Clara for six or seven months. I've done a lot of her modeling jobs, but mostly they're ad campaigns or catalogs. She's got a good frame, so it's ideal to put clothes on to show how good they look. All I have to do is stand around with my hand on my hip and my head slightly tilted. I'm like Zoolander. But with tits.

But this... this is big. Like I say, it pays a shitload, just to look hot and give the guy some blurbs for his readers. And it gets the name out there. If I was really Clara... really doing this modelling job for myself... it would be a no-brainer.

But I can't do it. I got up this morning, put on a fresh pair of panties, and just stood there looking at my tits in the mirror. Guys would love to see em but I'm sick of looking at them. I'm sick of feeling them hanging down, sick of feeling the underwire of a bra on my ribs and the straps on my shoulders. Sick of accidentally rolling onto them in my sleep. When I was a guy I loved tits so much, but... I can't do anything knowing a guy;s gonna be pulling his pork to it. That's not me.

The problem is, I don't have any money. Like, at all. I told Anthony I'd take this modeling thing seriously so I could pay for Clara's meds, but I nearly had a freak out when I was told about this.

Even worse would be the idea of talking about myself. What the fuck would I say? "I'm actually a guy in a woman's body, and I got my period for the first time three months ago and it grossed me out so much I nearly threw up. I bled all over myself and had to work the rest of the day like that."

Then I had a date with Wes tonight. I wasn't calling them dates, but that's what they really are. A way of getting out and eating for free and pretending like I really like the guy. Except I do like the guy, and I feel bad he's putting up with me because he thinks I'll put out. But here's what happened, what's really got me freaked out.

I asked him why. I reminded him that I wasn't his girlfriend and he could have any girl he wanted. He said that wasn't true (the part about him getting any girl) but I told him that if even I thought he was handsome, he was clearly a good-looking dude.

So he admitted... wealth and good looks are pretty much the easiest ways to a woman's pants. But I guess all those women throwing themselves at him gets boring because he said he never met a woman who just wanted to sit and talk. Someone who was real, which is really rare out here.

Until me. Which is fucking hilarious. Apparently he likes me because I'm not playing games and not pretending... I told him I wasn't interested in his money or his cock and that made him pay attention. He wanted to know more about me, but I seem to have something inside I'm holding back (yeah, no shit.) How I ask him questions about his life like I'm really interested. I never realized, I thought I was just being polite.

He says to me it doesn't make sense to him why I model. How I seem so humble and self-conscious about my looks and so desperate for people not to pay attention to me. He says when he looks in my eyes, he sees something buried deep down, something sad I haven't talked about, and that must be the source of my "realness." But also how he catches glimpses... I dunno when, but he told me... glimpses of desire. That every so often I look at him like I want to jump all over him.

I was startled. Except for wanting to jump him, it sounded pretty spot-on. I told him I kinda fell into modeling by accident and it was the last thing I ever wanted to do, but I did because the offers kept coming in and the money was good. I told him I had certain needs. Bills to pay.

"You kill me," he said, laughing a bit. "You come out with me every Saturday night for a month. We talk, we drink, we have fun. You barely tell me anything about yourself and when you do, it's this money business. And you forget... I'm rich. You are looking at... eating dinner with... playing footsie with a very wealthy guy."

I wasn't playing footsie. My leg was twitching from nerves.

He says "I could do so much for you, Clara. It wouldn't be a hand-out, it wouldn't be charity, because I give money freely to people I care about. But I need to know... do you care about me?"

I couldn't say no. Maybe it was the wine but all I could mutter was "You're my... friend."

"Friend?" He said back. Then he stood up, straightened out his jacket, and walked over to my side of the table. He bent over, got right in my face, nose to nose... and kissed me.

I was gonna push him away, but I just let him do it because I wanted to see where it was going. It was a close-mouthed kiss, lips to lips, no tongue. Maybe three seconds.

When he pulled away from me, he put his hands on mine, then reached into his breast pocket for his checkbook. "This is $500. No strings attached, but if you want more, we're going to have to work out why you keep coming to see me. I understand you're a complicated person, but it doesn't have to be hard. I like you a lot, Clara. Shall I take you home?"

"...yes..." I could only say.

On the ride home I was silent. I had a check for $500 in my purse. That was my share of the rent and then some. I thought about modeling and Anthony banging Blake and me playing with myself, and how I didn't want to throw up just because a guy kissed me.

I kept a lid on things until I got home. Then I walked slowly to my room, threw myself on my bed, and started to cry. Just because I'm on the meds doesn't mean things like this can't freak me out beyond words.

Now here I am. I really don't know what to do. I wish I could just sleep until summer.

Tori: Taking stock

I've been Tori for two and a half years now. I'm a sore girl. My left ankle and knee get pained sometimes from the fact that I still occasionally roll it when I wear heels. My wrists and fingers hurt more as a woman than they ever did as a man from typing. I threw out my shoulder one time from a particularly enthusiastic lovemaking session. Sometimes I wake up with a backache from the heft of my boobs, and when I get my period my breasts get really tender and sore, along with the usual cramping pain. Every so often I notice myself gaining a little pooch belly, compared to the flat tummy I had when I first became a she, when I'm not careful what I eat or when I neglect the gym. I'm still growing out my hair from when I cut it off last year, because even though it was low maintenance, I prefer it long.

I'm saying all this not to complain about my body, but because I love it. This body has changed a bit since I got it, and I've changed with it. And I'm not the only one. My little sister, Mae, was a cynical, introverted teenager who was resentful of her big sis and suspicious of everyone else. Now she's a beautiful, capable young woman who trusts me enough to confide things she can't tell our parents. I've moved in with my best friend, Raine, and seen my other, Sara, get engaged... to a guy she started dating when I first got here!

The biggest change happened just before Christmas. Well, that's not when it "happened," but it's when I found out about it. That was when my big brother Kenny, and his wife Jana (hey, I was a bridesmaid at their wedding!) announced they are three months pregnant. I'm going to be Aunt Tori.

I'm amazed. I'm thrilled. I'm gonna be such a cool aunt. It's incredible to see these people maturing before my eyes, a life I was dropped into almost at random and hit the ground running.

And then there's me... shedding so much of my old life wouldn't have been easy if I didn't feel like I fit so well in this one. And it didn't always fit and there was a time, I'll always remember, there was a time when I wanted nothing more than to go back, and now there's nothing I'd want less. I'm comfortable. I see everyone I know getting on with their lives, and for a second I think there's more I could be doing, but I remember that secretly, unbeknownst to everyone in my life, I have built an entire life in three short years. I'm proud of myself. I'm also proud that I found someone like Alex.

