Aidan/Emilia: "What, and Miss Out?"

Rusty was not exactly pleased when he got "home" Sunday night with a bag now than he left with, asked Kutter what kind of haul she had scored, and saw us gland at the ceiling and each other before a little more prodding got Kutter to blurt out what Katey's father had tried to do.  "So that's why you checked in on me and didn't say why?  I nodded.  "And you!  Why wouldn't you tell me?  The three of us promised to have each other's backs!"

"There was nothing you could do, and i handled it!'

"With booze?"

"Just beer!  Maybe a little more than usual, but i knew Dad would be home soon enough!  I'm fine!"  She rolled her eyes.   "Look, you don't have to worry about me!  You're still my kid brother even if Monica's a couple months older than Katey."  She closed the laptop she been writing one of her videos on and said she was going to work in her room. 

I'd been waking dishes, so I wiped my hands and put an arm around Rusty's shoulder.  "Hey, I'm glad you're concerned about your brother, but we've been together since she got here.  She's holding together.  Now, how about you?  It looks like you had fun."

She shrugged.  "Monica's family is nice.  Kind of on my butt - or her butt - about not having a boyfriend, but i guess she's super-picky or something.  Never really noticed on her socials, but apparently nobody lasts more than a month or so."  She laughed.  "One of the cousins suggested that maybe she was looking for a girlfriend, which freaked her dad out, but, honestly, who has time for all that in their twenties?  Go to the gym, full day of work, and then I'm supposed to shower and change and go out again?  I really don't know how you and Mom found the time!"

I laughed.  "It was less frantic then, but you find the right person, and your priorities rearrange."  I chuckled.  "But wait till we're back home."

Kutter apologized for snapping at us when she came out of her room the next day, but we both said we were fine; she'd been through a lot.  We got texts from Razzie asking if we were around for trivia, since Chandra and Lettie weren't, and said sure. 

It was a bit of a different vibe, but i think we were all feeling good about Manhattan being turned down to about 80% that night.  I did keep a bit of an eye on Kutter, but she wasn't drinking more than usual or getting terms around men or anything, which is probably better than I'd be doing in her place.

We actually squeaked out a win, which had a lot to do with only half the teams showing up, but it felt good.  Of course, it also led to the second-place team buying us a round of drinks and mentioning that the brokerage firm that they worked for was letting them throw a New Year's Eve party the next night with an open bar and a heated balcony with a view of Times Square and everything, and it would be nice if we could come and make it more fun.  Rusty immediately said that sounded amazing while I said I didn't know, lying about having a lot of invitations. 

The kids were quiet on the subject for the subway ride home and up to the apartment, but that was apparently just for appearances' sake, because as soon as we were inside, Rusty was all "i know it's not really your thing, but this is once in a lifetime chance!  New York on New Year's Eve, and did you hear the DJ they've got?  We've gotta go!'

I looked at her incredulously.  "Really?  You want to walk into a pot of entitled, coked-up finance bros less than a week after what happened to Kutter?"

Kutter raised her hands.  "Hey, don't put it on me; I think it sounds awesome."

"Really?  What if--"

Like they'd practiced it, they both reached into their handbags and pulled out spray cans of mace. 

"Since when--"

"Dad, I hand-sell soda to bodegas in some sketchy neighborhoods.  Razzie showed me where to get it after the first time someone groped me at a street fair."

"Ms. Grayson gave this to me when she told me never to be alone in a room with the nepo baby son of the founder."

I shook my head.  "Look, I can't stop you, but it seems like a really bad idea."

Rusty leaned her head back.  "That the thing, though - you can!  That guy only texted one name to be put on the list, and he didn't even ask us ours!"

Kutter nodded.  "Yeah, that thing you said Thursday about me being sexier than you was sweet and there's some truth in it, but it's not like we're talking the most mature guys around here.  And some of the ones who do know what they like do in fact go for the blonde with the big boobs."

"Yeah, and...  Wait, Dad called you sexy?"

She nodded.  "Yeah.  Maybe i needed to hear it, but it was weird."

I didn't break that night, and settled in for a nice long day of watching football when they say on either side of me with their laptops and phones so that they could share the pictures and videos of New Year's festivities from Midway to New Zealand to Australia and on every hour, as well as texts about parties they'd been invited to and how they'd be watching the ball drop on TV,  or how they weren't both invited, the guys they didn't trust who would be there, and how if they did go to Times Square, it was one of the biggest nights of the year for pickpockets, purse snatching, and even girls getting pulled into alleys and--

"Fine!  We'll go to the party!  My good, it's like I actually raised two teenage girls!"

Rusty hugged me.  "And you would have been a great girl dad!"  Then she ran to her room, and i turned to Kutter.  "You guys don't find this disturbing?"

She shrugged.  "I mean, yeah, kind of, but i just figure whatever changed the rest of our bodies also gave us the brain chemistry of straight, cisgender girls, and rolling with that beats tormenting yourself like the kids at school afraid to come out to their parents.  The Inn will change us back and we'll be straight, cis guys again."

I chuckled. "Just like riding a bike, huh?"  She said it only made sense.  "I guess.  Then again, I didn't even know the word cisgender when I was your age.  Barely know it now, so maybe I just don't have the vocabulary for this."

This thought was interrupted by Rusty rubbing out of the room with a green dress that was going to have to stretch to fit her and matching heels.  "What do you think?  I've been a little afraid to wear it out because of how tight it is on my butt, but it's not a night for subtlety."  Kutter have her a thumbs up, and i rolled my eyes. 

"Hey, guys would like dressing up more if it wasn't always made to feel like an obligation that makes you blend in rather than stand out.  Go to any museum and look at portraits of kings, military officers from 150 years ago...  Heck, weren't you alive in the 70s?"

"I was a kid!"

After that, they dragged me into Emilia's room, opened the closet, shoved the practical things I kept up front for easy access to the aside, and then Rusty's eyes went wide as he saw something silvery.  "Come on, don't you want to wear this at least once?"

I really didn't, but that hardly seemed to matter, and soon enough I was in this dress that may have had a neck clasp but was slit to the navel, splaying wide enough that a bra was out of the question and Rusty had to let me borrow some double sided tape lest my nipples jiggle free.  There were matching heels and nail polish - although Kutter looked at the state of my toenails, got a file out of the bathroom, and said they were only going to do this for me once - so I got those painted.  They had me wear the dress around the apartment and walk around to make sure I hadn't forgotten how to balance or to cross my legs in the two months since getting a job where wearing flats was not just okay, but encouraged.  After they got dress themselves, they did my makeup and put glitter in my hair.

Looking in the mirror, it wasn't just that I looked like a different person, even considering that I've gotten used to Emilia's face over the last four months or so, but I kind of felt like I was seeing these three girls the way they must have come across as a group in college:  Emilia, tall, blonde, and busty, flaunting what she's got; Monica trim, cool, and confident; Katey less glammed-up  but the softer face making her look kind of relaxed as the goofy wingman.  They/we look right as a group, even if my and the kids don't entirely map to the images.

Downtown was already kind of a mess by the time we got there around 8:30 or so - and Kutter had us use a rideshare, even though they were alarmingly expensive on NYE, but it was too cold for the amount of leg Rusty and I were showing (Kutter wore boots) and we didn't want to get mussed up on the subway  Rusty had apparently texted Razzie when I was busy being fussed with, so she was waiting for us.

The guy at the front desk of this office building looked slightly amused to be acting as a bouncer, but not exactly irritated as he was probably getting some very generous overtime.  He found Emilia's name on the list, shrugged when I said these were my friends, and pointed us to the right elevator.

We didn't immediately see the guys from trivia, but noted the weird vibe immediately: lots of guys in suits, lots of girls dressed like me, few of whom gave the impression of working in a financial firm.  I mean, yeah, appearances can be deceiving, but I know holiday-party flirting with co-workers, and this was definitely "play my cards right and I could be set for life" flirting.

At first, I spent most of my time keeping an eye on Kutter, but she didn't spend a lot of time at the bar like I feared; she was there to dance and way more comfortable doing it than I was in those shoes.  I did eventually catch up with the guy who invited us, and we danced a bit, but I was pretty terrible.  Imagine an SNL skit where a girl doesn't really know what her hips are doing and is torn between thrusting her boobs out because they're what guys are looking at and being terrified that the tape will give and that was me.  I convinced him that I was a complete nerd, and that did not seem to be what he was looking for, no matter how the girl looked.  He didn't seem to mind much when I excused myself to use the ladies' room, although I was amused to come out and see him dancing with Rusty.

I kind of figured my work there was done and found a stool at a portable bar that had been erected in a corner and asked for a bourbon.  They had the good stuff, and some senior manager noticed my good taste.

We talked for a while, and it was actually kind of nice, at first.  I don't get a chance to talk to men my real age that often, not for more than a few minutes at a time, and it was easy to fall into the right rhythms, and I didn't really think, hey, shouldn't he find it weird that this 23-year-old girl is connecting so easily with a guy twice her age? until I was another drink in and really wary about getting off the stool and walking around.  Of course, he wouldn't be - middle-aged white men making the sort of money he does kind of assume that they're the default and anyone different is strange (yeah, I'm more acutely aware of this than I used to be), and most of zoomer girls he meets have probably taken step to make themselves more appealing and ingratiating.  I was kind of looking to either side of him when I could, seeing if I could catch the kids' eyes, but they were on the other side of the patio beyond a lot of people.  I also became kind of aware that he had placed himself such that it was hard to step down and move around him, all the more so when he put his hand on my back when the countdown started and everybody had moved toward the edge of the balcony to watch the ball.

They'd gotten down to six when I heard a familiar voice say "There you are, sexy - you're about to miss it!" and when I looked up Razzie was pulling me up and pulling me across the room.  At around three, she quickly said we had to sell it right before yelling "Happy New Year!" and kissing me full on the lips.

