Jordan/"Missy" Yuan-Wei: No-Fun in the Sun

Summer stretching out in front of us and my brother is being a drag, binge-watching Iron Fist but complaining every five minutes about appropriation and terrible fight choreography, and is taking everything I've got not to tell him that Luke Cage is just a couple clicks away.  Or that we could go clubbing or something, but he's not having any of that.  It's a crying shame, because we both look hot as shit in our own way and Elaine came right out and fucking said not to act like being her is a hardship, but he's barely left my apartment in two weeks, and being supportive is boring as fuck.

We were hoping that we could maybe find a way out of what Carlotta and Giorgia were planning, heading back up to Maine the day after Giorgia/Bingbing dropped Max on my doorstep.  I texted Cary and Elaine to let them know we were coming, so our first stop was his truck.  He hadn't been able to get in touch with her yet - lots of people still trying to figure out what to do with a 10-year-old girl who just wants to talk to a guy that seemingly has no connection to her - but he seems like a good guy.  He freaked Max out by giving him a list of things he'd learned from being Elaine himself, from what shampoo worked best on her hair to how best to put off that particular friend who keeps texting at 3am without really hurting her feelings.

Max was not excited about an older guy having detailed knowledge of his body, even if he does grill a mean hot dog.  Maybe especially, because he pointed out that the Coke Zero that Max was drinking would make him gassier than a Diet Coke (it is not, apparently, just the same shit in different bottles), and Elaine would be pissed if he didn't make a little effort to work it off.

Next stop was the Inn, and that was weirder than usual.  The place was kind of deserted, which sticks out in a beach town during the summer, but it makes sense.  Everybody staying there was either really anxious to get back to their real lives, because it's early enough in the season that a lot of folks were doing that, or had new identities that were overdue for something.  I tried to tell Max how lucky he was that Elaine didn't have some worried boyfriend or angry boss to deal with, but he wasn't inclined to call himself lucky.

Especially not after meeting the one guy still hanging around the Inn.  Not sure how he'd spent the winter, but he was back to being himself and figured he might as well hang around for a few days.  He soon his head when I told him the story about his supposed girlfriend stealing his identity to make me give up this one, but it didn't stop the guy from asking if Max would like some help exploring his new body.  Max recoiled and I said nobody was ready this soon, so he turned to me and I was saying "boyfriend" before he could even open his mouth.

We walked away from the Inn after that, and I laugh as soon as the guy is out of earshot, asking what Max thinks:  Was he recently a way sexier man and still thinking like that, much less attractive and overestimating his current appeal as a result, or just coming off being a woman and either really excited to get his dick wet or sure it's made him a much better lover?

"Dude, how can you even...  You told him we were really guys and he still wanted to fuck us!"

"Yeah, and he was so ridiculous about it!"

"It's disgusting!"

"And Ravi wanted to play house with me when we first changed to Deirdre.  Some dudes are creeps, bro, and you're about to discover the number is higher than you thought."

Maybe not the right thing to say.

Anyway, with that being the situation, I didn't figure there was much more we could do until the Inn started filling up again, so we killed time in our hotel room for a couple days until Cary texted us that Elaine was at the truck and would like to meet the new her.  Max wasn't too high on the idea, kind of still thinking that this might be an elaborate prank that he didn't want to go along with, but went along just in case it wasn't.

You can't really tell someone used to be someone else by looking at them, so my first impression of Elaine was a cute little girl with way more sass than usual.  The curse works on everyone, and it was really hard for Mac to believe, even after Elaine reacted to him arriving in the park with no makeup, looking back and forth, and the wrong sort of ponytail with "ugh, am I going to have to train another one?"

"Nah," I said, "I got this.  I mean, I can get a lot of it; this life comes with money and summer vacation, and I've done the holy-shit-I've-got-tits thing before.  Heck, my first job out of college was using Agile, so I can get him up to speed on that if you don't mind him taking the summer off."

She didn't particularly like the idea of there being that sort of gap in her work history, but it seemed like a good deal to her.  Elaine took Max aside and told him some of the more intimate details of her history, while I booked us a flight to Chicago.

We probably didn't need to actually go out there - I could have bought Max a lot of clothes and stuff for what the ticket cost - but it was probably good to at least take a look at the life Max would have to slip into if we couldn't outwit Giorgia and Carlotta.  It also got me a chance to make a copy of Elaine's lease, so I could send rent checks every month.  Max asked if that wasn't too much and I said that the trust fund set up for the original Missy was about helping her get started on the dream to be a pan-Pacific movie star and allotted me enough to pay for apartments in Hong Kong, Beijing, and Los Angeles, so this was kind of using it for what it was intended.

We got back to Maine as the next block of people started coming in, and although the surveillance was kind of fun, it didn't get us the results we'd hoped.  On Wednesday night, I showed Max a model of the Inn I'd made in SketchUp, asked him to point me to the room he'd slept in, where the bed was, and where he usually wound up when sleeping.  I'd been working on a model - well, a fair number of visitors had, but we were trying to figure out how the Inn changes people when the positioning isn't obvious - Cary outside the Inn in his truck, two people in a room that held one last time, that sort of thing.  I figured that if we waited for twelve people to be in there, sneaked him in, and then made sure he was up against the right wall at 2am-ish, we could maybe change him back even if Carlotta was in the room.  The application I built around the diagram animated it a bit, showing our theory of how the curse tended to minimize individual distances between where someone lost an identity and where another person gained it even if that sometimes meant that a form could seem to move across the building, rather than minimizing total distance.  My demo had expanding circles going from people had been in Group A and turning into arrows when they hit a position in Group B.  Max was actually kind of impressed, saying he was surprised to see me do that, and I'm like, hey, my programming skills weren't in my dick. 

So we spent the next few days staking the place out.  As much as we'd sort of hoped some sorry of weird situation could have delayed Carlotta/"Sandra" from arriving the way Elaine missed her window, she arrived right on the first day.  We went back and forth on confronting her, but wound up chickening out, or at least figuring that some element of surprise was better than trying to appeal to some better nature I'm not sure the ex-Wongs have.  Especially after seeing how, though Carlotta was doing the best she could as Sandra, being a mid-thirties middle-class white woman instead of Yuan-wei was going to be a tough sell.

We still needed to smuggle Max in, though, but that didn't look like it should be so hard - as soon as I saw the 19-year-old guy at the place next door's front desk, I took my t-shirt off and told a bug-eyed Max to hold it.  I was stepping in the door when he grabbed me by the elbow.  "Why are you wearing a bikini?" He hissed

"Because this whole town's a beach and it's like 90 fucking degrees out.  Duh!"

"But--"

"You never had a problem with it before!"  I turned away and put a smile on, facing the kid.  "Hey, Jordan - whoa, what a small world, that's the name of my, well, someone super-close to me!  Anyway, me and my friend over there have got a problem - she left a bag over in the Trading Post Inn, and needs to go retrieve it.  Can we borrow a key real quick?"

"Um, I'm not...  We're only supposed to give out room keys when people check in..."

He wasn't really looking at my face, so I bent down a bit lower so that he could look me in the eyes a little easier and the tits he was looking at would dangle a bit.  "Oh, we don't need a room key, she left it in the laundry room."

"Uh..."

"And if she doesn't find it today, she's going to have me running around trying to replace everything in it all evening instead of...  Well, what's fun to do here?"

He was about to give us the key, I'm sure of it, but then the was Max, hovering over me, reaching out like he wanted to pull me back and stopping because he thought he'd pull my top off or something, over and over again, and the guy said, sorry, we're really only supposed to do this for guests who have a reservation for the block.  I smiled, said of course, and led Max out the door before exploding. 

"I was gonna get you in!  All you would have had to do was hide out until it was almost two, then maybe I could have found a way to get Carlotta away from the bed, but you had to go and make things weird!"

"I made things weird?  You were flirting with him!"

"Well, yeah!  Guy was reading a fan-service-filled manga but has probably never seen an actual Asian girl in person because he lives in fucking Maine, and I've got all this at my disposal.  Of course I fucking flirted with him!  Hot girls do that shit to get things they want all the fucking time, haven't you noticed?"

"But you're...  At least you say you're..."

"Yeah, and?"  I wasn't sure exactly where to start with that, so I told him we were getting some beer. 

As we were drinking, I saw Lucky 13 check in, so that was that.

I woke Max up at 1:30am, telling him we might as well go watch.  He freaked out a bit - even after three weeks or so, the first sensations as you wake just aren't right - and thought it wasn't cool that we were heading back over to the Inn.  "Are we going to break in?"

"Do you want to?  I mean, I'm still figuring out using hairpins to keep my hair in place; picking locks is something else."

He didn't know much about how to do that either, so I led him to a spot on the beach where we could see into Carlotta's window.  She hadn't even closed the blinds, so we got a show as she took off her top and bra.  I think she knew we were out there and wanted us to see.  Still, when I took our my phone, he said he didn't think I was a perv.  I shrugged, saying he might need to be reminded this want all a weird dream. 

It was a quick change, which was good for my phone battery, and sometimes Max just needs to have the bandaid ripped off.  Five minutes, and Max was looking at his own body through the window.  I became sure Carlotta knew we were watching when she dropped her pajamas and started...  Well, let's just say both sisters have now managed to put way more images of my brother's dick in my head than I want.