Alex, oh, Alex. I told you I love him. I never expected, even if I could "put up with" being in a relationship with a man, that I'd fall this far, but he's exactly who I want to be with. More than being smart and funny, he seems to "get" me... as much as I can be "gotten." He knows not to push things I don't want to talk about. He goes along with my sometimes inexplicable moods. I never thought this as a guy, but there are people who truly see us for what we are.

Geez, I just read over this whole thing and it sounds so cheezy. Seriously, this is why I don't post much anymore. It's wonderfully domestic, but it doesn't make for exciting reading.

Ellie: The female Ferris Bueller

I took today off from school. "Dad" will probably be mad at me but I know he doesn't have any real power. "Mom" is really forgiving, always going on about how it's best for me not to exert myself. I know it's probably a good idea for people Ellie's age to stay in school but I can't bring myself to do it. I can't face those freaking people and I can't pretend I'm even trying to keep up with schoolwork.

I try not to overdo it, but every so often I feel the need to slag off and spend a day roaming the house in my PJ's, eating ice cream for lunch and watching The Wire on DVD.

I met up with Emily for coffee on Saturday. It sucked. She's dating some guy who totally is in love with her. She doesn't see anything wrong with stringing him along. The whole back-to-high school concept washes better with her than it did for me, I guess since I never really went. It's shown me an uglier side of her, because I see her connecting with the vapid bimbos at school and I just think "What's the point?" I thought she had more character.

We talked about the Inn and whether we'd be going back. I said I was completely certain at this point that if I could get back, I would, whether we ever find the real Ellie and Emily or not. Emily was squirming. "Maybe we should just let it be, we can't find them for a reason, it's not very practical, etc etc."

This put me in a bad mood for my first Saturday night study session with my new tutor, Iris. That's right, Saturday night, cracking the books, with some strange girl in my room.

I hate to be judgmental, but Ellie must've left me some kinda residual "mean girl" genes, because when I first saw her at my door I thought she looked like a wreck. Visually, she's not the queen of high school, you can tell. She's a skinny little nothing, with matted blonde hair and loose clothes, thick glasses and acne. Okay, 90% of the people I've met since I've been here have been acne-prone teenagers, but this girl seemed to have a bad case.

I hate that I'm telling you this. I hate that I think that reflects on her as a person. I think it's given her some aggression because she took it out on me hard when I simply could not "get" the math she was helping me with. At first she seemed pleasant, instructing me on the algebraic formula and order of operations and stuff, but the more questions I asked, the more exhausted she seemed and the more I wanted to tell her "Hey, shut the fuck up, I didn't ask to learn math after all this time of being on my own!" I felt a panic attack coming on, but luckily she called it a night early. I think she doesn't like me. Or she doesn't like the person she thinks I am. I'm not sure what I think about her.

It's almost a lost cause, this math stuff. If I made it this far without using it, I doubt I'll need it wherever I end up. Ellie's doomed to stay in high school at least another year even though she should be graduating. Me trying to learn math, that feels like rearranging deck chairs on the Titanic. Unfortunately, that's the one point "Dad" has managed to win over mom, that their little girl needs to at least graduate high school.

Wherever the real Ellie is, I hope it's better than high school.

Zane Clara: Side effects

A few months ago I almost burned down the house. I left some food on the stove and went back to my room to wait and I ended up falling asleep. I woke up to the sound of the smoke alarm. When I went to see what it was, I saw one of my housemates running the tap over the pan in the sink while another one was clearing the smoke away with a dishrag. They gave me an angry lecture about being irresponsible.

This was before I got on the pills. What I didn't tell them at the time was that I didn't go to my room to fall asleep. I was wide awake and playing with myself.

I didn't admit it to you guys because I didn't want you to think I liked being a girl just because I could touch my own pussy. I know there's people that read this blog that think I should probably feel better about my situation, and I agree that the depression and anxiety has made it hard for me to deal with that. I just felt like it was something I should hide. Besides, in my normal life I would probably not tell everyone how often I jacked off.

It was my coping mechanism. Whenever I felt unhappy because I didn't wanna leave my room and didn't wanna eat, I'd go to the bedroom (or the bath, or the living room later if everyone was out) and strip off. I'd start fondling my tits until I felt a little spark downstairs. I could go for an insane amount of time just rubbing and rubbing, usually over top of the panties. I never came though. Maybe it's because I never put anything inside me because the idea of that scares the fuck out of me. I don't even want to like rubbing myself, but I do... or I did anyway.

Once I got on the pills I didn't want to do it anymore. I haven't really touched myself there since December, except when I have to. Whenever I think maybe I could do it, I remember how long I spent and never really finished and it just doesn't feel like a good idea.

I'm telling you all this because something weird is going on with my life. I was talking to Wes, the rich guy who picked me up at the gala, a lot. I like hanging out with him because he's smart and knows a lot about the world and he's funny, and I don't have to do a lot of talking when he's around. Then last night, I got this weird vibe off him... like he was hitting on me. Mostly he acted like his normal self, but on our way out of the restaurant he opened the door for me and gave me this look like "You know what I'm thinking."

I didn't hate it. I didn't want to punch him, like I do most guys. I know he's a good dude. But it still bothered me. Like we can't just be friends, he has to want to have sex with me.

I keep thinking about him. What if I was a guy and he was a girl, someone who looked like me. And he was smart and funny and willing to put up with my craziness, but he was the one with the tits. Well, he'd be too good for me.

I feel bad for him. I want him to date someone else, anyone. It definately wouldn't be hard for him. I want him to be happy, but not with me.

Greg/Alexis: On Thicker Ice

So things at home have become a bit of a ceasefire. Partly due to the real Sharon's intervention, partly due to the fact that I haven't really been hanging out there much lately. Work's been pretty slow so I've had a lot more time to hang out around town and enjoy Burlington. That was the whole purpose of becoming a "Traveller", to go new places and to meet new people. So even though it's been extremely cold the last week or so I've seen a lot of fun stuff.

Part of this has been renewing the friendship between myself and Annabelle. Annabelle is one of Alexis' best friends in real life, but the past few months she's been a bit neglected while I tried to keep Malinda in line. Nonetheless she understood, and said she could sense some sort of tension between us and it was important to work on our marriage.

I can see why she and and Alex are friends. Sharon and Alexis may be in love but they are total opposites. They do a lot of date stuff together but have pretty different interests. I dont wanna say Alex has "manly" tastes but theyre definitely not stereotypically femme. So its good for her to have friends outside of her marriage where she can talk hockey, politics, and beer appreciation, two of which I happen to like and Annabelle is an expert on.