I must have looked shocked when we disengaged, while she looked sheepish.  "I'm sorry!  This was really uncool, but he's our friend's boss, and he likes to pressure his people to give him girls' numbers, but thinks gay people are kind of gross.  Monica would have come to grab you herself, but, well, I kind of wanted to.  Kind of have for a while, but it doesn't look like you're into it."

I wasn't sure whether to protest or not - she was a good kisser and the piercing in her lip didn't feel nearly as weird as I would have thought, but, no, I really wasn't into it even though I felt like I should be.  She laughed at me still looking dumbfounded.  "Hey, it's okay, I'm not usually into Barbie dolls myself.  You just have a really unique vibe."  She laughed.  "Man, when I met you guys, I thought you were some sort of lesbian polycule, but that ain't it.  You're just really good friends, which is really cool."  We'd reached the elevators, so talking got awkward, and we were back down at the street before we knew it.  "So, uh, I should probably go.  See you at trivia!"  And with that, she was off to the nearest subway station.

Surprisingly, Rusty and Kutter were among the next group the elevator disgorged, Rusty with a smirk on her face.  "Well, that was hot!"

I groaned.  "You saw it?"

Kutter held up her phone.  "I am putting this on a memory card as soon as we get back to the apartment so I'll have it forever, even after I no longer have access to Katey's cloud storage."

"She was just trying to convince that guy I wouldn't be interested!"

Kutter put her phone away.  "Uh, would you be?"

I shook my head.  "I don't think so.  Heck, I don't think I'd do much more than, you know, hang out at the bar talking just to talk to someone if I met him as myself.  Although..."  The kids started to grin a little sarcastically, Rusty more so than Kutter.  "I mean, look, I'm not going to lie to you, when he touched my back, there was a bit of excitement about what could happen next along with the feeling that this could get out of my control, and there really wasn't with Razzie.  Maybe what you said about having these bodies' orientations and the like is true."  They seemed to consider that as we stood against the building.  Finally, I crossed my arms over all the sideboob that was getting hit by the wind.  "Whatever.  Thanks to this dress you guys insisted on, I'm freezing my tits off, so let's get home."

They agreed, and we figured we were okay with the subway this time, even if it was crowded as heck.  By the time we got to the apartment, the three or four drinks finally caught up to me, and I basically dropped on my bed in just my panties, which I never do, figuring there would be some sort of longer talk the next day, but they were gone to their jobs by the time I woke up, and then I was off to mine before they left.

Maybe there's not much to talk about - we've got the bodies of young women with standard-issue hormones, there were guys around, but what are we going to do, considering we're halfway through our time like this?  As much as there was some knee-jerk physical reaction for me, it still felt weird, and I can't imagine it not feeling weird by the time we go home.

-Aidan/Emilia

Aidan/Emilia: Hardest Moment as a Dad

I'd had vague ideas of seeing the Dylan movie after my double today - the kids roll their eyes at the trailer, because Bob Dylan is just an old weirdo to them, they imprinted on Walk Hard young and can't take any musician biography seriously, and apparently retain the teenage boy view of Timothée Chalamet as kind of too pretty and effeminate rather than swooning like young women - but the shop was nearly as crazy as the day after Thanksgiving, so I wound up just heading home with the intent of seeing if the bubble bath with a bottle of wine was all it's cracked up to be.  When I got up to the apartment, though, the light was on and Kutter was sitting cross-legged and barefoot on the couch, three empty beer bottles on the floor in front of her and a half-finished one in her hand. 

It made me stop short, some instinct telling me to give her space rather than run up to her, though I squatted to get in her eyeline.  "Hey, bud, what's wrong?"

She took a deep breath and a swig from the bottle.  "I'm pretty sure I know why Katey isn't coming back."

"Oh?"  I didn't feel a need to prompt; like with Rusty at the gym, Kutter will let worries out if you give her space and a little permission. 

And it came out.  There were already a bunch of cars in the driveway and on the curb, so the rideshare driver dropped her a couple houses down.  There was a girl about her age playing with a baby in the snow in one yard, and she lit up when she saw "Katey", picking the boy up and waving.  Katey recognized her from Instagram, and she introduced her to the kid, then expressed surprise that she was back after mostly spending the holidays at school. She said she watched all Katey's TikToks, but then lowered her voice.  "Looks like a crowded house over there.  I'm going to be here all weekend, so stop in any time you need a break. Any. Time."

Kutter thought that was odd, but maybe it was some private joke.  She took a breath and went into Katey's family home.

It was not like our Christmases; there were little kids running around, multiple people unwrapping at once rather than building suspense and asking what gave you that idea, cousins who wanted to know everything about the big city, and uncles and aunts that she did a pretty good job of pretending to know by noting anyone calling and responding to names.  Dinner was noisy chaos.  She was ready to go to sleep by ten, earning cracks about not getting much of New York's nightlife.

Around 1am, she woke up.  Katey's father was straddling her, unbuckling his pants.

"What?!"

She nodded.  "Yeah.  So, obviously, I started to scream, and he put a hand over my mouth, like, hard enough to press my head down into the mattress.  I remembered the lamp on the bedside table, and reached out for it, but he used his other hand to pin it down.  So, I figured, I don't go to the gym like you and Rusty, but I've got really bony knees, and I rammed one right into his balls as hard as I could."

I gaped at the matter-of-fact way she said that., but..  "Good for you."

"Yeah.  He fell backward, which meant he was kind of sitting on my legs and too heavy to move, so I grabbed that lamp and smashed it into the side of his head.  Twice, when it looked like he was about to punch me in the face."  She took a deep breath.  "He fell off the bed, so I jumped up and ran outside, barefoot, and banged on the next-door neighbor's door.  I kept looking over my shoulder, and I think the door to Katey's parents' house had opened by the time her friend's dad took a look at me and yanked me inside."

She looked at her beer, and put it down, thinking.  "So, obviously, this had happened before, but I'm guessing that the last time, Katey didn't say quite so plainly that her father tried to rape her, because they all kind of winced at the word.  Then they asked if I wanted to call the police, and I said what I wanted was to get the fuck back to New York and never come back there again."  She stopped and looked up at me.  "Should I have stayed and filed a report?  He deserves to go to jail, but I just wanted to run like a coward--"

"Hey."  I inched a little closer.  "Given the situation w're in, you probably did all you could do.  Just practically, by the time it were to go to trial, it would be someone else who would have to testify against him.  Plus, I looked up sex crime statistics when we first changed, and--"

She nodded.  "Yeah, so did I.  Still..."  She finished her beer.  "I just don't get it, though!  It's sick, and I'm not even sexy like you and Rusty!  Why the hell would he do this to me, or her?"  She stumbled forward and grabbed me, burying her face in my shoulder for the first time in a long time.

I let out a sigh of relief, because I had just started to figure she might be afraid of me after that.  I patted her on the back.  "Hey, I don't know, and I'm glad I don't know, and you don't know.  I'm glad the thought just doesn't enter our heads.  I don't think it's even about attraction, though.  I think he just wanted to have his daughter completely under his thumb and scared of him.  Heck, coming back for the first time in years, he probably wanted to show Katey who was boss."

I could feel her nodding, and then something struck her, and she pulled back.  "Wait, what about Katey?  Why the hell didn't she warn me about this?  Did she like it?  I mean, okay, it was scary, but the whole flight back here, I couldn't help but think how lucky I was because if he'd really wanted me unable to move, he could have, but if she didn't resist--"

"Hey.  You don't know, I don't know.  Look, think of how scared and confused you are now, and imagine, well, I don't want to say imagine it was your dad--"

"You would never!"

"Thank you.  But someone like that can tell his daughter it's normal and she'll believe him.  Maybe right up until she gets a chance to leave."  I shrugged.  "I mean, I don't know.  This is all new to me, too. Real girls would probably know better.  Or maybe not.  Shame makes people do strange things, especially when the person in question shouldn't be ashamed."

She shrugged.  "I guess.  Anyway, they offered to book me a ticket and lend me some clothes, but then I realized I had left my wallet and phone over in the bedroom, so the dad said to stay there.  I did, and about half an hour later he was back with my purse, phone, and carry-on bag.  I'm not sure how he convinced Katey's father to let him in to get them.  I had to connect in Atlanta to get back here, but I was out of that town early this morning.  Then you got in, and we're allll caught up."

She stood, grabbing her head and looking kind of dizzy.  "Whoa, I don't think I've slept or eaten anything but the beer since then.  I think I need to sleep more, though.  G'night."

I said I'd leave my door open if she needed to talk more, and she nodded.  She'd started to walk off when I said "one more thing."

She looked at me, curious, as I stood.  "Part of me wants to let that thing about how you're not sexy go, because, well, it's weird for me, and as a dad I don't necessarily want you thinking of yourself as a sexy girl, but you are.  Like, I'm not sexy like this.  I'm what guys your age, your real age, think is sexy before they've learned what they really like.  You're kind and funny and good at what you do and you seem at ease in your skin, even though it's not your skin anymore.  You're sexy as heck and you shouldn't think that's a bad thing or try to be less than you are because of one bad day."

The corners of his lips twitched upward for the first time that night.  "Uh, okay.  Thanks."  Then she turned and went to her room.

Me, I immediately texted Rusty to find out if she was all right.  She texted back a thumbs up and then a selfie of herself drinking margaritas with some of Monica's cousins.

Don't know if I'll get to sleep myself.