He ran off, and I ran after him.  I found him sitting on a rocky bit of beach not far away.  "It's all real.  It's like you said, and it's all real."

"No shit, kid.  You should trust your big brother."

"I think I'm older than you now."

"Nah, you just look older.  Remember, that's still your body, just reshaped, and you're still, like, the sum of your experiences and knowledge and shit."

"But everyone's going to see Elaine Preston until next year."

"Yeah, but you know Carlotta wants to be Yuan-wei, not you, and that's not likely to change in the next couple months, especially since her girlfriend is really her sister.  They're scheming asshole bitches, but I don't think they'll become a couple for real."

"Oh, shit, why'dya have to go putting that image in my head?"

"Well, I can be kind of a bitch myself."  I picked up a rock and hucked into the ocean.  "Look, your deal sucks more than it does for most of us; we've got other people in the same boat but every place we feel helpless is balanced by someone else asking how to handle our own life.  But, on the other hand, you've got me, and if I've got to give this life up, I'm going to squeeze every bit of fun I can out of this summer, and having you with me would make it even better."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah.  Just think of how the combination of your 9-man skills and how distracting you'd look in a bikini would work if we find some guy's playing volleyball tomorrow!"

"You suck."

I smiled, took his hand, and got back to the hotel.  He dropped back to his bed right away, but I opened my laptop and attached my phone to the USB port. 

"What're you doing?"

"Sandra's a bitch who could have just let Annette have her real life back, but I'd be a real asshole not to let her and Roman know there's going to be a new person with her identity."

"Ah.  You know, being a girl seems to have made you less of a jerk."

"You're just saying that because some part of your brain still thinks of me as a random hot chick.  And because it hasn't quite hit you that I forgot to edit your dick out of the video before sending it."

He threw a pillow at me, and I thought that was going to be the start off us at least trying to have fun, but in the morning, he was all morose again, and kind of has been ever since.  I mean, I get it, but you've got to play the hand you're dealt, and it's not like "pretty good-looking woman who doesn't have to work all summer because someone wants to hang out" is the worst hand the Inn could deal you.  

But, no, he doesn't want to go out for practically anything.  I got him out of the house to eat a couple times, but he couldn't take being looked at, and as excited as we were to see the Red Sox game where they called up Lin Tzu-wei from the good seats - as much as I'm still a Mets fan, when was their last Chinese player? - he got bummed out when he realized how goofy he must have looked at getting so excited that a guy from Taiwan hit a triple and wanted to leave. 

I think he'd be down for going to Hong Kong with me, it turns out that Cary and Elaine let her passport lapse over the winter, so be practically time for me to change before we can do that.  Which means I really have no way too let Jackie down gently.  He's probably already thinking that I'm cheating on him or don't really care because I've stayed in the States all summer, so maybe an email breakup is all that he expects at this point, but he deserves better, even if he wouldn't believe the truth. 

Yeah, I know,who would've ever thought I'd care about hurting a man's feelings by dumping him or be frustrated that Max doesn't want to go do girl shit with me.  But, man, with Jonah and Benjamin no longer around while Ashlyn and Penny seem to have grown out of what I want to do, I really want to be able to have a good time with someone who gets what our situation is like, and I think it would be good for him, too. 

-Jordo/Yuan-wei

Jonah/Krystle: Maybe It Wasn't All Going Smoothly, But..

Little Moira's 23 weeks haven't always been easy, or peaceful, but the whole Glass/Kamen household has been focused enough to offer some sort of approximation of it.  Babies require an exhausting amount of attention, but they also seem to make people want to help, and for the most part, whenever I feel like I'm in over my head, Mom tends to choose being the grandma that loves her little peanut more than the mother who just can't understand the decisions her son has made.

Dad's been great too, he just adores Little Moira and I think he's kind of impressed with my commitment to making sure she gets a good start.  As much as he's pretty sure he wouldn't have let a man sleep with him in a current situation (though he gets real quiet when Krystle reminds him it's not always in the woman's hands), he allows himself more doubt about what would come next.  Going through pregnancy, breast-feeding, and all that sounds like it would be a real hit to your self-image, and he says that when he was growing up, he might not have been able to accept that.

Krystle has been a lot of help, too.  She sometimes looks at me and Little Moira with a little bit of dread, because it's a future she didn't exactly choose but one she can't avoid if she wants to be herself again.  And she does; for as much as she enjoys having sex with girls, she says that's mostly horny teenage boy biology.  She sighs at seeing groups of girls together at the mall, especially when she thinks they're comparing notes about her, and gets really frustrated that white small-town New Hampshire isn't really cool with teenage boys wearing earrings, chains, or other sorta of jewelry.  She's not really into camping, driving, pick-up sports or a lot of the other things my male friends are into.  It's a good thing, she says, that she likes the little sinker and that something in terms of being both Krystle and Jonah makes her feel connected to Little Moira even if she had no part in making her.

But even if we both don't exactly feel right when we look in the mirror, we feel pretty good about what we're doing.  I'll admit, I felt a twinge of jealousy when watching Krystle do my high school graduation for me, especially since I really like the girl she was paired with as the class walked into the stage.  I'm not going to get to do that, and the reason why makes me feel like a failure and a disappointment at times.  On the other hand, she certainly helped earn it, and I think that she even appreciates it more the second time around than most of the kids around her do, let alone how she felt the first time she did it.  She was marking time, she said, not really accomplishing anything in a school that worked as a conveyor belt so long as you were more into sex than violence.  This time, she says, she's really come out of it with a feeling for what she can do.

I'm also feeling a bit more at peace with my body after giving birth, and it's not just a matter of a 

period being no big thing after you've carried a baby down there and pushed her out.  It's like, even though my breasts are even bigger and bouncier than they were, feeling like they're actually useful rather than just something guys stare at is a big deal.  I mean, having a kid suckling you is kind of weird when you think about it, but at least she's getting something out of it.  Heck, even this butt I've got makes a little more sense when I'm carrying Little Moira on a hip.

(I'm still a little uncomfortable wearing tops or dresses with cleavage even though they can make breast-feeding easier, let alone doing that in public.  Moira, Missy, Krystle, and a lot of other girls I know say that hiding something natural and useful like that is silly, even if you believe in modesty most of the time, but I've got a hard time seeing it that way.  Heck, I wasn't even sure I was going to breast-feed at first, but when little Moira had just been born and they were full, going through the process of mixing and heating formula up just seemed silly.)

So, we were in pretty good shape, at least until yesterday, when we got an envelope from the State Department and it was a passport for "Jonah Glass" and Mom wanted to know just what Krystle intended to do with that.

Krystle said it was pretty obvious - once we agreed that I wouldn't be going back to the Inn this summer because it wouldn't be right for there to be nobody with the body of the baby's mother for even a few days during the first year of her life, Krystle said she'd remain as me, but "Jonah" would take a year off before starting college, since she and I aren't interested in the same subjects and there was no point in her giving me a bad start.  Since the odds of her being able to travel any time soon after changing back were pretty low, she figured she'd better get as much of it in as she could before returning to the Inn.

Dad tried to look at it practically, asking how she'd afford it, and Krystle said she'd been saving up from her after-school job and had actually bumped that pretty close to full time since graduation, and she's been reading up on hostels, trains, water crossings.  It was a great big adventure, maybe the last she'd have for twenty years.

This didn't satisfy Mom, who asked why they should just let her go off where they couldn't keep an eye on her and maybe steal my life for good.  It was a fair question, from one perspective, but not from Krystle's.  She did not like Mom talking about "letting" her do anything, pointing out that even if she didn't look like a grown-a-- woman right now, it's not like they could keep their real son on a leash if that's what I had decided I wanted to do after graduation.  I squirmed a bit, not wanting to be brought into this but knowing that I couldn't help but be part of any disagreement between Krystle and my folks.  Still, when they looked at me, I said I was done with big vacations where I didn't know exactly what I was getting into for a while.

Normally, that's the sort of thing where Krystle laughs with me, but she just wasn't in the mood.  She was sick of being treated like a nuisance as soon as she was out of earshot of people who didn't know she wasn't me, and that our taking the idea that she would spend the rest of her life being some person's mother because of choices other people made for granted was crap.  She points at me, saying not to get her wrong, she really wants to have all that again, especially since she has worked a whole H--- of a lot harder at getting her mind into a place where she didn't feel like she would fall into the same bad habits than some other people she knew (which, by the way, she also doesn't feel she gets enough credit for), and if a kid is the price of that, fine, but we need stop acting like we're doing her a favor rather than vice versa, and not put up such a d--- fuss when she tries to do something for herself.  Then she grabbed the passport off the table and went back out the door, slamming it behind her.

Mom and Dad tried to wait up for her, though I really can't tell whether they'll go for understanding where she's coming from or "don't throw tantrums if you want us to treat you like a mature adult"; it really could be either one.  I tried to argue on her behalf, but I don't know how much they really listen to me when I do that.  It's not just that I'm the one making her a single mother and sort of a screw-up, but sometimes being changed is like being black or a woman or broke - it's different and a lot of people who've never been in the situation just don't understand how.

I also want to confess that, when she slammed the door, I did have this really scary moment where the main thought in my mind was "what if she doesn't come back?"  It's a really selfish thought and I hope God can forgive me for it, especially since thinking that first and foremost is just the thing she was complaining about, and I feel like I really should have been able to see that better than anyone.  We're asking so much of her and I'm not sure what I can do to make things more right.