We were hanging out on Friday because I was getting a haircut and I wanted her opinion. Not just because she's more familiar with the city but because I want hair like hers. Long hair is one of the more irritating things about being a girl to me. You cant just walk out of the house like you can as a guy, you either have to brush, wash, or put it up otherwise you look like a crazy cat lady. So after Sharon told me that Alex normally wore hers very short, I saw no reason not to get it cut.

The Salon we went to was gay friendly. Thats something ive noticed about this life, is that the gay community has certain places that they like to patronize because of a friendly atmosphere. I think that stems from the past, when public prejudice was more common and there was real danger with being gay. So while this wanst a "gays only" salon, it did have copies of The Advocate on the coffee table.

Annabelle wanted me to get a mohawk,because my hair was long enough to spike pretty high and then I reminded her that I worked in an office. The stylist then suggested a fauxhawk, to which I told him I didnt wanna look like a Jersey Shore person. We finally decided on a short yet still feminine cut. I'm sitting here typing with a nice short 2 inches of hair that's easy to manage. Annabelle called it perfectly butch, saying so in a proud way rather than derisive.

We left to get a cup of coffee and as we were walking she asked what time we should meet tomorrow night. Not having heard of previous plans I asked what she was talking about.

"The reunion...I assume that's why you got your haircut?"

I gave her a look like I didnt know what she was talking about.

"The team reunion...at the Ice arena. The one we do annually. The one we send out emails about."

I dont check Alex's emails regularly. Seems like the real Alex hasnt been either lately. Apparently Alex was a hockey player in college and they had won a league title or something. While it wasnt exactly big time on the national stage it was a pretty big deal in terms of women's hockey in Vermont. And every year the team comes back for a reunion and gets a round of applause at the game. Some of the players couldnt make it, having moved away or gotten on with their lives but I didn't really have an excuse, living in town still. So I went.

I got lost on UVM's campus, which is understandable because it was the first time I'd ever actually been there, but I found the ice arena. There wasnt much of a crowd, late Saturday night in a college town and hockey wasnt a high priority, still there were some die hards and a few parents.

I found Alex's former teammates easily, they were all wearing old jerseys. I had found Alex's old #12 with "Barco" on the back in the close in a dry cleaning bag. Kinda dorky that she still kept it but fond memories I guess.

Once I was spotted I was greeted with the usual squeals and hugs that occur when women see each other for the first time in a long time. After a few pleasantries and being introduced to various husbands and children I found Annabelle. She looked around "Where's Sharon? She usually comes to these things for you"

"She had to work" I lied quickly and badly

"She's an artist" Annabelle said confused

"Inspiration struck" I said with a shrug.

Hockey was never my favorite sport and I'm not a good enough ice skater to play it, but I'll watch the Blackhawks when theyre on so I wasnt completely lost watching. At the first intermission we all went to center ice and had a picture taken and all our names we're called and there was a lot of waving and smiling before heading back to our seats. All in all pretty easy and a little fun to get credit for winning something.

After the game Annabelle and I were walking to our cars and she asked me if things were ok between me and "Sharon"

"Yeah, theyre fine, why do you ask?"

"Its just that I hardly see her anymore, and you dont talk about her like you used to. Since college you'd always give me the details of your relationship and now its like talking to someone who isn't even married"

Insightful girl "Well, we have hit a bit of a rough patch, but we are working through it"

"I hope so" she said "Sometimes you seem a bit down about it, I hope you dont get hurt"

She walked to her car but not before giving me a hug that was a little tighter and a little longer than usual.

Zane Clara: The real me?

It's Saturday afternoon and I got a lot on my mind. Usually I'm working at the snack bar or doing a photoshoot. This is the first time in a while I've got an afternoon to myself. I'm just sitting in my room on the computer and I realized I could blog something.

I like doing Clara's jobs. Even the modelling, is that weird? I didn't used to like dressing in womens clothes at all but they're not all that uncomfortable and I don't have to go around in them. I just have to stand around looking hot, which is tough since it's like "smile but don't smile, stand up straight" and every photog has his own ideas about what he or she wants from a model. Sometimes I have to pretend to be in a couple, that's always awkward. Mainly it's stock photo work so you might see me on the internet randomly.

The snack bar can be annoying, but it gives me a chance to go out dressed like a normal person without makeup or fancy clothes. Then even when I don't put any work in, guys wanna talk to me and I just play along. I get asked for my number a lot, and I always turn them down. I tell them I don't have a phone and they should give me their number. The problem is they know where I work so guys come by to see why I haven't called them yet and keep asking me out and I just go "no I'm busy." I think they think they can wear me down and I don't know how to stop it. I'm worried one day I'm gonna say yes to one of them and it's gonna be the wrong guy and he's gonna kill me or something. That's why I don't go out a lot.

I don't get depressed anymore, though. The pills are working. I don't sit around being sad and crying my fucking eyes out because I have to sit to pee or because some stupid wardrobe person told me my tits were too big... which is fucked up because this isn't even my body and it bothers me that it even bothers me which makes me even more sad.

No, instead I just relax. I try to enjoy things. I've been a chick for six months or something and things haven't gotten any better or worse, so now that I can see some stability, I guess the I'm evening out. It kinda sucks you guys never got to know the real me, the one that wasn't always freaked out or depressed. I didn't used to whine all the time I think.

But they told me I'd still have triggers. I don't know exactly how this transformation has changed my brain. Things that bother me bother me a LOT. So when Anthony told me he was fucking that Blake guy, I went nuts inside. I started crying, I wanted to hurl. I took it really personal because I thought, if we're still guys inside, how could you let a guy do that to you. I still get grossed out when guys look at me the wrong way, and just because I'm on pills and I'm okay with wearing makeup doesn't mean I think the idea of fucking a guy is awesome.

He gave all his reasons for doing it, and I just didn't care. The idea of him inside that body getting his pussy fucked made me sick. I didn't wanna talk to him for a while.

Then one morning I was taking my pill and I was thinking about how fucked up it was that I never needed pills before I was Clara, but because I have her body I have her brains too. And then it hit me... that's true for Anth too. It's like... he didn't decide to let a guy fuck him any more than I decided to be depressed. These bodies control us in really fucked up ways we can't even understand.

So I dunno. I guess it's okay for him to do that. I'm still not into it, but whatever. That's his business. We'll just forget it happened when we're back in our real bodies.

Tori: No. Just no.