-Aidan/Emilia

Aidan/Emilia: Well, that was a weird Christmas

It starts with the kids and I actually kind of more in sync than most mornings - they both had to catch morning flights, so we wound up sitting around the little tree at 5am, dressed in slippers and the sweatpants and t-shirts we'd slept in.  Didn't even put on a bra, so I'm sure my nipples will be in every picture we took.  I laughed, saying that it seemed like only yesterday they were so eager to see what Santa had brought them that they got up before dawn until they became teenagers who slept in practically until noon.  Rusty said that still sounded like a great plan.

After last week's hemming and hawing, I eventually decided to get them things that would be useful now and that I could see them bringing home.  For Kutter, that was a camera and some accessories - a ring light, a gimbal stabilizer, and an external hard drive.  The camera probably wasn't much better than what she's got in her phone, but it's good to have something built for a job sometimes.  Rusty got a Blu-ray player and what the guy at the store assured me was a good starter pack of Korean movies that could be hard to find on streaming services.  This apartment actually doesn't have any device that plays discs (welcome to being a zoomer, Aidan!) and the one in the living room back home is old.

With each other, they were oddly sensible - chocolates and coffees and craft beers and bottles of hot sauce with an alarming amount of flames on the packages (Rusty, of late, has discovered that she really likes a lot of spice and heat on occasion, after she went to some local ethnic eatery and they deemed her Asian enough to handle the "real" version of a dish), stuff that they figured they would use up in the next few months even if they only had the good stuff every once in a while.  

I got some of that from them, too; ciders and the fanciest box of artisanal peanut butter cups you've ever seen (they've been buying me the tree-shaped boxes of Reese's since they were five and six, so this is a bit of an upgrade).  Kutter got me an autographed "Advanced Reading Copy" of a thriller by a favorite author that should be big next summer.  Rusty discovered that apparently Atari still exists and is selling updated versions of 30-year-old game consoles, so she got me one of those and some cartridges, which I guess means I'm not totally introducing her to the idea of physical media.

(There were also some gag gifts that I'd prefer not to discuss - what was the idea behind competing over who could get the other the most outlandish heels?)

Then Kutter beat Rusty to the shower but was quicker than usual, and soon they were dressed, made-up, and on their way out the door.  I felt like I should have accompanied them to the airport or seen them off, but it would have just been taking the subway even if one wasn't going to JFK and the other to Laguardia.  Just a reminder that I was not properly dad-ing.

Soon, though, it was my turn to shower and dress for the holiday, which I'd left in the hands of the kids, telling them this would not be a good time for pranks.  I still kind of felt like they were kidding me - candy-cane tights, a sparkly green skirt, and a sweater with a reindeer on it that didn't hide much of my figure and which didn't feel entirely appropriate for Zooming with the parents - but apparently, it was:  Emilia's mom and her little sister were wearing matching sweaters even though full breasts apparently run in the family and her sister is still a senior in high school.  When I opened the box they'd shipped, it was from Victoria's Secret and contained both flannel pajamas and some new variety of bra that Emilia's mother swears by.  I'd sent gift cards, and so had they, with a pre-loaded Visa debit card discretely slipped into a card so the little sister didn't have to see it.  We somehow managed small talk with me drawing on Facebook and "Mom" remembering what it was like to just be starting out in a new city.

The call with her father was a little different.  There was a stepmother who said hi at the start but then busied herself in the background; I gather she and Emilia never became close.  Her dad asked if I was already looking for new work since the bookstore would likely be a last-in-first-out situation, and I lied and said yes.  Lots more questions about if I was being careful in the big city, and I admit I did chuckle at one point when he used some exact words I'd spoken to Rusty & Kutter, although I bluffed and said we'd had this exact conversation at graduation when he asked what was funny.  Anyway, I'd sent him gift cards and he had done the same, plus some nice gloves that you don't have to take off to use your phone and a knit jester's hat.  He didn't feel the need to be discrete about having sent a prepaid debit card.

After that second call, I did the thing where I retreated to Emilia's room and flopped backward on her bed, feet touching the floor, and just staring at the ceiling for a bit.  I used to do it because being a girl has just been too much for me, but today it was the lying, and also something seemingly bigger than that.  The parents were my age, and Emilia's sister less than a year older than Kutter, and it was something to really do the full role-reversal; dizzyingly strange at points and all too easy at others.  It's one thing to put on a bra and work an entry-level job and scrape to pay rent but then come home and be able to be yourself with your kids (I've done some of that before and at a certain level you just accommodate your body until you can tune any signals of discomfort it's sending out), but immersing yourself in someone else's life, even for a couple of hours, is something different.

And on top of that, I knew that pretty soon, Kutter & Rusty were going to be doing it even more than I was.  Maybe better?  After a while, it led me to thinking about the guilt I'd felt about not being able to drive them to the airport earlier, and how over the past couple of months, I've slowly been relating to them more as roommates than as Dad, even with the morning's sentimental gifts, and they were about to get the better part of a week of people just relating to them as parents with their kids.  And mothers!  They would have mothers for the first time in a decade!  Two people doting on them and worrying about them that they didn't have to share with their brothers!

I don't think I quite had a panic attack, but I laid there a while.  Then, some time later, I realized I was hungry, because I hadn't actually had any breakfast and it was 1pm or so by then.

For some folks, that's bad, they'll feel like they don't deserve food or binge or the like, but it tends to hit me as "here's a problem you can deal with, so tend to that".  So I did.  I grabbed a coat, plus the gloves and hat Emilia's father had given me, and went downstairs, glad I was in New York.  Lots of places were closed, but lots of places weren't, and while they were quieter than usual, they weren't sad, empty places that reminded you that you were sad and lonely.  No, there were lots of people grabbing a slice of pizza for lunch for whatever their own reasons were and it was kind of no big deal.

Then I kept going, explored New York at Christmas.  Sure, it doesn't quite snow like it used to here, so maybe it's not the exact sort of magical that it used to be, but I only saw that in the movies and on TV, so I walked through Central Park, through Times Square, up Broadway, and every other thing Emilia's phone could find that was a noteworthy Christmas decoration.  And the thing about New York's bigness is that, while it's often annoying when you're packed into a bus or tourists are choking downtown, it can also mean that things can be done at scale.  Some of it just isn't possible anywhere else, certainly not in our suburb or the nearest city.

Of course, another part of New York is that it gets dark at 4:15 or so this time of year on top of being cold.  I decided to treat myself, found a nice steakhouse, and let them all wonder about the pretty girl having a steak, red wine, and ice cream by herself on Christmas.  Then back home and more time playing Atari than since I was eight (though we probably had a Nintendo by then).

And then, writing this, because the crazy day seemed to need summing up.  Tomorrow, back to work!

-Aidan/Emilia

Jordan/Yuan-Wei: Could Be Worse!

Hope I didn't get folks too worked up over the last post.  Anyway, Dominic had a rough night of it - compound fracture and what is apparently way more internal bleeding than you want from the femoral artery as a result.  I mean, you want none, obviously, but I feel like transfusions for "just" a broken leg is kind of alarming!

If it was alarming to me, it was absolutely panic-inducing to him, so I wound up in "reassuring girlfriend" mode the next day - no, I was not just attracted to you for your body, and it's not nearly broken enough for me to put me off, you'll heal up, and be back at risking your body/skillfully making it look like you've risked your body in a couple months - which, admittedly, is not natural to me.  I'm not a bitch, I don't think, but there's still a lot of New York asshole in me which is not exactly helpful when someone feels legitimately down or isn't used to busting your chops as meaning "see, it could be worse" rather than "it's worse than you think".  Trying to quickly think of solutions when he's down, that sort of thing.

And, like, trying to make sure he's not down for very long.  There are logistical considerations in fucking someone whose full leg is in a cast and not supposed to have any weight put on it, but we're figuring our way around them.  Purely for the purposes of making sure he knows he's no less a man in this situations, of course.

I kid, but that sort of temporary handicap is no joke, especially in a place like Hong Kong where folks often have tiny, cramped apartments and some of the elevators are like sixty years old and break down a lot.  Dominic's apartment, for example, is on the sixth floor of his building and he's often joked about the stairs being his workout.  His parents are in a high-rise whose elevator doesn't have any problems but which is just a bedroom, kitchen, living room, and bath, since they downsized after he moved out.  Which leaves me.  I don't know if I'm really rich right now - Chen-ai/Bingbing didn't exactly drain the family accounts but she sure as fuck convinced the nice lady living her life that she deserved a good chunk of it - but I've got a nice condo with a spare bedroom should we not decide to sleep in the same bed for whatever reason, and the building is relatively new and reliable.  There's the family house, but...  Well, I'm not sure what to do with it, to be honest, but that's a whole other thing.

But, yeah, Dominic is moving in, at least for the next couple of months, a lot sooner than I expected we'd be having this conversation.  We've gone over to his place and brought a lot of clothes over, and he insisted on being the one to buy a cheap bit of plastic storage to keep them in.  So far, we're not clashing too much, except over breakfast, when I am trying to get out of the habit of grabbing the closest thing Hong Kong has to a New York bagel and coffee en route to work because he'll make dim sum.  Along those lines, he and his parents are not really sure what to think about just how American the contents of my apartment are.  The place you see the most Chinese characters is one the Blu-ray shelf and the pantry, whereas my jottings on the refrigerator's notepad are all in English and so are most of the books and magazines lying around.

More than being generally Western - which isn't that big a deal; folks in this city have been using a lot of English and getting into Western things to look worldly and sophisticated for a long time, and the transition to sucking up to the Mainland instead is kind of happening slowly and reluctantly - it's my place.  Me, Jordan Chang, not Jordan Lee Yuan-Wei.  And I suspect that while that just looks eccentric to friends and lovers who pop in for a visit or stay the night, it's probably pretty fucking weird for Dominic when he's got time to settle in and look around.  Like, why does the Christmas card from a random-seeming family from New York have a place of prominence while the one from my mother (you know, Chen-ai, or the while lady posing as her) doesn't?  How would someone who went to college in Boston know this family from New York, getting all these texts at odd hours and there was a package with some Christmas presents, and do you know what it fucking costs to ship stuff internationally these days?

