Cal/Angie: One thing leads to another

After my little snit with Derek, I went into work the next day feeling totally drained.

I arrived at 10:00 to find a nice hot cup of tea waiting for me, courtesy of David, my co-worker.

It's some kind of berry concoction, I don't know the exact ingredients. It's Angie's favourite, and apparently David is under standing orders to bring one in whenever they are working together. I have to admit, it's grown on me, and the gesture is nice, but I feel like I'm taking advantage of him. He's refused my offers to pay him back.

I lifted it to my lips, which were still sore and sensitive from the night before, so I drank gingerly. David noticed my odd behavior and quickly asked me what was wrong.

I sighed, "Nothing, trust me. Just roommate problems."

"I see. You and princess perfect aren't getting along. What a surprise."

"Tch. She's definitely not perfect."

"I told you it was a mistake to move in with her," he said.

"You have no idea. She's just so entitled, she thinks the whole world revolves around her and she doesn't have to work for anything. She just really pushes my buttons lately."

I pointed out my bruised lip. He clasped his hands over my shoulders to get a closer look. "Wow, Ang, that's really not like you."

I couldn't focus on what he was saying. He's not that big of a guy, but he's tall enough that he had to slouch down to get eye-to-eye with me, and his mannish proportions reminded me how small everything about me currently is. Plus, he has a pretty rugged look that makes me feel embarrassed for dressing even somewhat daintily. He has a full beard!

We got to talking some more and he kind of went off about how "out of sorts" I've been lately. "You've lost your spark, you know? You lack energy, you lack focus and optimism, you're just not you. Everything you do is so withdrawn and tentative. Like you're worried about something all the time."

"Yeah, you could say that."

"It's just like you to worry all the time. I think Mona's become a toxic presence in your life. That's just my opinion, from the outside, but you really don't seem enthusiastic about the arrangement. And I hate to see you like that."

"Well thanks for your concern," I said, "There's just nothing I can do about it."

"Well there is one thing," he said, "And it seems like you haven't done it in a while."

My eyes bugged out. He wasn't suggesting--

No, he put his fingers to his lips to signify smoking marijuana. I breathed a sigh of relief, although this is also not something I'm up for. I mean, I hate to sound like a total prude or whatever, but I've never done drugs, I've barely even drank. But all this seems like a pretty big part of Angie's life.

So what to do... it's not like partaking in these habits ruined Angie's life, at least not visibly from where I'm standing. I know PSAs tend to exaggerate things, but I still have no urge. But either I keep on not doing it and people take note of how out of character it is, or I do it and I take another step in the direction of being "Angie" instead of Cal.

But maybe he has a point. There's a reason people start doing this right? And doesn't "suddenly turning into the opposite sex and being far from home" fit the bill? People smoke and drink to get away from their shitty life, so if anyone's got a good reason it's me.

I haven't taken him up on his offer - apparently there is a regular group from the store and friends that meet up for this sort of thing, so I'm guessing it would be okay just to tag along sometime, if I'm ever willing.

Talk about peer pressure, though.

Tori: Talking through it

I've been having these weirdly intense FB chat and text conversations with Sara lately. I guess it kind of dawned on both of us that I'm all she has right now. Everyone she knows from her old life thinks she's happily married and living in Delaware. Everyone she knows now thinks she's Cliff. Thom ran off back to the inn and has yet to be heard from. If she needs to vent to someone about what's really going on in her life, all she has is me. I've told her that if she wants, she's free to contribute to the blog, but she hasn't yet. She doesn't see herself as a writer, I suppose. She's not uncomfortable with me updating you guys on her situation, though, so hopefully I don't overstep my bounds. You already know plenty about everything anyway.

It's weird to have to talk her through this. To be someone's rock. She and Thom were together as long as I've known them, and while it hasn't always been smooth sailing, the idea that they were in it for the long haul, meant to be together, that was firm in my mind. But the Inn does strange things to people.

I guess you just need a deeper connection than your bodies. Even when it's not just "physical," that change in roles really does change everything, as we've seen. From what I understand, the breakup was a protracted process, even before I "discovered" them in Buffalo. They were just keeping it together long enough to get back to the Inn, and when I convinced Sara not to go back, that was it. Part of me feels responsible but I don't doubt that I did the right thing. In the end it was Sara's decision and I have nothing to apologize for. I'm worried about Thom, but if the fact that we haven't heard from him is any indication, I did the right thing.

Thom, if you're reading this... being "the woman" can't really have been that bad, can it? I hope wherever you are now, that you're satisfied. You lost a good thing.

I guess I just have that rational "male" side to me leftover, to where I can convince myself it's okay, and move on, and just don't know what to say to someone, a friend, a person I care about, who is still mourning that loss months later, still wishing things could be different even though there were reasons it all ended. I try to understand, Thom was a huge part of her life. You can't just close that off... but I guess I've never had that. As much as I miss Buddy or Alex, I know why it ended with both of them and I'm fine with it.

Which I guess means that I've still never really been in love, not to that extent... and that's really sad to me. But it's the hard truth, and far from the hardest thing any of us has had to face in life.

*Looks at "Forward" tattoo* Yep, this thing is paying for itself.

I just hope I'm doing a good job being "there for her." I want her to know her feelings count and that everything that's happened isn't her fault and... I don't know. See? No good at this.

Cal / Angie: Enough is enough

I don't know how much longer I can live like this.

Not necessarily "as a girl," although a look at the calendar shows that I'm going to have to brace myself in the next couple days, but as this way in particular. See, I don't know what kind of arrangement Mona and Angie had before Derek and I became them, but Mona hardly has a cent to her name and that means that the entire rent bill comes out of my measly paycheck. Groceries too. I'm basically feeding and housing this girl who does nothing but sit on the couch and watch reality TV and cartoons while I'm out there trying to pick up extra shifts at a not-very-busy holistic store.

I was going over my/Angie's bank account online and let out a grunt of frustration. Derek's response to this was "Don't do that, you're not sexy when you make that noise."

"I'm not trying to be sexy," I said, "I'm trying to scrape together enough money to keep us afloat. You need to find a job."

"Don't tell me what to do," he snapped back.

"I'm not telling you what to do, I'm telling you what we need. We can't survive like this. We're not at home with our parents paying for every little thing. I work my ass off for 45 hours a week and we can barely make rent. You do nothing, I'm sick of it!"

"Well it's not easy, there's no jobs," he whined. I called bullshit on that. We went back and forth for a while, I said he had to basically take the next thing that came up.

"God what are you, on your period already?"

My face got hot, my heart started pounding. I just couldn't take it anymore. The last thing I needed was him to start condescending and getting all sexist on me when he's on the same boat as I am AND making it worse for us by not working.

"Get up," I said walking over to him.

He did. He stood straight up and puffed his ample chest out. As we currently stand, I am about 5'4 and he's closer to 5'11 so he basically towers over me. My eye level is basically his chest.

"See something you like?" he quipped.

I balled my hand up into a fist, I clenched my teeth with rage, and I took a swing.

I missed, fell over and busted my lip on the coffee table. He laughed his ass off and I started to cry uncontrollably. I felt like shit.

"It's not fair," I whimpered, "I'm the one who has to do all the work and you expect to just sit on your ass, for what, a year? Are you mental? That's not how it works, Derek."

"I'm sorry," he cackled, "I just can't take you seriously! It's like fighting my little sister!"

"Don't call me that!" I screeched, "It's not funny! We're fucked! WE. ARE. FUCKED."

I took a breath and then added "And I'm not on my period... but I guess I'm PMS-ing pretty hard. I'm really stressed out right now and I don't know what do to."

"All right," he said, calming himself down, "Don't cry. Please. I'm sorry." He sat next to me. "I'm not used to this, I didn't think... I guess I thought it was okay. I'll find something."

Then he kissed me on my head like I was his fucking pet, and sat back down on the couch. He's got a job interview tomorrow, but somehow I still feel like the loser in all this.

Tori: Another night in.

After my last few attempts at dating, it feels like the universe just wants me to be alone.

I like to think I've grown, that I'm strong enough now that I won't date people just to keep from being alone. Part of me views solitude as a waste of a good body and youth - a return to old habits, comfort and extreme introversion. But for years I was so caught up with the men in my life that I almost used the mas a distraction: I became a girlfriend so I wouldn't have to learn how to really be Tori on my own. Now I am, and I look over at my closet and think "I could put on something sexy and go out and meet boys," and instead I think "Nah, let's have a Netflix night instead."

Raine came back from her trip a while ago, and we've been bonding. She's eager to get back into the dating game so I've been drafted into the wingwoman role, but I'm not overly comfortable with that. Dudes use wingmen because they're uncomfortable or insecure (I speak from experience) and Raine doesn't have that problem. Really, she just doesn't want to go out alone. I guess that makes her feel too easy or something. Not that I judge.

But there's something in the back of my mind... the "real" Alex (or maybe he wasn't the real one!) who dated Raine while in the body of our gay friend Danny told me he'd be back to try to get a second chance with her. I'm not sure how I feel about that, to be honest. For all I know he's a good guy (really, what do I actually know about him?) with honest intentions, but he's still involved with those Agency people, the ones who "my" Alex worked for. To my knowledge he hasn't made his return yet, and I doubt he'll make himself known when he does. I feel better off not knowing. It's better than lying. But that just makes me paranoid.

At least I've got Sara to talk to. Weird to think of her living up there in Buffalo, in the body that used to be mine. S/he's grateful, I think, to have me to talk to about her experience (and the feeling is mutual.) Especially now that Thom/Randi... well.

He went back, without her.

I told them what I knew, and I tried to convince them it was not a great idea, that they were basically walking into it. They had a disagreement over how to handle this information. He went, she stayed. We haven't heard from him since. Thom, that is - I say "him" even though the last time I saw him, he was a she. Now who knows what he is.


"I'm worried sick," Sara told me, "The fact that he hasn't even reached out to me is really worrying."

I wish I had words to comfort her, some assurance that he was in a good way, but I'm just as freaked. When I was spilling my guts about all my paranoid theories about the Agency or whatever, part of me really did not want to believe it went that far. Now, though...