I'm really flattered you guys haven't forgotten about me. Every so often I read a comment asking about me and it makes me want to write a big post updating you on my life. But the sad truth is there was not a lot to update you on. Working, dating, living, being me... I felt for a while it was nice to step back and stop using this blog to explain to myself that it was okay to be okay with my life, that nothing about it was new anymore and it was good to get comfy and go along with the ride. I said it was the sad truth, but it's also the awesome truth. I've gotten to a place I've never felt in either of my lives.

Alex-- that is my boyfriend Alex, not Greg's current body -- is exactly what I've needed in my life. He's really stable. After a long settling-in period, we got really comfortable with each other, learned each other's needs and wants and now we're jsut so... I don't wanna say perfect, but like I said, stable. It's just so awesome to have someone to throw my arms around at night.

I realized over the Holidays that I love him. We were having dinner with my family, and I don't know, he was just kidding around with dad and I was just watching him, being so cute and I thought "I love this guy. This is real."

Then I got scared. I haven't said that to anyone in years, and it was not like this. I contemplated saying it to Buddy, but we were way off base on that. There were risks here, too, though. It was laying my feelings bare to a man who means the world to me, and it was admitting to myself how badly I needed him in my life. How much of a woman I wanted to be for him. Before I could say it, I tried to forget I ever wasn't Tori. I thought that would make it easier, but it was impossible. There's still baggage there. There's still this feeling that I'm lying to him just a little bit, even as every day passes and makes me more Tori and more his.

So I dove in and told him. Christmas eve. It was a beautiful night and we were out for a drive and we stopped at a gas station. He got out to fill the tank and I was sitting in there waiting for him, when something just grabbed me and made me leave the car and walk over to him. The look on his face before I said it, so clueless. I just took a breath, watched the steam come out of my mouth and said it. "Hey. I love you."

It was a really gutsy move, since if he didn't feel the same way, it would have wrecked the ride home, maybe even Christmas.

He just smiled and said "I knew that. I love you too."

I felt my legs turn to rubber. I nearly fell on him. Even remembering that moment now takes my breath away. I threw myself into his arms and we kissed. He pulled the pump from the tank and we hurried home.

And for a while it was bliss. Waking up in the morning thinking about how in love I am will do that.

Then in January I got this e-mail.

It was a long e-mail. It was apologetic. It had a lot of details about the last few years and why certain things happened the way they did. It was from Willy Taylor, and the gist of it was "I'm going back to Maine this Summer, and if you'd like, you can have your real body back."

Uh.

My "real" body?

I was gobsmacked. My life is so full of hanging threads, I thought this would never come up again. I just assumed Willy had gone off with my old body and was happy with it. But somehow, now, he's decided he's ready to "give it back?" Like I should be grateful for the chance to be that person again? Like being Cliff would be better just because he as a penis?

I didn't even think of it. I didn't even reply! Every time I tried I just got so outraged my fingers couldn't stop shaking. I don't want to go back, but that doesn't mean the hurt has gone away. That feeling of utterly sinking away from myself after he first told me he wanted another year with my body (which turned into TWO by the way) will always be with me. And even though it allowed me to become the person I am now, it still hurt like hell and he can't make that better. It wasn't even malice. It was just insensitive. I don't know what I'd even say, other than "No thanks."

How dare he re-open that wound? After that e-mail I went back to where I was a year earlier, second-guessing everything, falling out of "character" with this cloud of "Cliff-ness" hanging over over me. Every time I seemed upset about something since then, Alex could sense I needed to be comforted, but he never pushed too hard for information. He's there for me. He's so good for putting up with my nonsense. And so trusting not to ask questions I don't wanna answer.

I don't know what the future holds, but my present is well in hand.

Greg/Alexis: Hands on Learning

So I spent the last week wondering to myself if I was too hard on Malinda, trying to remember where I was at that stage. This led me to the conclusion that I wasnt even close to her level of instability and animosity, so I kept sleeping in the big bed, which has become a symbol of dominance to me. I didnt dare say the words "Valentine's Day" out loud around the house but told all of our friends that we were staying in. She mostly ignored me and I wondered what the next step was going to be. Fortunately someone took it for me.

Thursday afternoon after I came home from work there was a semi truck parked across from our condo. This was not something you saw a lot in our neighborhood and when I walked in the house I saw a large, hairy man following Malinda around the house and talking to her very sternly. Malinda was doing her best to ignore him but was also doing what he said. When he saw me his mouth dropped open. "You must be Greg" he whispered. That's when I put 2 and 2 together and realized that his was the real Sharon, and she currently looked like a truck driver named Jack.

Apparently she reads this blog every now and then on her cell phone and when she saw the last post she got to Vermont as soon as she could. She said that Malinda was going to have to learn how to impersonate her properly and she had to make sure of that personally. I dont know if she's always been this forceful or if its being in such a large body that has that effect, but she was giving orders and commands and I couldnt help but smile and go upstairs.

A few hours later she knocked on the door and I let her in "Is she crying?" I asked jokingly.

"Not a lot" She replied "She seemed to do what I was telling her to do just to get me out of her hair. She should be a lot more cooperative around the house as well as doing things around town as well. She's totally made me a hermit"

"Its hard to adjust" I said "I'm only doing so well because this is my 3rd go around, although her case is pretty extreme. How are you holding up"

"Pretty well considering THIS" she said crinkling up her face and gesturing towards her body "I'll never get used to it and hope I never have to. Still the job lets me travel a lot and I dont have to interact with a lot of people. Alex really hates her new life though, and she didn't even grow a penis"

"She doesn't like being the stay at home wife" I asked

"She doesn't like being attracted to men. It puts a hell of a strain on their marriage, since her husband has no idea. At first she was pretty mean, but things seemed to have gotten better, at least it seemed so when I saw her last?"

"Youve seen her?" I asked puzzled

"I saw her Tuesday afternoon" Sharon said mischievously "For Valentine's Day. One of the benefits of my job, I get to go to Minnesota every now and then and we meet up in a hotel."

"She's cheating on him" I said a little shocked

"Technically. I dont know how it works out. Their bodies our married, but she and I are soulmates, so it's kind of allowed. I think the whole concept of fidelity becomes a little gray when you change lives with someone"

That was one of the more profound things I'd heard said about the inn in awhile. After thinking about it, I was kind of glad that they got to see each other, although I hope that the husband doesnt find out and have his life affected.

We talked for a little while longer, about friends, and Burlington, and other little things about the life I was living. We were talking about fashion and stuff when she reached up and put her hand in my hair.