I'm not worried he's going to find out my secret and have some sort of gay-panic freakout; the Inn's curse kind of protects me from that, which becomes weirdly convenient once it's not the most fucking frustrating thing in the world.  But, ugh, I'm not looking forward to coming up with weird stories (which you kind of have to after the face I made when he guessed that I had dated my kid brother at some point) or pushing my original life even further into the background.  But I guess that's what you kind of have to do when your new one fills out like this.

And I guess I can; Jonah is getting married next year and seems to be making her peace with it.  I just wan't figuring on doing it the week I'm exchanging a lot of Christmas greetings with my American friends and family, is all.

-Jordo

Aidan/Emilia: Christmas Shopping

So much of it!  And not just because of all the hours I'm working at the bookshop (lots of overtime - a couple folks quit and someone chose a lousy week to have Covid)!

This is not, by the way, a "Oh, now you know what ladies go through at the holidays" thing.  I've been a single dad for over a decade managing Christmas decorations and shopping on my own, and sometimes money has been tight.  It's just figuring out what would be appropriate 

For instance, we dug through the back of various closets and found that there was a small artificial tree and a string of LED lights that Emilia had apparently bought for her dorm room or college apartment.  It's small, maybe the and a half feet tall, but so is the apartment.  We pushed the coffee table into a corner and set it up in top of that.  Kutter and Rusty are going to have to improvise foot rests for when they're gaming on the couch, but they made that sacrifice willingly. 

Decorating ours, though, was surprisingly deflating.  There are years printed on most ornaments, whether store-bought or homemade, and every year I discover anew that they can be profoundly powerful reminders of how Kutter and Rusty have grown and what has persisted, what Christmas was like for me as a kid, and remember the ones we spent as a family before losing their mother.  The various ones Emilia, Katey, and Monica have left behind mean little to us.  Maybe even less, because they were willing to abandon them. We wound up putting them back in their boxes and buying some new ones.  I went for a couple specifically featuring New York while the girls went goofy - honestly, who even puts a loop of string on a miniature pair of heels and calls that festive? - so that they would mean something later. 

It's trickier to do the same sort of thing with the actual shopping - should I be shopping for teenage boys or young women?  It doesn't seem right to look for things that they will be leaving behind in a few months - although I suppose they may be mementos of their time here - nor to get them things that won't seem relevant until May.  After all, buying teenagers something that they'll still be interested in six months from now is difficult in the best cases, and who knows how this experience will leave them changed on the other side..

Yeah, I guess I'm shopping for Katey and Monica.  Of course, there's also the question of the family living our lives now, so maybe we should be getting "Aidan", "Kutter", and "Rusty" something.  The kids and I have talked it over a bit, but we're actually having a little trouble coming up with something appropriate that we wouldn't have mentioned three months ago.  Rusty as suggested just a card involving Santa dresses and the caption "Wish You Were Here!", at least until I pointed out that the girls living their lives were also underage and that would be inappropriate on so many levels.  She still wants the picture, though.

And then, there's the big one - these girls' families.

It's the twenty-first century, so there are social media posts hinting at interests and Amazon wishlists for when you don't want to leave anything to chance.  I've been texting with Emilia's (divorced) parents to get ideas about what to get her sister and vice versa, and also to let them know that their daughter won't be able to make it home because I'm working late Christmas Eve and early on the 26th, because rent in Brooklyn is expensive.  They're disappointed, but understand.  It's kind of a relief to me, since it means that there's a good chance I'll get through this whole thing and not have to lie about who I am to their faces and think about why Emilia left them behind.

The kids aren't so lucky.

Katey and Monica were both only children, and with neither Kutter nor Rusty having taken any time off, they've got a little PTO and floating holidays that they can't roll over into next year, so there's really no excuse, especially since Monica's father already bought her a round-trip ticket.  Katey's parents haven't been quite so insistent, but they too mentioned that they haven't seen her since graduation, so she's booked a ticket herself.

On the one hand, this is logical, they answer to "Monica" and "Katey" without ever missing a beat by now, never forget themselves and do things a woman wouldn't, and they've been less timid about responding to folks who knew the originals on Facebook or the like than I am.  On the other hand, despite them working full-time jobs and not sticking to soda when we do bar trivia every Monday and regularly getting into taxis driven by strangers on their own, they're kids.  This will be their first unsupervised travel, and as pretty young women besides.  On the one hand, it probably shouldn't scare me too much - they handle the New York subway system on a daily basis, which is probably more dangerous than suburbs and regional airports, on top of being more complex.

They're not that worried about shopping, saying that whatever they get, these other parents will appreciate the thought, and vice versa.  Which, I'll admit, is true.  It still seems overwhelming to me, though.

-Aidan/Emilia

Jordan/Yuan-Wei: Too much time to think right now

I mentioned a few months ago that I was trying not to jinx something, but I guess I may as well.  His name is Dominic Wong Tak-Lok and I think I may love him.

We met on a dating app, as you do, but it actually started to take off when we crossed paths at work.  He's a guy who would be about to break big if Hong Kong's film industry was what it once was, a pretty darn good screen fighter in one of the big stunt teams who has the charisma to jump to speaking roles; he's had a couple things - mostly stuff that goes straight to the likes of iQIY - where he's a sort of featured heavy, the guy that gives the star a run for his money on the way to the big showdown with the villain and lodges himself in your memory because that guy was sort of cool.  Anyway, he was in a fantasy action thing and I came on-set to set up mo-cap when needed and show the director monster designs to make sure that there was actually room for a bulky ten-foot-tall beastie on screen.  So I was putting some dots on him, he said funny meeting you here and poured on the flirting; I wasn't seeing anyone exclusively and he was my type, so I went with it.

Not that "my type" is particularly specific:  He's tall, well-muscled but just short of the super-sculpted way that Benny says isn't achievable without risking dehydration, and gets a nice five-o'clock shadow.  Some of his family emigrated back in the 1990s, so he's spent a fair amount of time in Vancouver, which means his English is pretty good and he doesn't think I'm weird for preferring baseball to soccer, and he respects that I'm good at my job so he doesn't try to mansplain movies to me.  He's got an impressive, responsive dick.

I wasn't expecting much more than some good sex and some good times.  I've been a woman for ten years, even if I figured to become a man again during the first, and though I've had boyfriends, I really only got hurt by something ending once, and that involved a bunch of weird Chen-ai Inn Conspiracy Shit.  I kind of figured that's how it was going to be, just because of who I am.  I figure that the Inn alters the parts of your brains that control gender identity and sexual orientation but don't mess with anything that speaks to your experiences or skills (I've read so much fucking neuroscience of gender for dummies shit since becoming Yuan-Wei) and just kind of figured that who I am was kind of set by the first twenty-five years of my life, where I was overweight, angry, overlooked by girls and pissed off about it.  I kind of go into relationships expecting the collapse.  And sometimes I wonder if how I behave as the girl in a relationship is really me, or me trying to be what I wanted girls to be as a guy, or how I think girls act, or how I think girls should act.

(If a therapist went to the Inn they could make so much fucking money from zoom sessions with folks who can't tell a regular shrink why they're fucked up)

It's been really good.  We both tend to work long hours, but Hong Kong is a good city for when you're looking to have a date at 3am, and when he's not working, he's a good cook and not weird about how I make more money than him so I sometimes pay for dinner.  We go to movies and elbow each other to point out stuff that we think is kind of funny or weird from a behind-the-scenes perspective.  His family is pretty cool about me being a couple years older and doesn't talk about my eggs running out or anything.  He has yet to fail to bring me to orgasm, and all that martial-arts training seems to translate well to how I kind of like being picked up and kind of manhandled without crossing a line.  Like, he knows his own strength and that I like to feel some power without actually getting hurt.

And, right now, sitting in this hospital, I wish the stunt coordinator on his current job had been similarly committed to people not getting fucking hurt.

it's so fucking ridiculous, because I was there to make sure something like this didn't happen, helping with green-screen work so that we could put a fake cement wall in behind him so that if he didn't manage to leap onto the car's hood in time, we wouldn't be crushed between them.  We do a lot of that stuff - folks don't realize how much CGI is letting folks do practical stunts safely - but some jackass figured they could store equipment behind the green screen, and Dominic's leg got pinned.  It's a pretty gnarly fracture - they brought him into the OR rather than just setting it with a cast - and they won't let me into his room, even though I'm the one that called his parents and told them where to come.

So, yeah, maybe I'm in love.  Can't imagine I'd be this freaked out otherwise.

-Jordo

Dave/Chris: Gone Fishing

It's been a little while since I've written an update here. We celebrated Thanksgiving a couple of weeks ago with Chris and Sylvia's friends, rather than any of their families. They both don't have much to do with them, because they don't approve of their "lifestyle". Everyone brought something along, and our contibution was the pecan pie. We all ate until we could eat no more, and the drinks flowed, along with the jokes and the laughter. It was actually one of the best Thanksgivings I can remember.

Aside from that, there wasn't much to report. We've settled into a routine of work and home life, and it's really not that interesting. But then, it was my birthday last week. Not Chris' birthday, which is in June, but mine. It's strange to think that my body doesn't actually exist for this birthday, but that's a whole other topic. 

I've mentioned before that we used to go fishing regularly in our old lives. We've been so caught up in these new lives and routine, that we haven't gone fishing, or really done any of the things we used to do since we got here.

When I woke up, Shane was already in the kitchen, frying up bacon and eggs as a birthday treat. "You'll get your present after breakfast", he said, and once we were done, disappeared to his room. A few minutes later, he came out with fishing rods and a tackle box. "Cindy and Craig are working today", he announced "We have the day off and we're going fishing".