Maybe a night out would do me good. Clear my head.

Trish / Robbie: The Deep End

On Sunday night, "Keisha" and I went to dinner with "our" parents. I hadn't seen James in some time, and from his last post I half expected him to show up with his face garishly painted with makeup wearing a low cut top and stripper heels. But no, he seems to have this "feminine" thing down, at least reasonably enough that an outsider wouldn't ask questions. You could nitpick the details, but he actually looked quite swqeet.

It was an awkward dinner, though. I have not spent much time talking to any of the "Lowell Crew" since we got here, besides occasionally advisory texts to the "gals." The girl in me wants to gossip and swap stories, but the guys kinda backpedal when I ask how they feel about being girls. And at a family dinner where we're "in character" there's not much opportunity to do so. James actually performed well, he's a very outgoing, charismatic guy when he wants to be, even though he had to account for hwy Keisha wasn't "looking for work in her field" at the moment. He was still very vibrant and easygoing, the opposite of me.

Since we got to Vancouver, I've been working Robbie's job, painting houses. It's really just a summer job, and while Rob's in University I managed to get his courses deferred. There was some bureaucracy there but really it's just a matter of pushing the right buttons and waiting for confirmation. Working from 7 til 6 some days, I come home exhausted so I don't socialize much, but driving to different work sites every day has given me both an appreciation for the city here, and a lot more comfort driving than I used to have. It's all about diving in the deep end, I suppose.

I drove James home after dinner and we got to talking. He had this grin on his face as the conversation turned to certain sensitive subjects. I won't say what he's asking about (you can probably guess!) but it's not anything I felt comfortable talking about with him, let alone revealing on this blog. Not just because it's personal, but because I don't even know how to put it. It's like losing one sense and gaining another.

I think being a girl has mellowed him out a bit. He's toned down his "player" persona and really comes across as a caring, thoughtful person. That might just be his feminine tone of voice, though. I've had to remind myself several times while talking with him that this is an 18-year-old guy trapped in a woman's body. He's really leaned in to the act.

As for me... well, I don't know. I'm not trying to be a "guy" but I guess I'm not being that girly, either. All the physical labor helps. A level of activity that would have made me cringe back then is now basically all I do, and then I get home and I feel a little sore but I wake up in the morning and I'm ready to go. I feel resilient and powerful.

Cal / Angie: Day in day out

It's already become freakishly normal. I crawl out of bed at 7:30 in the morning, stretch, and slink to the washroom. I sit on the toilet. I brush my teeth. I undress from the tank top and shorts I use as pjs. I run a brush through my hair because I've learned that if I don't, it gets all tangled in the shower and then it's impossible to un-knot. I'm thinking abut cutting it... the way I see it, even if I just get it cut once, it will mostly grow out by the time I give this body back. Assuming I get the chance to. It's only August. It feels like an eternity will pass between now and next spring... and who knows what might happen by then.

That's usually what I'm thinking of, every single morning, see. How whether I like it or not, I'm stuck for now, and if I don't make peace with it soon, it's really going to kill if I can't get back where I belong. I breathe a deep sigh then step into the shower, fussing with the knobs to get the heat just where I want it.

I just stand in there for a while, letting the water fall over me. I used to clamp my eyes shut but there's no point. I already know every inch of skin on this girl, you know? Every hair and mole. The one thing that still kind of excites me is when I soap up, because hey, even if I'm the naked girl, it's still a naked soapy girl. I feel the weight of my dripping wet breasts in my hands and lather them in a circular motion. I'd be lying if I said I didn't at least like that. I get my own private show every morning if I like it or not. And if I'm not in the mood, I just put it out of my mind.

Horrifying, then exciting, then normal, and then sometimes exciting again.

After I turn the water off, I take a moment to try to wring out my hair. If I'm in a hurry, which I usually am, I give it at least a blast with the dryer and wrap it in a towel. Then I slip into a nice warm fuzzy bathrobe and tiptoe back to my room.

I've already talked a bit about what it's like to get dressed, to choose from my options when it comes to clothes. I prefer to cover as much as possible, but Angie seems to have favoured loose, skin-baring clothes. I try to make it so that at least my bra is covered. I think it's weird that so many girls are just cool letting guys see their brastraps. Like, to me, that counts as underwear. But Angie doesn't own a lot of t-shirts and hoodies, which is what I mostly wore as a guy, so I just choose something that looks okay and layer a cardigan over it, despite the heat. (Actually, Vancouver's climate is quite breezy.)

Once I'm sure I've got everything fitted properly and in place, I take one last moment to breathe. That's because I know Derek's out there. He's such a couch potato it's almost revolting. I don't know what he does all day, besides watch TV and maybe play with himself. Must be nice, but we're going to have a PROBLEM soon.

He's just ALWAYS there. Usually he falls asleep on the couch at night, so when I get up it wakes him up. And when I get home in the evening, he's still there. I'm trying to get him to clean the place, do dishes, maybe even cook and do laundry, but I think he just thinks of this as a vacation and he doesn't have to do anything. I hate that kind of self-important attitude. I just feel so intimidated by him, and maybe it's because of the way he looks. For one, he's way taller than me, so anytime I get upset he just stands up and stares me down and basically dares me to challenge him. I'm not going to attack someone who's 6 inches taller than me and a girl - even if I'm technically one too.

I think maybe I'm just conditioned to be forgiving to attractive women, which Derek sadly is, and he's aware of it.

I've heard otherwise, but I'm not willing to accept the idea that I might be one too. Sometimes when Derek's feeling nice, he'll call me "Bright Eyes" in a really sweet tone on voice. The other day I was running around picking up garbage and he said "Hey, you know your butt really jiggles when you walk around like that."

I froze and turned to him. "Don't tell me that."

"Maybe it's just because you're so clenched tight. Get the stick out of there."

And I was just burning with anger because if he thinks that, then guys I work with, or see in the store, probably noticed and think even worse things. Every time I think I'm getting comfortable and acting like myself, I notice some guy give me the "look" and it sends a chill up my spine. Like, no thank you, I'm not interested. Gluh. Can't I just be? Or maybe it's my fault, and I need to learn to take a compliment about this body.

I just need a break, a little privacy and space. I'm starting to get edgy here with this routine.

Roy / Christine: What men want

It was Friday night and I was done work for the weekend. I got home, kicked off my shoes and went upstairs to change. I heard his voice through the door: "I ordered Chinese for dinner, hope that's okay."

I sigh. Eating take-out as often as we do is not good for the body. The poor guy can't cook and I don't always have the energy when I get home, so this is our compromise. I just try not too eat too much of it. So after a quiet sigh to myself, I call back, "Okay!"

He cracks the door open and I can see him peek at me. I turn, throwing my arms over my half-dressed body, as if he hasn't seen this body naked hundreds of times over their years together. Maybe so, but it's not my choice to let him see. After a month, he's hardly a stranger to me, though. I've had relationships move much faster than this.

I e-mailed Christine after a while, saying "What about sex?" And her response amounted to "I don't want to think about it." Hardly encouraging, but not a bitter opposition. I try to psych myself into it as he approaches, and I let my arms fall from covering my breasts. He wraps his arms around my waist, letting them sit just above my butt. My hands press against his soft, hairy chest.

He tilts his head down and kisses me. I like being kissed. It's kissing back that I've had to get used to, in all honesty. Our tongues dance around each other and he pushes me toward the bed. I can feel his hardness poking into me. What's more, I can feel the wheels turning in my own body. I'm getting wet.

I don't want to have sex with him, though. I still just can't get used to the idea, as much as I've grown accustomed to his presence, and the physical reality of being a woman. My whole anatomy down there still features a part that I've never used, that I just don't feel right about sharing with him yet. But there is something else I can do, and I suspect he'll prefer it. I slide his pants off him, boxers and all, and begin to lower my head to his lap. He practically squeals with joy. I really think most married men would rather get a blowjob than sex. They don't have to do anything. And personally, I'm a bit of a pro at this. If I like someone, I'm all too happy to provide this service. For my own sake, too, the more conventional position isn't something I'm ready for yet. I wouldn't know what to expect and I'm not eager to take that liberty with Christine's body. Yet.

He's not used to this kind of treatment and it shows. He lasts barely a minute, leaving me to tend to the mess. It's just as well, because the food will be here soon. We lie side by side and he wraps his arms around me. I breathe a deep sigh of contentment. He whispers a "thank you" in my ear and I get a little tingle. That comfort I spoke of has already turned to something else. I tentatively slip my fingers down the front of my panties, possibly without him even knowing, but before I can get more than a vague sense of what I'm feeling down there, the doorbell rings. He gets up and pulls on his pants to answer it, and I consider continuing without him, but think better of it.

We eat quietly, with almost no comment on what has just happened. He's afraid to ask questions, because he doesn't want to undo the spell I'm under, whatever possessed his wife to add that to their usual routine. For the rest of the night I was pretty pleased with myself.

The next morning was a different story, as I regarded my body sadly in the mirror. I inherited a body full of bumps and lumps and while a lot of people might be okay with that, including Terry, I'm just not. I don't like the way my gut sags and love-handles bulge, the way I get tired just standing around all day. I'm not THAT far overweight for Christine's body type but it's enough to make a difference and certainly not up to the standards I set for myself. Being fine with yourself is one thing but being truly happy with your body is another. I can't go on like this, falling into Christine's patterns just because it's what she did. I need to take care of this body in a way she didn't. I wouldn't be happy with myself if I didn't try. Call it a project. I know women's fitness is a lot different from men's, and it might not even necessarily be about losing pounds as much as it is about firming and toning up, eating right and improving conditioning. This is who I am, and for the duration of my time as Christine, it's going to be who she is, too. That's final. Time to get to work.

Tori: Forward

It's been sort of quiet here, lately. I've been working in the background, offering my sympathies to Matt and Lila for their mix-up, advising the folks out in Vancouver as much as I can... dealing with Thom and Sara.