"It's so long" she mused

"Its barely down to my shoulders" I said confused "I had it halfway down my back when I was Priya"

"Alex wears her hair REALLY short" Sharon explained "Like only about 2 inches long short. Seeing her like this is bizarre" she trailed off as she started running her fingers through it.

I gently moved her big manly hand out of my hair when she took mine in hers and stared deeply into my eyes and started moving in for a kiss. I pulled a way with a bit of a shocked expression.

"Umm...I'm really not into that. At all." I said thinking about that drunken night with Bry

She pulled away and looked embarrassed "I'm sorry...its just...you look like her and its messing with my head."

I patted her on the knee and diffused the awkwardness. "It's understandable, it'll only be a few more months. We have the reservations and I promise you youre lives will be waiting her when you get back."

We then had a tight friendly hug, although she did ask first. She spent the night in Burlington before driving off on her next great adventure. I took off on another boring adventure in IT. Hopefully things get less tense around her.

-Greg

"Ellie": Fatherly Advice

I feel like such a loser lately.

At school, I spend a lot of my time alone. This is mostly be choice, since I really don't care for any of the people in this town or at the school. I'm getting a glimpse of a high school life I never had and I'm fine with the fact that I didn't live through this. I've seen such amazing things, the world, different bodies and lives, it's like... what do I have to say to any of these people? The dumb ones are all about Jersey Shore and LMFAO, and even the smart ones aren't nearly as cool as they think they are, just because they listen to old music and have Audrey Hepburn posters. Even my closest friend, my ex girlfriend Emily, is sinking into it. It's like she naturally morphed into this whole Teen Queen persona. She is not the girl I knew. She really isn't.

The last time I talked to her, she tried to fix me up with some guy, a friend of her boyfriend. I told her not to do me any favors.

I'm in a bad way, though. I'm nearly failing a lot of my classes. I guess I'm not book smart. I never even went to high school, I don't know much about studying! My "parents" have noticed.

One night I got up in the middle of the night to get a drink and I saw "Dad" flipping the channels. It was like 2 AM I guess. I asked what he was doing up.

"Couldn't sleep, didn't want to wake your mom. What are you doing up? It's a school night."

"Who cares?" I asked.

"Your mother cares. I care. We've noticed your marks aren't great."

"You know I'm not really your daughter, right? And she's not really my mom? And I don't give a shit what you think."

"Watch your mouth!" he scolded. There was a silence between us for a second. "I hate hearing you talk like that. Yes, damnit, I remember who you really are, but you look too young to talk like that. Would you mind?"

"Whatever," I said.

"It's a problem. Your schoolwork. Don't you care about anything? Wouldn't you like to graduate, finish high school, go do something with your life?"

"With my life?" I nearly choked. "You think I wanna stay here?"

"Don't you?"

"Hell no," I said. "And I think it's fucked up you assumed I did. What, you like it here?"

"Yeah. Actually, I do," he said. "I'm making good money. I'm in a stable partnership with a woman. We have a daughter."

"You've got a fucking lie!" I said in a whisper-yell. "We don't even know where the real Ellie and her dad are, let alone if they're trying to get back. You can do what you want but I'm not staying here a goddamn week longer than I have to."

"Well then," he said, "Maybe that's a good reason to try. So you don't throw Ellie's future away, no matter who ends up living this life."

I gritted my teeth. He went on. "I know you don't think I know what you're feeling right now. Maybe I don't. But I know it can't be good to shun the world the way you do. You're going through something right now, and you think because you're older that you're above it, but I don't think you are."

I said bitterly, "You think I need to make friends and study?"

"It could be good for you."

I wanted to yell out "FUCK YOU!" I wanted to storm off. If I really was a teenager, I probably would have. But I restrained myself and swallowed my anger.

"We've thought about hiring you a tutor, at least, to help you through this next semester. Then you can do what you want with your life, go back to Maine, go to school, whatever you need to do."

I turned around and went to my room but I didn't sleep. I was still hot with anger at the idea of this person trying to control my life, thinking he knows better than I do just because he looks like my dad. I wouldn't have taken that shit when we were the same age group, but suddenly he towers over me with his hairy gut and receding hairline and I take everything he has to say instead of fighting back.

After sleeping it off, though, I hated to admit there were parts of the conversation that made sense. There are things I could do to make my time here easier, but only I can make those decisions.

Shaun/Doug: An Uncomfortable Valentine

I'm a romantic. I believe women should be treated special, if you really love them. My ex always got a special treatment on Valentine's Day, and I thought I was being really smooth, buying a dozen roses and leaving one in a different location for Nia before she woke up: Her pillow, the shower, the kitchen, her car... I even dropped a few off at the reception at her Hospital, with the remaining ones to be found when she got home from her shift.

Instead, when she got home, I got "What the hell is this?"

"Uh, a Valentine? I thought it would be a nice..."

She interrupted, "When have we ever done anything for Valentine's? As long as I've known you, we agreed it was just a stupid day, all of a sudden you're all lovey dovey and it's creeping me out."

Swing and a miss.

"I had a... change of heart," I stammered.

"You've been having a lot of those lately," she said.

"I don't know what to say," I said. In reality, I was dying to tell her the truth, but given how far into the lie of Doug Green I've become, that might raise some really, really unpleasant questions.

She said, "I mean, it's just so out of character that I don't know how to take it. Some days it's like you've never even met me before, some days it's like you read me better than ever."

I try. You know, I like Nia a whole lot, and in my real life, I could have seen myself really falling for her, although she's different from all the women I've been with before. But I'm playing the game, trying to let her win as much as I can, because it isn't really my place to stir up a fuss with her. And I don't mind, so long as she's willing to put up with her now-clueless hubby. Since our schedules have actually not overlapped too much, it's worked really well so far.

And then she said this:

"Are you cheating?"

I just stared at her. I probably took way too long to answer, because I was trying to put the pieces together and see how that conclusion made sense. Maybe I avoid her. Maybe I seem uninterested in the relationship. Being "forgetful." All this stuff I can't hide about not being Doug.

"No," I said quietly, still trying to gather my thoughts.

"Really?"

"Really! Nia, I love you."

"How can I believe you?"

I told her every single thing I learned about her since I've been here. Her middle and maiden name. I told her she was 5'6, and "just the perfect weight." She grew up in Oakland and studied Nursing at UC San Francisco. She eats Honey Nut Cheerios every morning, but she'd eat French Toast every day if she could. Her favorite color is blue but her favorite dress is purple. She flosses. She secretly loves Sylvester Stallone movies, and she first met Doug Green because he was dating a girl she isn't friends with anymore.