We got lucky with the weather, it was in the mid-60s, which is quite good for this time of the year, so we headed off to a local lake, where Shane had rented a boat. It's the off-season for fishing, and it was the middle of the week, so we had the lake to ourselves. Shane had packed lunch and a few beers, and once we'd cast our lines, it really seemed like old times. We didn't talk much, and even though we also didn't catch much, it was a very relaxing day.

We got home in the late afternoon, and Shane told me that we were also going to dinner and a comedy show, so we got changed, went out, and had a fun night.

In the Uber on the way home, I gave him a hug - which was quite awkward, because we were sitting in the back of a car, wearing seatbelts, and I thanked him for what he'd done for my birthday. it really meant a lot. He looked at me, seemed to be in deep thought for a few seconds, and then he said "fuck it", put his hand at the back of my head, pulled me in and started kissing me. I was stunned at first, but then kissed him back, and we made out for the rest of the way home.

We were interrupted by the Uber driver telling us that we'd arrived, and I thought the moment had passed. But once we walked in the door, Shane grabbed me and started kissing me again. we moved to the couch, and he took off his top, revealing a lacy red bra. I took it off and started playing with his tits. He fumbled with the buttons on my shirt, and grabbed my hand and guided it up under his skirt. I could feel the dampness through his panties and nylons. He moaned and started to unbutton my slacks, which immediately made me come to my senses. I pushed him away, and asked him to stop. "I'm sorry" I said, "I can't do this". I was suddenly super aware of the fact that I don't have a cock, and that I was making out with my best buddy. "It's alright", he said, "I want this", and reached for my trousers again. "I can't, I'm sorry", I repeated. I got up, and told him I had to go to bed. "Thanks for organising all this for my birthday. I'll see you in the morning". I him left sitting on the couch, hair tussled and topless.

When I got into bed, I couldn't sleep. I kept replaying what had happened over and over again, and it didn't help that I felt really turned on. After maybe an hour, I started to hear faint female moans, and it took me a moment to realise that it was Shane in the next room. There are no prizes for guessing what he was up to, and it just turned me on even more. Finally, I stuck my hands into my shorts. My pussy wasn't exactly gushing, but it was undeniably wet. I started stroking my clit between my thumb and index finger, trying to imagine it was a penis. I didn't want to insert anything - I'm not ready for that, but eventually, I felt something build, and then an orgasmic release. Shane had gone quiet by now, and I hoped that he didn't hear me. I fell asleep eventually.

This happened a week and a half ago. Nothing has happened since, and we haven't even talked about it. We're both just pretending it didn't happen. But I liked it, and there's a part of me that wants it to happen again, and wants it to go further next time...

Marc/Ed: Family, and other, Ties

I will readily admit that my situation is not the most gripping of those you could be reading about. When I have an opportunity to log on, I am enrapt by posts by Aidan/Emilia and the kids, and I am rooting for Dave/Chris and Shane/Sylvia to find their way through whatever it is they are experiencing, among others.

You would think that being an ole retired fella, I would have time to talk, but this body wasn't exactly made for spending a lot of time on the phone. Arthritic hands don't type so well on a PC either. Mostly I'm just trying to find peace in the situation.

It was Thanksgiving recently, and I had a lot of feelings about that. For the last couple of years I had been one of the "Carey Girls," part of a intensely-intertwined family of siblings, parents, and extended relations. There was always a lot of people around and a lot to do. It always chafed me a bit, being expected to fill the role of middle sister, the eye of the hurricane -- big sis had her own family to worry about, little sis was busy growing. Speaking as Marc Green, who had a frosty relationship with his parents and very few extended relatives, that dynamic was not one I was immediately comfortable with and did not instantly enjoy. Now I find myself nostalgic for it.

Ed's family is small but not quite the same as the one I came from. There's just him and Pam and her kids, and some of Pam's cousins who are not direct relations to Ed. So that's all who gathered for a quiet Thanksgiving where Pam, very reluctantly, made the turkey. My role was to sit in a recliner and watch football, but having recently been part of a family where being off your feet was for later, I found myself meandering into the kitchen, where I was greeted with confused looks and questions of "Do you need a beer or something?" It felt weird not just to not participate, but to be asked not to participate.

John, aka Cayden, was of course there, watching the game with me. Things between us have been frosty since I... ahem... brought him to the Inn. I know that there are commentors here that judge me for that. And you're not wrong, I've regretted it since the moment we arrived before the transformation even occurred, but you didn't see the pain that man was in, or causing to his wife. It was truly a no-win scenario and I thought that by meddling... ah, but I'm wasting precious join health litigating it for you. What's done is done.

John, understandably, does not really like to talk to me when he does not have to, but he would rather watch football than play with his contemporaries. When we had a minute, I asked him how things were. He heaved a very adult sigh.

"What's that?" I asked.

"Oh, uh... these damn Giants, they're blowing it," he said back.

Later around the table we were saying what we were thankful for, and one of the cousins who is about Cayden's age and goes to the same school teased, "I know what Cayden's thankful for!"

"Be quiet..." hissed John, convincingly in character as a bratty kid.

"It starts with Mag, and ends with Nolia!" the little girl continued through her missing teeth.

"Cayden's got a little girlfriend at school," Pam said, clearly amused by the situation.

"I do not! Shut up!" Cayden lashed out, then glanced over to me. My face must have looked quite bemused.

"Watch it, mister," Pam replied sharply, reminding John of his "place."

Later, I found Pam and asked what that "girlfriend" business was about. "Oh, that... apparently there's some girl who's got a little crush on him at school, she's been over to do homework, but he's still in his girls-are-icky phase and doesn't like being teased about it."

"Ah-huh," I said comprehendingly... trying to measure what Pam was saying against the truth that I knew.

After dessert, I invited him to take a walk with me, and sensing that we had matters to discuss he came along. Eventually I broached the topic of this Magnolia character.

He sighed a heavy, adult sigh. "She's a friend. Probably my only friend. Smart for her age. Understands things about the kids today that I don't. Obviously, there's nothing inappropriate about it."

"Right," I nodded. "You know where the line is."

"It's embarrassing," he said, "These are the only people I have to speak to. I can't exactly ask my homeroom teacher Miss Hawkins out for a latte to discuss Trump's cabinet picks."

"No, that would be weird in its own way," I nodded. "I just wanted to check in."

We walked a little longer, until he piped up again. "I'll probably never forgive you for putting me through this, but... the clarity has been nice. The simplicity of a child's life. These kids don't appreciate what they have," he laughed darkly, adultly.

That was nice to hear.

When I got home, I picked up the phone and called someone.

"Heya Ed, how was t-giving?"

"Oh, the usual, family squabbles, kids that don't want to be there, a few stressed women wringing their hangs over a turkey and stuffing," I said. "Yours?"

"Turkey soup for one at a diner," she said.

This is Christine, a woman I met at group therapy. Yes, I'm in therapy -- it was a compromise with Pam after I "gave away" the dog, that I needed to do something to get out and be around people. It's not even a "therapy" group, it's just talking, some games, people getting together on a Wednesday evening. I've been sort of talking around my problems, as Marc, framed through what I think Ed would be going through.

Christine is in her 50's and is mostly on her own. No kids, no parents, just one brother she barely sees. She had a husband who died in an accident ten years ago.  She's had a hard time of it and I guess I kind of gravitated toward her.

I guess, like John, I have to consider what would be an appropriate place to set the relationship between us. Part of me thinks it's improbable that someone her age would look at someone my/Ed's age that way, and part of me has a little bit of hope that there would be something there, even if I would be reluctant to act on it -- which would not be a smart thing to do given my recent track record.

"I would have liked to invite you, but I think Pam would have had a lot of questions," I said.

"Don't worry about it," she laughed. "I've made it this far on my own."

We talked a little bit longer until I got tired and we said goodbye for the night.

And that was Thanksgiving

-Marc/Ed

Aidan/Emilia: Happy... Something

I suppose almost everybody who posts here has a story about how Thanksgiving was strange in different lives, but the truth of the matter is that Thanksgiving is strange for us every year.  Firstly, Kutter's birthday is in the last week of November, and has fallen on the day of the holiday a couple of times.  It's led to some jokes about how, even when it doesn't actually fall during the break, Thanksgiving is "Kutter's Birthday (Observed)".

The other reason is that, six years and one week after Kutter was born, the boys' mother died.  It was an accident of the most incredibly fluky nature, and I hope that readers will understand that I not only don't want to go into the details on this blog because it still hurts but because it's something could be used to uncover the kids' full names, rather than just the nicknames I use here.  This year, Thanksgiving came late enough as to be uncomfortably close to the anniversary.

So that's why our holiday celebrations at home are kind of unconventional; we made a habit of forgoing the traditional turkey dinner to have a birthday party, with a fancy cake and Kutter's favorite foods (which has progressed from chicken nuggets to pizza to last year's Ethiopian), maybe going to the movies while everyone else is gathered for dinner, so that he doesn't feel overshadowed by everything else.  As the kids grow up and their classmates don't really have birthday parties anymore, it's starting to seem unusual, but we don't have much in the way of extended family to complain, and it was probably going to evolve into something else when Kutter went to college.

This year, we had been girding ourselves for scattering to visit the girls' families for Thanksgiving, but that never came to pass - being able to work holidays was a condition when I took my job at the bookstore, Monica's family is on the West Coast and chosen to expect her at Christmas rather than Thanksgiving ever since she started college, and Kutter just doesn't hear much from Katey's folks at all.  I half-joked with them about not getting into any trouble during the long weekend while I was at the bookstore, finally putting in as many hours as they did.  Enjoy the Macy's Parade or something.

Which they did.  And then they came home and started on Thanksgiving Dinner.