Meanwhile, I've just kind of knuckled into the single working gal lifestyle. After those recent dating debacles, I kind of gave into the idea that my romantic life is currently at a low. As much as I want a little something, I can't force it, I can't try to make it work with someone that won't fit my life. All I can do is keep looking.

So imagine my surprise, and slight exasperation, when I got a text from an old flame. Buddy.

He and I left things on kind of a sour noted, you may remember... I broke up with him pretty much specifically to be with Alex. Yeah, that worked out great for me. But it wouldn't have happened if I didn't already have doubts about our relationship. Sometimes it felt like he really got me, and sometimes he seemed totally mystified by me. Hard to blame him. He was my first boyfriend, my training wheels. It was like dating my old self, and sometimes that probably tripped him up. I was attuned to him in a way he couldn't quite be with me, because there will always, always be something he doesn't know about me. That hasn't changed. But that doesn't mean I have a clear conscience.

We've mended things somewhat since then. It starts with a "Happy birthday" on Facebook. It moves on to become a text conversation about a recent movie we both liked. Then occasional catch-ups... "How's Texas," "Good, still working, how's Philly" "Good, just got a new job." And it just kind of snowballs.

So maybe I shouldn't have been shocked when he texted me the other week saying "I'm gonna be in Philly soon. We should get drinks." But all I could think was, "I do not want to deal with this right now."

Plus, I'm not going to lie, part of me thought he was going to come out and say he too was an Inn victim. Hell, he traveled enough. But no.

I needed a treat, though. I've been so good and quiet the past few months, since Nameless Boy and me had our last tryst (boy, that did not end cleanly though.) Buddy will always represent a certain time in my life, and the way things ended does not erase the good times. I like him. I thought I loved him. If it was closure, or healing, or whatever he needed, I could give it. I think we're both mature. That said, I couldn't help but compliment him on his beard, and when he told me I looked great too, I felt myself blush.

It got off to a very awkward start. He asked how Alex was, and I admitted we weren't together anymore. And he kind of screwed his face into this judgmental smirk like "Oh, I would have thought that since you dumped me for him, you two would have to be soulmates." That's not what he said, obviously, but it feels like that's what he was thinking.

I told him that since we've been getting along really well lately, I would rather we not delve into any bitterness, and he agreed that would be wise. He asked if I missed him, and I said that was a really complicated question. He could be difficult, stubborn, frustrating at times... but that's men. Hell, that's women, too. We butted heads. That's natural.

But there was a lot of good that went along with that. Probably more good than bad, overall, it's just that things became unworkable near the end. Him in Houston, me in Philly.

"Was that it?" he asked. "If I stayed in Philly, would we still be together?"

"Probably not," I admitted shamefully. "Because I already met Alex, and he..." I stopped myself. I've learned that pretty much my entire relationship with Alex was pretty much a con, an attempt to induct me into the Agency, the people that use bodies like currency. Everything he was was just designed to win me over, and he had a lot of resources to put toward that. I finally settled on, "It was complicated. And honestly, at the time, Alex seemed like the better choice. I regret that."

And then I felt it. That twinge of release. Admitting that I made a mistake, years ago, when I dumped Buddy for Alex. That sort of opened the floodgates and all my memories of being attracted, being enthralled by Buddy came back. I learned forward and propped up my cleavage. Alex sat up and took notice. It was a lapse in judgment, but a quick one.

"I'm engaged," he said. "Well, I'm getting engaged. I'm planning on proposing when I get back to Houston."

"Oh wow," I said, sitting back. "Um, congratulations. That seems quick... um, I mean, how long have you..."

"Like a year," he said. "Yeah, maybe that is quick, but we're not getting any younger, and we're just... crazy about each other."

"That's amazing," I said, feigning sincerity, "Congratulations again. What's her name? Tell me all about her."

"Her name's Victoria. But she goes by Vicky. She's blonde, short, so cute... 23."

"Okay, you can stop," I said. "That's great to hear, but I've gotta ask... if you're so crazy in love, why are we having drinks right now?"

"Well, I'm here in Philly on a job interview. Actually it's in Trenton, but that's 40 minutes away. And she's a Houston girl, and I'm worried that history's going to repeat itself. So I thought, I don't know, if I take this job, and she doesn't want to move... what are the odds you and I could pick up where we left off?"

Ohhhhhhhhh no.

"Let me tell you," I said with a sigh, "If there's someone you would leave your girlfriend for, given the chance... you should not propose to her. If you really want to marry her, and she doesn't want to leave Houston, don't leave Houston. Don't make the same mistake twice. You and I had great times, but that's the past. There were reasons we broke up, beyond Houston, beyond Alex, beyond anything either of us could comprehend. Trust me on this, Buddy. I don't go backwards. That's something I've learned over the past few years."

He took a moment to take this all in, then he kind of smirked. "I like that. You don't go backwards. Smart. Don't know that I agree, but whatever works." He then waved over the waitress and we paid our separate checks and parted ways.

And I'd be lying if I said there wasn't a twinge of doubt when I watched him go, about whether that was the right thing to say. Maybe I could've just played his game and told him I'd be there for him and get a happy ending. But I'm so sick all this drama and I don't want to be his escape clause. If he leaves that Vicky chick, it's going to be because he doesn't love her as much as he thinks, and hopefully if he stays with her it's not because he doesn't have a backup lined up.

A few days later I booked an appointment at a tattoo parlor. I've wanted to get a tattoo off and on over the years but I could never decide what, until that conversation hit me, and I decided I could use an ever-present reminder of it. So I drew up a design and had them ink the inside of my right forearm with the word FORWARD and two triangles. I've been in this body for four years, and gosh darnit I want to feel like I left my mark on it. Har har.

Ellie: Cutting in

I never thought it could be good.

For a long while, up to and including coming out to Iris, I was just resigned to the idea that my life was shit. That I had inherited a bunch of anxiety problems from Ellie, and my sexuality - or her sexuality, or our sexuality - compounded those. I felt awful all the time, didn't sleep well, stressed out and broke down time and again over stupid shit, shit that I know in the long run doesn't mean anything, but... yeah. It got to me. It was practically neverending, and trust me, the last thing I wanted to be was a fucking sob story.

Things didn't change after I came out. There was still finals, and graduation, and the vague feeling that people knew and judged me. I asked Emily if people were talking, and she said no. I asked if she had any plans, and she said yeah: she was going back to the Inn.

That hurt a bit. When I was a guy, she was my girlfriend, and I never really got over the guilt of letting her come to Maine with me. What's more, even though we haven't really seen eye to eye all the time since we transformed, I've still relied on her as a friend and confidante. Our relationship has been strained though, because after I admitted to the blog that I was into girls, she took it to mean that I still had feelings for her, and she went out of her way to make it clear that was not in the cards. I didn't say that's what I wanted, and I guess I'd be lying if I said I never imagined... but no, that wouldn't work anyway.

I questioned her decision to go back to the inn, rolling the dice to get a new body, and give Emily's body to someone else, and she reasoned that it was the perfect opportunity. She did the legwork of finishing high school for Emily, and now whoever got the body next wouldn't be tied to any place or life decision. Independence. I had to admit, it was a smart call. And then she said something that made me think twice.

"Do you want to be Emily?"

She's going to the Inn on the last week of the summer, basically leaving Emily's body in limbo all winter. Imagine that. This time next year I could be her. There are certain upsides to that. Emily is more conventionally attractive than Ellie, I would say (though I think I look fine.) Her family still has money, and seems to love and support her. There's also that freedom she was mentioning. And there's the nice big bonus of: she's straight, with no anxiety problems that I know about. I could have such an easy time as her.

But is that what I want for myself? Listen, whoever you are. reading this, I assume you're comfortable in your life. You know it could always be better, but you would think twice before taking that deal, wouldn't you?

In the end, it's not about being gay or straight, it's about taking a way out. I've been with girls, I've been with guys, I've been on both sides. At one point in my life as Ellie I probably would've loved to simplify it again. I remember Fletcher telling me that he had gone back and forth so many times that his sexuality was just a big blur. I'm not at that point and I don't know that I would ever be. There's been points, as Ellie, when I thought I would never be with anyone again. If being Emily meant I could go back and feel something familiar, I would really, truly consider it.

But that's not the whole story.

It was prom night. I convinced Iris to go, even though she's not the most social creature. I spent the whole night keeping her company, and I didn't mind. We're pals. I've spent a lot of time wrapped up in my own shit that it was good to get out and enjoy things, and to have her with me.

We went to an after party, there were drinks. Iris is kind of a lightweight, and before long she was feeling ill, so I walked her home. I had my arm threaded through hers to keep her steady. We got to her house, and she said, "My parents aren't home, mind coming in for a sec?" Sure, of course.

We got in the door. She removed her heels and wrapped her arm around me, gave me a big hug, and said "Ellie... there's something..."

And she didn't finish the thought. She just began kissing me, first on the cheek, then on the lips. It took me a second to get over the shock and pull away.

She seemed confused. "What do you... you... you like girls, don't you?"

"I do, I do," I reminded her, "But I just... I never thought of... doing that."

"I have," she said. "When I first thought maybe you were into girls, I thought maybe... I mean, I hoped it meant you were thinking about it. Then when you told me, I haven't been able to stop thinking about it since."

"You're gay?" I said in shock.

"Yes!" she said, drunkenly slurring her words, "I'm sorry I didn't tell you then, I thought... I thought maybe you knew and that's why you were telling me. I couldn't handle it if you rejected me, though."

The idea had never crossed my mind. I guess I need to work on my gaydar.

She looked like she was going to cry, so I sat next to her and said "Just give me a minute, okay, this really surprised me."

"I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have done anything, forget it, you don't have to..."

"No, Iris, just wait," I said. "You're my best friend. And I just had no idea."

"If you don't want to ruin the friendship, I understand."

"Well," I said, "What's done is done..."

Then I wrapped my arm around her and pressed my lips to hers. I haven't kissed someone, really kissed them, in a very long time, especially not someone I liked that much. It was like a light went on, I swear.We kissed, then took a break, then kissed some more, then fell asleep on the couch in each others' arms.

