Tori: Reunions and Partings

Things completely changed the moment I found out that Sara and Thom were living as Cliff and Randi. I thought I was going to have to explain myself from scratch but it suddenly got a lot more complicated. Two people who knew me - or thought they did - were going to learn my deepest secret. Maybe they already had. I took a moment to compose myself, and the wheels started turning in Sara's head.

"A few years ago, I remember," he said, "You went to Buffalo for Thanksgiving... which I thought was weird, because like, who does Tori know in Buffalo? But this isn't a coincidence, is it?"

"I don't know what this is," I said, although I was starting to get an idea. "But there's a lot going on here, so maybe I should do my best to explain what's going on here." I took a deep, cleansing breath, and tried to compose myself, but it was still a struggle to push the words out. "I wasn't always Tori. I went to the Inn, just like you."

"You're not the real Tori? Then how do you know who I am?"

"It's been a few years... Sara, I've been Tori for almost four years now. Remember when you and Raine went to Europe for the summer, and when you came back I was acting really spacey and confused all the time? That was me."

The man's jaw hung low. With a steady, suppressed rage, s/he said "You stole my friend's life?"

I gritted my teeth defensively, "I didn't steal anything. I was taken from my life and put into this one, same as you. And then some time passed, and Tori... the original Tori..." I made a point not to say 'real,' "She gave up on this body. She moved on. I asked if she wanted it back, and she let me have it, because the person who took my body... HE was the thief."

"Holy crap," Thom-Randi said in the background.

"So if you want to know where I came from," I said, starting to rant a little bit, "It's there. In the mirror. I used to be John Henry Clifford, okay? That's the truth about me. And I'm sorry I lied to you for four years, but you know I couldn't explain it even if I wanted to, so... there."

"Is that why you're here?" he asked, "To make sure we're all right, ready to give you your body back, finally?"

I breathed a heavy sigh. "No, that isn't what this is about. I don't even... this is gonna sound crazy, but I don't want that body back. I decided that a long time ago."

"Why wouldn't you want your body back?" Thom asked impatiently.

"It's been a long time," I said, "I've put a lot of energy and effort into making the best out of this situation. It's my home now. Sara, you're my friend. I'm sorry I lied to you, I'll apologize to you every day if you need me to, but I had no choice."

"But you can go back now," Sara said. "I can give you this body when I get my old one back, and then we can get the real Tori, and..."

"Sara, I don't know how to tell you this," I said, "But I don't know if you are getting your real body back."

"What?"

"There's these people... I don't know what they do, but they con people, they manipulate them. That's why I think you wound up here. Not just at the Inn, but here specifically. Somebody is trying to play with our lives, and our only choice is to not play. I think they took your bodies."

"You're lying," Thom said.

"As soon as they got married, the first thing they did was pack up and move out of state. Do you think that sounds like people who intend to leave their new lives?"

They were stunned into silence. Sara whimpered, "They got married in our bodies?"

"Of course they did," I said, "You had a big wedding planned, and if they called it off, that would've... I don't know, been a big signal. They took your lives."

"Why? Why us?"

"I don't know. They wanted me, too. They just keep collecting people, shuffling them around, getting owed favours and getting paid dues or something, it's all very confusing, I don't even know. But I was warned, and now you are too."

"This can't be true."

"I swear to you, Sara. I've known you for four years, and I only want to help you. You might have gotten mixed up in this because of me, and there's nothing I can do about it now, except... warn you. Don't go back. If they're messing with your lives, then the deeper you go, the more trouble you're in."

"You're a liar," Sara said, "You're trying to scare us to make yourself feel better, or something."

"I'm telling you the absolute truth. There's a blog, there's people... do you remember Alex? He was one of them. My ex boyfriend."

"He gave me the reservation," Thom said. "He said you two were breaking up, so you couldn't use it."

"Well, he went anyway," I said, "And he tricked you into going along, maybe out of spite. I don't know. I'm sorry, again. So sorry."

"I still don't know what to think," Sara said.

I dug into my purse and pulled out my phone. I scrolled through the contacts until I came to K. "Karen Costas. That's Tori. The old Tori. She's living in Louisville, Kentucky. She was on TV for a while, really seemed to love it. You can talk to her right now if you want."

"I just can't handle this," Sara said. "Put the phone away."

"I'm not leaving until you believe me. I'm not the one who did this to you, I'm just trying to help."

"I believe you."

"And I'm not a body thief."

Very reluctantly, he said, "Maybe you're not."

"I've lived, and suffered, and grown so much in four years... you've seen it, Sara, you just didn't know the whole story. You know me, though. This doesn't change anything."

"I don't know," he said.

"I have a flight to catch in the morning... I should go back to my motel. Promise me you won't go back to the Inn. I don't want to lose you guys."

"I can't say that," Sara said. "If there's a chance we can get our real lives back, Tori... Cliff, whoever you are. You have to understand, I have to."

"Just think about it," I said. "And whatever happens... you come find me, okay? I want to know you're okay."

"Sure," he said, "Good bye, Tori."

"Good night."

I thought about it all the way home. I tried to warn them, and I don't even know for sure that I'm right. Maybe I'm just paranoid (I know you'll agree with me, you've seen what these people have gotten up to.) But when I was in their place... three years ago when I was told I couldn't go back to my body, it wrecked me. I moved on, and maybe they will too, but I'll understand if they don't heed my warning.

I just hope they don't regret it.

Tori: The Wake

It was an incredibly heavy weekend for me, which I should have expected. I haven't seen a lot of death in my life, although I guess I've seen my fair share of goodbyes. Not only have I not seen much death, the idea of someone my age (well, my old age) dying is absolutely shocking. The backstory here is that this guy, Dean Wells, is someone that I knew in high school, maybe not overly well... he was the kind of person who knew a lot of people a little bit, but wasn't exactly best of friends with everyone. Still, when I got word that he was killed in a drunk driving incident (the other driver, not him,) I was saddened. I was glad, in a way, that I heard about it with enough time to pack and go to Buffalo for the weekend.

When I went, I felt instantly uncomfortable. Dean's parents were there, holding themselves together while relatives and old friends of Dean's offered condolences. The Wells are not an old couple, probably in their mid 50's, the same as my natural-born parents. They don't deserve this. And then there I was, trying to explain that I was an old friend of Dean's without properly explaining from where... since nobody from our high school would know who I am and I didn't know enough about Dean's life to pick somewhere else.
I didn't even know where he was working or what he did.

I stayed for the service, but ducked out before the committal... I had really just hoped that "Cliff" would be there so that I could kill two birds with one stone, so to speak. But I knew he probably didn't have any contact with Dean, and no reason to go.

So I asked around, found his address, and considered paying him a visit. But I couldn't quite convince myself to do it. So I went to my old favourite bar to psych myself into it. And who should I find there but my old best friend, Justin... who also conveniently was not at the funeral.

Immediately, I sensed an urge to go over and talk to him. He was alone, not with his longtime girlfriend Randi. I took this to mean that maybe things had ended with them. I wondered if he remembered the one time we met, on Thanksgiving three and a half years ago. I wondered what I would say to him, if I did approach. Could I forget about our old times? Could I get away acting like we were always friends? Could we... be more?

I thought about it. I had had a drink or two, but I don't think that's why I thought about it. You guys probably understand that the way I look at guys now is different from it used to be. I know Justin is a good guy, and I definitely know he's handsome. Maybe it was depression from the funeral, maybe it was loneliness from recent dating failures. I gave serious consideration to going over, checking him out, letting him know I was interested.

He'd never have to know that this girl was one of his best friends from back in the day.

But I'd know. Even though I have nothing to be ashamed of for what I am now, the past is the past and it would benefit me to leave it there.

So I went to the apartment building where Cliff lives, and I thought, this is really risky. I don't know these people. They might think I want something from them, that I want to complicate their lives, when really I just want to make sure they're all right. As my finger hovered over the buzzer, my body shook. I turned to walk away.

And that's when I saw her.

Randi. Justin's girlfriend. Well, ex-girlfriend, now. She was walking up to the building with some groceries and beer.

I recognized her before she recognized me. Maybe too excitedly, I called out, "Randi!" She stopped in her tracks.

Realizing I probably seemed like a lunatic, I softened my tone, "Do you remember me? My name's Tori, I'm an old friend of Cliff's."

"Tori...? Sure..."

I began to put the pieces together. "Do you two live together? Are you... with Cliff?"

"Yeah..."

"I don't... I mean, that's great, I'm really happy for you two. That isn't what this is about." I was tripping over my words, trying to get invited up to the apartment without explaining exactly who I was to Cliff. Inside, I was actually busting, because I always carried a bit of a torch for Randi and was both gleeful and jealous that the current Cliff was in this situation. "I was just in town, thought I'd pop by... hope this isn't inconvenient or..."

"No, no, it should be fine..." she said, understandably weirded out by the entire prospect. She led me up, and there was a palpable awkwardness on the elevator ride. "So... you're from Philadelphia, right?"

"Yeah."

Gulp.

She led me to her apartment. Soon as the door was open, she called out, "Honey, um... someone's here to see you."

He leaned his head out from the kitchen. When I saw his face, a shock went through me. Like seeing a picture of yourself that you don't remember being in. Even being ready for it, my eyes bulged out. After all these years, that still feels like it should be my body.

But his face... it went totally colorless, jaw open, the whole thing.

Sheepishly, I asked, quietly, hoping Randi might not hear, "Do you know who I am?"

"Yeah..." he muttered. "Do you know who I am?"

"I... I know who you're not."

Randi tugged my elbow. "You should sit down."

Then I realized... it was her, too. "Oh, of course," I said, "That must be how it started."

"How what started?"

"You two, together... Randi used to be Justin's girl. Is he in on this too? Did he go?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Randi said. "We woke up like this. Just us. No Justin."

"How did you find us?" Cliff asked.

"It wasn't that hard," I explained, maybe starting to ramble, "Willie gave me your contact info, if I ever needed it. There was a funeral, maybe you heard, I don't know. Anyway, I came up from Philly and I thought while I was here... I don't know, it sounds stupid when I say it out loud. I'm so sorry to bother you. I can go."