Obviously, they weren't going to surprise me with this - it's not like either could fit a turkey into the dorm fridges in their bedrooms and I do most of the cooking, so I know the contents of what's in the kitchen refrigerator better than they do - but I was surprised nevertheless.  After their troubles just making some burgers, I'd kind of figured on them giving up for a bit, but instead Kutter did what Kutter does, looking stuff up and plotting the whole day out, with separate responsibilities for herself and Rusty, a chart that showed what would be using the oven and the stove's two large burners when, and notes on what stores would be open should they need to quickly grab a pie or cranberry sauce or the like should they mess up.

But they didn't mess up.  I got home at 12:15am, still a bit buzzed from one of Rusty's energy drinks at 6:30 or so (they actually do taste all right once you get used to them, though they would probably have dangerous amounts of caffeine even if I were my proper size, and I am not my proper size as Emilia), and saw the table set with three places, the turkey carved, a boat of gravy, mashed potatoes, stuffing, rolls, cranberry sauce, some green beans, and a bottle of wine.  Rusty was just taking a pumpkin pie out of the oven, setting it on the counter to cool, but gesturing her hands to the table.  "Ta-da!  Thanksgiving dinner!"  Then she pointed at Kutter.  "My girl could manage a restaurant."

Kutter laughed.  "I mean, we're mostly talking about sticking things in the oven and watching them."

Rusty shook her head.  "Do not believe her.  You know Kutter is an anal freak at the best of times, and she had alarms going off all over the apartment to make sure she basted regularly."

"Dude, please, do not call me an anal freak while we're like this.  How many times do I have to ask?"

I tried not to snicker as we sat down at the table.  It's more or less square so it doesn't really have a head, but they sat on opposite sides so I was between them, and both looked in my direction.  I took a breath and let it out.

"Okay, we haven't done this in ten years or so and we didn't really say grace then, so I'm not really sure what I'm supposed to say here.  It feels kind of silly for you to be looking to me for any words of wisdom right now, since you're the ones who have mostly been paying the rent and keeping things going, right down to cooking this meal.  But, then, I guess that's what I'm thankful for - that the two of you could rise to the occasion when I couldn't do everything a father should.  I'm thankful that for all the dangers a young woman can face in the city - which I must admit to having been too dismissive of in the past - we have so far avoided most of them.  I'm thankful that the family living our lives have more or less kept them in good order, and haven't made any noises about keeping them."  The girls laughed, and somehow the pause gave me a moment to get a little more choked up.  "But most of all, I'm thankful that, if this had to happen to any us, it happened in a way that we were able to stay together.  Because, guys, I don't think I could have done this if I had to worry about you two being off with some strangers."

Rusty and Kutter nodded their heads.  "Yeah."  "I don't think I could have done it without you two either."  Rusty tried to give a little half smile and lifted his glass, and we clinked them together before taking a sip and digging into our meal.  Which...  I mean, the girls did a good job, but it was mostly turkey and mashed potatoes and white rolls - the cranberry and gravy was doing a lot of the work.

So that's how my sons and I had our first proper Thanksgiving in a decade at one in the morning in a small Brooklyn apartment, as three young women who aren't genetically related to each other at all, and have been eating leftovers ever since.

-Aidan/Emilia

Jonah/Krystle: Saving a Date

We've sent out cards.  May 31st.  I am getting married on May 31st, 2025,

That's just the start, of course - we're still trying to figure out where.  Neither of us have a whole lot of close friends here in NOLA.  Well, that's not true; we've got a fair number of them, but none that are so much a part of our lives that we're going to prioritize making it easy for them over our immediate families.  I don't have a whole lot of people in the Boston area - Momma Kamen, Karla, her kids, Moira, and a few others - but that would also be a fairly easy drive for my actual parents in New Hampshire, and what friends from my high school days as Jonah I still keep in touch with.  Not that they are exactly invited to the wedding officially - good luck trying to explain to Gabe why! - but I'll probably send out something so that they'll know, if they want to watch from the back of the church or something.  Gabe, meanwhile, has some family in that area even though most of his friends are still in New York and his close family is in Georgia.  We'll probably invite June/Jonah as well, although I'm just as glad that his engagement to Alana fell apart and I don't have to worry about whether or not to to to their wedding.

It's tricky.  Between us, Gabe & I make a decent living, but we'll probably be asking a lot of people who can't quite so easily absorb a flight and a hotel for a weekend to do so, depending on where we choose, and thinking of that almost makes me understand the ladies who go crazy about their weddings.  It can be so expensive to you and the people who attend it, and so inconvenient, that you kind of have to become a bitch and make demands and impose on people to make it happen.  I kind of don't know if I've got what it takes to do that; my head wasn't filled with this as a fantasy and important milestone since I was a kid.  I'd kind of be okay with eloping or going to the courthouse and then visiting folks between the ceremony and the honeymoon - which kind of seems like people used to do in old books and movies before something made everyone decide they had to do it big sometime in the 20th century - but there's a surprising amount of people in my life who want to see me in a lacy white dress that I'll spend a lot of money on but only use once.

We're leaning Georgia and looking up wedding planners who specialize in co-ordinating with out-of-towners.  Seems to be more effort, but I feel weird whining about it.  I ought to ask Ashlyn if I can zoom into the next Boston Inn People thing at the Changeling and see if any other guys-turned-girls feel really weird about weddings.

The funniest part, though, is the question of me taking Gabe's name.  I'm kind of excited to do it; as much as I answer to Krystle Kamen immediately these days, it's also kind of a reminder that everyone expects me to be part of a family that I don't entirely feel is mine, especially with all the K's between that and Karla and half of her kids.  Gabe, on the other hand, is a good feminist dude who doesn't like the idea of symbolically diminishing his wife's identity and the like.  I'd like to think I'd have gotten there by now if I were still living as Jonah Glass.  But, honestly, I kind of like the idea of choosing to be Krystal Potts, as opposed to someone else's name.

I mean, sure, "Krystle Potts" sounds kind of funny, and maybe he took some grief for being Gabriel Potts at some point, but, look, I'm already "Krystle".  It's sort of last-name proof.

We've got six months to talk about it, which both seems like a crazy amount of time and not nearly enough.

-Jonah/Krystle

Aidan/Emilia: "I would have bet on your sister"

I don't know that it would surprise anyone that I used to be more of a reader than I am now, or that I might have had vague ideas of being a writer as a teenager; just like Ande points out that those of us who turned from men to women have a lot more to post about than those who went the other way, I don't think you can keep posting on this blog or even following it unless you, on some level, enjoy reading and writing.  My life eventually went in another direction - before the Inn, I was a regional manager for a chain of automobile service centers - but it's been good to get back in the habit of reading so that I don't sound completely ignorant at work.

Even if most of it is chick-lit.

Like everything these days, there's a bunch of social media around reading, from following favorite authors to logging what you're reading or have finished (I am told Storygraph is good but Goodreads is bad), and, apparently, a thriving TikTok community.  Now, if I don't get social media that involves text, I really don't get TikTok and Reels and the like, but folks show it to me, of only so they can find out where to find a particular book.  Yesterday, though, I got a surprise:  Instead of someone doing a book review, or was a imprint's official account - with Kutter (or "Katey") enthusiastically talking about a book that had just been released in paperback! 

I made sure to check back later, and to my surprise, Katey had sort of become the face of the division on that app over the last month or so.  They had something up daily, and though Kutter wasn't in all of them, she was in a lot, talking about books, interviewing authors and editors, sometimes shooting out the window when something interesting happened on the street, sometimes showing off books in store windows.

(Yes, "she"; I gave Rusty and awkward "that's my girl!" after trivia and she decided she was doing that once Rusty explained.)

What was really surprising, though, is that the links at the end led to Katey's personal TikTok, and it's been active over the past couple weeks, after previously having its last entries showing her, Monica, and Emilia having fun in Old Orchard.  I've admittedly avoided adding to or even looking at Emilia's social media; it's a strange sort of uncanny about seeing her seem completely at ease in this skin, especially if she's lying on the beach in a bikini or doing some sort of supercut of her trying on various outfits for an evening out, as I find myself both wondering what she was hiding to put it all behind her or perversely wishing she wasn't making me look slutty.  I probably shouldn't worry about that too much, because while I can see where Katey becomes Kutter after the two month break, I can't imagine anyone who hasn't been to the Inn would make anything of it.

It's kind of a fun little channel - "Katey" exploring New York, heavy on the food and touristy stuff, responding to dance challenges and cracking herself up at her klutziness, that sort of thing.  If it were the real Katey, I might be inclined to dismiss it, but knowing it's Kutter, it's more interesting.  I kind of wonder how I'll think of Kutter using whatever social media young adults use in the early 2030s to document his life after college.

For all that Katey in the publisher channel seems sure of herself, though, Kutter was kind of mortified when I mentioned that I'd seen them.  "Like, the work one just sort of started out as part of the job, keeping a schedule of when people are around to film them and making the calls, and I just kept up winding up on camera because Lettie was busy on a call or Ms. Grayson didn't feel like it or something, and, I don't know, somehow it became part of my job."  She blushed a little.  "I kind of think it's part of how I got the job and you didn't?  Like, when they asked you about social media, did you even mention that Emilia had Insta or Tiktok accounts and mostly used Facebook for keeping in touch with parents and scheduling stuff?"

I chuckled.  "No, I think i mostly wanted to give the impression that I wouldn't be distracted at work."

Kutter nodded.  "Yeah, I can see you doing that.  Anyway, it was part of the job, and I turned out to be okay with in, enough that Lettie wondered why I wasn't updating my own, so I started doing that.  At first I was thinking 'what would original-Katey post?', but since it looks like they're never getting back in touch with us, I stopped worrying about that and tried to be myself more."  She shrugged.  "It's actually kind of a good way to figure out who I am as Katey, I guess?  Like, I sometimes get nervous one-on-one, but just being Katey for..."  She made a motion toward the window with her hand.  "... there's no pressure and it's good practice."