When she woke up, she rolled over and looked at me. "I never thought I'd actually lose my virginity on prom night."

I laughed and kissed her, "You hardly lost your virginity."

"Well, when does a lesbian lose her virginity then?"

"I don't know," I admitted, "Guess we have a lot to learn."

"Well, I look forward to it."

Since then, I've wondered if maybe it was a mistake. Maybe, as much as I liked Iris as a friend, maybe certain other aspects of our personalities might prove incompatable. I don't know, maybe I'm overthinking it... but we took this leap and I intend to see it out. I'm tired to stifling myself.

It's just that sometimes I forget that Iris and I aren't really the same age. Whenever I find myself giving in and having fun with her, I remember that my experience is way, way, way beyond hers. Hell, even my experience in this life, let alone the past, is more significant. I can't expect her to live up to my, well, expectations, and I feel bad trying to lay all my baggage and needs at her feet.

So I'm just trying to go along and enjoy what we do have, and worry about the rest later. It's been a really nice month. That's something that I don't say often.

Cal / Angie: Dressing the part

One thing I like about the girl I became is that Angie was kind of a hippie girl, so when it comes to appearances I don't get the sense that I'm acating out of character for her if I don't put in much effort. I go to work in the morning with tangled, messy hair (it's long and reddish brown) and no make-up, and nobody looks at me like I'm out of place (although sometimes I can see flashes of sneers on my way to work, it's not like I care.)

That said, she still did leave some girly things about herself, open for discussion: she does own several things of homemade make-up from all natural ingredients (face creams, lip balms, that kind of thing.) When I woke up as her, her legs and armpits were shaved, and I haven't tended to that. I wonder if maybe I should. It's still summer, and while Vancouver is a pretty breezy place, so I can get away with covering up, she owns a number of tank tops and shorts that I usually wear, so I would feel weird wearing them and revealing the ever-darkening growth under my arms.

That said, like... how do you get into that? Do you just make a night of it? I can remember not too long ago being excited to even get hair under there, and now I'm considering shaving it all off? Should I even be embarrassed, since it's only natural? I know that if I was a guy and I saw a girl who looked like me, I would cringe at seeing hairy armpits and legs. Plus as it's growing in it's really irritating my skin.

Holy crap, I just re-read that paragraph and realized I wrote the phrase "If I was a guy." I almost deleted it and rephrased to closer to what I actually meant, but I dunno... just think about it. I'm not a guy right now. That's been made very obvious by the last week, if the previous weeks of sitting to pee weren't a tipoff. I don't think I'm comfortable making decisions based on how others see me, though, so it's all the better if guys don't like what they see. I don't want them to.

That said, it's eerie how comfortable I have gotten in this body. I'm not so squeamish to undress it, to walk around with it, to bathe it. Clothes are a whole other matter. Angie has a lot of summery dresses and I just don't feel comfy slipping into one of them. I tried one, and I don't like the way they fit or the way they flow down around my legs. Most of them are pretty short, so they can be unpredictable in the breeze, and when I sit down it's basically like sitting directly with my butt to the surface. But she only has a few pairs of shorts, and two pairs of jeans: one low rise, one high waist. The high-waisted ones feel really stuffy and don't really "breathe" in certain ways, and the low rise ones make me feel like they're going to slip down and reveal everything, especially when I bend down to get something off a low shelf. Mainly, I wear shorts and small, low-rise underwear so that they don't creep up.

I've made peace with "the girls," though. They're not huge, but I definitely feel them bobbing around under my top. I like that, during hot days, girls tops tend to have lower necklines so that they air out more, but I suspect it's really just for showing off. It still feels a little weird to have them on the edge of my vision, like, just under my eyeline. For the first few weeks I would wonder "What's that under my... oh, right, those." I think half the time I was literally just staring down at them, amazed at their existence, and I still catch myself idly running my hands over them when I think nobody's looking. Real girls... probably don't do that. But if I may say so, they feel pretty amazing, real soft and sensitive, not like I would have imagined. It just sucks that my only options are to cram them into a bra or let them hang and sway, with all the world watching them go. There's no way for them not to be on display. And they're only a 36B, so even though mine feel hefty, Derek's tits are D-cups. So I can only imagine what lugging those things are like for him. (I should note, though, that he doesn't leave the house and mostly wears sweats.)

So I feel like I've got the "average girl" or even "modest hippie girl" look down. I've found what I'm comfortable with. James can keep his experiments, and I'll stick to my routines.

Roy / Christine: Comforts of (someone else's) home

It would be nice to hover outside myself, on a Sunday morning, and just observe Terry and Christine as a couple, lying in bed, having breakfast together, going for a drive. So far this experience has been dotted by nice little things like that, guilty pleasures considering they have been taken from somebody else and given to me.

I have to admit, it's nice to have this level of comfort. I know I've never had a relationship that functions as well as Terry and Christine's probably does. Let's just say I don't tend to date the kind of guys who stay the night and cuddle all morning. There was a time I would never have thought that's what I wanted either.

We've gotten into this nice routine that works fairly well considering who and what I am. I work most days, come home and have dinner. We watch TV and drink wine, snuggled up on the couch, and then go to bed. The young married life. Suits me fine. Besides his occasionally kisses and pats on the butt, Terry isn't overly forward, and now that I've gotten to know him a bit more I don't shudder at the idea of having his arms around me. I'm just trying not to enjoy it too much.

There's the problem, isn't it? This isn't my life and if it were, I probably wouldn't give Terry a second look on the street, let alone sit through date night with him... he's pudgy and balding and currently out of work, and sometimes very particular about things while also having huge blind spots about other things. But I like having stepped into this comfort zone, this well-worn relationship where I'm not trying to impress him, nor he me. Even though I am patently not his wife, he treats me like I am and I just... accept it, I guess. Maybe she and I aren't such different people. Who knows.

Or maybe, and this is a hypothesis that might freak the others out too much if I say it but I need to put it out there... maybe I'm more than just Christine's body right now. I'm not talking about memories or habits or things like that, but that ineffable something that makes a person who they are. I feel like me, like Roy, but I catch myself responding to things ever so slightly differently than Roy would have. We don't know the true nature of this curse, and we don't even know the true nature of the human mind, so how one affects the other is entirely uncharted territory. Maybe Christine left more of herself with me than we could know.

It's not crazy. It's a known fact that concussions, strokes and brain traumas can change peoples' personalities. We like to think we are this single unchanging thing, but we're not, we're a bunch of complicated wires bathing in hormones, and those hormones are provided by the body. My mind, all my memories of myself are currently swimming in the stuff that made Christine who she was. Maybe this isn't news to you readers, but to me it's fascinating and scary. It's like losing yourself, but not.

Maybe it's not that big a deal, or maybe it's just a bigger deal to me than the others because I am "in the thick" of it with Terry here. I'm just saying there might be a deeper reason why the smell of his cologne triggers a strangely warm feeling inside me, why I can both be frustrated with him as a human and find him oddly appealing as a man. And maybe I'm more receptive to it than the others because I've had to think more about who and what I am, in life than these kids who are now wearing the faces of slightly older women and men. I hope that, when and if they realize something truly strange is going on, it doesn't put them off too much.

The difference between them and me is that right now, they have the option to ignore it, and I don't. But at least it doesn't feel as much like torture like I was afraid it would.

Cal / Angie: A Bloody Headache

My period ended up lasting 6 days. Six anguishing days when my new uterus as rebelling against me, my head felt like a lightning storm, my breasts were sore. Six days I can look forward to every month. Days during which I was an impatient nervous wreck, lying curled up in bed, Googling "proper tampon use." This led me to this cute video. When the little girl shouts "Suck it up, this is your life now!" I clenched my teeth. At least it's only my life for a year. Derek, meanwhile, decided to play helpless victim, as if I wasn't going through it at the same time. He guilted me into making a tampon run, because he still doesn't have any money of his own.

I wrote down all my notes, my thoughts and impressions, and e-mailed them to the other ex-guys, in case they'll find them useful. I was reminded of that episode of South Park where the guys think they're getting periods. It felt so bizarre just to write down these details about myself.

Frankly, the fact that half the world goes through an experience like this every month, and I hardly knew anything about it, I'm amazed. And a little saddened. Maybe there should be a bit more open discourse about it. or maybe to women, it's just not that big a deal. Life can't come to a screeching halt for the duration. They learn, they get over it, they move on. I don't know. I guess I will.

I was reading over James' post, and I almost had to laugh. I certainly don't feel very sexy. I feel self-conscious and weird about dressing in another person's clothes, still. Wearing her underwear, clasping her bra over these breasts... like, a lot of these don't match, is there a rule about that? Nobody has objected yet to the way I dress as Angie, but I'm very careful not to wear anything cleavage-revealing. I don't even like wearing anything sleeveless or strapped so that you can see my bra, because that's just so weird to me! And I haven't done laundry since I've gotten here. This body is still so weird and uncomfortable to me that I can't imagine why women put themselves through the heck of makeup and sexy clothes for guys. I know I've gotten a few looks just by being out there au naturel, and it's freaky.


My advice is just to do what's comfortable, and if you're comfortable girling it up then all power to you. Me, I'll stick with the full coverage tops even in summer, and jeans.Even though they don't fit like my old jeans... the way they ride up and whatnot, but I guess that's permissible. After all I don't need as much room down there. God, guys, fashion is weird.

James / Keisha: Enjoy it while it lasts

I was reading Cal's post about getting his period. That's some messed up stuff and I guess it's going to happen to me. But shit, dude, that's out of my hands, right? So whatever. Let it happen.


It's not like I think being a chick is a good thing, but I think crying's kinda an overreaction. These girls have pretty cool lives. I've got an easy job and a sweet apartment. Okay, my roommate is kinda a bitch but I don't see her too much. Kick back, try on some clothes, paint your nails. Get into it, I say.