She crinkled her nose in that cute way she does. "Because I stole you from her."

I told her, "You're worried, because I was stolen once, someone might again, but you're wrong."

I wrapped my arms around her and told her she didn't have worry anymore. She leaned in and kissed me.

"What did you say to me when I finally admitted I wanted to date you?"

I went a bit cold. "I don't know."

"Come on. That's an easy one. I had it engraved in my ring."

"I'm... drawing a blank."

She pulled her wedding band. Inside was engraved. "Right on."

She smiled. "You're the worst husband ever."

So I smoothed that one over. I wish this situation were as easy as just being able to look like Doug and act like myself, but it has actually required a great deal of effort to act in a way Nia accepts from Doug. Doug, if you're reading this, I'm trying, buddy. Keeping things stable for your return, I hope.

Anthony/Ceecee: I'm my father.

Oh, boy, where to start.

As Zane mentioned, there was an encounter between me and a man by the name of Blake, whom we both know professionally. I had hoped Zane wouldn't mention it in the post, but I guess in explaining what happened to her (and yes, I believe in facing reality, in that Zane is currently a girl,) at the party, it was only appropriate to note what she saw. And the conclusions she drew were not totally incorrect. But you might as well get the whole story.

I think of it this way. My father was an avowed carnivore. Nothing wrong with that, but ere was a man who would not accept a pizza with fewer than three types of meat, did not touch salads, and had a lifelong ambition to win any and all steakhouse challenges. Then one day, he woke up in the morning and his foot hurt. He could barely limp down the stairs, had to call in sick from work. He found out he had contracted gout, due to his diet. The main solution was to get off meat, and with great reluctance, he did so, finding several vegetarian (and vegan) recipe books, and turning healthy cooking into a hobby. Even though to this day it is medically safe for him to have meat in moderation, however, he is still an devoted vegetarian. This sudden transformation was confusing to my family, but years later, I understood it as a sort of self-preservation. Having felt that gout pain, he didn't even want to risk coming close to that experience again. He was a convert. And I guess I never quite understood how one could change one's life so completely until the day I woke up as a woman.

Granted, it did not happen that day, but right from the beginning, I could feel a shift in my perception. I work with several stunning women who are not shy about their cleavage and their bodies, and I rarely give them more than a passing glance (in fact, I feel a twinge of bitterness when they take it on themselves to flaunt it for no better reason than that they can) whereas I regard my own body as a sort of work in progress, trying to work off some of the pounds and inches from Ceecee's frame that I feel could be lost. I've already gone down two dress sizes since being here: I suspect Ceecee has a history of fluctuation, since there were dresses of that size in her wardrobe already, but I mainly pick out clothes for myself (weight loss, in this respect, can be pricey.)

It was not, however, a matter of sexual preference that I began my arrangement with Blake. It was self-preservation at work. In my past life, my real life, I still had a girlfriend to whom I was devoted. Someone I love and desperately want to return to. And I hope, upon returning to my body, my attraction to her returns, because I know she is that magnificent a person.

But for the time being, I'm not Anthony, I'm Charlotte. I don't live Anthony's life and I don't have his responsibilities. Instead, I have a whole different role, that of an agent, specifically Clara's agent. And Zane, Clara, whomever she is or thinks she is, is still my friend, very important to me no matter what we look like.

So when Blake, a photographer we do a certain amount of business with, began showing signs of interest in me, I took a somewhat mercenary attitude toward it. After all, here is a man surrounded by beautiful women constantly. I took it as a compliment last fall when he started lingering by my desk after meetings, calling to see "what was up." I was flattered, it meant I was at least doing something right. I knew I could turn it to my advantage, and deep down, I was morbidly curious as to what lay behind that door.

I let him take me out to dinner back in October. Wine loosened my tongue and I mentioned I liked a certain performer who would be in town. He got us tickets. We went, it was a great show, and to show my appreciation, I took his big hand in mine and kissed him. He jumped like a dog going after a treat. I told him I wasn't that kind of girl. He asked what kind of girl I was and I told him I was still figuring it out.

He was patient with me, which I respected. Again, he's a fairly handsome guy, and I believe he could be, and probably has been, with numerous more attractive women than me. But he chose to focus on me and I respected that. I kept going with it, convincing myself I was doing good for my friend... and Zane did get numerous jobs through him and through his recommendation.

By December, Zane had hit rock bottom, and the goodwill could only go so far. By then, though, what had been started with Blake could not be stopped. It would simply be too awkward to end our arrangement, given we would still have to maintain a working relationship. Right now, I guess you could say I'm using him for a different purpose. Although I don't particularly like him, in a relationship sort of way, I have grown fond of the feeling of having someone I can call when I need attention. So long as he and I are capable of keeping it casual, I'll be happy to keep going. When he proposed we have a dinner on Valentine's Day, I told him I did not think we were a "Valentine's Dinner" type of pair. It was a bit of a sticking point between us, but he agreed eventually we weren't.

I've had to remind him a couple of times, though, that this is not a real relationship. I'm not here to let anyone fall in love with Ceecee's body, because I know I'll be gone eventually anyway, back to my real life, my real relationship. If it's still intact by then. But that's another issue I may someday feel comfortable exploring here on this blog. I already feel somewhat exposed owning up to this, but it's the adult thing to do.

Greg/Alexis: Standing up for myself

In my old life I would refer to a woman who was being aggressive or whiny or mean about something as "being a bitch", which is something a lot of us do even though it is a pretty sexist thing to say. Having spent the last 3 years as three females, I try to refrain from saying it, matter of perspective and all that. And honestly I rarely deserved that title, because I'm rarely aggressive, whiny, or mean that's just the type of person I am, although when someone or something totally warrants it, I will go off and lose my temper, and Tuesday night I was a total bitch.

It all started when I got home from work and there was a message on the answering machine for the house phone. If someone left a message there it had to be important because they had that number and not a cell number. I pushed play and the message went something like this:

"This message is for Sharon Barco from Dr. Simon Taylor's office reminding you of your appointment for February 18th, please call back to confirm and please not that if you cant make it your deposit will not be refunded to you."

If theres one thing I've learned from being in another person's body is that you respect their medical histories and instructions, as Zane found out when he stopped taking Clara's meds. So despite our iciness I went upstairs to tell Malinda she had a doctor's appointment.

"For what? I'm not sick" she said

"I dunno, maybe the gynecologist?" I suggested

"Shouldnt be, I had that appointment in November and the Doctor was a lady" she replied.