"Tori, wait," Cliff said. "I'm confused. What do you think is going on here?"

"Well, I guess, from the beginning, you two went to an Inn in Maine, the Trading Post... and one morning you woke up in a new pair of bodies, right? And maybe there were some letters or instructions to live these new lives, as Cliff and Randi."

"Yeah, that's what happened," Cliff said, "But Tori, do you know who we are?"

I stared at them. "No. Do we know each other?"

They looked back and forth at each other, and at me. It seemed very tense. I was starting to get scared.

Then Cliff said, "Tori... I'm Sara."

My stomach sunk.

He pointed to Randi. "And that's Thom."

"Hi," she said, eyes fixated on the floor.

I stared blankly for a moment or two. My eyes welled up with tears. I threw my arms around them and burst out crying, "Oh my God, oh my God, I can't believe this, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry this happened to you, oh my God, I wish I knew! I had no idea, you have to believe me!" And he just kept saying, "It's okay, it's okay."

To be continued...

Tori: Conclusions

Well, the Nameless Boy experiment has reached its end, I think. If I wasn't sure before I made the decision, I was afterward.

It just wasn't working. We weren't clicking the way I hoped we would, which really bugged me because I saw so much of myself in him: my old self. And I got a really rude awakening when I realized some of the reasons the old me was not the most popular with women.

Against my better judgment, I tried to pursue a casual relationship with him: occasional dates, and some physical stuff, just to tide me over, which I guess isn't fair to him. He quickly became infatuated and clingy, texting nearly constantly and worrying when I didn't respond, spending lots of money on me (which I KNOW he didn't have much of) and offering me very little in the way of pleasant company. He just wasn't a people person.

I liked him as a person though and I wanted it to work, we just did not gel. He was not someone, ultimately, that I wanted to be in a relationship with, probably because I'm used to one thing, and he wasn't it. On our first weekend "together," we went for a walk and ended up at some store, and I remarked that I quite liked a dress and maybe would come back for it. He straight up bought it for me, an $80 dress. Like, dude, I have money. Well-intentioned, but wrong.

Even though it only lasted about a month, it was still hard to put a stop to it, because I didn't want to admit failure in choosing him. I tried to be sympathetic, because I was so much like him once, and I wanted to believe I could have turned out better if someone like Girl-Me gave me a shot, but I ended up having to remind myself that I am a person too, and I deserve a partner, not a project. And to stop projecting myself onto him, wanting to protect him.

The sex actually did get better, slightly. I mean, if you've never done it before, the rhythm is hard to master, not to mention stamina. I don't think I was a very good teacher, but hopefully his next ladyfriend will be more forgiving.

He did not react well to the break-up, practically begging for another shot. I made the mistake of doing it at my house, and it took a while to get him to leave. I've never broken up with anyone myself before!

That brings me back to where I started... on the lookout for eligible men who won't disappoint me. And who aren't, you know... secretly working for a shadowy agency that transforms people, or whatever. No scrubs, I'm basically saying.

On that note, I'm actually going back to Buffalo this weekend. It's kind of a twisted reason why: I found out from Willie that someone I knew from high school had died in a car crash, and after weighing my options I thought I would at least stop by to offer my condolences. Even if they never knew "Tori," it will be an open visitation, so I can manage. I also think it might be nice to touch base with the current Cliff, and see if he (or "he?" I don't know) will be staying put in my old life after Willie vacated it. If there's anything I can do to help him... well, I can't imagine there's much, but it'll be better than nothing. I mean, I did live that life for nearly three decades.

Tori: Great Power/Great Responsibility

Sometimes I feel like I have power over half of the men on Earth, the power that comes from knowing they want me. The look, they chat me up, they let their eyes wander a little below my chin when I talk to them. I have something they want. And I have to be very responsible which of them I give it to.

Because I want it too. That's no secret to you, readers. I have a pretty damn healthy sexual appetite, and I've been starving myself for months -- almost a year! -- because I don't like the idea of having sex with someone I don't totally love. The last time I did that, with my first partner Leo, I felt pretty bad about it.

It's just that, if I hold out for someone who can be my everything, I might be waiting a long time, I might drive myself nuts with desperation, I might cling to them. I totally get why one-night stands are an option. They're just not one I feel good about.

Nameless Boy -- as he shall be called to protect him from embarrassment -- is a special case. He's told me that he likes me, that he's been carrying a torch for a while, unbeknownst to me, and that it was only at my farewell party that he got the nerve. I didn't see anything in him but an opportunity for some escape, some fun, some distraction. He was my attempt at a one-night stand. If I'd known he was a virgin, I might have slowed down a little, but we've all got to start somewhere.

I like him fine. As in, I can put up with him. I don't mind hanging out with him. I'm really not sure how I feel beyond that. I've been spoiled a little bit, with Buddy and Alex, but my memory of both of them is tainted somewhat, too. If I want to get laid, he would be my best option, although for obvious reasons I have not told him this. We've talked a bit, and I've played it a bit close to the chest as to whether I would see him again.

I just don't have the heart to reject him, the way I would reject some bozo in a club. Like, those guys take it on the chin, they don't know you, you're just a piece of ass to them. This guy knows me. He thinks about me. There are worse situations to be in, and I think of all the times when I was him, when I wished I could dance with the hot girl. Maybe he deserves a reward. Ugh, how egotistical-slash-shallow of me to think of myself that way. But it's a reward for me, too, because I like the attention.


I just spent twenty minutes staring at a blinking cursor trying to decide what to say, what to do... and I just finally decided to text him: Hey... feel like getting a drink?

Here goes.

Tori: Something that happened

I sometimes avoid talking about what's going on with me. I like to wait and see how it turns out, if it's not so urgent that I need to put it out there. A lot of the time it ends up being nothing, so I don't say it. Sometimes I say it even if it is nothing.

Sometimes I take forever to get around to saying it.

I got laid on the weekend.

I know, I know, I'm a big girl, I shouldn't care too much about it when it happens. I'm getting better at making it happen, I should say. My little misadventure with Irwin kind of reminded me just how much fun it is to be with someone, and it's his loss if he doesn't want another shot. I'm trying to be a take charge kind of gal.

It was a delayed farewell party with the guys (and one other girl, who I sadly didn't work with that often) from work. Most of them have girlfriends, it ended up being a shockingly big affair (all for little old me? No, it was a pretty regular occurrence, I just didn't always go) at this bar around the corner. The DJ was playing a lot of 90s jams and I had enough drinks that I couldn't resist getting up to dance... because believe me, these days, it takes quite a bit of liquid courage to get me shaking my booty. One of the guys, whose name I won't reveal, joined me on the dancefloor (really just the space between pool tables) and after a while we just sort of... forgot ourselves.

He reminds me a little of Alex and Buddy, except he's only a bit taller than me, really thin, with a chin beard. He's a bit younger than me, just out of college. I had hardly thought twice about him and he was kinda shy, the last person I would expect to join me in an impromptu dance party. So I was impressed, I never saw this bold side of him, tactfully placing his hands on my hips. Well, he did a little bit of hover hands, but I grabbed his wrists and planted his hands on my body. After that he didn't need me to lead him any further. He inched closer and closer, and everyone watched... I would've been embarrassed if I hadn't been enjoying myself so much.

I felt his crotch grinding on me through his pants.

After a few songs, I wrapped my arms around him. "Hey, sorry if I'm being too..."

I didn't hear the end of his sentence. I just told him "Let's go make out in your car."

I was not myself, but I liked being that girl.

We got in the backseat. I laid on my back and wrapped my legs around him. He hovered over me, kissing my lips, my face, my neck... he waited a respectable amount of time before pushing his hands gently up my shirt (hey, he's only human.) After a while, he asked if I'd mind going to my place, since his roommate was nosy. I told him I did not mind.

We drove recklessly, he kept his hand on my leg the whole time, which was sweet. We made out the entire elevator ride up, my back pinned up against the wall. Very hot. When we got into my place, we wasted no time.

And by that I mean, he finished within seconds.

Before I realized what had happened, he pulled out, and I let out a very instinctive, disappointed, "What the fuck?" and he got very red-faced and embarrassed, "I'm sorry, oh God, I'm sorry..."

I got my bearings and collected myself. I wanted to be reassuring, "It's okay, it's okay, it happens..." I mean, it's never happened to someone I was with, but I guess it does. "Got a bit too excited? Been a while?"

He rolled off me and sat up, with slumped shoulders - "It's my first time."

"Oh... wow."

I had him lie down and we put our arms around each other. I just told him "It's okay, it's okay" over and over, like he was a lost puppy. He seemed mortified. It's a good thing we don't work together anymore. Finally I said "I'm sorry I rushed you through that."

"No, don't worry... I'm glad it finally happened. I've been picking up on some signals from you for a while, and I was just too chicken to make a move."

Signals? Oh... boy. I had not been sending this kid any signals. Not on purpose anyway.

This happens sometimes, I guess. If you look a certain way, and you're friendly and comfortable around guys, they take it as a signal. They see what they want to see. I'm aware of it, but it's more in the back of my mind, and it's really egotistical to assume every guy is thinking of you that way. But I guess I do have blinders on to the way guys can interpret my actions. Being in a steady relationship probably helped that. I had a natural shield.

I don't know, it's just a side-effect of being a reasonably attractive girl (wow, I'm not sure if it's a good thing or a bad thing that three years ago I thought I was the hottest chick ever, and now I consider myself "reasonably attractive.") There are worse things to put up with in life. It's just never the ones you really want.

Kinda hypocritical of me, I guess, because I did end up seducing this guy. After a little while, we started back up, making out, still nude, letting him run his hands up and down my body...I don't know, after the recent events of my life, it was nice to be with someone that seemed to at least want to be with me.

The second time wasn't great, but it lasted longer than the first. I took the opportunity to give him a few pointers when I could, but in the heat of the moment there's not much you want to say beyond "keep going with that!" and "slow down!"

He didn't stay the night, thank heavens. I think he was just too embarrassed, and I had to have a good long talk with myself about how lame that was. I really don't see myself as a one-night stand kind of girl, but instead of being ashamed, I was at least kind of proud that I made it happen. I mean somebody had to be that guy's first, and it might as well have been someone forgiving. Believe me, the longer he went without it, the more self-conscious he would have gotten, I speak from experience. He'll survive.