-Jonah

Simon/Joy: The Bet.

I was really looking forward to my date with Teddy. Neither of us were calling it a "date" but I was definitely treating it as such. I haven't even really been out on many "dates" since I've been here. A few pre-arranged outings, but even when I was seeing Stretch we often just went for drinks after work so I didn't change my outfit or do my make-up differently or anything. The only time I put a lot of work in is if the girls and I were going to a club or I was going solo hoping to hook up. If I had a booty call, I usually would just wear something comfortable and seductive, knowing I wasn't going to be wearing it for long.


For Teddy, though... I wanted to wow him. I didn't want to dress like a realtor going for after work drinks. I wanted to dress like a hot chick on the prowl, someone commanded his attention. The mild weather trend hasn't worked for my advantage but I still wore a nice light dress that shows off my figure, lots of leg and chest - I don't really have cleavage so wearing low cut means I can go pretty extreme. I wore my tallest pair of stilettoes, and even went to Shayla to do my hair and makeup. I can do it myself but not if I want to look all-caps HOT.


Underneath was my laciest, skimpiest thong and no bra. And the chill in the air meant the girls were perky.


It was worth it, though, at least at first, because I could tell he was impressed. I've never seen him at a loss for words but he stumbled to say, "You look -- really good!" I blushed, "Who, me?" I could tell he was trying to play it cool but I examined his trousers for signs of attraction.


I have to admit, there are parts of being a chick I really get off on. It's nice to have people treat you like you're this small, precious thing they need to protect and care for. I like having chairs pulled out for me and doors being opened for me and being looked at with that fawning gaze. I like how he takes any opportunity to touch my lower back to guide me, or take my lightly by the arm on the way into the restaurant.


I also relish being a chick who isn't a chick. All those things that I hated about my old girlfriends, the way they would nag me and get pissy if they thought I wasn't paying attention to whatever I was saying. Who really cares? We both know what we're really here for. Any guy who might end up dating me is hella lucky since it would basically just be like dating a bro with tits, and let's face it, what guy doesn't basically just want that?


I tried to avoid work conversation and asked him about his personal life. We got into the subject of how he was a workaholic in his 20's and 30's and now he was paying the price, because he never settled down. That was getting a bit serious, but I used to opportunity to reach out and touch his hand and say things would be okay, it wasn't too late.


He gave me a weak smile, cleared his throat, and asked about Stretch.


"Oh, uh, I guess that was an open secret, huh? What did he tell you?"


"Nothing," he said, "He was pretty secretive about it, but we could all tell something was going on."


"Yeah, uh," I felt my voice creak into an even higher register, shifting in my seat, "It didn't work out. I think he was into me, but the reality wasn't quite what he imagined. He thought I was some pretty, innocent little princess."


He smirked, "Oh, and you're... not that?"


"No," I smiled wickedly. "I'm a dirty girl."


Holy shit, I was getting myself hot.


He looked away. "Good to know," was all he could say. I was a little irritated. Why was he backing off. Didn't he want this? Am I somehow not good enough for him?


Finally I broke down - because after all, I would've loved a chick to be this straightforward with me - and said, "Hey, what's going on here, man? Are you into me or not? You can't tell me you're not feeling it a little."


He hemmed and hawed. "I... you see... it's complicated."


"What, because of Stretch?" I scoffed, "Aren't we past that? Aren't we all grown-ups? There was nothing there and if he's not over it, that's his problem."


"It's more than that," he said, hinting at, well, something big. "You... really don't know, do you?"


"Know what?" I was truly baffled. "Are you, like, gay or something?"


"No, no, I'm not..." he said. "God, I can't believe I'm about to say this but I can't let it go on."


"Say what? Dude, you're scaring me." I searched my mind. I wondered if it had to do with the Inn or someone knowing my secret or... someone having a secret of their own? But I was way off base.


"Joy," he said with a severe look on his face, "There's a bet."


I raised an eyebrow. "A bet?"


He sighed. "There's a bet around the office over who could hook up with you first."


I just stared. I'm not even sure I blinked. "Uh... what?"


"Sully and the Big Guy were talking one day, about how flirty you were with everyone and how it seemed likely that someone was going to, well..."


"Hit that?" I completed his thought for him.


"I guess so."


"And Stretch was part of the bet?" I felt my heart sink a bit.


"Yeah," Teddy nodded.


I took a pause before my next question. "And you?"


He bit his lip. "Only indirectly."


"What the hell does that mean?"


"Well, they figured that if I somehow 'won' that would be it for them, so they made me put some money in the pool."


"How much?" I said, too stunned to raise my voice beyond a whisper.


"$500 apiece," he shrugged. I had to restrain my reaction - disgusting, perhaps, but it's hard not to be flattered by being worth that much money.


Before I could say anything, Teddy piped up, "Joy, you've gotta know... I wasn't really in it. I had no plans to try to win, if anything it made me want to keep you at arm's length."


I sniffed, "Well, that didn't work."


"I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner," he sighed, "Things between you and Stretch seemed pretty legit and I didn't want to wreck that."


"Yeah, that would have killed it if it wasn't already dead," I sighed.


"If there's anything I can do to make things up to you, just let me know."


"Let's just forget about it," I sighed, "And try to enjoy our meal."


"Okay," he said.


"And hey, Teddy... don't tell anyone I know about the bet, okay? It sucks but I'd rather not deal with it."


"Whatever you like," he nodded.


I was obviously a bit distracted for the rest of the night. I'm seeing a few downsides to embracing the whole "sex object" thing. I'm more than just a pair of tits and ass - as fabulous as the assets I got from the original Joy are (well, she could use a boob job maybe but I'll leave that for the next Joy.) I'm good at my job, I'm a decent person, I'm good company. I'm a lot of things. And I happen to enjoy getting laid, same as I did as a man.


It makes me miss the thrill of the chase. Yes, sex is easier to come by and I can take my pick of partners, but man was it exciting to have to work for it. I miss the game.


Then after the weekend, I realized... I'm still playing the game. Just by different rules.


So I got my phone out and texted Teddy - we hadn't talked since Friday and I was feeling bad about that.


"Hey... thanks for telling me all that stuff on Friday. I really needed to hear it."


"No problem, I'm sorry again," he said back.


"So... want to win a bet? ;)"


To be continued...

Simon/Joy: Making my move.

A lot has been going on recently so let me recap the last few months of my life quickly:

• As a woman I have discovered the joys of being promiscuous.
• I went out on several dates with a guy from work, Stretch. He was shy and never made a move on me, and I never made a move on him, and eventually he found out I was seeing other guys and called it off, trying to make me feel bad for being promiscuous.
• I wouldn't say I had feelings for him, but I was having some fun.

Now, here's some stuff I didn't tell you.

• There's also this guy at work named Teddy. He's a bit older, but he's in good shape, smart, funny, confident - all things I don't really think of Stretch as being. Everything you say to him reminds him of some awesome story of travel or someone cool he's known.
• He's not obnoxious or crude. He pays me innocent compliments and then gives me a sly wink. He's kind of who I want to be.
• He's never made any serious moves on me.
• Sometimes when I'm talking to him I get a little bit tongue tied and speechless. That almost never happens to me, especially since being Joy and I've been able to wrap every man I've met around my finger.

It started innocently, even while I was still "seeing" Stretch. I would find myself craning my neck if I thought Teddy was walking by my desk. I would feel more enthusiastic about teaming with him on a sale than with the other guys. I felt the urge to sit near him at meetings, found my eyes glancing his way.


I was in denial for a while. It's Joy's body. It's not really me. I'm not really a chick and even if I like having a sex as a woman, that doesn't mean I have to... like guys that way.


One weekend, neither of us had anything to do so he challenged me to a game of pickup basketball. I'm pretty competitive even if as Joy my jumpshot is even worse than it was as Simon. He gave me one of those winks when I asked him to go easy on me, and it was like... fuck, there's a pool in my panties. We're both out here in athletic gear - I'm in basically a sports bra and spandex shorts for crying out loud - sweaty and full of endorphins and only a half step away from nudity.


I'm screwed. I want to be a guy again, I can't let anything get in my way and having "feelings" for a member of my same sex is definitely not on the menu. But I've been going through a dry spell these past few weeks ever since I realized my dudes were all just lazy and using me. But I've still got time for a summer fling, right? Maybe if we bang a little, it'll get out of my system.


I asked him if he wanted to go for a drink tonight. He said yes.


It's on.


Now... what to wear...

Max/Elaine: I guess at least some of this is real

I mean, I guess there's no denying that I've had my sex and skin color changed - or that my mind has been transferred into someone else's body - but everything else just seems ridiculous.  My girlfriend is actually about twice my age but style the body of a college student?  My brother isn't my brother and hadn't been for the years?  The person who was my big brother growing up has been my girlfriend's hot friend and now he's somehow younger than me?  And before that, he was posting as his own girlfriend until the person who had become him got together with his roommate's fiancée, in part because his roommate was actually a girl who is now the person who became my brother?  My head spins just thinking about it.