I had had the same type of appointment with the same doctor, and it wasnt Simon Taylor, so thinking something might be wrong and not trusting Malinda to follow through, I called the real Sharon, who if you remember is now a truck driver.

When I told her about an appointment with Dr. Taylor her voice went soft and all she managed was a soft "Oh."

"What is it, she doesnt have cancer or anything, does she?"

"No," she said sounding very girl and almost on the verge of tears "It's a fertility clinic"

Ouch. My heart went out to her. Apparently she and Alex had been wanting to start a family and they were going to have her being insemination around this time, but the inn threw them a curveball.

"I'd love to help you, Sharon" I consoled her "But this sort of thing is probably best left till your in your right bodies"

"I know" she sniffled, obviously missing her life.

We hung up shortly after and Malinda was in the room. "So what is it?"

"Fertility Clinic" I said sadly "I guess we're gonna cancel that appointment"

"Ugh, Clearly" she said with marked disgust "Those kind of people probably shouldnt even have kids"

Now, I've never been much of an activist. Being born a white male I've always been anti discrimination but havent really been effected by it. Even my time as Priya I never really felt discriminated against for being a minority and I'm certainly not an active part of the gay community now, but something about that comment boiled me over and I lashed out at her.

"You know what? FUCK YOU" I yelled "BOTH of them would make a better mother than you because they at least seem to be capable of compassion and love and arent some lazy, ignorant, spoiled brat!"

She was clearly shocked because her mouth hung wide open but I continued

"Let me tell you something about 'those people'. They arent any different from anyone else and in case you havent noticed, YOU'RE ONE OF THEM! That's right, you're a great big DYKE. That's why that guy left early the other night, because you didn't want him. Because your gay. And guess what? NOBODY CARES. This isnt your stupid little hick home town where people judge, its an open society. So the sooner you get over your self loathing maybe you might stop being such an insufferable child"

My face was red at this point and Malinda's was a mixture of terror and anger, but mostly terror. She looked like she thought I was going to hit her. I wanted to hit her. I couldve hit her. I'm an athlete and she's an artist, I'd kick her butt. But i'm not an abusive wife. I didn't hit her.

"And one more thing. You can sleep on the couch tonight. I pay the fucking mortgage around here, I'm going to sleep in the big bed."

I stood there waiting for a response, but all she did was look at me with tears welling up in her eyes and before leaving the house.

She didnt come back until late that night, and I know this because I kept my promise and slept in the Master Bedroom and didnt hear her come in. She's been a lot more subdued the last couple of nights. Hopefully I scared some sense into her.

I'll keep you posted.

-Greg

Zane-Clara: Beautiful Monster

Okay. I've been on the pills for over a month now. I wouldn't say I can "feel" them working, but suddenly things bother me a lot less, so I'm aware of them when something that would've bothered me doesn't. To start with, I'm eating more. I could barely choke down two meals a day, which left me weary and sick for a lot of the time, but now I'm more or less normal.

Which, weirdly enough, made me start getting a period. I thought I was lucky, I hadn't bled at all the whole time I was here and I thought maybe Clara was one of the few girls that didn't get it at all, but I guess it sometimes has to do with dieting or eating disorders or whatever she's got. It was embarrassing as hell, I had to borrow a pad from one of my housemates, then go shopping for my own. Luckily at least one of the girls around here doesn't use tampons, because I am NOT down with those things.

But I guess because i was depressed, I didn't tell you a lot of stuff. I only ever seemed to talk about how frustrated I was, and that's all true. It's not like I loved dressing up to be a model, getting my hair done, putting make up on, shaving my body constantly and being stared at by everybody.

But it all happened. And suddenly, last Saturday night, there I am looking myself in the mirror, with all the mascara and lipstick and foundation and concealer on, putting my earrings in. I had a green evening gown on and I was even wearing a strapless bra. And the funny thing is what I was thinking as I looked myself in the mirror. The more of it I had, the girlier I looked, the more in-character I felt. If I get up in the morning and put on some jeans and a t-shirt, and just let my boobs hang because I don't wanna put a bra on, I feel like an asshole, but all dressed up like this, I could at least pretend I'm supposed to be this way. Sure, my underwear was riding up my crack, but other than that, I felt pretty sexy. Besides, it was just one night, and there was gonna be free booze. And I was gonna have Anthony nearby for support anyhow. If nothing else, I could lean on him if I tripped on my own dress.

So, we drove up to the dining hall where this even was being held. Anthony was looking good, having wrapped herself in this slick black gown with a corset that really pushed his tits up and accentuated his butt. Her butt. It's a girl's butt, I shouldn't keep talking about it like it's my friend Anthony's. She seemed pretty impressed at the lengths I went to... one of the girls in the house is a make-up artist, and it took some convincing since I'm not really in good with her, but she at least gave me a good price.

So we got in and were both instantly presented with champagne. Beautiful. We started talking, but Anth seemed distracted. Like she was looking for someone. The reason we were there was to shmooze, I figured there was some bigshot photog she wanted me to charm.

Eventually, we ran into Blake, one of the guys who's hired me a few times. He does a lot of ad campaigns, billboards and print mostly. He comes over to us and I wave "Hey!" and he gives me a nod before zeroing in on Anth. Soon as she's done her drink, he gets her another. They share private jokes. He's just giving her this uber-creepy look. Like, the "fuck-me" eyes. I wanted to yak.

I was trying to pull Anth away to the bathroom so I could save him from his advances, but I couldn't get a word in edgewise. The whole thing was making me uncomfortable, so I went off on my own, eventually going to the ladies' room anyway because three glasses of free booze just went right through me.

There, some bitch model asked what size I was wearing these days because the last time she saw "me" I looked way thinner. I didn't recognize her, but I wanted to deck her. I figure it'd be hard to get gigs with a broken nose and a black eye. I was wearing a ring, too.

When I got back to the main hall, I couldn't find Anth, which worried me. But I didn't have long to look for her because I got cornered by this guy. I wanted to push him away, but something about him seemed harmless, so if he was willing to put up with me repeatedly telling him how nothing was going to happen, I could stand to pretend to listen to his story. His name was Wesley Bridges, a rich entrepreneur type. I forget what his business is, but it doesn't really matter.

Then after about forty minutes, Anth and Blake re-appeared. And I was going to ask what happened, but it didn't take long to figure it out. Her hair was all ruffled. Her dress looked like it'd been taken off and put back on. And Blake... Blake had this smug fucking swagger like he had something to be proud of.

"What was that?" I asked through gritted teeth.

"Oh, he just wanted to talk a little business."