I just don't know what's next for me.

Bryan: Sighting

I guess it's been a really long time since I've written here. Obviously there's been a lot of settling down... if Todd and Alia wanted to talk about it, I figure they would, but basically things are status quo around here with them and me.

We've even kept the band, Somebody Else, relatively active. No more big tours lately, but even Shelby is back drumming with us when we pull gigs around Toronto. We needed some space and time apart, but in the end not only is she a friend, she's a good drummer for us to work with.

She's been seeing this guy, Roman, for a while. He's this clean cut business major, a really type-a kind of guy, my exact opposite. I'm just a tad bitter about that, but if that's what she's into then I wish her the best. They moved in together and held a housewarming party last weekend, and invited me, Alia and Todd. I went, knowing I was probably going to have a rough night. It was a lot of couples.

Across the party, I spotted a girl who appeared to be single, a pretty brunette with a cute round face, going from conversation to conversation. She must have seen me eyeing her, because she looked twice and smiled, then came over.

She asked how my night was going and I said I'd had worse. I asked how she knew the happy couple, and she said she was Roman's ex, Traci. What a funny coincidence, I said, because I'm Shelby's.

"What are we doing to ourselves?" she laughed at herself a little, and me I guess. "No really, I'm still friends with Roman, and I just needed to get out more. Exam crunch, you know?"

"I remember that... I've been out of University for a while now, been working and traveling." I told her that Shelby and I were in a band and we'd recently toured the States. I didn't mention that it was over a year ago. Still feels pretty recent.

"Another funny coincidence," she said, "Because I'm from there." I could tell she had kind of an accent. The difference between Canadians and Americans is subtle, but you notice it when someone points it out. I guessed based on her accent, "New York?"

"Long Island," she said. She'd moved here with Roman to go to school, and when they broke up, they were both kind of, well, stuck. "But I love your country, everything's so open and clean. I'm glad I stayed."

We made more small talk, which had the tone of flirting, and we must have been noticed since I saw Roman giving us the evil eye once or twice. Around 11, she had to go, she needed to call it an early night and her ride had arrived. I walked her down to the lobby. She gave me her number and we agreed to meet up eventually.

But here's the thing. I caught a glimpse of the person driving the car, a very familiar looking young woman. She rolled down her window to wave Traci over. I think, and I guess I can't be totally certain, but it looked exactly like Julia Di Francesco, the girl that Anne-Marie became while Todd was her and I was Ellie.

Maybe I'm just jumpy, after reading what Tori posted. Whoever's in that body didn't seem to care that I got a clear view of her - I was standing right there, and if they're part of the Agency or whatever, they'd know I would recognize that face. So maybe I'm lucky, and whatever's going on has nothing to do with me or Todd.

But I doubt it. All I know is that at this point in my life, I can't afford NOT to be suspicious of everybody out there. So while a small part of my body is saying to forget her and run away from this mess, I've never been good at listening to that voice. I want to investigate.

I contacted the current Ellie and asked her to tell me everything she knew about everyone involved with the Inn. I e-mailed Tori to tell me if there was anything left to know about these people, if she could find out. You guys, we're going to figure this out.

Ellie: Casual encounters

I should post here more. I'm seeing a lot of Tori on this blog and I envy her ability to open up to you guys. Whenever I have a personal problem lately, which is always, I just hold it in. But hey, a lot of people have the password here and you don't see them, either. It makes me wonder.

I can't wait to be done high school. I don't fit in and I don't belong and I don't want to. But what comes afterward might be worse because I have to make decisions. If I decide to go to college, then that's it. I'm in it for the long haul. I AM Ellie thanks to a hefty student loan that I can't just dump on someone else, and a decision to move away and major. It would be so irresponsible to start down one path only to go back to the Inn later, which I don't trust myself not to do.

My only decisions in the past were just based on the need to survive. Being able to look at my options and choose a path... that's frightening to me.

So hopefully you won't blame me for needing to blow off a little steam.

I answered a Craig's List ad a few weeks ago. I don't think there's anyone at school I would want to date, any open-minded girls that I could introduce myself to at the end of my last semester. I wasn't really looking to date, anyway.

So I found this woman. 38 years old, never married, recently came out of the closet, looking to dip her toe in the water. Before she sent her pic I was expecting someone rough-looking, but she looked like a very proper lady, a realtor with her hair perfectly combed and make-up done well. I explained what I could about my situation, that I felt uncomfortable at school, that I needed someone who might understand me better. She said she felt like she did.

We arranged a meeting. I got my "dad" to drive me over, because I wanted the safety of knowing someone knew where I was, and he was the only one I could trust. If he disapproved at all, he didn't say.

When she let me in, she smelled like she had bathed in perfume and really spent time perfecting that hair and make-up. She had stuffed herself into a little black dress and nylons. I was wearing jeans and a cardigan. I didn't know which one of us should be embarrassed.

She was drinking wine, but didn't offer me any. Maybe she didn't want to offer alcohol to a minor, but considering the way the rest of the night went, it probably wouldn't matter.

She smiled at me. "I'm not sure how to begin this. I don't want it to be weird."

"It's not weird," I insisted, trying to convince myself. "I liked e-mailing with you. You seem like you get me."

"I do get you," she agreed, "You remind me a lot of myself at your age... lost and uncertain. God, if I'd known then what I know now, so much time I wasted."

"It's not important,." I said, "It's never too late to start again."

"I hope so." She stretched her arm out to put her hand on mine. "The real question is, what does a girl like you want with a woman like me?"

"We're both... new to this," I said, "We can both learn together."

She leaned in, and I leaned in, and eventually our lips touched. We started to move together, breathing in deep, letting our hands find differed parts on the other's body. I ran my hands up her hips, she placed hers on my back and leaned me back. Her legs straddled me as she lay on top - which didn't seem fair as she outweighed me by a lot, but I think that was the point. I could barely breathe, but I was so caught up in the moment I didn't think about it.

We made out for a while. Before long, her hands were everywhere, teasing the lining of my top and the button on my jeans, feeling out the soft flesh of my midsection. And I did the same, running my fingers over the flesh of her shoulders, under the strap of her bra and over the tops of her breasts.

She moaned. Throughout the whole thing she moaned theatrically, I could hardly take her seriously after a while. Before long, I was undressed, naked and frail beneath her and she still had her dress on. She kissed my breasts and I unzipped the back of her dress. I needed her help with her bra clasp - she had unfastened mine with a single motion, and I was gritting my teeth trying to get hers off. It almsot broke the mood. Almost.

She slipped her fingers powerfully into me. I moaned and again, she moaned with me, as if she was deriving as much pleasure. I wanted to tell her to shut up and just go through with it, but I didn't say anything. While she kissed and petted me, I played with her breasts and tried to ignore the excessive scent of her perfume.

She led me to her bedroom. Standing in the light, I saw her body in full for the first time, seeing the cellulite on her legs and ass, her saggy breasts... I thought to myself, "It's okay, she's a regular woman, she looks pretty good for her age!" I hate feeling shallow.

In the bedroom, she laid me down and it was back to the routine, pawing and tonguing at me. She had me use a vibrator on her, and she tried to get me to use it too but I declined. I watched her finish herself off, and I wondered if she was just putting on a show or if she really enjoyed it this much.

When it was over, she wrapped her arms around me and I rested my head on her breast. She asked if I had enjoyed myself, and I said yes, which was half-true. It was far from the best sexual experience I've had, but it was nice to at least be with someone. She asked if I was ready for another round soon, and I said I had to go home and sleep.

I walked through the living room, gathering up my clothes. She appeared in the doorway and sid "Stop... I just want to remember you this way." Naked, she meant. I paused for a moment before putting on my underwear.

I texted for "dad" to come pick me up, then she walked me down to the lobby. I stayed quiet while she talked about what a good partner I was and how she'd love to get together again soon. I said I had a lot of homework so it might be a few weeks. Inside, I felt embarrassed and frustrated that I hadn't enjoyed it more: she was attractive enough and eager enough. I wanted it to just be a primal satisfying of needs, not a complicated emotional thing.

She texted me a few times to see when I would be available again and I noncommittally texted her back, putting her off as long as I could. When we did meet up again, the results were as uncomfortable and I began to wonder what I was trying to do. I want to be with someone, but I don't think I'm up for tawdry affairs with women twice my (physical) age.

I think I'm just somebody who's not going to be able to find love, at least not for a very long while... I need someone who has had similar life experiences to me, which is nobody, really, but I think I'd at least like someone who is in my physical age group. Someone who's as uncertain about herself as I am.

She kept texting and I kept putting her off, and then she finally got the message. I have a lot of work to do for the end of the semester, anyway.

Tori: Fingers Crossed

I walked into my old employer very apprehensive. I had originally gotten hired with them through Alex, and we know he turned out not to be on the level. Whatever his objectives were, or the peopel he works for, he was trying to convince me to go along with him... in the time since, I sometimes wonder if my firing had something to do with that, maybe to help coerce me. Heaven knows I didn't stick it out in this body just to hawk cell phones at the mall. Maybe I'm seeing connections where there are none but I think anything is fair game.

I'm am SURE, however, that this conspiracy, if you can call it that, has to do with getting called up out of the blue and being offered Alex's job. Supposedly, he was moving on, and recommended me - not somebody who was still with the company - as his replacement. I was very unnerved that they would want me back, if they had anything to do with these mystery people, and particularly bothered that this new Alex would think of me at all.

So I went in to the manager's office, Alvin, and I sat across from him just kind of staring intently, trying to figure him out. I asked about the job, and it seemed to be exactly what he was describing, for in-hour IT services for the entire company. Okay, great, as long as my skills aren't too rusty. "Why had Alex recommended me?" Alex had made the argument that I was as qualified as him (true) and was familiar with the company structure (not as true, I was fired just after a merger, but hey.) Alvin basically reassured me that the job was mine if I wanted it.

I hesitated. I wanted to wring him for answers but if he had any he wasn't coming out with them. I told him that if there was anything else going on, he could tell me, I was in the know. He looked at me like I was a lunatic. He asked if I wanted the job, and I said I'd have to consider it.