The thing is, I don't have to believe all of this just because I look like this Elaine Preston who has a full history online going back to college.  There's no reason why everybody else I've talked to and heard about can't be the people that their IDs say they are and are just telling me that they're other people just to mess with me.  I don't know why they'd do it, including the Jordan back in New York, but how much impossible am I expected to swallow?  Maybe it doesn't make complete sense to say I think something might be up openly, but then again, I don't figure I should assume these guys are stupid.  They've got to know I'm thinking this, even if I can't figure out why they'd tell me my body was being held hostage to get someone else to do something rather than me.

I guess I'm a little more calm and skeptical than I was last weekend.  I'm not sure what impression the people reading this have of me from "Jordan's" posts, but I can be like that, having a pretty strong reaction at first before calming down and starting to actually think about things.  And that's without crazy unknown hormones!  Looking back, I think Bingbing (Giorgia?) knew this, and kept finding a way to wind me up on the trip from the beach to Boston without me realizing it, so I was hysterical by the time I meet Yuan-wei.  I didn't get much chance to really stop and think until she left me to the bathroom.

I was a bit nervous getting out of my clothes, but the bloody nose Bingbing gave me had ruined my shirt, and once I could see my breasts in the mirror, I figured I might as well see everything and dropped my pants.  Yuan-wei has a full-length motor in her bathroom, so I could see everything, and even though this body isn't really my type - I've dated Chinese girls almost exclusively - I kind of wanted the girl in the mirror to look sexy for me, though I want feeling it.

Or, more accurately, the woman in the mirror.  Elaine's driver's license says she just turned 30, and she seemed to keep herself in pretty good shape (or made sure Cary did), but there are some lines on her, and when I cupped my breasts, they were a bit softer than what I'm used too, even considering that they're bigger.  She didn't seem to have shaved or waxed her public hair in a while, either.  It didn't really feel sexy to touch myself.

The shower was nice, though - Yuan-wei had a really nice apartment that comes with good water pressure and a fancy shower head, and while I wasn't really grimy, there was a lot of sweat and blood and all.  The thing where you watch the dirty waste with all that stuff drain was a bit more hypnotic than usual, if only because I was trying to look past straight down.  I had a hard time with my hair afterward, though - I got really frustrated trying to dry it with a towel, but wound up looking like some time-traveler from the 1980s after blow-drying it.  Then I was kind of flummoxed with what was in the suitcase - all the kind of gender-neutral clothes needed a wash, I guess because Cary had worn those first, so I was left with jeans that took some effort to pull up over my butt and a camisole.  

I put sneakers on over bare feet, took a deep breath, and opened the door.

Yuan-wei had taken a moment to get dressed herself, in loose-fitting slacks and a Mets t-shirt, probably trying to make me feel a little more comfortable.  That ended when her eyes hit my chest.  "Don't wanna be a pest about this, Max, but you might as well get a bra on now.  I admit, I fought it for months, but even going from moobs to A-cups, it helped a lot.  And I'll bet Elaine doesn't fuck around getting crappy underwear, which would be bad, since you're not exactly flat-chested."  She started rooting around in the suitcase and found a couple, one cotton and another lacy.  "Up to you."

I picked the plain one, went back into the bathroom, and got it on, with Yuan-wei helpfully telling me to just pull the spaghetti straps on the top down and to put the bra on backwards before turning it around.  The result want quite a huge change, but I had to admit the support was nice - maybe I'd only been a woman for a few hours, but suddenly not having that tug was a pretty good feeling.  It admittedly pushed more up a bit and gave me more visible cleavage, but I guessed it was okay for now; a little laundry and I could get into something more comfortable.

And, brother or not, Yuan-wei has actually been really cool about that.  She's been helpful with practical things - even had pads in her purse when my period hit even though despite apparently being past freaking out about tampons.  She seems to be running up a huge phone bill with her boyfriend in Hong Kong, although I wonder about what I'm supposed to take from that - am I expected to generously offer not to change back so that she doesn't have to break up with him?  Tell her to go to the other side of the planet, I'll get by?

Maybe that wouldn't be such a bad idea; I've been at her apartment for the last two weeks, mostly just hanging out, and I'm starting to get antsy.  Skimming the blog, it looks like most (aside from Jordan) try to live the new life they've inherited, but there's no job waiting for me in Chicago, and a good chunk of her family already knows and doesn't have to be fooled.  So we've just been hanging out, and while maybe that's a ploy - it's a bit easier to go along with the idea that Yuan-wei really is my brother when she's swearing while playing Xbox with me - it's got me in a weird place of not having to worry too much about being someone else but not having anything else to think about.  I'm not sure what my next step should be.

-Max/Elaine

Cary (and Elaine): One Upset Girl

By now you've probably read that Elaine did not get to become herself again when her turn came up at the Inn; another fellow gets to have that experience, although for what it's worth, I don't think him becoming Elaine, specifically, was not part of his girlfriend's master plan. It could be, but Elaine is inclined to believe it's not, and I'm inclined to believe her.

The way she puts it, she, her sister, and her sister's boyfriend were on track to arrive at Old Orchard on Friday night.  She falls asleep in the car - apparently that's a Mackenzie thing; the rolling wheels just sooth her somehow - and when she wakes up, the car is stopped in a rest area with her by herself.  She gets out to look for her sister and maybe get herself a snack, and when she comes back the car is gone.  She doesn't have her phone, the others don't notice she's gone until they reach the Inn, and then according to Elaine the boyfriend is the one that says she'll be okay and they can get her in the morning.  Everyone changes that night, though.

Meanwhile, a Massachusetts State Police Officer finds her sitting on a park bench, guzzling coffee to keep awake through the night because she knows it's not safe for someone who looks like a ten-year-old to be on her own like this.  She's taken to the station because she can't remember "mom's" or "dad's" phone number, says they were going to the Trading Post Inn, and the night clerk at the place down the street says, yes, the Mahoneys have checked in.  By the time the local police get there, of course, there are no Mahoneys, just a young African-American couple whose story about being in a room with the Mahoneys' luggage makes no sense.

Around noon, I get a call, as Elaine is telling them that they came to Maine to visit me.  Fortunately, more than a few people on the force like hot dogs and know me to say hello at least, and don't seem to seriously think I'm any sort of actual suspect.  They just want to know something about the Mahoneys, and I tell them what I remembered from Elaine talking to them.  I don't suggest that they may show up in a couple of weeks or so; a couple of other Inn guests saw the handbooks I left at the Inn after changing back and have me a call, saying that a wide investigation would just stir things up and make the issues with missing time and the like different for everyone, and since people tend to be changing back this early in the year, maybe we should let the Inn's curse smooth things out, like it seems to do.

Of course, I can't do that entirely; as I'm walking out of the station, Elaine hears somebody call me by name and bolts from the table where she's sitting, running up and leaping at me.  It's such a genuine scared-kid thing that I'm not entirely sure how to respond to it, but she seems okay when I put my arms around her and pick her up, though maybe that's because it gives her a chance to talk to me without someone overhearing.  "You've got to do something, Cary - they're going to put me into foster care and the real Mahoneys don't know what's waiting for them!"

I say I'll think of something, and then ask the officers if she can come home with me.  They shake their heads, saying not while they didn't know what was up, but if I want to fill out some forms, they can start a background check, just in case.  So I tell Elaine to be good, getting a sarcastic look, and start doing some paperwork.

I get Missy's text message, so at least I can tell her that her body is in good hands when she drags her temporary guardian to the truck on Tuesday, though I can't say much more than "Elaine's doing well" without the other little girl and her mother thinking I'm suspicious.  By then, I've talked with Missy a bit and we think we've figured out what's happened, that this Bing-Bing girl must have left the Inn while Max was sleeping, came back in, scoped out where Elaine's suitcase would be and then rushed Max out during one of the moments when there weren't any police.

We got a little more time to talk this afternoon; she does not like what Missy and Max are saying about things being like this for a year, but she was at least able to give me an email address for the Mahoneys along with her own (though she says not to use it, because it's probably monitored).  I haven't heard back from them yet so I don't entirely know what's going to happen, but so far, it seems like everyone is at least safe, and apparently my application to be "Mackenzie's" temporary guardian is hung up on jurisdictional issues as much as anything.  So, hopefully, will be able to figure more out soon.

Jordan/"Missy" Yuan-Wei: Bitches Will Pay for This

I should be in Hong Kong now, fucking my boyfriend and maybe starting to make contacts with film industry people for after when I graduate next year, but what does that matter now?  It's not going to fucking happen because I don't know where and who I'll be, but I don't really have much choice.

I was minding my own business Saturday morning, getting packed and getting other stuff put away because without Benjamin and Jonah around, I don't have as many people to house-sit as I would otherwise.  I had some music blasting, so it took a second, more insistent buzz from the security intercom before I hit pause and went over to the panel.  The image on the screen was Bingbing.  "What do you want?"

She smiled a little too widely.  "Got a girl here who needs a little Inn orientation, Jordo, and I've bumped my flight home to this afternoon and don't have the time."  The monitor showed a little pixelated commotion behind her, and I heard a woman ask if her brother was up there with Yuan-wei.