I glared at her. "That's all?"

"Yeah, Clara," she said, using my fake name like it was no big deal, "It was just business."

I didn't want to talk to her anymore. I didn't want to talk to anyone. I had a few more drinks, then found the guy from earlier, Wes, and asked if he'd take me home.

Except when I woke up the next morning, I wasn't home. No, I was lying in a stranger's bed, naked.

I leaned over the bed and horked all over the floor.

I slowly got up and checked the place. There was a bathroom attached to the room, where I scrubbed the crusty makeup off my face and rinsed my mouth. It was a guest room, you could tell because there wasn't any clothes in the dresser, but a man's robe in the closet. I slipped the robe on and clutched it tight, wandering the halls of this penthouse until I found a kitchen. He was standing there, in a polo shirt, making eggs, like in the movies or something.

"Where am I?"

"Wow, you were really out of it last night, huh? You couldn't remember how to get back to your place, so you came back here."

That sounds right. "And my clothes?"

"You threw up on yourself in my car," he said, "So when we got here, the first thing you did was strip down. Now, your bra and panties, you claimed, you were just sick of wearing."

Again, that also sounded right.

I asked, "You didn't see anything... did you?"

"I tried to look away. You made it pretty clear you weren't trying to put on a show."

He probably saw the look of shame on my face, though, cause then he clarified that we didn't do anything. I believed him because I feel like I would've noticed. He told me that he basically let me pass out in his guest room, and then he sat up with me to make sure I didn't get too sick.

"Yeah, I'm sorry," I said, "Last night was a bad night, I saw something that really messed me up."

"I understand, we all have our bad times."

"I've been having plenty of those lately. Sorry again, you seem like a really nice guy. You didn't need to be so nice to me. Probably any other girl there would've totally banged you."

He laughed a bit. "Yeah, that might be true. We'll never know. I don't know, I guess I just like a wreck."

Then I laughed. Yeah, I'm definitely that. "I'm gonna go change, then get a cab home."

"Oh, forget that. Have some breakfast with me, then we'll see if we can find your place."

I was starving. It would've been hard to turn down. So we sat and ate, pretty much in silence.

I was uncomfortable, naked except for the fabric of the robe. But I didn't leave, I didn't stop eating until I was full (a surprisingly big deal) and he was a gentleman, didn't try to hit on me. He just asked some questions about my past, what I did... I gave vague answers, "Oh I grew up around here, trying to be a model, but it's not really working out." That kinda thing.

He took me home, and I stayed quiet while I tried to convince myself I didn't see what I thought I did. It looked like Anth had snuck off to mess around with Blake, but it could've been anything.

"Hey, thanks for putting up with my craziness," I said. I don't know if I would have rescued some messy chick from a party when I could've gone for one who would screw me.

We finally got to my place. "Listen," he said, "I put my number in your phone. If you ever need anything... it might come in handy, someday."

"Yeah, we'll see."

I walked up the steps and back to my pathetic little life.

Greg/Alexis: Yearly plans.

So this year I was about a week late getting my reservations for the Trading Post Inn, not only because the people in the chain were hard to track down but because I had to rent two rooms and organize two chains.

My own chain was actually pretty easy this year, since I didnt have a body to go back to. I wasnt going back to being Dee, which kind of freaked out the guy who wound up as her. He's a 16 year old who not only hates being in her body, but he took his first glimpse of independence the wrong way. Started drinking a lot and got fired from her job. Luckily he's managed to find a way back to his old life. I on the other hand, am sticking with my original plan to "roll the dice" and booked the room at the most convenient time. The real Alex will follow and get her body back and it goes on like that for a few more links in the chain.

Booking the other room was a little more difficult and yes we are booking two rooms. I've been burned by the Inn enough times to not be paranoid. The reason for 2 rooms is because if Malinda and I share a room, theres no guarantee that she'll be the one who wakes up as herself, and I do NOT want to spend a year as her. Also complicating things would be when the real Barcos stay in there they might wind up in each others body, which probably wouldnt be that big of a change. They'd both be female and they'd both still live in the same place and still be married to each other, but from talking to them their personalities are different enough that its best just to play it safe and rent two rooms.

I of course, did the booking for both rooms. This is because Malinda hates thinking about that kind of stuff and is still barely talking to me, also I'm the only one with a job and most of the high limit credit cards are in Sharon's name, and finally I dont trust Malinda not to screw it up. Finally after all the email juggling back and forth we're all set to head to Maine and begin things the 2nd week of August. And yes I'm a bit nervous about where I wind up, but also a little excited.

A lot of that stems from the icy conditions here in Vermont, and not I'm not talking about the unusually warm February weather, I'm talking about how my housemate is angry at me and isnt ready to talk. I'm over it though. I tried to help her through this experience and she just got mad and blamed me for everything she didnt like about it. I'm just content to sit back and watch.

Like last Friday. Malinda spent January trying to be as much of herself as possible, which is all fine and dandy to an extent but its proper inn etiquette to at least TRY and live the live of the person the world sees you as. Malinda has taken to going out at night, and not just on weekends because as I said before , she doesnt have a real job. She mostly goes out a long and from the way she dresses I think she's going to clubs, and not the ones that that the real Sharon and Alex usually go to. I think she's going to college clubs and dancing. Sharon is in her late 20's but she's very good looking and could pass for 24 if she tried, and Malinda is trying...a little too hard.

Friday night I was staying in finishing staff evaluations (They all got great ones, I'm really nice at work, especially since they do all the real work) while Malinda headed out around 8pm when her taxi got there. (I'm very possessive of the Ranger Rover. I dont want her drinking and driving) I was still awake when she got home around 2 am, just sitting on the couch in a thank top and pjs when she walked in giggly, drunk, disheveled, and followed by a guy.

I raised an eyebrow when I saw her but she totally blew me off "This is my roommate, Alex" she said in a half hearted introduction as he followed her upstairs. I turned back to my work wondering if anyone had seen her and what she was doing to Sharon's reputation, when 5 minutes later the guy came downstairs with a clearly disappointed look on his face, Malinda saw him to the door and said an awkward goodbye.

When the door turned I said with a smirk "Not a lot of stamina?" she just glared at me "I dont want to talk about it" Of course she didnt need to talk about it for me to know what happened. She couldnt bring herself to do it. Having been both heterosexual and now homosexual I can tell you that you can't force it. Well, i guess you can force it but it feels extremely wrong. She probably got all naked with him and chickened out. Hopefully this doesnt make her more resentful of things.

Anyway, I'll keep counting the days till Ive got a new life

-Greg.