That night, I went over to Alex's place, hoping I wasn't breaking their rules or putting myself in danger. I also hoped he hadn't moved: luckily, he hadn't. When I pushed the buzzer, and I heard his voice ask "Hello?" my heart lept out of my chest, and I squeaked the most awkward response: "Hi, um, my name is Tori, and..." he interrupted, "I know. I know. Come on up." He was expecting me. Gulp.

I nearly hyperventilated on my way up on the elevator. I hadn't seen Alex, that face, that man I had spent a year with, since he, well, stopped being himself (or George, rather.) And I knew that whatever this gentleman was going to say, whether I could trust him or not, was going to deal with some vry uncomfortable truths about my life, that I just don't want to deal with. But before I take this job, which I really wanted to do, I needed to know what was really going on.

As soon as I knocked on the door, he was there to open it, like he was waiting for me. I nearly fainted when I saw his face, I swear I just couldn't deal with seeing this person with all the baggage attached to that appearance, but I collected myself, and he had me take a seat and offered me a drink. I declined. He said, "I was hoping you'd stop by."

"Really?"

"We have a lot to discuss, but I didn't think you'd just come over if I asked you to. I felt sure that you wouldn't take that job without at least seeing me first."

"What do you know about me? About who and what I am?" I asked.

"I know plenty, Tori. I know you used to be John Henry Clifford, an IT technichian from Buffalo, New York. You've been here since the summer of 2009, and when you couldn't get your old body back, you stuck it out, got comfortable, sought happiness... that's admirable. I know you used to date the man who occupied this body, but when he left it, to go live as someone else, you declined to follow him. And here we are."

"Is this for real? The job? Or are you just playing a game with me?"

"You need to learn how to ask questions, no offense," he said, taking a sip of his water, "Because I wouldn't tell you if I was."

"I guess that makes sense, I just find it hard to believe you have my best interests at heart."

"If it helps, I'm really just looking out for my best interests. Yours are incidental."

"How comforting," I rolled my eyes. "So what are your interests?"

"I want out."

"Out?"

"You asked me if I was playing a game. I'm not, but someone is. It's a lot bigger than you or me, but it's... sort of a con. They have a lot of influence over who goes where. There are a lot of favours owed. I got caught up in a while, but I'm ready to get out, and I thought, since I'm leaving anyway, I might as well do you this favour."

"Why do you care about me?"

"This isn't the first time we've met, Tori." He kind of chuckled to himself, "This is embarrassing, but I guess I wasn't going to win you over without mentioning this... I was Danny."

My eyes bulged out. "Danny? My friend Danny?"

"For a while, yeah. Believe me, that was a difficult couple of years to navigate."

"So... when Raine, and Danny... you were... That was you...?"

His face turned red, "I tried. She was willing to try, and for a little while it worked, but... Believe me, I am really sorry to her about that. She was really understanding. That's why I'm doing this, in a way. I care about her, but I can't be in her life like this. The Inn will be open for the summer soon, so I... I've lined up one last chance. Believe me, the Powers That Be are happy to have a life like mine that they can use to leverage people."

"So they just use people? Use their lives as incentives?"

"It's a carrot on a stick. You wind up in a body that is not to your liking - either by accident or because they put you there - they tempt you to work for them by offering a new body, or even your old one back. Holding you hostage. They've been at it for a long time, so they've got connections, money, power... but I guess there are limits. You need to take the bait, and you never did."

"No," I said, thinking about how close I was to going with George. "I never did."

"Tor, you need to know how badly I wanted to talk to you about this. Even going back to when it all started, watching you date him, while I was powerless on the sidelines trying to survive in my own situation, knowing you were going to get your heart broken. I'm sorry you got caught up in this."

"It's... it's all in the past," I said, still stunned. "Thanks for being honest."

"If it helps... don't trust anybody. Even me." He's right, but I don't know if I'm strong enough to go thorugh life looking at everything skeptically. I wish I could take him and everything else at face value.

I stayed a bit longer, rehashing old times, catching up on what was what... the whole meeting was really long and really therapeutic, and if I've muddled up the exact wording of the conversation here, I apologize to Alex.

I left feeling a lot better about life, in a way... if "taking the bait" with George was my only risk at being sucked into this, then taking the job was a smart decision and I might be safe now. Maybe somewhere down the line they'd try to get me again, but according to Alex, they may have moved on. I told him that I would do everything I could to help him with Raine, if he wanted it, when she comes back and he comes is in his new body.

I asked Alex if it was safe to blog about this, if openly discussing his identity, and mine, made us targets. He said it was fine, that the "Agency" people didn't really pay much attention... anything I was going to share on here that they needed to know, they would be able to find out anyway.

Not terrifying at all, sure.

It's a relief, after nearly 4 years, to feel like I know even more about the world I live in. The things people could do with that Inn... scary stuff.

But I've worked my last shift at the phone place, starting at the IT job tomorrow... this feels like a new chapter. At 26, I am back on track to living my life. Fingers crossed.

Tori: Woah hold on.

Here I am, complaining about boy troubles, and all of a sudden I get an e-mail.

It's from my old employer. Offering me a job.

Alex -- or whoever looks like him nowadays -- is leaving his job. And he's recommending me for his replacement.

I'm just... floored. I don't know what to think.

I would so love to go back there. Get out of my rut, get my life moving again. But I'm suspicious... whoever this person is, he's probably mixed up in the same stuff George/Alex was, and I dson't know if I can trust him. Can I just take this offer at face value? What does he know about me? What does he expect me to do?

Should I go talk to this person and find out if he's on the up and up? Could it possibly end well?

I'm suddenly very dizzy.

Tori: Let down

After our date, I waited for Irwin to get in contact with me. My experience with guys has usually been pretty positive, they've liked me when I've liked them. We didn't play head games and test each other. So I got a little irritated when a week flew by and Irwin was still pretty dodgy about when we were going to see each other again.

And then some more time went by and I realized we weren't going to see each other again. That was it. I was a one-night stand to him.

I reminded myself that I wasn't that into him to begin with. All the chemistry we had at first completely disappeared when we actually tried to go out on a date. Yes, he was smart and handsome, and the sex was... good enough, I guess? I thought it was worth a try. Apparently he didn't. And I feel like an idiot.

When I was a guy, I didn't do that. I wasn't that guy. I was way too intimidated. But I wanted to be. I remember feebly trying to hit on Alia when we first met at the Inn. My friends maybe weren't pickup artists but they weren't doing badly with women. And since I've been a woman, I've been pretty good at sensing which guys were really interested in me, and staying away from guys who just wanted a night.

I don't know. I realize, it was sex, I got my end of the bargain too, and there were no promises, I just figured there was still some potential there or at the very least a second date so I could decide. But he made his decision, and fair enough. It's not like he lied to my face, he just took the easy way out after. And this is a pretty mild version of what a lot of women have to put up with.

Look, I don't want to have to go out and find a new guy every time I want some action. All I want is some consistent attention from a guy I actually want to be around. My last two relationships totally spoiled me. I'm really not a one-night stand type of gal.

Having said that... it's got my hormones worked up into a frenzy because suddenly my body remembers what I'm missing out on. I can't seem to win!

Tori problems. Thanks for listening.

Tori: Good medicine

I'm no good at dating, I think.

I'm pretty good at being in a relationship. I think I'm so used to that that on a "date," I come on a bit strong and have overly high expectations on my date. My showing last night was pretty embarrassing, I can't even remember what I was babbling about. I don't think it went well.

I felt like a lot of the chemistry we had on our first meeting was suddenly gone, and I was talking to a different person (and don't think for a second that doesn't give me pause!) Yes, he's into some nerdy things like Doctor Who and Game of Thrones but he's not like the kind of "nerdy" guy I like, he's also really into sports and spent half the night talking about the Eagles and UFC.

I was going to make a joke about how it's a good thing I'm not a guy anymore, but I know for a fact that it's possible to be a charming, likeable, successful guy and not give a damn about football. Sorry, gents.

So I sat there, trying to nod along politely and remember what I liked about this guy. He's handsome, fills out a suit well, and pretty funny (when we're talking about a subject I understand.) I could do worse, and I hadn't been with anyone in six months...

So I went home with him.

It was pretty impulsive, I'm usually very guarded, especially lately, but I just needed to blow off some steam and remind myself what I was in this for. I still hadn't made up my mind as we were walking up to his apartment - I could've walked away at any point - but we got through the door and the place was neat and tidy and I figured, hey, this guy's got it pretty together. And in the light of day I'm thinking it's a little sad that that's my only criterion.

So I kissed him, and he wrapped his arms around my waist and guided me to the couch and I climbed on top and we started making out, and surprise, he started feeling me up... so I felt him up (and down) and well, you know how it goes.

I considered staying the night, but he said he gets up at 6 AM to go running, and it was OK if I wanted to put up with that, but I was also welcome to leave, so I did because I felt like I could use the sleep. I figure we'll work out our next steps from here. It's kind of nice to be back in the game. I hope I manage to get into the groove more, and we start to gel after this.

-Tori

Tori: All dressed up in a suit and tie...

Why do men love boobs?

It's a question I never really thought about when I was a guy. I just did. I liked the shape of them, the size of them, the look and feel of them, to the extent I ever felt them. I can almost remember turning my head to stare at a woman as she walked by. Sometimes I still do, but not with the same thoughts.

Every guy I've ever been with has gone straight for my tits. As soon as they've got you making out, you can expect the hand to come up, reaching under the shirt, feeling the underwire... sometimes they go right under, sometimes they go straight for the clasp. They like to grope, feel, squeeze... it doesn't always make the situation better for me (God knows I hated it for a while even after I started dating guys) but if you really like someone, you'll let them do just about anything. Plus they definitely feel good to be kissed or touched ever so lightly... or hard.

I'm probably more understanding about that than a lot of girls but as I look myself in the mirror tonight, getting ready for a date, making sure I have my cleavage just perfect, I find myself so exhausted by them and the attention they get. Life might've been easier for me if I'd wound up as a flat-chested girl, but the inn gave me something to work with.

Dressing up. Going out. I remember when that just meant a suit and tie and the most uncomfortable thing was the shoes. Now... well, it's still the shoes, but there's the bra and the makeup and all that time-consuming makeup.