I got a rock in my stomach and a fire at the base of my neck.  "Max, is that you?  I'll be right down!  Don't you fucking let that bitch leave!"  I grab my keys from the hook and go right out into the hallway without closing the door behind me and race down the stairs without even looking at the elevator, but when I finally cross the lobby and get out the door, she's gotten back into a car and driven off, a suitcase hastily thrown onto the sidewalk and a woman on the walkway next to the door, trying to stop the blood coming from her nose, asking where Bingbing learned to hit like that.  I told her probably close to home, on the streets of Chinatown, but she looked confused.  I sighed, opened the suitcase, and found a t-shirt for her to hold up to her face.   "Let's get you upstairs and cleaned up and I'll explain everything."

I probably shouldn't use "she", since I sure resisted it and you all reading this have probably figured out that "Max" isn't just some gender-neutral nickname.  He still didn't quite get it, though, asking where his brother was.  I dumped some ice cubes in a dishcloth and handed it to him.  He held it to his face and sat down, looking at me for answers for everything from why he was an African-American woman to why his girlfriend had slugged him before driving away.

I squatted down before him and held his free hand.  I've never been any good at this touchy-feely shit, but figured I might need to stop him from running away.  "I'm right here, Max.  I'm Jordan Chang, or at least I started out that way, until I went to the Trading Post Inn with Ravi about three years ago."

He stared at me blankly for a few moments before speaking.  "No, no,  no.  No!  That's not possible!"

"Look at yourself, Max.  There's at least a couple of things that are possible that didn't seem that way before."

"No, I mean, Jordan's back in New York, he's working at a gym, he's on my 9-man team, he's..."

"Doesn't sound like me, does it?  That's Benny.  Not nearly as good at computer stuff as me, but he did a bang-up job getting into shape.  How's his Cantonese coming?"

He had a million questions but got distracted by the one I asked, trying to remember the last time he'd heard his brother speak anything other than English.  So I launched in with the whole story - becoming Deirdre, meeting Annette and Benny, Benny and Kareena falling for each other, discovering that the last person to be Yuan-wei had thrown a wrench into our plans, settling in, finding out that Yuan-wei and Bingbing weren't the originals, and that more or less brought us up to date, except for whatever happened to him.

"So let's see who you are."  I pulled a wallet out of one of the suitcase's compartments and opened it up.  

"Oh no."

"What?"

"You've turned into Elaine Preston.  She was supposed to be getting her own life back this time.  She is not going to be happy."  I handed him the wallet and the compact that was next to it so he could compare his face to the one on the driver's license.

He looked back and forth, astounded.  The first time, it's a little hard to get the hang of having become a specific other person, even though I'd told him about how I'd found the suitcases and actually made choices about who to become.  I don't know how much of what I'd said had really sunken in.  "But... why didn't Bingbing change?  Or did she?  Did she just ditch me because she's not my Bingbing?"

I told him I didn't know, and started opening compartments, looking for a note.  It didn't look like Cary had left one for Elaine - why bother? - but there was a piece of paper filed in half, written in Chinese.  I handed it to him, but his hand was shaking, so he handed it back.

"'Hey, Max, I'm writing this before we even get on the train, so I don't know who or what you've become.  I know you've got a lot of questions, but your brother can answer them.  The important thing is that you relay a simple message:  Carlotta wants to be Yuan-wei again.'"

I stopped there for a second, suddenly feeling like I didn't need to read the rest of it, but Max was looking at me, wanting to know what came next.   "'And while maybe you lucked into a nice life just like Jordan did, and maybe Jordan's just enough of an asshole not to care what happens to you, I'm sure you at least still care about your parents.  And just ask Jordan just how careless we can be where people who think they're Carlotta's father can be.'"

I went pale, and that makes Max even more frightened.  "What's she talking about?"

I'm no good at the vague story that can spare his feelings.  "The original Yuan-wei's father died from a peanut allergy.  I think it was an accident but Carlotta felt guilty, although...  Fuck."

"That's all you've got to say?  My girlfriend just threatened to kill my parents and all you've got is 'fuck'?"

"Of course not!  I'm just trying to think what to do!"

"Well, what's she say?"

"What do you think?  She wants me to check into Room 7 at the Inn on August 31st, not interfere with Carlotta/you checking in mid-September, and then, if nothing's amiss, you'll be able to get your life back when the Inn opens back up in May."

He stopped the ice-pack, looked at his hands, and then brought them to his breasts.  "I've got to be like this for a whole year?"

It started my mind racing.  "Well, we could check and see if there are any other vacancies during the summer, but that's the luck of the draw - the real Elaine was turned into a kid, for instance, although...  Do you still have your key?"

He grabbed at his pockets.  "I...  I don't think so."

"Shit.  Giorgia - that's Bingbing's real name, Giorgia Wong - probably won't turn it in until just before the next two-week block, so that would make camping out and hoping you get a lucky 13 in the next week and a half tough.  I suppose we could try to stop Carlotta from checking in as Sandra and get you back in there instead, but Giorgia will probably be watching us like hawks, and I do not want to mess with them; they've both been in prison.  I really wish we could get ahead of them."

"Is that it?  Or do you just not want to give up all of this, assuming anything you've said has been true?"  He gestured vaguely at my nice apartment.

"Hey, I'm just trying to think of a way to get get you back to normal safely.  These bitches scare me, Max - when I go to Hong Kong, there's a cop all up in this ass because of something one of them did, along with a widow who is apparently cold to the person she thinks is her daughter because what if that detective is onto something?  There's a sweet but messed-up gay couple in Montreal because the Wongs were clever and sadistic enough to tell them that they might fucking melt if they tried to get their lives back just days or hours after this happened to them.  I thought Bingbing was a cool best friend to inherit, but as soon as I figured out what was going on, she started taunting me about dating you because she liked watching me squirm.  Carlotta served ten years for manslaughter.  I'm going to call Benny to tell him to look out for Mom and Dad, but do you think he'll be able to convince them that you might mean them harm?  As much as we're fucked if we don't do what they say, we're probably just as fucked if we do.

"I mean, yeah, I'd like to stay Yuan-wei - it's nice having a trust find and having a boyfriend that really digs me and being able to study something that I really find enjoyable.  And for all I know, they've lined up some 90-year-old with cancer to stay in Room 7 before me.  So pardon the fuck out of me for trying to see all the angles here!"

"And if the best angle leaves me stuck like this?"

"Dude."  I grabbed his hand again, squatting so that I was looking up at him.  "I gave up my own fucking life so that Benny could be be worth the girl he liked, do you really think I'd do less for my kid brother?  Like Mom always says, easy come easy go."

I guess he believed I was who I said I was then, because he came down off the chair and hugged me.  He started to pull back a little after a second because the feel of our boobs squishing together was weird, but I pulled him back in.  "Brothers no matter what, even if you are bleeding all over my favorite crop-top."

He laughed at that, and then I laughed, although it only lasted a moment or two as he tried to sniff everything dripping from his nose back in.  "Sorry about that."

"It's okay, I got more.  Now, c'mon, let's get you cleaned up and dressed in something that fits.  I've got a spare room and a credit card that can absorb canceling a first-class flight from Boston to Hong Kong, so let's get you settled."

He did thank you and I said of course, and didn't start texting Benny, René, Benjamin, Ashlyn, and every single person who had ever been to the Inn that I know until he closed the bathroom door.

-Jordo/Yuan-wei  (for now)

Cary Johnson: Back Home

It's kind of peculiar to welcome back pain, a tricky knee, and gray hair back like they're old friends, and I suppose that is possible that in a few weeks I week be waxing nostalgic for those months when I was a young black woman, even if only one one of those things actually made things any easier.  Still, despite how strange it is to feel a rush of gratitude at seeing familiar sights and acquaintances after a year when they feel like it has been only two weeks or so, it is welcome.

I miss Elaine a bit, even if I was not completely free of her when I left Chicago, still having her face and figure.  I asked if maybe she would like to fly out to Maine with me, but she said no; she wants to have a few days on her own, and then her sister was going to meet her, and they would spend a few days driving from Chicago to Old Orchard, doing a sort of an imitation of a regular family vacation.  I understand, a bit; it's been a long time since I went in that sort of trip with my mother and father, but even though she and I never built a sort of mother-daughter thing, I do sort of feel like she is my sister, and I hope she feels the same way about me.  Doesn't even have to think of me as her brother, I'll be her sister even if I'm an old man to her.

I still don't much like flying, although the experience is somewhat less stressful when you don't think the security people are going to see through how your face matches your driver's license and consider you an impostor.  I'm glad there are direct flights to Portland - smaller planes than the ones through Boston or New York (or Atlanta, as one ridiculous flight on the website Elaine visited would have had me using), so probably a bit more nerve-wracking, but there's something to be said for only going through it once.

Getting to the Inn was uneventful - I take the train, stop in at the place down the street where you check in and return your keys, and then just go.  The friendly lady at the first place nervously tries to make conversation about how prompt people are in checking in early in the season compared to late summer, but, despite the grumbling about how rude Millennials are when I just nod, take them, and leave, seems relieved by my not sticking around to chat.  About my real age, she's not exactly used to dealing with black people, I imagine, though it's different than the worst of what I encountered in Chicago, more about how we don't get that much variety in Maine and don't know how to react to it.