I'm not saying dive in or anything, mostly I just do shit like this around the house to keep myself entertained. Maybe I'm not the hottest chick in the world, but every girl can be pretty, except maybe the real ugly ones, but I'm amazed how much work they put into it. I wanna learn that shit. I'm wearing a pair of lacey purple panties right now that are basically see through. Why do they even own shit like that? To turn guys on? Because they like the feeling of wearing them under their clothes? I'm gonna wear some under my jeans tomorrow when I go to work at the bookstore, and just laugh about it privately. This is fucked up. I can almost do the splits. In the past few days I've worn dresses that show off my cleavage and cherry lip gloss, just for the fuck of it. I'm feeling my nipples right now. They're pretty amazing.

I dunno. I'm fascinated. I've also been drinking a lot. Not only is the drinking age in Canada 19, but we're over 21 anyway, so my advice to my fellow dudes and dudettes and both, is to go nuts. You only live once. I'm not saying you should prefer being a chick, but if you cut loose and treat it like a vacation, you won't regret it.

My advice for life anyway.

Cal / Angie: Get through this

Got kind of a 1-2 punch this weekend. The first was when I started bleeding. The second was when I got a text from my old phone number.

The first happened while I was at work. I guess I'll be in this body long enough to get used to this, to know what to look out for, but it took me completely by surprise and left a mess on my clothes. When I realized what happened, I turned to my co-worker Roz and asked if I could go home real quick to change. She gave me this look, like "You silly girl, you should be familiar with this by now." I was completely embarrassed.

So I got home, hurried to my room and just as soon as I'm ready to get dressed and go I hear Derek's voice: "Yo Cal, that you? Guess what, my pussy's bleeding!"

Great, so, we have that in common.

"Yeah..." I said weakly, "Mine too."

The tampons are in the drawer. I saw them right away when we moved in but I put out of my mind the idea that I might actually have to use one (or many!) It's a... a thing, that goes in you... that's not right. But I had to stop it up somehow, so...

I paused, with the thing in my hand. Derek calls in, "You need help getting it in there?"

"Shut the hell up!"

He comes closer to the door. "Just tryin' ta help, geez. Don't be embarrassed."

"God," I said, trying to work through it, "How do women go through this every month?" And the sad answer is that I'm about to find out. I guess you just grit your teeth and get through it.


The next day, I was off and I wanted to do nothing but sit around the house. Derek had the same idea, but that's his only idea. He's such a pain in the ass to live with, because Mona didn't leave him a job or really any other identity other than that body and this apartment. So he's turned out to be an incredibly lazy ass. And on days when I want to stay inn, we just sit around and drive each other crazy. I don't even know if he was doing anything, but our personalities just don't mix.

After I had enough of him, I went to my room. I hadn't checked my phone all day and I noticed there was a light indicating a new text. It asked if I was the real Cal Malloy, and if they were fully understanding what was happening back in Maine. My heart began to race and I bristled at the thought of that guy walking around with my body but... but I know he'll have an easier time than I am. I told him that if he ever needed anyone, I'd be there. Then I cried my eyes out because even though I knew it was going to happen, it still hurt and I'm just not strong enough to put up with this stuff. Everything I used to be is now being controlled by some stranger, and my future is completely dominated by whether or not that person decides to let me have it back (if that's even possible... see Matt and Lila.)

And then that was it. I was done. I am done. Done hoping that somehow this is going to go away anytime soon. Done screaming at the world... for now at least. I don't get to say "I don't want to go to Canada, be a girl and work in a hippie store." I don't get control over anything and it sucks. There is NOTHING I can do but be who I look like and learn to like it.

I don't know what that means, but I'm just going to keep doing what I'm doing and hope it all works out. It can't get any worse, right?

RIGHT?

Ugh, 3 or 4 more days of this.

Mike / Lila: The joke's on me

It's tough going to a home that's not really yours. I love my mom and everything, but my relationship with her is very different from Lila's. I remember spending weeks in Minnesota as a teenager during the summer, resentful about being away from home and my friends, having to eat the food she cooked, sleep in a guest room, and only having my sister as company. I guess some things never change, since I've only got myself as company, and I am my sister. What a joke.

As soon as that became optional, I opted not to. Mom and I became a bit distant, and Lila and I did too until she got a bit older and reached out to me. They've moved at least once or twice since I've been to Minnesota. Things are different. It's a nice big house, and as Lila, I have a real "room." (I don't judge, lots of 20-somethings live with their parents.) They live with Mom's boyfriend or fiance or whatever, Arno. I know jack-all about him.

In the summers, Lila works as a lifeguard. She's a really strong swimmer. The joke gets better: I'll be spending the better part of the summer in a swimsuit. I used to lifeguard, too, but I haven't brushed up lately. So while I could technically perform this job without much problem, I should probably take a refresher course on the downlow so that I don't accidentally let anyone get killed. Mostly the job is just sitting in the high chair and blowing the whistle when anyone runs or rough houses. But you never know when it could get serious.

I'm not in any serious trouble, I don't think. Out of everyone I know, I probably have the least serious situation (even Lila, as me, might have things more difficult.)  But at the end of a very trying week, I am still frustrated and embarrassed to be rifling through my sister's clothes for something I can dress this body in so I can go out and get a drink, or drive around looking for anything to do, because I just can't face up to being under the same roof as Mom and Arno for a night. Not yet. I hope I can get there someday, but so far... I just need space.

Roy / Christine: I don't care what you say, this is my life

That's a Billy Joel lyric. But I'm not sure if it's true.

I think, to varying levels, we all resent the idea that we "have" to do anything. James and Derek were particularly annoyed with me when I insisted we "had" to go to Canada, for instance. I don't want to give anyone the impression that I want to go along with this whole thing. But looking in the mirror, I know it would be impossible for any of us to do anything but act out the lives of the people we appear to be. James and the others should consider themselves lucky they weren't given the kind of responsibility I was.

I'm not just talking about Christine's marriage, although that is something that sticks in my side. The idea of being forced to be married to someone is just about as bad as being told you can't marry someone. But this isn't about me, my beliefs or even my preferences. I am bound an determined not to undermine Christine's life. She isn't to blame for this. I don't relish spending my nights with her husband poking into my back. The other guys have leeway... from what I hear Derek has literally just sat on his perky little butt all week while Cal is out there earning rent money. In every case, there are other people in our lives we have to treat as if we are who they think we are. That sucks. But that's, in a sense, the rules. Sadly, there's no guide to "If you run into so and so at the supermarket, you have to seem excited to see her."

Terry was annoyed by my late return. He was already in bed, and I had to walk into this place where I've never been before and act like it was mine. All I did was find the couch and plop down on it. When I woke up in the morning, he was getting ready for work and I realized that was what I should be doing too. He seemed equally pleased and annoyed to see me, asking why I got in so late and why I didn't come to bed. I said I didn't want to wake him up, and reiterated Christine's cover story about one of the girls getting sick and that being the earliest flight we could get. Over a week late. I don't know if he buys it. He's been pretty passive aggressive about it, from what I can tell, so I've been tiptoing all week.

When he leaned in and kissed me, I wasn't ready for it. But that's going to happen. I'm in character as someone who loves this pudgy, balding man with the unevenly-trimmed facial hair. I don't want to rock the boat but at the same time I don't intend to play docile housewife for him and make breakfast in bed or anything. I have my own problems.

Work. That's the other thing. Christine is a Supervisor at a book chain at a mall in Vancouver. Okay. Not hard, just find where everything is and help customers. No big deal. I just need a crash course in inventory, receiving, and whatever else. The real problem is in personnel... specifically, James, aka Keisha, aka someone with no interest in being a good employee. She showed up late and screwed around the entire time. It was lucky it was just her and me all afternoon, since we're both already on thin ice due to the extra week's unannounced vacation. I told her she has to at least try to work while she's here, and she gave me the whole "I didn't ask for this" spiel. Big whoop. The sooner we all adjust our mindsets, the easier time we'll have. I'm all out of pep talks for these kids.

Cal / Angie: What's the password?

I just want to sleep forever, or at least till all this is over.

After a few days of just running around trying to stay sane we've finally settled in... me and Derek are all set up at Angie and Mona's apartment. Derek has no trouble just sitting in front of the TV channel hopping but I'm not that comfortable yet. Mostly I just sit in Angie's room... my room now... looking at this blog or trying to memorize every item in the place. It's freaky. Soon I'm gonna get an email from someone saying they have my life. I'm sure they'll be thrilled. There's not a lot they'll have to do, I told them they can defer my fall enrollment and just... do whatever they need to do. I wonder what kind of people will become us. Old men, little girls... a whole family? I dunno. I don't want to say it but I worry that it'll be body thieves and I'll have to live like this forever. That thought's gonna be hard to shake.

There's a lot of information to take in. Addresses, computer passwords, phone contacts. Stuff that, if I was Angie, I would just know but because she's explaining her life to me I worry that she left some stuff out. Like, she told me where she works, a green nutrition store, but not what to do when I get there. I spent my whole first day awkwardly standing around hovering near cash hoping nobody would ask me to do anything special. Even worse I had to call one of Angie's co-workers because she was scheduled to open the store that day because...... well, you know how I said I felt like I forgot something in Maine? Keys.

Then I get home and Derek's still there on the couch, feet up, eating, feeling right at home and he makes fun of me for "playing along" and doing what I'm told. Like I have a choice, or like he does! Whatever, he can be a girl however he likes, and I'll be one how I like.

I feel weird just hanging out in someone else's apartment, almost as weird as trying on their clothes and eating their food. At first I didn't want to but I had been sweating through the same top and shorts for about 24 hours. Haven't tried on any other underwears though. That'll have to happen soon, although I feel like maybe hygiene wasn't this girl's main concern.

I don't know what to think about this girl. I'm getting a real hippie vibe from her. Her place was kind of a mess, and I'm used to thinking of girls as being real neat and tidy. She doesn't have a lot of possessions... Lots of multicultural decorations, dream catchers... jewelry... she seems to keep her hair long and messy and mostly wear flowing skirts. Vegetarian, obviously. She has a garden plot that she asked me to keep up. She's also got a Gecko named Geronimo, which is pretty cool. She doesn't seem like any girl I've ever met in Lowell, but that's what my parents always said "the city" did to people, places like Boston and New York. Made them "kooks." I'm trying not to agree with that.