"Huh.  I must say, I'm kind of surprised it's you doing this.  I would have bet on your brother.  Uh, sister.  Housemate?  Rusty.  I would have bet on Rusty doing this first!"

"I know, right?"  Every once in a while, both of them will get excited and gush like teenage girls.  "I mean, she's given me a lot of good advice about not being nervous and how I look or come across - sometime's she's even holding the phone, coaching me - but she says she doesn't need guys being pervs in the comments and doesn't want to do something the next Monica will have to deal with.  It's weird, really - there are a lot of people who don't say much in real life but open up online, but Rusty's the opposite.  Sometimes I think she's got a crush on herself and doesn't want to share."

I laughed.  "Maybe.  Well, as long as you're not connecting with strange men or anything."

"Come on, you really think I'm going to get myself into something like that or leave the next Katey stuck in that sort of situation?"

I shrugged.  "That would be unlike you, but maybe not unlike Katey.  I'll just tell you the same thing as when you and Rusty got social media on your phones - be careful what you put out there, and be really careful about what you engage with.  Folks get in trouble, especially girls your real age."

She made a face, and I dropped it.  I suppose I'll have to have a similar chat with Rusty sometime, and really watch the comments to make sure neither of them are getting into trouble.

-Aidan/Emilia

Aidan/Emilia: Changing Rooms and Such

Even in the best situations, being a father to teenagers is about balancing trying to keep them out of trouble, wanting to relive one's own youth vicariously, and not coming off as weird.  Since arriving here from the Inn, the balance has obviously been different - a lot more worrying and less envy - but maybe not quite as much as I'd expected.  Being unnerved at how the boys seemed to take to being adult women quickly is kind of balanced by how I've seen that they were able to step up, and I do sometimes wish I were able to make this second nature the way they seem to have, on top of the shameful thrill of being places I'm not supposed to be.

Such as yesterday.  I got home from a shift in the bookstore at about 6:30, and before I could ask the guys what we were doing about dinner, Rusty looked up from his phone and asked me and Kutter if we wanted to go to the gym.  Kutter didn't even pause the game he was playing but asked if Rusty was trying to tell him he was getting fat, and Rusty said no, he looked great, but this used to be when he and I would take runs together but now our schedules never matched up and it was cold and it had been dark for a couple of hours already, so it might be time to take it inside.  Part of me just wanted to get off my feat, but even with different faces and voices, I can still recognize when one of the boys wants me to bring something up, even if I don't know what it is, so I said yes and went into my room to find Emilia's gym bag and throw some stuff into it.  I felt weirdly ashamed that it had fallen behind the shoes in her closet.

Rusty was waiting by the door, of course, and we waved at Kutter before leaving.  The gym was only a few blocks away, and I could tell Rusty hadn't been there before because he didn't seem to know the process for leaving Monica's membership card at the front desk.  I bought a single-day membership, and we headed back to the locker room.

For whatever reason, we were the only people getting changed at the moment.  Rusty already had a sport bra and lycra shorts on under his clothes, and I actually thought it was pretty funny that I was the one who was going to be letting stuff hang out, although he looked away as I practically tried to shove my chest into the lockers to go from a regular bra to an athletic one. then pulled yoga pants and sneakers.  Rusty obviously had to do much less, so he was waiting for me, and we found a couple treadmills.  He set his to a slightly higher setting than mine, and we started running in place.

As I mentioned a couple months ago, Rusty inherited a trim body from Monica and more workout stuff than Kutter and I combined got from Katey and Emilia (I've purchased some less-pink activewear since).  When Rusty, who was no more a particularly athletic kid than Kutter, wanted to test it all out, he found he really liked running and keeping active, which has served him pretty well in his job but did give us a few things to think about, like just how much the Inn changed our brains to make us more like these girls.  We're less worried now, in part because I can see what practice has done for him - his form has really improved, like he knows how to carry himself better, while I still kind of feel off-balance and like I haven't found the right gear to keep my breasts from bouncing painfully (maybe more annoyingly) or by butt from making me zigzag.  It's not Monica's muscle memory but Rusty's effort, even if her chemistry does convert carbs to endorphins better than Rusty's used to.

It was natural enough that he turned his head to talk to me without breaking stride.  "So, like I said at the apartment, it's getting cold and dark and stuff, so I'm probably going to start coming here before or after work, but I kind of wanted you to see that I wasn't going to be a creep or anything.  I mean, we were all sort of taken aback that first trivia night, but, I dunno, I don't think we cause trouble by using the ladies' room or anything.  Are we?"

"I don't think normal rules apply, but, no, you seem to be doing all right.  And it's not like we can use men's bathrooms or changing rooms."

"Yeah, we'd be..."  He was quiet for a second.  "So, remember that Halloween party?"  I grunted that I did.  "So, there was this guy there who was wearing a football uniform the same color as Monica's cheerleader uniform, and someone suggested posing for a couple pictures, and we did, and he had his hand on my butt and then pulled me in and stuck his tongue down my throat."

That had me stop, and slide off the back of the treadmill, stumbling.  "I, uh, don't know what to say."

"Well, as long as it's not 'I told you so'."  He turned the machine off and stepped down.  "I mean, it sucked, and I kind of worried about not liking it, because new-Rusty has been talking about how weird it is to suddenly find girls attractive--"

I put a hand on his shoulder.  "Hey, it's okay.  Even if you do like boys now, it's normal not to like that."

He nodded, and there was an uncomfortable pause, and I suggested we look at the weight stations, because I've got to carry a bunch of books around and they get heavy quick.  He started spotting me, and then we traded off.  I got a small bit of satisfaction from being a bit better at this, and not just because Emilia has a slightly bigger frame than Monica.  I'm maybe not just built to be pretty like this.

We worked up a good sweat, enough to be pretty ripe, so we hit the showers.  It was awkward to start with, even with dividers between stalls, but then a couple more folks came in, and were much less shy than we were.  We didn't rush out of the building, exactly, but Rusty almost did forget his membership card.

It was darker and chilly as we walked down the street back to the apartment.  "Well, son, I guess you can be trusted in a women's locker room."

"Mm."  He seemed to think.  "Dad, I know this is going to sound like weird thing to ask, but...  Could you maybe not call me 'son' until we're ourselves again?  Or 'he' or 'him'?  It kind of feels wrong and makes me second-guess myself."

I admit, that did sting a little, but it did make sense.  "If that's what you want, Rus--  Uh, Monica."

She exhaled the breath she'd been holding.  "I think it is.  And you can still call me Rusty if you want; I mean, that can just be a nickname, right?"

"I guess it could.  And I don't mind if you call me Emilia, although--"

She turned a bit red.  "Oh no, it's one thing when we're out and about, but at home, I kind of want to think of you as my dad and not my sexy roommate.  I know, I'm a total hypocrite, but--"

I stood in front of her.  "Hey.  Whatever you want.  You're my...  Well, you and Kutter are the most important people in the world to me, and if it makes you comfortable that I treat you like a woman even while you treat me like your father, that's okay.  I'm here for whatever you need."

She hugged me, and I hugged back, before we headed back home and made some supper because the workout left us starving.  She didn't say anything to Kutter and the need to use pronouns didn't come up before they left for work this morning, so I don't know how he'll react, but it's funny - I didn't realize how genuinely happy I would be to make something in Rusty's life easier even if it seems like I should feel at least a little hurt she's rejected me.

(Also, I am mentally counting the number of times I've made comments about kids and their pronouns and wincing)

- Aidan/Emllia

Ande: Could I even handle going back?

I've been reading a lot of election coverage, like everybody, although I suspect it's a little more stomach-churning for me than it is for a lot of folks who are not nearly so directly affected.  Even in the People's Republic of Cambridge, Hildy says, there's been a little shift in attitudes among some on the MIT campus.  Go back a generation or two and girls like her (that is, girls) would be something of an oddity there, and while it's not quite the sausage fest it used to be, there's still more guys than girls, and some of them are not exactly great at dealing with women.  There are ugly male stereotypes for a reason, especially guys who probably had to really focus in on being great at one thing to make the cut into an elite college at the expense of a lot of dealing with other people stuff.  No-one's felt okay with threatening her yet, but who knows.

Obviously, I've had a lot of "that could be me" thoughts, and when I feel relieved, I also immediately feels scared, because it kind of still is me!  My twin brother who became my twin sister is dealing with it, and she's both at a state university in a state that is not exactly Massachusetts and more politically active than I am - for my first semester here, I was trying to pretend like I was her/him/them and taking a lot of classes that pointed toward a career in government and maybe politics.  I've been calling and texting with Andie a lot, and she's, well, she's ready to fight harder.

So, that's that, and I hope that what a lot of people took from it is, yes, I asked Hildy out, she said I sounded like a non-creep, and now we've been dating for a month and a half.  At some point it kind of occurred to me that I'm not exactly dating myself, but who I hoped to be a couple years ago - cute girl with an engineering major but a pretty big carve-out for artsy stuff.  She's looking at materials engineering and busks while I'm trying to make a theater minor work with EE, but broad strokes.  We've gotten here through different routes so we don't get into the weird, creepy finishing each other's sentences or anything, but I've apparently got way more Taylor Swift in my playlist than any other boyfriend she's had and she was very excited when the Connecticut Sun played a game at the TD Garden, even though you wouldn't peg her for a sports fan.

She just asked me if I'd be interested in spending Thanksgiving at her family's and I'm inclined to do it, although it makes me wonder when I can introduce her to my folks and what that will be like.  I can sort of settle into just being Ande who is what he appears to be with her, but what would it be like to drop her in a group that knows Ande & Andie are Andi & Andy?