The Inn's not bad, considering; I've stayed in worse places as a younger man.  There isn't any luggage for me, since my place is close enough for this to qualify as a "stay-cation", but there is a shipping bag with some new clothes, including an unopened packet of undergarments, just in case I would feel strange about wearing things the other Cary had.  The letter in the bag isn't handwritten, and is in fact rather businesslike, telling me how things went with the truck, what sort of work he did over the winter to make up for it not being a great time and place for a food truck without a brick-and-mortar storefront to find spaces, how rent was paid through the end of May, that sort of thing.  It's courteous, and doesn't ever say that being me was a hardship.

I spend a few days as "Carrie" again, running the truck until we change back early on the 2nd.  I suppose I should be thankful for a little extra stamina on Memorial Day, but it's a bit of a nerve-wracking couple of weeks.  One thing that really gets me is being naked under the covers - I never did that in the rest of my time as Elaine - it doesn't feel proper with someone who looks like a little girl just on the other side of the room even if I were to do it normally - but I don't know just how I'll turn out.  Did the other guy gain some weight, so Elaine's bedclothes would strangle me?  It's not quite warm enough for it, really, and I get worried that someone will just burst into the room, but it doesn't happen.

I wind up myself again, though, and waste no time getting out of the place.  As much as I'm sure the experience was good for me, I don't think I intend to ever park my truck near there again.

Simon/Joy: Can't stop won't stop

Life since Stretch and I cut things off has been... okay. I mean, looking at the big picture, things oughtta be grand. The weather's gorgeous, I'm making tons of cash. I'm still a chick for now, but I've definitely learned to live with it a long time ago and never let that keep me from thriving.


It's a little lonely though. My hookups have become less frequent. Part of that is getting pickier, deciding what I like, saying "no" more when a loser approaches me at the bar. I had to stop seeing one guy because he really wanted to kiss a lot and I wasn't really into that. But I even found myself putting my best guys off when they texted, making excuses or just saying I wasn't in the mood. Eventually I got to the point where I had to wonder: did I really just turn down sex?


I guess there was a honeymoon period (so to speak) where all this sex was new and exciting and now none of these guys have really stepped up their game so it all feels repetitive and boring... I thought, it must be my body getting used to the feeling. How sad.


I was talking about this to Shayla about this, kind of rolling my eyes saying "How can people stand to be in relationships if the sex only takes this long to get bad?" and she basically spit out her drink in shock.


"I can't believe I'm hearing this from you!" she gasped, "You're like, Miss Relationship. I've never heard you act so obsessed with sex."


I sometimes forget that the person whose face I'm wearing did different things with it when she had it. "Well, uh, I've changed a bit. I'm trying to have more fun now."


I should note that I haven't hung out with Shayla much since the Holidays... I was "seeing" Stretch, I guess, so anytime I went out it was either with him, or by myself with the intention of getting picked up. And Shayla, I hate to admit it, is so much hotter than me that it's really hard to get a guy's attention when she's around. When I want to be invisible, I hang out with her.


"Of course you're sick of hook ups though," she laughed, "You want to be in a relationship. You want a guy to get to know your body, and care about your... you know, pleasure. If they don't have to do anything boyfriend-y, they're going to start taking you for granted."


That felt like a cold splash of water in the face. I was laughing to myself about how much fun it was to be "easy" and feel no shame about it I didn't realize that there's a downside to it anyway. I'd been trying to put my finger on why I'd been feeling lousy all month. I didn't realize that the problem might be with them, and not me. I just assumed that all these guys were doing their best to please me every time, but it dawned on me that they really weren't. They were only interested in being with me as long as it took them to ejaculate.


Still, I felt the need to debate the issue. "You can't tell me you'd rather have sex with the same guy for years than meet a new one every week," I huffed.


"Come on Joy, it's like you're forgetting everything you learned in college," Shayla scoffed.


I muttered, "It's been a while..." I guess that's when girls usually go through their trampy phase and come out looking for something more (ugh) "stable" or "deep."


She got this faraway look in her eyes, "I would love to be in a relationship right now... but the only guys I meet treat me like a piece of meat."


I'll admit that I still have a habit of staring at her tremendous breasts from time to time. It's weird knowing that, barring some crazy drunken lesbian experiment between us (fingers crossed, we've still got a few months) I'll never have a chance to get with her. But more than that, I miss having the biological urge to get with her. I just can't help staring because her body is like a work of art. I like the look of it, but I'm sad to say it doesn't turn me on exactly. (Okay, it does a little bit.)


But then I start to feel bad for thinking that way, because even though I still kinda like my newfound status of being objectified, she's had it her whole life and she's clearly a bit sick of it because it's getting in the way of what she wants.


Well, that's her problem if she can't appreciate a good thing. I'm only here for a little while longer so I intend to have my fun. I bet there's tons of chicks out there who would kill to look like Shayla. (And guys too, but they probably wouldn't realize how awesome it can be at first.)


I guess this is all a way of realizing I need to shake things up somehow, but it's not like I want something "relationshippy." In that way, my deal with Stretch was working for me because it was just casual enough to keep me interested, and then I didn't notice so much that my other hookups were bland. Some might say I was stringing him along, but it's still his fault for never making a move. And throwing a tantrum when he found out I was getting with other guys was also a big turnoff.


I don't know. It's a smarter play just to knock it off and stay on my own until it's time to get back to the Inn, but I look at myself in the mirror and think about how intoxicating it is to have a guy fawn over me, our hormones interplaying, hands on each other's bodies... and other parts... I can't quit that!


'Scuze me, I need to make a call...

Annette/Benjamin: Windy City Life

Four months in Chicago today, and in some ways it's been weirder for me than some of my past big moves because I'm not used to the continuity.  New York and Boston came with changing axes and ethnicities and orientations, meant catching up on who my new identity's friends and family were, and otherwise just jumping into a situation that required a lot of catch-up.

This didn't.  Marybeth was here waiting for me, I still know who everyone in my phone is, and I came here at lose ends rather than trying to catch up.  It doesn't leave me with that much free time - I still needed to find a job, help get everything settled in place after the move, all that - but a different question.  In New York and Boston, I was trying to figure out how to adapt myself to Ravi's and Benny's lives, and here in trying to figure out how to adapt my life to new circumstances.  I wonder if it would be easier if I'd done this before, like if Mom and I had moved when I was old enough to remember it or if I'd been able to move into a dorm room as myself three years ago.

It's getting easier, though, and I may have it better than a lot of guys moving halfway across the country for their girlfriends' jobs.  I don't think anybody consists me particularly feminine, but I'm pretty cool with a living room that isn't built around the big TV and video game system, decoration that involves a lot of plants, that sort of thing.  My shifts at an office-supply store are just offset enough from Marybeth's hours that were not fighting over the bathroom or always on our own.

I'm missing Cary already, though.  Even though he doesn't look old enough to grump about Millennials as Elaine, I can always tell from talking to him that were part of the same secret club, and on top of that, both of us being Mainers, and, beyond that, both spending a fair amount of non-Inn time in Old Orchard over the past few years (mostly brief visits to Benny's family for me).  It's also really fun to watch him and Elaine together; it looks like a kid who has her patents well-trained, even though her demeanor in no way matches her form.  She also knows all the best places to eat.

Marybeth is, understandably, a little uncertain about my first non-her friendship here being with an attractive woman with whom I don't have very much in common with, if you go by cover story.  It's even weirder to her, when we met up with "Elaine" without "Mackenzie", that they don't get along that all.  They've got a lot of the same taste in clothes, Marybeth loves the song that serves as ringtone on Elaine's phone, and they even go to the same gym on occasion.  That they seem to have so much in common, but "Elaine" gets on so much better than me, gets her a bit nervous, especially since I still keep in touch with Missy.

I'm making guy friends slowly but surely, though; there's a couple folks at work who figure we're bros because the same general manager got both our baseball teams World Series championships, which seems like the dumbest thing to bond over, but it's something.  One of Marybeth's co-workers has a boyfriend who seems like he'd be a really fun trivia-team member.  And who knows, maybe when Elaine comes back herself, she and Marybeth will click, Elaine will find a boyfriend who can make it not weird if we do couples stuff together.

-Annette/Benjamin

Tyler/Judith: Aftermath

While it felt like a big deal at the time, I don't think I could have reckoned exactly how much the pregnancy scare would rattle me. As a man, I had never experienced anything like it. Now, there have been one or two occasions where a girlfriend of mine had to use a pee-stick, but in those cases it was always so distant. That was probably why I was able to be so confident we would get through at those times, compared to this. It would be nice if things were equal between the sexes, but it's the woman whose body is on the line, so it's so much more real for her, more scary if things don't go how she's hoping.

When I did tell Kit, he as pretty understanding about it, said all the right things: "I hope you're okay, I'm glad we dodged that bullet," et cetera.

Things didn't really go back to "normal" after.

It feels like a shame to basically quit our sex life just as it was getting momentum but... how could I go back and do that again? I feel so paranoid that even if we take every available precaution, it's just not worth the risk. I was coming to enjoy the experience, and yet...I can go without. I don't know if that's my male psyche or Judith's body being kinda cold or what, but there you have it. Kit was... not thrilled about that declaration.

Things got tense.

We started having regular conversations about the future. Things like... how would I feel about having kids? Settling down, if possible? Sure, now wasn't the right time, but when will it be? Where "are" we in our relationship?