So yes, I started dating again. And no, it's not an 18-year-old, it's a guy I met at a singles event in February. I saw him checking me out from across the room and at first I was rolling my eyes but we got to talking and he impressed me. His name's Irwin. We had a mutual friend, a co-worker of mine to help break the ice. At first I didn't know what to say, but he didn't try any lines, he just started making conversation, asking me about my work and my life, and what TV shows I watched - we bonded over Doctor Who - and before I knew it I was talking to him like we already knew each other.

He's African-American. He asked me if I thought there was a difference between dating black guys and white guys. I said I don't know because I've never dated a black guy. And then my face turned bright red because "Oh my God did that sound racist??"

He laughed, and then said yeah, you'd have to be a little racist to live in Philly your whole life and never date a black guy. He was joking but I felt so self-conscious because I grew up in Buffalo in an area which is whiter than you can imagine, but as you know my "official" story is that I grew up in Philly, which is very diverse. And yeah, I think Tori has dated African-Americans, guys who tried to get in contact with me for a while after I became her, then stopped calling after I never answered. Anyway, he used this embarrassment to convince me I needed to go out with him. If he wasn't so damn charming (and a Whovian to boot) I probably wouldn't have been so easily won over. The alcohol probably helped, as did the dryspell.

Anyway, time passed and we kept putting off our date for this reason or that, but tonight is the night and I decided to check in on the blog to let you know how things were going with me... I know my world isn't exactly in full gear anymore but it's still my life and you are always still so welcoming.

Tori: Alone in the Cold

In the past few months I've watched my world rapidly change just because my friends all started doing things. I had gotten used to this uneventful status quo where Raine was always trying to meet guys, Sara and Thom were my dependable couple friends, and I was in a solid relationship of my own, whether my job was fulfilling or not. Then stuff happened. Alex and I ended. Thom and Sara got married. Even Raine changed her circumstances - she made a New Year's Resolution to make a difference so she went to volunteer in Africa for two months. That leaves me with a lot of nights alone channel surfing. This place is starting to feel like my college place, except with more tampons.

I should take more initiative. I didn't need to go looking for guys the last two boyfriends I had. Even the one before that (remember Leo, my first "casual fling?") just kind of happened. And I would really love for something to just "happen" now, but it won't if I don't leave my house ever, and I don't want to do that either.

I should note that Raine and Sara aren't my only friends, but a lot of my other single girlfriends are pretty hardcore clubgoers and I just don't have the energy for that anymore. The last two winters I was in really comfortable relationships! I could stay in and be warm. I asked one friend if she knew any guys who were looking and she gave me this laugh, like "If I knew any quality guys, I'd be dating them." True enough. I guess it's tough out there.

I'm embarrassed to say this, but the only single guy I know right now is eighteen years old. You remember Adam, the kid I met at Sara and Thom's wedding? Well, it was his birthday in January. I know this because he added me on Facebook. I have to admit, I did invite him to do so... hey, what can I say, I was a bit tipsy. I didn't realize he would end up liking half my posts and any photos of me without another guy in it or dressed even slightly revealing. It's clear the kid has a bit of a crush... and it's not like I can blame him. He reminds me so much of me when I was that age, and if I met a girl who looked like me, who gave him even half a chance, I would be very gung ho about it myself.

I've thought about it. Definitely more than I should. I'm sure he cleans up well, and it would definitely be a confidence booster for him if not me. For me it would be like some weird fantasy fulfillment for teenage me. Fucking myself by proxy. How awful.

It sounds so stupid when I type it out in front of me like that, that I haven't discouraged it yet. I've talked with him a bit and toyed with the idea of actually hanging out with him in a platonic way. What can I say, he found me at a vulnerable time, when I could use a little non-threatening attention. Most of the guys that go for me are cheesy, cocky douches. I'm probably going to crack and end up with one of them sooner or later, especially if my only alternative is barely legal and still in high school. What he needs is someone his own age with no skeletons in her closet, and what I need is someone with a future, who knows what they're doing with a woman and is comfortable sitting around watching her eat ice cream and drink vodka coolers.

Okay, okay, this is not the most upbeat post I've ever done. I have nobody to blame for myself for this, honestly... it's like I'm just sitting around waiting for someone to tell me what to do with this life, instead of living it myself. This is true for dating as well as work, where I'm going through the motions and getting more tired of it every day. I'm in a holding pattern instead of taking action. You only get one life... sorta.

Time to search the want ads.

Matt/Gabrielle: I Survived Xmas, and All I Got Was This Lousy Shirt

There is no such thing as Santa Claus. I'm sorry to break it to you all but the presents under the tree every year are put their by your parents. Of course most of us knew that already, I learned it when I was 6 and a very mean spirited Jewish boy told the whole class the truth and my parents verified it. Still having just recently started believing in curses again, I thought maybe I could get some help from the North Pole for the Maltos family Christmas. No such luck.

Fortunately there wasn't a huge family gathering planned. After the debacle at Thanksgiving the Mother In Law was quite content to visit other relatives for Christmas and talk about me behind my back. Still, the holidays are stressful enough when youre planning them for people that you love but I had to do it for people I've known for a few months.

It helped that the real Gabrielle emailed me a list of what to get everyone, and that Dustin gave me a dedicated credit card to use for the Holidays with a pretty nice limit. Still, locating the stuff and dealing with the traffic and crowds to get it was still a pain. If I were smart I would have gotten it all online, but I didn't think that far ahead.

Lacey came along with me to help, just because its good for us to have time alone together where we don't have to pretend as much. She told me all she wanted was cash, since being a teenager robbed her of much of her financial independence. I told her we were getting stuff for the real Wesley to enjoy when he got back, so she might want to take up PSP.

Anyway, I got all the gifts and hid them in the secret closet that I don't think the kids know about until the 24th. That was when fueled by a late afternoon nap and a pot of coffee, me and Dustin stayed up until 2am wrapping presents. It was actually one of the better times I've had with him. Having an activity to focus on kept me from tensing up and let the conversation flow freely. I wasn't acting like someone pretending to be his wife, just the person who was helping him wrap presents. After everything was done we were so exhausted that after we collapsed in bed I didn't even bother moving his arm off of me, I figured why add drama to a nice evening.

I actually enjoyed Christmas morning, even though I was way to sleepy to want to wake up that early. Still, watching Isabella open her presents and shriek with joy whenever she opened a gift made me a happy knowing I got it for her, even though her real mother picked it out and her father paid for it. Lacey did a good job looking excited at the various teenage boy clothes, dvds, and video games that she got. I actually got to react in surprise to my gifts, since Dustin had bought them beforehand and hid them in a place even the real Gabrielle didn't know about. Still, the gifts were clearly for her and not for me. But I managed to smile at the Lifetime series DVDs, candles and bath salts, and clothes. Wow did I get a lot of clothes. I guess they're nice, they're from good labels. At some point I'm probably going to have to wear them.

After a low key family dinner that was centered around a ham (MUCH easier to cook than turkey) I went into Lacey's room with her and locked the door behind me. I pulled out a tiny box containing a pair of sapphire earrings and said "Merry Christmas, Lacey"

She put her hands on her mouth in shock and then laughed a little. "How do you think Dustin would react if I went downstairs wearing these?"

"Similar to how he's going to react if he saw them on the credit card bill, but I can hide that and I got a good deal. I just wanted to give you something, and not stuff for you body. Something from me to you, as boyfriend and girlfriend."

She hugged me tight and I kissed her on the forehead. Only a few more months to go and apparently that inn begins taking reservations really soon.

Ellie: Unhappy New Year

I hope you don't mind if I haven't been around lately. Even though I'm not full time in school I do spend a lot of time working at the department store and when I get home the last thing I feel like doing is rehashing my day even though I like doing it. Usually I just eat a quick dinner and collapse face first into my pillow. But now it's Christmas break and even though I'm still working a lot I have a bit of breathing room, so here we go.

As you know, I used to be a teenager in a grown woman's body, until I eventually became a woman in a man's body and now a woman in a man's body in a teenage girl's body. I've got all this strange out-of-order life experience that defines everything I do that I can't explain to anyone but you. Whoever "Ellie" was originally, whatever she was meant to become, it looks like she won't be that, especially not if she comes back here. Too much of the life of "Ellie McClay" is defined by that Inn. And that goes beyond what I do.

On Christmas Eve I had dinner with my "dad." To the outside world, Tom McClay was a successful lawyer who had a nervous breakdown and had to leave the profession. I know the truth is that the person inside his body has no qualifications to do his job and so transitioned out into a corporate position. This also led to a trial separation from my "mother," Trudy, who is baffled and hurt and scared and doesn't know why.

She's a wreck and doesn't deserve this kind of misery, but there's not a lot we can do. I'm even less comfortable letting "dad" continue the charade because seeing them as a couple was just too surreal for me.

He confessed to me over dinner that he enjoyed being a man, specifically this man. "I liked being the head of a household, a provider, father, husband... in a way I feel disappointed in myself that I wasn't able to keep it going."

I can't say he's the bad guy here. It's not like he asked to be this person. He did seem to take a bit more pleasure in it than I would have, showing genuine affection for Trudy and trying up until the last to keep the marriage intact.

"What about you?" he asked, getting a bit more jovial and changing the subject, "Any boys out there catching your eye?"

I rolled my eyes.

"Oh come on, it's just you and me. When I met you you were a girl in a guy's body but I always thought of you as a guy. I like this side of you. I thought you were cute with that Callahan kid."

I struggled with the words. "That's not... it wasn't what you think, really."

"Oh come on, I know what a teenage crush is like."

"No really," I told him. "Look, I'll tell you something, something I've known about myself for a long time but was afraid to admit. But you can. NOT. Tell. Trudy."

"I never talk to her anymore."

So I told him this.

A little while ago I was tidying up the change rooms at the end of my shift at the department store. Usually it's just leftover hangars, purse debris and that sort of thing. But this lady had left her bra. It was what men would consider a "good size," meaning she was more bosomy than me but probably not that "big" in terms of dress size. It was a pink lace number, much more mature and feminine than anything I own. And instead of taking it to the lost and found, I pocketed it.