I'm not looking forward to a year of this, but I'm doing the best I can.

Trish / Robbie: It's gonna be tricky

Robbie Haddad is not a huge guy, just tall and skinny, but he takes up a lot more space than Trish Reilly did. I've never had to deal with my knees being propped up behind the seat in front of me on an airplane... for 6 hours. I've also never had to adjust my testicles constantly. Like, why are these things so ridiculous?

I almost deleted that sentence, but you've come this far into the story and you know that's gonna come up. I see that Cal posted about his boobs. I had to tell him, actually, that part of the advantage of wearing a bra is that your nipples don't, ahem, assert themselves so much against your clothes, especially when you're just wearing a tank top. I mean seriously, that boy was putting on a bit of a show and he didn't even know.

He'll get used to it. We all will. That's the scary thing. I'm looking forward to not having to shave my legs, but I'm not actually looking forward to having hairy legs, or arms or chest and back. Sheesh, I make it sound like I'm a sasquatch (I think they have those here in BC) but it's really just a few dark wisps. Man hair. No big deal. It would be weirder if I was hairless, looking like this.

I actually looked up the name Haddad, because I never heard it before. Turns out it's middle eastern, but Christian. So I'm learning things already. I can definitely tell I've got that beige-olive skin, as does James in his new body since we're related, but thankfully we were not stopped by airport security (oh my god can you imagine?)

After we landed, we collected our bags and caught the high speed rail to downtown Vancouver. Roy went to his new "home" in the suburbs but the rest of us crashed at James's place downtown... or should I say Keisha's... because we were all too scared to try finding our way around a strange city at night. We met her roommate, Steph, who was not too pleased to see a giant group of people invade the living room.

So for those keeping track, here's who we all are:

Like I said, I became Robbie, and James became Keisha, Robbie's sister. Christine (formerly Roy,) is Keisha's supervisor at a book store. Cal and Derek became Angelica and Monique (Angie and Mona for short), who are roommates (that should be fun because I kinda think Derek hates Cal.) Mona was either dating, or just hooking up with Robbie (no thanks.) And then there's Grant, who became Sophie... and I have no idea how she fits in, but my guess is that these girls all go back to years together, even though they seem very different.

It's been strange watching these guys. When they're just sitting still, they just seem like normal girls and you forget what they've been through, but a lot of the time the boyishness comes out. It's especially odd seeing meek little Grant, like a deer in headlights, in Sophie's punkish, tattooed body. I wonder how they'll all be in a few months. Scary to think we've got nothing but time now.

I've told them they can ask me anything they need to know but so far I think they prefer to just go it alone. Good luck to them... to all of us.

Mike: The last to leave

I know there were a lot of people shocked on Sunday morning when we all woke up the way we did. There might have been a few others who had experience and decided to get out before people started asking questions. Lila and I decided to take the initiative and explain to everyone what happened, what they could do about it, how things were going to have to be. Nobody wants to hear that, and believe me we didn't want to say it. That look on those guys' now-female faces when it dawned on them that they were looking at a minimum of a year in this state... trust me, I know that look.

But Lila and I tried our best to be reassuring, explaining how we got back and they can too. I don't know if those Agency people Tori warned me about are constantly mucking things up for everybody or if they just pick and choose, but I'm glad that this group of people saw that it's possible. Best case scenario, it's possible.

So we helped them make their arrangements and waved them goodbye, and then we finally talked about the elephant in the room.

Because I'm not in my own body. The face I'm seeing reflected in the computer screen right now? That's Lila's, and she's got mine. Like I said, it's possible... we just didn't succeed.

I noticed right away. The long blonde hair was a giveaway. So without even checking my face in the mirror I knew the whole plan went to hell. We agreed not to dwell on it, though, at least around the others. They needed our help, so we pretended as each other - as the people we looked like. I feel bad for lying, but lying is kind of second nature to us now. Explaining the truth would have made them freak out. Hell, pretending everything was all right kept me from freaking out. But it's sinking in, now. This has happened.

We need to fix it. Somehow.

I don't love the idea of looking at her face in the mirror every morning. I am not pleased to have to go back to St. Paul, Minnesota - great place to visit, wouldn't want to live there, with my mom and her boyfriend. I worry about her traipsing around in my body more than I would a stranger, because there are sides you just don't want to let family members see, you know? My sister's smart and well-adjusted but she's still my sister and I don't want to give her all access to my world any more than I want all access to hers.

But it's not about what we want now is it. You gotta do what you gotta do.

So to all of you out there heading for Vancouver, I'm sorry I lied. I didn't want to take hope away. I still believe there's a way out of this.

"Don't worry about it," she says in that optimistic way of hers, "How many people does the Inn change every year? A hundred? Not a lot of them probably get to be people they know, people they can talk to about it. People who can look them in the face and say it's all right, I trust you."

I'm gonna have to remember that.

"Just be really careful when you're poking around in my room. You might not like what you find."

Grrrrrr.

Callum / Angie: Airport

I've never flown before. But I guess this is a week for firsts.

Whenever these girls were supposed to go back to Canada, that was a few weeks ago, but obviously they were smart enough to get a rain check or whatever. Roy figured that out for us. He's a good person to have on our side. I say "he," but obviously, he's one of the five of us who became chicks. I saw him around the Inn but I didn't talk to him or anything. Still, he had more of a handle on the situation than the rest of us, so we're relying on him to get us to our new "home." I can tell James and Derek don't really like him because they're questioning everything he says to do, but they're probably just still angry about the situation.

I can't say I'm OKAY, but angry isn't the right word. We don't have time to be angry, we don't have that luxury. We're in the deep end, so we have to learn to swim. The sooner we get our shit together... I don't know. Maybe we don't even have to get our shit together. Maybe it doesn't matter if we wreck these lives, if that's what we want, if that's how it goes. But I feel a strong urge to do whatever anyone tells me right now.

What I do know is that it's 90 degrees here and I'm sweating profusely under my breasts. They are cooped up in a confining, tight, non-breathing bra with an underwire jabbing my ribs and causing the heat to bottle under them, and irritate my shoulders under the straps. If I could air these things out I would love that. I'm only wearing a tank top and short shorts... in fact that seems to be the outfit we've all opted for, since all the girls traveled with at least those items. We must look like quite a sight, five reasonably attractive women all slouched over and gritting their teeth and grabbing at their boobs and adjusting themselves in their seats. I guess these bodies are ours to grab and adjust and do whatever we see fit, so whatever the others have done or seen overnight, that's their business. Trish has kept quiet. I can't even picture the lanky, deep-voiced guy, Robbie, as being the dainty girl she had been, but there you go.

UPDATE: I snuck off to the washroom, unclasped my bra and stuffed it in my purse. I'm just gonna let them hang for a while. Feels nice.

The flight is in an hour. It's a 6 hour flight across 3 time zones, which means... I guess we'll all be tired and miserable when we get there. We're all tired and miserable now. I want to throw up. It's too much to handle. I keep feeling like I forgot something.

-Callum

Roy: Not something I would have wished for myself.

It looks like I will be joining these kids on their international trek. I haven't gotten to know them very well yet, but I'm hoping we can come to some sort of an understanding. The silver lining in all this is that I kind of like Canada... I spent some time in Montreal, altho I don't know much about their west coast. I'm hoping it's culturally similar to Seattle or Portland.

As Lila seems to have already told you, my name is Roy Hutchison, I'm 34 years old, I work in geriatric care, and I'm gay. That last part does not mean I relish the idea of living as a woman, in this young, somewhat doughey body. After all, I put a lot of work into mine and now it's just... gone. Handed over to someone else, at least for the year. But if anyone had to be this woman, Christine, I guess it's only fair that it's me. We're all in the same age group (they aged up, I aged down,) but Christine's biography has more the ring of a "grown up." She Assistant-Manages a book store, she has a house... she's married.

I'm not crazy about any of this. I'm very, very not eager to pretend I'm somebody I'm not, and I know that relationships based on lies... well, let's just say I'm going to try my best.

Worse than putting on the femme is trying to reduce my life into a few sheets of paper. Even trying to boil it down to the essentials is hard. I want to draw a map of everyone in my life and how I know them, how I feel about them and hopefully the "new" me will be able to emulate that, but the more I try, the more frustrated I get that I have to do this. And then there's my job. I've spent a year getting really good at it, and now I have to cram all that into a few pages of instructions.

I told them basically that if it seems like too much, just ask for a leave of absence, because they don't want people who don't feel up to the task, and then find something, anything else to do for money in the meantime. I'll be disappointed if my life isn't just how I left it, but it wouldn't be the first time I started over.

That's all I feel like saying right now. Thanks. Bye.

Trish: The First Night

"This is freak.y I can bar ely type righ tnow, m y hands aer so much bigger than Im sued to. "

That was my first attempt to type after this. I left it there just to look at it. It's getting better but I still have to pace myself. I woke up late on Sunday and freaked at the sight of myself. When the "boys" found me, they caught me up on what they knew, and steered me toward Mike and Lila for further questions.

They swear it's just a matter of "where you were" but I'd be lying if I didn't say I think there was a deliberate irony here... I was here with four guys who are now girls, and I'm the one that became a guy. I woke up with the elastic of my underwear digging into me, a little torn, cutting off circulation to my legs and bunching up my "new friends." Ugh. I'm going to try not to complain, seeing as my fellow Lowellians would practically kill to have the body I'm in, and at the same time some of them are freaking out, like "Oh, my life is over because I have boobs" la la la, suck it up. We're all in this together. We're all part of this huge group that came from Canada. Imagine that... a half dozen or so people traveling all the way across the continent to come to this crummy little beach house. Like I said, it makes you wonder.f this thing is being rigged up deliberately.

So unlike the guys, who have largely just been wearing their own baggly clothes, I've had to actually dig into "my" luggage, to find a suitable t-shirt, shorts, shoes and underwear. I appear to be a guy named Robbie Haddad, about 6' tall, thin, hairy but... I guess, not unappealingly so. I could see this guy being very smooth with girls, you know?