One came on Mother's Day. What a confusing dang time to be me. I'm being lauded for something I never particularly wanted, and while I do my best I still often feel like a failure. Like I'm seriously not cut out for this. A lot of the time Mother's day is to assure the mom that she is appreciated but it my case it was as much about reassuring me that I'm doing okay and I haven't screwed up. Emotions were running high after the kid crashed for the night. We were feeling good, but then the conversation started up again.

My line is always... we can't. We can't plan the future because we don't know what's next. We're at the mercy of luck, as far as whether we'll ever be in a position to have kids, so I don't want to think about it.

Kit scowls at that. He goes on and on about how many years he wasted with a husband who didn't want kids, and now, is a second chance ever going to come?

Probably, I say.

With me? Maybe not.

It just sort of fell out of my mouth without meaning to. I've sort of towed the line during this relationship that, yes, I'm trying to turn over a new leaf and not make the kind of rash decisions that led me to the Inn and to many other troubles. I claim to want stability and, I don't know, a "normal" life but...I could see it not happening. I have to acknowledge that it's a possibility.

That hurt him.

I think it's entirely possible that I never get to settle down because I don't have it in me to take another person's life for my own.

"That's so convenient for you," he hisses. "You get to make the grand sacrifice of never living a full life because someone else will need theirs back."

I tried to backpedal. You never know - someday, the stars might align and I get my happy ending.

"And by then I'm long in the past, huh?" Kit sniffs.

"I don't want to do that to you..." I say, taking him by the shoulders. "I have really loved our time together. And part of my 'new leaf' is not bolting at the first sign of trouble. I want this to work." I mentally try to forget every stupid minor spat we've ever had and every reason I might have left in the past, and remember that this is the person I am with and this is the person who is my chance to prove I have what it takes to make it work.

He grew quiet. He averted his eyes. I had no idea what was going to happen next.

He got down on one knee and took my hand in his. My stomach sank.

Oh no.

"Tyler Blake," he said, "Will you marry me?"

I froze. This was the last thing I wanted. I had just said I would want to make "us" work, basically promising more commitment than I had any right to, given the circumstances. I was not prepared to be called on it.

My mind raced. Married? What would marriage even mean to us?

All I could say was, "I don't know."

"You... you don't know?"

"Who knows what the future holds? We could get stuck somewhere where we can't be true to each other, and... I don't know! Anything could happen!"

He stood up and walked away. He left the house and didn't come back all night.

I cried myself to sleep, I don't even know why. I was mad - at myself for being the same commitment-phobe I always was, but also at him for pushing too hard when things were going well. We had... equilibrium until I wrecked it. But I couldn't help my honesty. That's just how I see things.

When I saw him the next evening, he apologized for walking out like that, and explained that he had spent the night at Adrian's brother's place and done a lot of thinking.

"I fooled myself into thinking this was real," he sighed, "You, me, Livy, playing house. You're a good wife and a good mom, and that made me love you, but it's not real."

"Kit, I'm real," I insisted, "You just... shocked me, that's all."

"I thought I saw a future here, but you're right, we don't know what's coming, and honestly I think I'll be happier if I make a clean break."

His eyes were starting to well up with tears. I could tell he didn't really want to be doing this, but somehow he felt he had no choice.

"Kit, don't..." I said, "We can... we can work this out." I had my doubts, but I genuinely had wanted to make things work, for Kit to be the person I actually became better for.

"I used to think that you just hated being a woman," he sniffed, "But I realized, you hate being stuck. You're afraid of not knowing where the exits are. You'll probably go back to that Inn every year of your life whether it makes sense to or not."

"Hey..." I said, trying to ease things. That remark had wounded me though.

"You let it ruin things between you and Meghan, and you loved her more than you'll ever love me."

Ouch.

And that's how it ended. Eventually we cooled down - it pained me, a bit, to try to remember all the details considering we're on better terms now - but yeah, the Kitty-Tyler relationship has ended. I've even modified our Inn reservation so that we are sure not to become a couple again (don't worry, I straightened it out with Judith, too.)

As far as breakups go... I wouldn't say it was good, but... maybe it had to happen. He's pretty right about my fear of commitment, and if what we had was real, it would have been a great opportunity to prove to myself, and Kit, I'm capable of being serious. But as much affection as I had for him, he's just... not the one. And I'm not doing either of us any favours if I married him (whatever version of marriage he had in mind) just to prove I could.

I'm a different person from when I first went to the Inn, years ago. I'm a different person, even, from when I woke up as Judith. That guy was scared and thought there was no way he could be a "wife" and raise a kid.

Now, when the time comes, when it's real... I'm ready. And I'll know.

The search continues...

-Tyler/Judith

Cary (and Elaine): Sometimes it's like I've learned nothing

So the last time I wrote something here, a few months back, it was all about Elaine teaching me how to be her so that I could get a job and keep her career going, which incidentally would keep a roof over our heads.  I seem to do all right, although the interviews are difficult.  I usually do jobs that most anybody can do, so the interview about kinda technical things would be tough even if I'm not doing it in a miniskirt and heels.  It takes a few tries before Elaine and I find a job that both will take us and looks likely to wrap up before the end of May.  It's a near thing, but today was the last day.

Elaine tells me that's good, which I'm thankful to hear, because I don't feel like I've learned anything specific on this job.  I started out not knowing much about computers, and I really don't know much about computers now.  I don't even know much about running a hotel, and yet I've somehow earned Elaine a bonus for spearheading a local group's development of a system to track everything about that.  It's bizarre.  I feel like I've gone into an office every day for months, running a lot of meetings, moving a bunch of sticky notes around a wall, but not actually doing anything.

Supposedly, according to Elaine, all the programmers would have just play video games all day long, never schedule a meeting with their "subject matter experts" or getting anything done.  I don't know that this is necessarily the case - they all seem to be good kids, more enthused about their work than I was when I was their age.  I guess maybe that's something I'm taking with me to my real life - whenever friends talk about the lazy younger generation, I can say that I don't really believe them.

I don't really know them, though.  A lot of Elaine's teaching me to live her life was so that I could go out with her friends.  I don't do it that much - like the ones at work, they're nice kids, but even with Elaine's drilling, I can be a few seconds behind in any conversation.  Dancing can be fun, but people get kind of grabby, and guys tend to take a step back when I start to talk about sports or anything.  Mostly, though, it's a matter of feeling uncomfortable leaving Elaine at home.  We spend more of our paycheck on home video equipment and the like so that she can watch movies while I'm at work or out, and most of the time I would rather stay home and watch something with her than go out with her friends.   We've got a few shows we're watching together, so sometimes she's kind of pleased that I'm letting her social life slide.

Not always, though.  The other day, I take a picture of myself with the team so that, when she's back in her own life, Elaine will recognize the people "she" worked with for these months, making sure to tag all the faces, and when I get home, she points her little fingers at the screen and asks why I've been holding out on her.  I kind of shrug.  I guess he's kind of handsome - tall, black, bright white teeth, only hair a close-cropped goatee, in good shape but not super-muscular - but not exactly distracting to me.  I tell her that I didn't think it was a big deal to mention it, because I think I handled telling him I don't date co-workers fairly well and I didn't want her to worry.

"HE ASKED ME OUT?"

Kind of, I say, but it would be unprofessional.  Besides, I wasn't feeling anything.  She says that's ridiculous, that everyone else with a functioning sex drive is starting to go along with what their bodies want, and he is exactly her type.  I say he's evidently not mine.  She looks at me curiously, and then asks if there are any guys there that do make me tingle.  I say no, but then I remember how I jumped a couple days before when another co-worker made it right to my desk without me noticing.  I point to him - white, a little closer to my real age, shaggy hair - and she just looks away, shaking her head, saying it's a good thing that I'm so professional.

I have to admit, I was kind of tempted to ask one of them out on the last day, maybe have one actual date before going back to the Inn next week.  I chickened out, though, so I guess I didn't learn anything about what the next lady I ask out will be feeling, either.

Tyler/Judith: Hold your breath

It's Sunday night. I'm in a situation that still feels unreal to me: desperately trying to pick an outfit for dinner. It used to be so easy, and Kit knows it. He's on the bed, dressed in his shirt and tie, his black socks wafting in the air while I'm charging back and forth. Is it too cold out for this? Am I gonna be comfortable?

"The purple dress," he says. "I always love you in that."

"Yeah, and I know why," I snicker. "Look at this neckline. That's a good reason to put it back."

"Aw, why?"

"Because Kip is gonna spend the whole night ogling my chest, no matter what. I don't to give him more ammo."

Kip is Adrian's brother who most definitely has a crush on Judith. It's incredibly sad and upsetting and a big contributor to why we haven't exactly kept things cozy with that side of the family. But tonight it's a big family dinner and we've got to go.

"I'll sit between you two," he huffs, half-jokingly I think. "He'll behave. And I'll get the show."

"You get the show no matter what," I snap back.

He has a retort of his own, "Not always. You make me work for it."

"Damn right I do," I say. I slip it on over my head. Predictably, my boobs come falling out, my bra is visible. You get so used to seeing women in movies and TV and magazines who have their outfits perfectly chosen for them, you don't think about how sometimes nothing just goes together. You need a goddamned masters degree in fashion sometimes to put together an outfit - a really nice one - that "goes."

I slip it off. I prefer a more modest light blue top. It's silky, so I like the fabric, it covers everything and goes with everything. Kit makes a face. "What?" I ask.