It's crazy, okay. I've been a woman most of my life, I've had plenty of bras of my own. But I developed a fixation on this one, imagining the woman it belonged to, imagining her unclasping herself and leaving it for me to find. And it was after a while of this that I really thought about how much time I spend thinking about other girls, in ways besides the way girls are supposed to think about each other.

I said I've always known, in a way, because I still felt protective and jealous of Emily when we both became girls, even though she no longer resembled (or frankly, acted like) the woman I had dated. I thought it was leftover feelings, and it would go away if I could somehow switch my mind back to being interested in guys.

But that didn't happen. Even though I didn't want to be attracted to Emily, I was and I found myself trying to embrace her social group as a way of being near her. I don't know. I still fought it even though I had read Bryan's old posts from his time as Ellie, being with Leanne... I tried to convince myself that that was his male self asserting itself, even though the emotions he described felt very real and familiar to me. I found myself looking Leanne up on Facebook and seeing pictures of her with other girls, carefree at University, and wondering, when can I be "there"?

I'm already such an outsider, I'm already so different, I already have so many secrets and layers, denying this was a way of taking control of my life for once. But I'm really not in control of this and if I don't admit to the world what I am, what Ellie is, I'll probably never be happy or comfortable.

The small part of me that is convinced we can still get Ellie back in her own body doesn't want to take action, doesn't want to take that choice away from her, prefers to keep playing along. But the larger part, the one that knows I'm probably going to be here as long as I see fit, knows it's my responsibility, and is scared of the truth, and suffering for it.

It's been hard, this winter, ever since I let it out. Keeping it bottled was one thing, but giving it voice, knowing that someone out there knows what I'm hiding has made me feel worse about hiding it from others, like poor Trudy who has been through so much this year (and more than she knows.)

Every time I get close to telling her, every time I think about sitting her down and clearing the air, I remember a conversation I had with "Aunt Anne Marie" sometime during this whole ordeal.

I remember she told me "Sometimes I talk to Trudy and it's like she already knows. It's like she can sense her daughter is not there anymore, even though she doesn't have a clue. It's the saddest thing, really. You seem like a very sweet girl, so I hope you can do this favor and just... be there for her. Be the daughter she needs. Please. She doesn't have a lot left. Be her rock."

I'm trying, really. But it's hard to be someone's rock, if you're crumbling yourself.

Tori: Christmas is here again

This is my fourth Christmas as a woman. This year, because there's not a ton going on in my life, I found myself thinking back to the first one.

I remember the stress of getting presents for a "family" that still felt largely like strangers, or at most recent acquaintances. I remember drilling the "real" Tori for ideas for mom and my brother Ken and my relief that I could relate somewhat to my new tech-loving dad and tomboyish sister Mae.

I remember having to feign excitement on Christmas morning as I opened boxes of cosmetics and fashions and jewellery that reminded me how uncomfortable I was in my new body, how the world wanted me to look, how much I didn't know. It was intimidating and scary and frustrating and annoying... and because I was "playing" Tori, I had to smile.

Then a little later I took it all out and laid all the clothes out on my bed and thought how it wasn't any different from what I was already wearing... clothes are clothes, after all, and even more, these would be clothes that the first Tori never wore, stuff that was all mine from the first go, picked out for me by someone with a better sense than I had. It was like how I went shopping with Karen when I visited her down in Louisville.

I'm still not exactly a fashionista, but I at least enjoy buying clothes, and I certainly don't mind dressing up now and again, if the situation calls for it. Most importantly, I enjoy, rather than resent, getting them as gifts. As a man I didn't need much in the way of new clothing, and it's still true that most of the year if I know I want something I buy it for myself... but the unexpected upside to the world of women is that there are always more clothes and accessories. Once I would have thought they were just for frivolous, style-obsessed girly girls, but even basic chicks like me can appreciate a nice-fitting top or a cool scarf.

It's taken a few years, but I've finally gotten the hang of these extended family gatherings... there were so many uncles and aunts and cousins I just never saw often enough to learn their names. It's been long enough that cousins who were just tweens when I met them are blossoming into wonderful gawky teens.

When Ken and Jana arrived with the baby, the family all congregated around to hear their tales of new parenthood. I'll admit, I love them as much as anything in this whole world but I've seen a lot of them lately, and I've heard all the stories, and they had a lot of people to catch up with, so I excused myself to the basement to idly putter around.

Surprisingly, I was followed by my sister Mae. One of my early great memories was from that first Christmas, bonding with Ken. Mae and I have gotten closer, but she remains elusive. I've been wrapped up in my own life too, so I don't blame her, that I don't really know what's going on with her.

I welcomed her into the rec room and cracked her a beer. "Don't tell anyone I gave you this."

"Everyone knows I drink," she said.

"Yeah, but I'm not supposed to approve."

"So how are you doing?" she asked, "With the breakup and all."

A few years ago she wouldn't have asked, except to bait me for snark, but she seemed genuinely interested. "Honestly? I don't know. Alex and I left things off on such a... weird note. But I miss him."

"Think you'd get back together?" she swigged.

"Out of the question. The reason we broke up... well, he wasn't who I thought he was. There were things between us that can't be undone. I have to move forward. But it's weird... none of that changes the way I feel about him, and somehow that's worse."

"You and your drama," she said. "If you like someone, just stay with them. Figure it out."

"Some things are more important than one guy or another," I told her with a smile, "And believe me, when it comes down to it, as much as I liked him... loved him... that's all he was. One guy. There was only so much... there was only so far I was willing to go to be with him. What he wanted, no guy is worth."

"And what was that?"

"Hm.... I don't know," I admitted. "Control, I think."

We talked a bit longer before finally being called back for dinner and other shenanigans. In my happy, drunken phase, I found myself wondering about the new - that is, the real - Alex, what he was doing with that life. It wouldn't be too hard for me to find him, I know he's still out there... but I convinced myself it would be selfish and perverse to assume I had any place in his life just because I dated someone who looked like him.

Then just as I was getting used to the idea of moving on, I found out one more thing. Sara and Thom bought a house in Delaware. These two people I've known almost as long as I've been this person, are headed out into the world to start their lives together. They're the same age as this body and considerably younger than my old one... but they're ready. And I'm nowhere near that. And that's just been nagging at me. I hope I haven't just been wasting my time, you know? The extra years I got from becoming Tori. I have to remember that I'm not really as old as I feel... I've still got time. There's a lot of fun I can have.

Matt/Gabrielle: This is...wrong

When I was in junior high health class we watched a video about peer pressure and how it wasn't cool to give in when your friends made it seem like you weren't cool for drinking or doing drugs or having sex. I honestly never understood the last one, because while there was peer encouragement to have sex there weren't exactly a lot of opportunities to feel pressured, at least not for me, I wasn't that cool in junior high. But rest assured, if some girl were pressuring me into having sex, junior high me would have jumped at the chance.

Maybe that part was aimed more at the girls, who were fighting off horny boys like myself. I can commiserate lately because it seems like everyone expects me to be sexual when I don't feel like it at all. Going from a man in my 20s to a woman in my 30s there is a steep drop off in sex drive, so much so that I don't actively notice it because sex is the furthest thing from my mind. Between the soreness constant jiggling and the stress of child raising and home making (oh, and my period. THAT was interesting), I don't have the time to feel sexy.

This of course is a great disappointment to Dustin, who is suddenly finding himself in a sexless marriage with a woman he understands less and less each day. I feel bad for the guy, I really do, but that doesn't mean I'm going to do something I'm not comfortable doing. Some of the readers of this blog aren't helping either. I guess they think that most every man who turned into a woman and wrote about it had sex at some point that eventually I'll have to do so. I've gotten comments saying “Give him a blowjob” or “How about a handjob” and the worst “You're going to have to do it SOMETIME”. Seriously guys, that's right out of the cheesy video. This past week however I received sexual pressure from a more disturbing place: Lacey.

Dustin and Isabella were out of the house last Saturday and I was in the bedroom just out of the shower and getting dressed when I felt two hands grab my behind. Thinking it was Dustin needing the brush off I turned around and saw Lacey grinning at me.

“You really do have a nice ass for someone youre age” she teased

“Out” I ordered “I'm getting dressed”

“Not like I haven't seen most of it before” she said with a flirty grin that looked a little creepy “Although I wouldn't mind seeing the rest of it” and with that she put her arms on my hips and kissed my neck.

I pushed her off “What are you DOING?”

“We have the house to ourselves all day” she shrugged “I figured we could fool around. It's been awhile”

“ARE YOU INSANE?” I whisper-screamed

“Why not?”

“I'm your MOTHER” I hissed

“No, youre my boyfriend” she said matter of factly. “In the body of some random woman who I don't really see as my mother. My mother lives in New York”

“So you see me as a potential lover?”

“I see you as MY lover. The one I've been in a long term monogamous relationship with for a long time. Besides, when else are we going to have an opportunity to have sex like this? With me as the man, and you as the woman. You can't tell me you aren't curious.”

I digested what she said for a moment. This was Lacey. The woman I've slept with countless times. We were the same people on the inside and I didn't see my son when I looked at her, just some teenager. But all I thought about the scene towards the end of Back to the Future, where Marty is in the car about to make out with his mom in the back of the car and she looks at him and stops and says “This is wrong”. For all she knew he was Calvin Klein. She had no conscious idea that it was her son or even that she would have a son, but something inside her told her not to do that. I felt something similar. I know Lacey is not Wesley and I know Wesley is not my son, but there's some innate feeling inside of me that I get when I look at her or Isabella. I never gave birth to them nor have I raised them, but I still feel SOMETHING I can't put my finger on.

“No” I said firmly “Its just wrong. I'm your mother so its incest, you're under 18 so its statutory rape, and I'm not comfortable being a girl so its weird. We aren't having sex like this”

“At all?” she said annoyed “Well then its going to be a LONG year, because I am constantly horny.”

“Get some porno, its all over the internet”

“I did that like the 2nd day here” she explained “It helped, but it's not the real thing. I want the real thing. A lot. This thing has a hair trigger, how the hell do men get anything done?”