So the theme of yesterday was "what now?" and the immediate answer was pizza.... everyone was starved and once the shock set in we were ready for something of a feast. I shocked myself with how much I put away, but having a larger body and no food for over 12 hours (wait, does the food stay with me, or move on to the next me, or what??)

Knowing that we were all going to be on this trip a lot longer than we thought, we sat around kind of spilling our guts. James played it off like it was no big deal and Derek stayed quiet, but Grant opened up a surprising amount about his life and his fears for this whole mission. I told him that we'd face all our problems together. It won't be long before we have to pick up our tickets to British Columbia (which James had to Google... seriously, he's the cliché of the American who doesn't know where Canada is on a map.) And then I guess... our new homes.

Whoever's reading this... um, thanks for your support? <3>

Callum: Keep Calm

I woke up to the sound of a couple of people hurrying out of the Inn, very noisily. Whoever it was, they were the ones who kept a low profile and didn't speak to anyone else in the halls. They knew this was going to happen and they didn't want to be around to see our reaction.

So my first thought was, "Oh, someone's being noisy, whatever," and roll over onto my side, and everything... moves differently. I feel weight shifting on my chest where it shouldn't. I feel hair under my face where it definitely wouldn't have been last night - like someone else's. I bolt up. The room won't stop spinning.

I'm sweating a little, I'm overheated. My clothes are pretty well hanging off me. Honestly, it didn't take long for me to guess what had happened to me, but I ruled it out because... it's impossible, right?

So all I could do when I sat up - pushed myself up with my arms because I was just too woozy - was look down at the way my t-shirt was being pushed out at the chest, feeling two heavy-ish weights hanging down. I put my hand on one... it was soft, and it was me, all right. I ran my other hand through my hair, finding the strands to be long, long past my shoulders. I gave them a slight tug. They were fully attached to my scalp. I was frozen with fear.

Then I heard a woman's voice call out. "Cal? Grant?" It was coming from James' room. I stumbled to the door. The whole room felt like it had grown overnight, but I guess in reality, I've shrunk.

I peeked out. I saw someone else peek out, too, from Grant's room. A girl I hadn't seen before. She was blonde, but I could just barely see in the dim light that she had streaks of pink in her short punky hair.

"Grant?" I said in a whisper.

She nodded and then asked back fearfully, "Cal?"

We both went for James' door. Inside were two women. One was sitting on the mattress, wrapped in a bedsheet. The other was standing over her, wearing a guy's clothes, Derek's from the size of them. The girl in the bedsheet was brown skinned, the girl in Derek's clothes was more of an orangey-tan, as well as tall and thin, so she was gripping her shorts tightly. Both looked at us expectantly. I muttered softly, "It's Callum. That's Grant." The girl in the bed was James, and standing over her was Derek, still wearing his own clothes even though they now fit very poorly.

We all just stood there in silence, waiting for one of us to admit what happened - we were transformed. But nobody wanted to say it. Everyone wanted to believe it was a hoax or a delusion but how could it be? Mostly we just stared back and forth at each other, looking at all these improbably good-looking women surrounding us.

A guy came by and clued us in - he identified himself as Mike. He was tall, or at least taller than I am now, and probably taller than I used to be (5'7.) He told us it was the Inn, that staying here had given us some kind of magic curse and turned us into whoever stayed in our rooms the week before. He did his best to sound reassuring, saying it was going to be okay, that the worst would be over soon. I felt some doubt at that.

He told us that the people we looked like... they were real people with lives that we would have to carry on, at least until we had another opportunity to come back to the Inn. I asked why we wouldn't just change back again if we stayed another night, and he said that's just how it works. He said there was probably luggage waiting for us, hopefully with notes, letters, maybe whole files about who we were supposed to be and instructions about what to do next.

I rushed back to my room and sure enough, in the closet I had neglected to open because there seemed to be no point, was a suitcase and a large carryon shoulderbag as well as a purse. I dumped to purse out to find my new "life" spelled out for me.

Her name is Angelica Monet. She's 21 years old and comes from Vancouver, Canada. That's the entire way across the continent, in a whole other country. I have lived in the same house since I was born. I pulled my head into my chest and shut my eyes and began to hyperventilate. There's no way I can do this, there's absolutely no way... but I look at my long, skinny arms and began to realize I had absolutely no say in the matter, and that kills me.

I tracked Mike down and began to ply him for details. He was whispering to his sister about something. I interrupted and asked why it had to be this way. Why couldn't I just go back to Lowell and ask my parents to believe me... tell them things only I would know. And he sighed, leaned against the wall and looked me in the eye... I felt so small, looking up at him.

He said that's just the way it has to be. The curse blocks others from... understanding, somehow. They will refuse it until they see it for themselves. That means that you can bluff your way through a new life easily, but attempts to tell the truth don't stick. I find that hard to believe, but if the curse can do this, then I guess I have to believe them.

I wanted to scream, but I knew it wasn't their fault. They said they knew it was going to happen eventually, but they had no idea who or what we would become, just that they had worked to return to their old selves. That gave me hope. They said they would have told me if they could, but they knew that was impossible, and I have to admit if someone said this would happen to me I wouldn't have even considered it possible.

Curse. I'm cursed. I'm transformed. I'm changed. I'm trying to wrap my head around it. It's been a day. Only a day, the first of many. I haven't eaten, I barely slept... I'm on my last nerve, and I doubt they're right that the worst is over but at least we know what's happening. Now we're all just looking back and forth at each other going... "what do we do now?"

When the excitement died down, I crawled back to bed and fell asleep, the gross sweat and odor of my former body caked into my clothes. I tried not to fixate on it. I just woke up and typed out what I remember. So here you go. Whoever you are, obviously you knew what was going to happen... I see from the blog url Mike and Lila gave me, Trish checked in late last night, I haven't heard from her since. I hope she's okay.

Trish

It's late, and I really just want to go to bed, but I had like three coffees on the way up here so that's not going to happen. When I got in, I found this flier on my floor so I thought I would maybe unwind by typing up the hectic story of how I got here. There was a raffle for the senior class at my school in Lowell, Massachusetts, for a trip up here. Of the four others, I only know James well, although I know Derek by reputation through some of the other girls at school, and I used to know Callum, when we were kids, but we are in somewhat different social groups. There's also the other guy, Grant, who I met for the first time at the planning session, but I've seen him around. He's just one of those guys that kinda fades into the background.

At that meeting, the guys... Derek in particular, but also James and Grant, looked at me like I was a piece of meat and I suddenly got a very uneasy feeling in my stomach. A week alone with these guys? I'd feel like I was being fed to the lions. So I told my mom I was feeling sick and couldn't handle the bus ride up there and she offered to drive me up if I was feeling better later in the week.

I was worried... and still am worried... that they have certain ideas about me, about what I'm willing to do or try, because I look a certain way, and I am outgoing and "popular." I'm popular because I'm nice and focussed and maybe, yes, because I take care of my appearance. But I'm also smarter than some people think, scored high on my SAT, planning to go to law school, was in the school government, was in the running to be valedictorian... I'm not like James the druggie, I'm not interested in Derek the meathead, and I have no idea about the other two. I've only drank twice - I'm the girl who helps the hose clean up the party after everyone else is passed out, and whatever I've done with boys, whether I was dating them or not, was always my choice. That doesn't mean I'm uptight, just picky about who I spend time with. I like to have fun, but on my terms. No offense to any of them.

The week went on and I was feeling guilty... it seemed like it could be a nice trip and I was foregoing it because I had some preconceptions about the boys that may or may not have been accurate. I don't think they're dangerous, I just didn't want to deal with what might happen if they were.

So here I am... tiptoeing into the inn after dark, hoping none of the guys are around to notice or care.

Nice place you've got here, by the way... I've been trying to get to sleep for an hour and I think the sheets are giving me a rash.

James

This place sucks, by the way. I talked to Cal after we got in last night and he said he sent you guys an email. He said they were looking for "the stories of the people staying here" so I'll tell ya.

Three of us went out last night, there was an all-ages show at a nearby bar so we checked it out. The band sucked and it was kinda crappy not to be able to drink but whatever. There were some hot girls there, and with the weather being so nice they weren't wearing a lot, so I thought we could chat em up. I thought I might've had a chance, and maybe could have convinced one of their friends to come back to the inn. Derek kinda ruined it by getting too aggressive and pissy when they didn't seem interested in him. Grant said nothing, just kinda sulked. The dude's an all right guy, but quiet, and definitely not what chicks are looking for. I tried to get him to come out of his shell a bit but he wasn't interested.

I didn't mind, anyway, it was just something to do. I've got a girl back home, not really a girlfriend, more like a FWB so we have an understanding about this kinda thing. She made it clear she's not interested in anything serious and neither am I so we have fun, and then we don't talk for days. I told her we can stop if she ever feels awkward about it but she doesn't seem to have a problem.

I kinda feel like I'm wasting my summer, but at least I did something by coming here. There's just not a lot to do. It feels so old school, like American Graffiti or some shit. Well, if it was American Graffiti we'd have a car and just drive around, but we're just sitting here watching DVDs on laptops and trying to convince any of the older people here to buy us booze. Can't wait till I'm 21.

Derek can't wait till Trish gets here. But if I know Trish, he doesn't have a chance so he shouldn't get his hopes up.

Callum

To the Trading Post, or whoever's at the other end of this Hotmail address,

Seeing as the others have seen fit to go off without me, not that we are really here "together" anyway, I figured I might as well respond to your request for feedback, because I'm bored on a Friday night... unsurprisingly, even on vacation.

A little context, first... my name's Callum Malloy, I'm 18, a high school graduate from Lowell, Mass, going to school this fall with the eventual plan of becoming a research scientist. Compared to the others, I'm pretty introverted and more school-oriented, I guess, which is why I'm here right now writing this and they're out there relentlessly - probably pointlessly - trying to meet girls. I haven't seen anyone around our age in this whole town, let alone near this Inn. Maybe a few college girls, but I really doubt three guys barely out of high school will have much of a chance with girls like that, and I feel like seeking out cougars is a lose-lose situation at this point in our lives.