"I've never liked that one," he sighs, "Simply not flattering, I don't know what Judith was thinking when she bought it."

I huff dejectedly, "She didn't. I bought this one."

She reaches into the closet and pulls out a shear dark green top. I roll my eyes. We're back to square one, because everyone can see my bra in it.

"That's what the blazer is for," he says with a smile. I nod, okay, that will work. He adds, "There's a really nice knee-length knee-length skirt in there to finish it off."

I don't particularly feel like wearing the skirt. I haven't shaved my legs. I don't have anything against the garment in general. I'm over any kind of male-born aversion to girly clothes. Bring it all on, but make it comfortable. Instead, I opt for slacks.

Kitty gives me that face and says I look like I'm going to a job interview. I roll my eyes and insist I look fine, but a look in the mirror makes me doubt that.

I can't believe I'm about to utter these words but I do: "I feel fat."

I feel up my belly. I twist and look at the way my hips balloon out and project into a big round butt. I'm used to looking this way, and honestly it's not so bad, but I don't feel "fat" until my clothes don't fit right. Make no mistake, if I had been incarnated as a huge lumberjack of a woman I would have made due without shame, I think. But there's something about this situation that makes you feel the pounds and inches you gain after you get here, and Judith's body is pretty prone to fluctuations. Basically, I want my clothes to fit. It's a real kick in the tits when you have that notification that you're getting bigger, you're having an effect on this body. It feels unforgiving. I suck in as best I can. This isn't going to work.

"I'm sure you have something more forgiving," Kitty says. He's trying to be reassuring, but he's not.

"No, never mind, I'll wear the damn spanx," I grumble, dropping trow so that I can put on something restrictive that will keep me from breathing properly all night but at least allow me to fit in these damn pants. Then I have to find shoes to wear with it. Two-inch black pumps. Why does everything have to suck?

We go out, and it's a nice enough time. Nobody notices I'm being quiet. I order the salmon because it seems light. The Kid wants to order off the adult menu but I remind her that she wasn't able to finish the steak she ordered last time we tried that. Kitty says there's no shame in the doggie bag, and I say fine, knock yourself out.

Kip is ogling me no matter what I wear. I wonder if Judith ever felt flattered and encouraged it.

We get home. I'm definitely too tired to have sex, but we do kiss and cuddle a bit. I think about what an ordeal just going out for a night is sometimes. I toss and turn, and then I'm up half the night re-living my salmon. Not on purpose - I'm not trying to slim down, I just can't keep it down. Kitty sleeps through the whole thing. Between retches I pull my hair back into a ponytail so it doesn't get chunks in it.

On monday morning a thought occurs to me and I can't get it out of my head. I'm gaining weight, I'm getting sick, I'm a bit moodier maybe. I'm trying to remember when was my last period. I'm not on the pill and they tend to be erratic. I swear it's been less than a month. Once I went over 5 weeks between them, but that was before Kit and I were even doing it so I didn't think twice.

I happen to check the blog and see Jonah's post about his/her little baby girl.

I find myself at the pharmacy in the "Family planning" aisle. The pregnancy test seems like an unnecessary expense, right? My period will come any day now. So much grief and embarrassment in bringing it to the cashier, it's not worth it. I'm worrying about nothing.

I buy it and take it home. I couldn't even look the cashier in the eye as I did so, I can't even pretend I'm hoping for a positive to decrease the awkwardness. I drink two glasses of water, more than necessary. I'm shaking. This can't be happening. I'm only months away from getting out of here. I can't screw this up, for me and Judith and everybody. I can't get stuck here like Jonah. Even if what Kitty and I have is for real, we are not meant to stay in these bodies.

I pee on the stick. The two minutes it takes to reveal the result are the worst I have felt in years. Worse than waiting to find out how your body is transforming. Worse than whatever it was that drove me to walk out on Meg. Every problem I've ever had seems so small in this moment.

It's negative.

I breathe a sigh of relief. I feel like I've just been found not guilty of a federal crime. I look again. Still negative. Breathe. My heart and stomach settle back out of my throat.

I put the test back in the box, and put the box in a bag and I walk to a nearby park and throw it out. I think about what, if anything, to tell Kitty. I do plan on saying something about it, but I had to get rid of the evidence just so that he wouldn't find it first and ask about it. I need to control this.

I'm still very shaken. I walk home, sit down, breathe for twenty minutes, then look at the calendar and count the days until we go back... again.

Tyler/Judith: Spring lull

I woke up this morning and turned over the "Mom's Planner" calendar over to May. My heart skipped a little - we're that much closer to D-Day, or should that be M-Day, for Maine? Or T-Day for Transformation? Well, we haven't named it. Besides, it could be any of a several-day stretch we expect to be in Old Orchard Beach.

I haven't put much thought to what comes next. How could I? I don't know who or where I'll be, or who I'll be with. Everything will be up in the air. And I'm so stuck in the morass of being Mom and Wifey that I can't really afford the luxury of snapping back to "Tyler-Wanderlust" mode even in my dreams.

Besides, things are... and I hate to say it because things are just aching to be jinxed, but... things are good. Kit and I are vibing like we never have before, even when we were Alan and Greta. We've gotten into a good routine. There's me at home, cooking and cleaning, ready to kiss him hello when he returns from work. I listen to his - admittedly dull - office anecdotes. I ask the Kid about homework and friends. We watch TV, we fall asleep in each other's arms. If you didn't know better you'd think we had been doing this for years.

Which makes me feel like T-Day, whatever we wanna call it, is something to be a bit worried about it, rather than celebrated. Anything could happen and for once that feels like a bad thing, if it puts an end to me and Kitty before we're, I dunno, ready to end it. I try not to dwell on it too much.

There's, haha, sandwiches to make.

I still do some work for the Event Agency, but I haven't accepted any projects on my own since the Anniversary I did months ago. Judith would probably kill me if she knew what a fib it is that I've kept her career going strong. I mean, she wouldn't kill me, because she wants her body back, but maybe if she waits until after I've been to Maine... better watch my back.

It pains me to admit, Kit was a little right about de-emphasizing work. We've had to tighten our belts a little bit but it's not like we depended on my income too strongly, and I'm at peace with things as they are now. It's strange to think, this is maybe the first time I've ever not wanted to leave a situation but had to.

Simon/Joy: Well, that's over.

I guess it wasn't meant to be between me and Stretch.

He comes up to me the other day and says "We need to talk." I say okay, talk, and he shows me his phone, which shows my Facebook profile, and there's a post on my wall from one of my hookups saying sorry he wasn't going to make our date tonight and he would have to rain check me.

"What's this about?"

I told him it looked like I was free tonight. He didn't laugh.

"Are you seeing other guys?"

"Um, yeah," I said, "I told you I wasn't ready to be exclusive."

"I didn't think that meant you were actually out there seeing other guys."

I sneered, "God, read between the lines here, Stretch. I told you lots of times I was busy, what did you think?"

"I thought that meant work," he huffed.

"Sometimes it did..." I said, "Sometimes it started out that way and developed."

"How many guys are you sleeping with?"

I didn't like his tone but I decided to answer. "Right now?" I rolled my eyes up to do some mental math. "Two." I didn't tell him I had recently been narrowing it down from... well, it depends on how you count, but maybe five.

"And neither of them is me."

"I guess not," I shrugged, "You know, the timing was never right. I kept thinking you were gonna make a move but you seemed fine with what we were doing."

"This is bullshit," he huffed. "You shouldn't do that."

"If it helps, I didn't really go out with any of them," I said, "You're practically the only guy I go out to dinner with."

"But you won't fuck me."

"Woah, I didn't say I wouldn't fuck you, I was waiting to fuck you."

"Well, why should you fuck me, when you've got all these other guys going?"

"That's a good question," I hissed back. "Look, if you don't want to paly anymore, it's fine by me."

"I'm just confused," he said, now shouting loud enough for the office to hear, "What are we doing?"

Me: "Having a good time, I thought."

Him: "I didn't think I was gonna have to share you. I didn't think you were like that."

That pissed me off, I think I've got everyone fooled into thinking I'm real nice and virginal because I've got a petite body and pretty blonde hair and a nice smile. I don't look "nasty" but looks can be deceiving can't they?
Yadda yadda, we went back and forth a while but I could see where it was going. He wanted to be all judgmental with me because he was hurt, but that's his problem.

I told him I was gonna make the call for him, we were done. He was nice and all, but I can get better than him.

Don't look at me like I'm the bad guy. I am operating the same way I always did with chicks, I told them the deal upfront, including telling them I was gonna keep my other action discreet, so if there was a problem with that, there's the door. A lot of them took it.


The only difference I can see is that as a chick, I'm not being rejected... like, ever. If I want to have sex with someone I get to have sex with them when I want to. And they'll keep wanting to come back to me, because I've turned out to be a pretty good lay, so.. the guys add up, until I get bored of them.


And on the flip side, if I want to make them wait and impress me, something I never would have bothered doing as a guy (Like, "Are you hot? OK I'm impressed") I get to, like I did with Stretch. I get to make my own rules, because I'm a hot girl, so suck it.


I'm not here to fall in love so I don't owe anybody anything. I'm here for fun and to kill time until I get to be Simon again. Don't hate the player, hate the game. End of story.


-S/J