“It kind of dies down when you get older, but yeah at 14 you just gotta deal with it”

“Yeah, well I'll be in my room dealing with it. Knock first if you come in”

She left and I finished getting dressed. We had an awkward dinner that night with me unable to make eye contact with her. I remember being 14 and feel kind of bad for her but theres no way I'm crossing that many taboos, no matter how much I care for her.

She should watch that video, maybe she'd quit trying to pressure me.

Tori: Easier but not easy

Every so often I read this blog and I hear about people who are in the same or similar situation to mine from a few years ago... people who are in a body, a life totally different from their own. Matt's case strikes me because even though the body I am in is nothing like Gabrielle's... and neither is my life... I feel like I relate greatly to him in this state. Even out of respect, I call him "him" despite the fact that his body is female, because at that time I would've wanted to be called "him" too... it's a sanity thing.

As I commented, I hope that Matt, as many of our colleagues do, finds his way to his proper body. If he doesn't though - or at least in the meantime while he can't... I'll say what I can to comfort him. And that's that it gets easier. I'm sure he's already noticed. It gets easier every day to look yourself in the mirror and see a person you can identify as yourself. It gets easier to do things you never thought you'd have to, for your appearance or for your everyday life... it gets easier to play the part, maybe because there's a part of that person left inside of us - there's so much we don't understand about the brain and body - or maybe because we're just adaptable. It gets easier to dress and act and become someone else. Scarily easy, too. I was thinking about this the other day and it made me sad.

I was thinking about friends from high school, some of whom I had long lost touch with before my transformation. I think, fantasize even about how much different life would have been if I had been this instead of that. If I would have been someone I liked or if I would have been like the real Tori. I know the exact sort of people the real Tori was friends with then. They weren't my biggest fans and I wasn't theirs.

It's gotten easier for me to be Tori now, but it remains hard, maybe even harder, to forget I ever was Cliff. To pretend like I don't have a past, that I didn't always wear a bra and makeup. I feel guilty that I take a much greater interest in my looks today than the girls who shared my interests in high school (probably the reason why I didn't date them... I was fantasizing about the Toris of the world!)

When I was at Sara and Thoms wedding I ended up getting a little drunk and having a heart-to-heart with some distant relative of Thom's, this 17-year-old kid named Adam. He looked so intimidated by me and I temporarily forgot what effect someone with my looks has on a kid like that. I was ducking out from all the be-suited bros on the dancefloor and he was sitting apart.

I asked him if he was having a good time. He feigned yes, but I got him to admit he felt uncomfortable. I said I knew what he meant... when I as his age I would've rather been at home than dragged out to an event like this, especially without anyone I knew. He seemed confused by this and I told him "You'll just have to take my word for it, I didn't always look like this." Once I put him at ease he was a nice kid to talk to, opening up about his school life and home life. I overlooked the fact that he was transfixed by my chest, because the poor kid probably doesn't have a lot of female friends... although if he wants to get some he should probably knock that off.

Anyway, since I've been thinking about that, it occurred to me that I've hardly been out since, and have really let my social life take a hit since my breakup with Alex. I realized that if I want to meet a guy, I'm going to have to actually meet a guy. I don't feel like I can trust that another one will just fall into my lap. It's almost time to get out there. Scary thought. I've never been "out there" before.

Matt/Gabrielle: Thankful that its Over

No, “it” isn't over. I did not change back into myself. That's not why its been a couple of weeks since I posted. I'm still in Florida. I'm still in Gabrielle. I'm just in a bit more trouble. I had hoped to post once a week or so in hopes of keeping myself sane and reminding me who I really am, but that got derailed recently by something I could never think about again: Thanksgiving.

I know right? Who doesn't like thanksgiving? It's the ultimate American holiday. Non denominational, tons of food, football. It's worth spending time around relatives just to lounge around and enjoy yourself. What you don't always think of is the fact that behind every thanksgiving dinner is someone busting their ass in the kitchen, and this year that person was me and I didn't want to do it. Blame traditional gender roles or something but cooking thanksgiving dinner was something I would never in my wildest dreams have seen myself doing, but all of a sudden I was responsible for cooking a huge variety of foods I didn't know how to cook.

I tried to beg out of it, but Dustin wouldn't let me. “You're the one who insisted that we have it at our house this year, you argued with my mom for days before she agreed to it. You' can't back out now, plus I've already bought most of the food”. So once again I was locked into a situation created by something that Gabrielle said before I was her. (This happens quite a lot, that woman has said lots of things that have caused me grief, chief among them: I do).

I figured if I had to do it, I was going to do it as simple as possible. Turkey, mashed potatoes, stuffing, cranberry sauce, yams were the menu items. Stereotypical thanksgiving food, nothing fancy or tricky. I went online for instructions on how to cook them and got up 5am Thursday to being prepping.

I was a little behind schedule when people started arriving at 9. Apparently “family thanksgiving” meant Dustin' brother, his wife and their two kids, his sister, her husband, and their three kids and my newly acquired mortal enemy, his mother Georgia.

At first meeting, Georgia seemed like a nice person. She came in the door all smiles and hugs, especially for her sons and the children all seemed to love hugging and getting presents from Yaya Georgia (I think that's what it was). She's a pretty unassuming woman to look at. Less than 5 feet tall, gray hair in a bun, a rounded shape, and a heavy Greek accent she looked quite normal for someone in her 60s. However if I had to guess I'd put her actual age closer to 200 owing to what can only be a pact with Satan.

After her initial greetings and catching up she came into the kitchen to help me cook, and by help me cook I mean passive-aggressively reminding me why she was the better person to do it. Apparently she and the real Gabrielle had argued for weeks over where to have the meal and eventually the old woman reluctantly agreed.

While she was reminding me that this difficult undertaking was what I wanted she was also criticizing, she was quite good at that. She had a criticism for everything. “You're chopping that too large. you're chopping that too small. Not enough seasoning. You're behind schedule. Not enough traditional Greek dishes. You've gained weight. My son hasn't gained enough weight. I need more grandchildren.” It is a testament to my patience that that woman made it out of the house alive after doing that in close proximity to me and several knives. This is Florida. I've seen Dexter. I think I could get rid of a body if I had too.

Whenever one of the other women would come in to the kitchen to offer to lend a hand Georgia would remind them loudly about I had insisted that I could do it myself and go off on some other obnoxious tangent that would cause them to smile sympathetically at me and go in the other room.

In a way I can see why Gabrielle would volunteer for this. To me Georgia is a pain in the ass who I shouldn't have to see that many more times but for her she has to be a presence in her life. If I had to accept that I might go past ignoring while silently wanting to kill to actively trying to shut her up. Being able to upstage her at cooking would have done just that if the Inn hadn't intervened.


I cornered Lacey and tried to talk her into helping hoping she'd understand the true nature of my plight but no such luck.

“Sorry, Mom. Grandma seems like a bitch” she told me “And besides, I'm male bonding with my 'cousins'. We're swapping sexual conquest stories These guys are so full of shit. They know nothing about the female anatomy”

“And what are you telling them?”

“Accurate info. For the sake of their future girlfriends”

So while my real significant other was corrupting/enlightening two teenage boys my fake significant other was drinking beer watching football while I tried not to stab his mother and prepare thanksgiving.

Sadly for all my effort and learning of recipes I still managed to overcook the turkey. Not burned per se but it was a nice dark brown and quite noticeably dry. That of course meant I overcooked the stuffing. On top of that the mashed potatoes were lumpy and I didn't even try the yams since I didn't know what they were supposed to taste like in the first place. The cranberry sauce was perfect because all I had to do was open a can but overall it was a subpar dinner.

Everyone at the table could tell but politely choked it down and thanked me for making it. All except Georgia. She barely touched it and spent the entire meal with a look of smug vindication on her face. Almost as if to say: “SEE. I TOLD you she was a terrible cook. The horrible woman who stole my son away makes awful food. I was RIGHT”

After everyone went home I poured myself some wine and made a secret phone call to the real Gabrielle. She wanted details on how her family was doing and I told her of the debacle dinner. She told me it was her fault for getting me into it and thanked me for my effort.

My efforts were less appreciated when I went upstairs to bed that night and Dustin was awake.

“So that went terribly” he said not looking up

“Hey, I tried to get out of it” I reminded him

“And if I knew you were just going to mail it in I would have let you”

“What does that mean?”

“It means you did a half ass job. You're a much better cook than that and you know it. You just didn't do your best. You've been doing that a lot lately. Every since you got back from Maine. Which is weird because that trip had the opposite effect on Wesley”

“Well I'm sorry I all of a sudden don't meet your standards in the kitchen anymore”

“Not just the kitchen” he mumbled

“What does that mean?”

“It's been months” he said with rolled eyes and raised eyebrows

“Oh don't even bring THAT up” I said “Go sleep on the couch”

He laughed at me and rolled over, clearly not taking that threat seriously. “Goodnight, Gabi”

Marriage is nothing like on TV.

Tori: Blue State

After moping around for the last few months, it's nice that the craziness of the last few weeks have forced me to get my mind off myself. This probably isn't going to be the type of post you guys generally expect or want from us, but I felt like I needed to clear my head a bit and this is my best outlet.

I've moved on a bit. Last time I checked in on herem I was still wondering what I was doing with myself after Alex. So far the only consequences have been the occasional sobbing bout of loneliness when I'm hormonal, and a lot more "me time." No big deal, so long as I remember not to let this become the new norm.

I find myself worrying about getting into a rut. It reminds me a bit of how my life was when I first got here, working as a telemarketer and keeping as far away as I could from romantic attention. I'm different now, I have the know-how and attitude to take control of my situation. But what does that mean... do I look for a relationship? Attempt a string of hook-ups? Stay single a little longer? Wait for a handsome prince to finally come my way? You could drive yourself crazy considering your options, and then they slip away.

Then the hurricane hit, and even though Philadelphia hardly got the worst of it, it still ranks right up there in the list of scariest moments of my life not directly related to my transformation. Sure, if I never went to the Inn I would never have wound up in Philadelphia and my experience with the Hurricane/Superstorm Sandy would be limited, but this is my home, my life. And last Monday, I was hunkered down with the folks and Mae, as well as my brother Ken, his wife Jana, and their kid, as they rightly guessed the Jersey shore would be a dangerous place to stay when this all went down. There was no group of people I'd be happier to face a life-threatening storm with.