We came to Maine from Lowell because our high school hosted a raffle for six tickets to Maine. The winners were me, James, Derek, the other guy whose name I think is Grant, and Trish. Except Trish didn't make the bus, so apparently she's coming later.

James is pretty cool. Everyone in our school knows him, and while I wouldn't say he's the "most popular guy," he definitely knows everyone, which is more than I can say for myself or Grant. Everyone likes him fine. He's very chill. Derek's a jock, kind of fat, really bad attitude. Grant I know absolutely nothing about, I didn't even recognize him from our school, but he's an all right guy. Just inoffensive. Trish I've known since kindergarten, although we've drifted apart so I wouldn't call her a "friend." She's... cool. If she ever gets here.

So that's what brought me here, and if you don't hear from the others, that's what brought them too.

As for what I think of this place, well, I think it sucks, but my parents thought it would be nice for me to "do something" the summer before college. I guess to prepare me for, if nothing else, life on my own. The beds are stiff, the place has an overly rustic feel to it, too old-fashioned for my taste... the wi-fi is unacceptably spotty. No food on site, which is just messed up, but it's close enough to the beach and there are plenty of restaurants along the boardwalk so it's a wash. The weather's been good. The company's been shit. That's all there is to say.

Lila: Homework

Hey guys. So Mike kind of broke his silence on this blog so I thought I would introduce myself personally. You may not hear much from me, but I would at least like to say a thing or two.

One is that yes, the last year has been stressful, as living with a stranger, and in a strange body, is bound to be. The other is that I don't blame my brother nearly as much as he blames himself. He keeps subtly beating up on himself for "dragging" me across the country, but I wanted to come, and it's not like this seemed even possible to either of us. It was an insane accident, and I wish he wouldn't hold himself accountable. Things could have been worse.

They could have been better, but they also could have been worse.

Third is that I've handed out some pamphlets advertising the e-mail address that leads indirectly to posting on this site. I typed up some fliers and slipped them under doors, basically saying "We want to hear from you! What brought you here? How are you enjoying your stay? Send us your thoughts and experiences so far! The sooner the better!" Maybe a bit pushy, but it might be nice to hear from some of these people before they get "the change."

Mike has said how much it depresses him, to look around and see "future victims." I see future friends, allies, people who will understand us. Maybe I'm a glass-half-full kinda gal. There's the teenage boys playing cards, a few other people... and then there's Roy. Let me tell you about Roy, because he's just the nicest guy and I hope the best for him when this is all over.

I met him this morning when I took a walk up the beach. I'm quite athletic in my regular body, but being Diane has brought out the sloth in me, so I was taking it easy with a little stroll, when this guy comes barreling up the sand. He must be 6'2, 230 Lbs of muscle, bald-headed in his mid or late 30's... quite impressive-looking.

"Going for the record?" I asked jokingly when he crossed my path.

"Hardly," he said, catching his breath. "Just keeping in good habits, you know?"

"You look like you keep very good habits," I said, gazing on his muscles. I appear to be not that much younger than him, so even though my "body" is married, he may have registered that I was ogling.

"My ex certainly thought so..." he said.

I smiled. "Oh really? And how long since she..."

"He," he clarified.

Oh! Okay. Cool, well, I'm open minded. Good for you, right? I laughed, embarrassed, rambled some stuff about how I was totally not hitting on him...

We got coffee anyway, in a friendly way, and I remembered to explain that I'm "married" and here with my husband. He told me all about himself, how he was a Geriatric Care worker from Rhode Island, and this was the only vacation he could take all year - he just needed to "get away somewhere new" after the break up, but couldn't spend that much time away from work. I don't know if he noticed it, but I probably wrinkled my nose at that, given he'll definitely be away from work longer than he's planned. I almost wanted to warn him, but I know that's not possible.

After a while, I used the excuse of having to get back to my "husband," and we parted ways. I told him I'd see him around, and even if not, "Make sure to find me... before you leave." He must've been totally confused because he just looked at me sideways and I turned and walked away before he could ask any follow-ups.

Still. Very nice guy. Which gives me a really ill feeling in my stomach about what happens next.

Mike: Baggage check.

I'm back. Well, this is your first time hearing from me, but I've been following this blog for a while. I've even been in contact with Tori.

My name is Mike Stewart. Late last summer, I took my sister Lila on a trip to Maine for her 21st Birthday. I'd spent some time on the Atlantic coast in college, and I figured she might appreciate it, a landlocked Minnesota girl, who was used to "the beach" being a lake. Our parents split up when I was 15 and she was 10. I went with dad to New York and she stayed with mom, but I'd been going back to see them more and more since I graduated high school.

Our first night there we got transformed. We had barely even settled in for the night and when we woke up we and everyone else in the Inn were new people. I became a college kid named Alan, whose body I still have. She became a local housewife named Diane, complete with someone playing Diane's husband. And as you know, some other people went off in our bodies.

I was wracked with guilt. Here I was basically given a vacation from my existence - I took a leave from Alan's education, obviously, and spent the year working and trying to relax, keep a low profile - and Lila was cooped up with some lady who had been turned into Diane's husband, and by the sound of things they did not get along. My actions had caused my sister's life to become something of a nightmare. I vowed I would get her back here. I know Tori is in the business of warning people off of that, but I couldn't go on like this. Plus, it's not like the real Alan, Diane, et al didn't want their bodies back, as soon as they knew it was possible. At the very least, if my sister and I can't get our bodies back, we can make sure that the people who were kind enough to lend us theirs (unwillingly) do.

It's been an absolute mess, but this whole ordeal is hopefully over. We've checked in, we've found our "luggage," which gives me hope... I don't know if there's a trick for "aiming" this transformation but I'm in the same room as last time, so I think that's the best we can do.

I have seen a few people milling around... at least one couple in their twenties, some teenagers who don't appear to be here with parents, and a guy who looks to be in his late 30's, early 40's. I haven't talked to anyone so I have no idea if Lila, "Diane's Husband" and I are the only returns, and I'm a little too shy to ask. Hopefully I won't have time to check back in until after the big change, but who knows how long that will be, and I might get bored. If I hear any interesting stories I'll let you know.

Nice to meet you all.

Tori: Chat

"Randi" has Requested Your Friendship on Facebook. Accept? (Yes.)

"Randi": Hey... Tori.

Tori: Hey Thom.

"Randi": Sorry we acted all weird. we really weren't expecting... any of that

Tori: Me neither.

"Randi": I've been reading that blog you showed us. Maybe someday I'll write something about our whole experience.

Tori: It can be therapeutic. Sometimes I worry that I overshare. The people on there know a lot about my personal life... lol.

"Randi": I can't blame them. The things you've been through... well, I know. I've been there.

Tori: It's weird, isn't it? So different.

"Randi": Yeah.

Tori: At least you had Sara to go through it with. I had to rely on basically strangers. Friendly people, but not people who knew who I used to be. I think that might be part of why I ended up sort of... becoming Tori, the way I did. It was evolve or die.

"Randi": I guess. Sara and I fought a lot for a while after it happened.

Tori: Oh? I'm sorry to hear that.

"Randi": I mean, it's not a big thing, but it kind of shook the whole foundation of our relationship, you know? It took some getting used to. Looking up at him, this guy who used to be my little Sara.

Tori: So how long was it before you two... you know. If you don't mind me asking.

"Randi": Haha. Not long. I mean, we HAD to see.

Tori: I can respect that, haha.

"Randi": What about you?

Tori: Oh, it took forever for me to even feel myself up. I was a prude. I was afraid I'd like it.

"Randi": Well, yeah. When you're a guy, and you're used to a certain thing... admitting that it's fun from a girl's side is, well... dangerous.

Tori: Yeah.


"Randi": I'm ready to go back, though.

Tori: I understand that... but I'm really worried that you're not going back to what you thought you were. It might be a trick. Did you read my entries about the end of my relationship with Alex? And the real Alex?

"Randi": Yeah. But I have to take this chance. I can't be this woman for the rest of my life. Even if it means hopping from one body to the next, I feel like there's something better for me out there.

Tori: Does Sara agree?

"Randi": At first she did. When we thought we were getting our bodies back, she was all for it. Now, you've put doubts into her. She thinks it might be safer to stay.

Tori: Would that be so bad?

"Randi": I just don't see much of a future between the two of us like this.

(I start a half dozen responses but keep deleting them.)

"Randi": I thought I was pregnant for half a second, six months ago. I freaked out. I can't do this, Tori. I can't be the woman for her.

Tori: Wow... surprisingly, I haven't been through that yet.

"Randi": It was the worst feeling on Earth. I felt so stuck. I felt like I was dying, like the real Thom was dying. I didn't want her to touch me for weeks after that.

Tori: I don't know what to say.

"Randi": Just tell me you understand.

Tori: I do... when I was told I couldn't go back to being Cliff when I fully expected I would, I was in complete shock, couldn't breathe, total panic attack. But here we are 3 years later...

"Randi": Would you want to get pregnant?

Tori: No... but I also wasn't almost married. We lead two very different lives, Thom.

"Randi": Why are you so intent on making me keep this life?

Tori: Because I want you and Sara to be happy. Together. You're my friends and I know the lives you're in right now aren't bad. They aren't yours, but they aren't bad. And yours might not be possible, ever again. You take that risk? Who knows where you end up, or how long it is before you get back to that Inn.

"Randi": No offense, Tori, but that's why you were such a loser when you were a guy. You just accepted things. You didn't go after girls when you wanted them. You didn't fight when someone stole your body. You didn't want to disturb your comfort zone and now you're trying to convince us to do the same.

Tori: First off... fuck you. Second, you don't know anything about what's going on.

"Randi": And you do? What the fuck do you know that you haven't already said?

Tori: I know better than to mess around with shit that's so far beyond my control. Good luck when you go back to the Inn, but do everyone a favor and don't drag Sara back to it.


That's where the conversation abruptly ended, and I just stared at the screen for a while before I decided to post this. Draw your own conclusions.