The week of the election, though, I couldn't help thinking of my other family... my "old" family (I'd be reluctant to call them my "real" family by now.) Specifically my dad. He always had a weird way of thinking about politics. He always voted with his gut. The last election, when I was still Cliff, we had a long talk about it. He didn't particularly like Barack Obama, thought McCain would bring more experience or some such. He's not a lifelong Republican or anything - I think he probably voted Reagan in the 80's then went for Clinton in the 90's - but the way he put it, he had something against the idea that Obama was "popular." I was a young (albeit older than I am now... by some counts) idealist, so I went with Barack based on little besides my dislike for Sarah Palin.


This year, I've been exposed to an ugly side of politics, the way women are treated by those in power. It's not something I would have been conscious of as a man, or if I was it would be a very removed way, but seeing all these guys on TV these blowhards shooting their mouths off about subjects they know nothing about, it was a bit sickening. It kind of highlighted what a learning experience all of this has been, and I don't mean to alienate anyone with my personal politics, but this is just something I was thinking about, how my "views" have been shaped over the past few years just because in one night my entire life changed. I don't know, this sounded so much more meaningful in my head.

Since then, there was also Sara's wedding. I thought it was going to be a big event... Sara always truck me as the type of girl who dreamed of a big wedding, but in the past few weeks she confessed to me she was more happy to have a modest ceremony and get on with married life. It was a nice, low-key affair. Raine and I were standing by her side as she and Thom said their vows.

At the reception, I made a speech about how happy I was to be seeing them start their life together. I made some references, for nobody but myself, about the fact that I first saw them together not long after I was transformed into Tori, and seeing them together both scared me, and in a way, excited me... to know what love a man could have for a woman, and a woman for a man. Sara said she liked it, although her expression suggested she was hiding something. Maybe she was annoyed that it was "about me" and not them as much, even though I talked about watching them grow as a couple and taking my cues from them. Well, can't please everyone (although pleasing the bride probably would've been preferable.)

I tried to get into the festive spirit. I danced with a few guys, and they were happy to hit on me, and I was in a good enough mood to flirt back, but there were no bathroom hookups and I left alone.

As I settled in to bed, I thought about how much fun it was to just cut loose... without being "in a couple." Sure, I don't know where my next lay is coming from, but the prospect of playing the field is seeming more appealing to me than ever.

Matt/Gabrielle: My Big Fat Greek Body

So one of the coolest aspects about this blog thingy is that you guys respond to our posts. I like it because it gives me feedback on what are thoughts that not only are secret, but HAVE to be secret. I can't just go to a therapist and tell them that I'm a 20 something man in a middle aged woman's body. Although I'm sure they get things like that sometimes, but apparently the curse will prevent them from believing me. So apart from Lacey and the real Gabrielle, its good to get reactions/advice from people.

The real Gabrielle is doing just fine, relatively. She and Wesley wound up as a pair of sisters in California. So while Wesley will have similar adjustments as me Gabi won't have to adjust that much.


Anyway, while I LOVE hearing from you guys, the comment on my last post put it bluntly and suggested that I just give Dustin a blowjob. Maybe that person is a woman or gay and has sucked dick before, but for me personally the idea of doing that is just gross. I've read some of the posts from previous authors here, about how they finally came around to having sex as women, and all of them have one thing in common: at some point they were ready mentally. And I'm just not there.

I don't know if its being in a woman's body that makes me feel unsexy, or if it's being in this particular body that makes me feel that way, but when I look at myself in the mirror I don't think of sexual images. Some mornings I'll stare a little while longer, which is something I didn't do the first couple of weeks. I've got a pretty face, at least. Gabi's big brown eyes are far and away her best feature. Her hair is nice too, I suppose but such a chore to wash and try and deal with that I have a hard time appreciating it. I mostly put it back in a tight ponytail which shows the tiny bits of gray that are forming here and there on my scalp.

Below the neck things are more...jiggly. I wasn't an overly fit or muscular man, but I had a little tone. Now, its all flab and curves. I am completely devoid of muscle, I'd be surprised if I could lift 40 pounds, let alone do one pushup. I might be able to do a situp since even though I don't have any visible abs, I dont have a lot of belly fat. I don't know how much cardio or overall exercise Gabrielle does but it can't be a lot because I get winded and sore a lot. I dont even want to try running with all the jiggling that happens when I walk briskly or even up the stairs.

On a related note, I'd just like to say, on the record, that after having them for a few weeks that I officially hate boobs. Every guy says that if they had boobs they'd play with them all day. This is false. I can tell you that when they are attached to you that they stop being all that sexy. Especially the pair that I have. Even with the industrial strength bras that I have to squeeze into on a regular basis they still get in the way. Maybe its because I'm not used to them being there and I'll eventually learn to compensate for them, but it doesn't feel good when they bump into things.

Thats nothing compared to how big my butt is now. Its like sitting on a big pillow and I can feel it bounce everytime I walk. What makes it worse is that Dustin is apparently and "ass man" and will occasionally smack it when no one is looking. I've caught him staring a couple times. Its weird sharing a house with someone who looks at you like prey. It doesn't help that most of my wardrobe is designed to show it off, with tight jeans and knit pants.

I make an effort to dress unsexily. Or I just don't make an effort. This body is so much more high maintenance. So many things to clean and trim. Gabrielle's family is of Greek descent, and for whatever reason that makes her...hairier than normal. I didn't shave my legs, arms or armpits until a couple days ago when when the stubble was really itchy and Lacey caught me scratching it.

"Oh my god, when was the last time you shaved your legs, that is some seriously dark stubble"

"Um...never. I guess I didn't think to do it. Not something I've ever done before. Its not like I need to do it."

"Well, you do. Youre the one who said we have to live like were these people, so if I have to go to school, YOU have to shave your legs"

And so with a little extra prodding the next time we were alone in the house we found ourselves in the visibly awkward situation of me in the bathroom in a tank top and panties standing next to a teenage boy with a lady razor.

We started with the armpits. Lacey did the right one while giving me instructions before handing me the razor. I did the left one and managed not to get any cuts. It took a lot of shaving cream to get my legs covered but when they were she shaved my right one, giving me instructions and pretending not to notice when I gasped slightly when she got to my inner thigh. I nicked myself a little bit when I did the left, but when I was all toweled off they were silky smooth and not scratchy or itchy.

"Thanks a lot" I told Lacey

"Not done yet. Panties off" she commanded

"Excuse me?"

"Your 'bikini area' its probably gonna need some maintenance too"

"I dont plan on wearing a bikini" I blushed "And that area is maintenance enough already"

"Suit yourself" she said with a shrug.

And with that we parted. I appreciated her help though. She seems like she wants me to figure out how to be as normal as a woman as I can be.

She was right about the leg shaving too, it helped. I didn't feel AS gross and the smoothness was pretty nice. I'd find myself rubbing them together when nobody was looking.

Dustin seemed to agree with me. Although he was perfectly patient with me and never said a word about my hairy legs, he put a hand on them that night in bed and moaned slightly in approval before putting his arms around me and spooning me. Normally I'd throw him off but he didn't try anything and it was kind of cold so I let him hold me while we slept.

This DOESNT mean I'm giving him a blowjob.

Matt/Gabrielle: Friendly People

I like to think that everyone's life is like its own individual tv show, albeit most are pretty boring for most episodes. If someone were to watch the world through your eyes that's what it would be like a long, mostly boring, sometimes x rated TV show. As it stands most people only see their own tv show, and its interactive. People that go to the Trading Post Inn however, get to channel surf, and that's what's happened to me. I've been dropped into the middle of TV show that is 37 seasons in and I'm trying to learn the characters and plotlines subtly. I've got the basic stor down, as well as the main characters and how they interact. Its the the references to previous episodes and appearances of characters I don't recognize that throw me off.

I'll drop the the television analogy there and tell you that Gabrielle's neighbor came over today and bugged me for a few hours. It wasn't officially bugging, I think they're quite close, but this woman went on and on.

It started around noon when I was vacuuming and heard the doorbell ring. I answered the door cautiously, poking my head out as I always do, when a woman around my new age but a little shorter and a lot rounder pushed it open and gave me a tight hug. I hugged her back, because a person in my position can only assume every random hugger has the right to hug, which might be a bit dangerous.

I explained to this woman that I was cleaning but that just made her say "oh don't mind me, I'll keep you distracted" so my regular routine was slowed down a bit while this woman rattled on about people I didn't know while all the while I was thinking "who the fuck ARE you?"

She was, as I found out from texting the real Gabrielle afterwards, Dottie, our neighbor from two houses down. Our sons were in school together and they came over for barbecues and christmas parties and stuff.

She was also the head of the neighborhood association, which I found out as she was leaving she gave me a friendly reminder about how our garden wasn't up to code and we needed to weed it or face a fine. No I'm not kidding you, that's how these people live here in the suburbs.

That of course derailed my entire day. I had to find my gardening clothes and go out and get that taken care of, and by the time I had gotten back and finished my regular cleaning it was dinner time. Once everyone was fed and the kitchen cleaned I was so tired I went upstairs and collapsed around 7:30. I need a maid. Of course, that still wouldn't have prevented what happened next.

I was woken up a couple hours later to Dustin kissing my neck and rubbing my leg sensuously. At first it felt good, but once I had woken up enough to realize what was happening I turned around and pushed him away.

"I'm sorry honey, did I scare you?" he said moving closer again.

"Just woke me with a start" i said "I've had a long day"

"I'm sorry baby, do you want me to make you feel a lot better?" he said in a seductive manner that made me want to giggle.

"Sorry, honey. Not tonight" I said in a cliche way. I almost said I had a headache but didn't want to seem too much like a sitcom character.

"But its been a few weeks. I miss you" he said almost pleading. "Maybe just a blowjob?"

At that I said no firmer and meaner than I wanted to but he backed off and I got to fall asleep. He was gone as usual in the morning but this is going to be an ongoing problem. If I shut this guy out for the next year its going to cause a strain on their marriage. Maybe I can come up with some sort of medical excuse.

Any ideas?