I almost want to take her to First Thursday Club for low-stakes practice, but an outsider would be a vibe-killer and the fact that I'm one of the only guys there might seem really weird to her.

It kind of does to me, to be honest.  I haven't met the infamous Lenny yet, but I think this week, there were three women who were back in their original bodies, five women who used to be men, and just me and one other guy who used to be a woman.  I wasn't exactly stunned to see the in-person meet-up match what the blog is like, but I was still kind of surprised, because it seems like male-to-female and female-to-male should be balanced, right?  Of course, once you've gotten together, you realize that it feels dumb to complain or say you're facing challenges; the other guy in my boat had a story about being listened to more as a male intern than a woman who had been at a company for five years, and, yeah, you can reach things on the top shelf and there's never quite such a line at the bathroom and it is way more likely to involve peeing standing up, which is fun, than dealing with a period, which is not.  It feels bad to bring this stuff up, and more so that I wasn't going to feel unsafe taking a couple buses back to my apartment with some walking on either end.

I don't even think about this as potentially dangerous any more, although I do sometimes notice girls calculating stuff if a party runs late or the like.  Every once in a while, I wonder if I'd have the nerve to back to that, on top of how being a guy is now, what, 20% of my life or half of what I can remember, and that while it was kind of easy for Andie and me to cover for each other in high school, our knowledge and experience has diverged and is only going to get further apart.  She's not 100% health-wise, but doing better, but I'm starting to wonder if I could handle what she deals with after a couple years on easy mode, and if I'm cowardly for not wanting to even consider it considering that he refused to change if it meant I got sick.

Just a reminder that there are a lot of ways women are tougher than men, and maybe I'm in the second category there.

-Ande

Dave/Chris: A question of politics

 I don't want to talk too much about politics. I know how polarising it is right now, but the election was a big event, and it affects me too, especially in this life. So without getting too controversial, I want to make one single post, and give my thoughts on the election.

I come from a conservative state. The vast majority of my family and friends have always voted Republican. Shane and I have too. I voted for Trump in 2016 and again in 2020, because he was on the ticket. Now don't get me wrong, I don't really like the guy. I've seen him speak, and he doesn't always make a lot of sense. But I've always been in favour of smaller government and taking responsibility for yourself, rather than hand-outs. The issues at the southern border also haven't been dealt with properly.

However, I now find myself in a blue state, and not only are all of Chris and Sylvia's friends very much Democrat voters, but so are the people whose bodies we currently inhabit. That has made for some awkwardness, especially leading up to the election. I tried to be as neutral as possible, but even that raised eyebrows, because both Chris and Sylvia actively campaign for the Democrats at every election. I don't want there to be issues for them later, when they reclaim these lives, so I reluctantly hung a couple of Harris/Waltz posters in the cafe a few weeks ago and pretended to support them as best as I could.

There were some lively discussions in the cafe, leading up to the election, and I was inevitably drawn into some of those, and by the time the election came around, I'd shifted my position a little. Some of that came from some well thought out arguments, and some came from just inhabiting this body. For example, the Republicans have made the use of public restrooms for trans people an issue in the past. I already have a real fear of using them in this body, because the anatomy doesn't fit the label. But this is made a lot worse from the Republican stance on this. I probably belonged to those people who believed that people couldn't change their biological sex, but suddenly becoming a trans person has definitely changed my stance on this.

I was torn on who to vote for by the time the election did come around, so in the end, I did something I've never done before....I didn't vote at all. Not that it really matters in California anyway.

That's all I'm going to say about this. It was an awkward time for both me and Shane, and I'm glad it's over. 

But we've had to deal with a lot of glum faces in our cafe the past couple of days....

Aidan/Emilia: "It's a living. Or a start at one."

At last, my first day of gainful employment as Emilia is in the books.  It's not glamorous, and it's probably temporary, but it's very nice to know I'm not entirely living off the good graces of my kids, even if I am contributing less to the rent than either of them.  Actually, not even contributing to the rent, technically; they're splitting that while I'm covering groceries, laundry, and other expenses.  Kutter's idea, once we realized how much less I'll be making.

It's not terribly impressive for me to be working in a large bookstore, either in terms of my previous work experience or Emilia's degree, although I'm hardly the only young person with this sort of degree working retail there.  It's not surprising; a lot of folks who studied the humanities in college come to New York looking to get into the publishing business but there aren't that many jobs, so they look for something lit-adjacent.  It makes it even more surprising that Kutter got the job he did, really, although he hay have had a leg up in that while all the other applicants were clearly looking at it as a stepping stone to editorial, Kutter was pretty focused on the actual job being offered.  None of us were looking for jobs the way the real girls would, or at least folks who saw being these people as their future, as the first step in a career path, and I do kind of wonder how much ripple effect that's going to have.

Also, for as bad a reputation as working retail gets - and I certainly didn't think I'd ever be going back to that sort of job after graduating from college - there is a weird sort of satisfaction in helping people get a thing that they want, especially in a bookstore, where they are often so enthusiastic about it.  Indeed, contrary to how bookstores usually work, I got a bunch of recommendations from customers today and will be seeing what I can find at the library so I can better do that part of the job.

Of course, it's also meant a little bit of reordering things at the apartment, starting with getting home and finding the smoke detector going off because Kutter decided to make cheeseburgers and he didn't even get that far because he figured burgers needed bacon and, well, for all that Kutter can be detail-oriented, bacon will burn off you take your eyes off it for a second and the boys are always on their phone.  On top of that we are not sharing a large apartment, so the smoke filled the room quickly, and Kutter also made the rookie mistake of putting the pan under running water to get the smoke to stop.  Let me tell you, the eyes he inherited from Katey can get really wide. 

I pointed Rusty to the windows and he got them open, flipped the switch for the fan above the range, and then stood on a chair to see if there was a battery to take out of the alarm.  Wired, but after I opened the door, the breeze dispersed most of the smoke and Kutter apologized profusely to the neighbors. 

I clasped him on the back as we closed the door.  "Don't worry.  We're almost certainly not the first group of recent college grades they've seen set off a smoke alarm."

Kutter groaned anyway.  "I just wanted to do something for your first day at work."

"And I appreciate that!  Besides, we can still make burgers; the bacon will just be extra-crispy."

I waved Rusty over and stepped them through some things.  Turn the fan on, spray the pan good, watch everything like a hawk until you've got a handle on how long something takes with your gear.  And, whew, it's a good thing we've got an electric stove here!

We got dinner made, at least, although Kutter still seemed upset that he messed it up.  "Aw, don't worry about it.  It's almost reassuring, actually, that you two aren't completely adapted to being these women yet."

Rusty raised an eyebrow.  "Really, Dad, saying cooking is just a girl thing?  What have you been doing all our lives?"

"That's not what I meant--"

"And maybe we've just adapted to being single girls in the city who live on Starbucks and takeout Thai food."

I pointed at his burger.  "Well, they I guess I should be assured you're not there yet!

We had a good laugh and then I started in on the first book on my list (Freida McFadden's The Boyfriend) while they played games

Dave/Chris: And that was Halloween

I haven't really done much for Halloween since I was a kid. Like all kids, I used to love dressing up and going trick or treating. Once I grew up, I lost interest in it, although I'd sometimes go to Halloween parties with my wife, when we were still married, because she liked the holiday a lot more than I did. My daughter also loved it, so I'd do whatever was necessary then. Since my divorce, I haven't selebrated Halloween at all, aside from buying some candy for the neighbourhood kids that went trick or treating.

A couple of weeks before Halloween, Shane asked me what we were going to do. Apparently, Chris and Sylvia are big fans of Halloween. They have a party in the cafe and always get matching costumes, and really go all out. Their friends had started asking us about it, because we hadn't mentioned anything, which is completely out of character for them.

So we decided that it would probably be best if we kept up their tradition. We invited their friends, found their decorations, and with the help of Cindy and Craig, did a decent job of putting them all up. I got some help with the preparation for the party from the original Chris and Sylvia. Luckily we didn't have to prepare too much, because we provide the location and drinks, and the guests would all bring food and snacks along. Then we had to find costumes, which was harder than we thought. In the end, we went as Robin Hood and Maid Marion. One of Sylvia and Chris' friends has a small shop that does clothing alterations, so she helped us with the costumes for a good price.

The party started after we closed the cafe and everyone who came along put a lot of effort into their costumes. The party itself was great. I had a lot more fun than I thought I would, and in fact, couldn't remember having this much fun in a long, long time. I could see Shane also enjoying himself in a way I'd never seen before. When he was a lot younger, he used to get drunk and start fights at parties. Later, as he matured, he stopped going to parties, and would usually just meet friends at sports bars and shoot some pool. It was pretty much the same for me. But now, he was the life of the party, dancing, laughing, and just enjoying himself. 

The party went until around 3am, when we caught an Uber home. We were both very drunk, and sitting in the back of the car, buzzed and laughing about how the night went, and then I felt a hand on my leg, and Shane looking directly at me with those big brown eyes of his. I thought he was going to kiss me, and didn't know what to do, but he must have sensed the sudden awkwardness, pulled his hand away and turned his head. We finished the journey in silence and when we got home, said a quick good night before going to our seperate rooms. I lay awake for a while, wondering what that was all about. I feel confused and conflicted. I can't be having these thoughts, and if I acted on them, then our friendship will never be the same again. But what if he's having the same thoughts? 

He had had an effect on me, and I felt really turned on. I could feel the moistness in my pussy, but I didn't know what to do to relieve it. When I had a cock, I'd just take care of things and go to sleep, but that doesn't seem like an option anymore. Chris must have taken care of it....the sex toys are evidence enough for that. But Chris never had a cock, so this was all he knew. On the other hand, I know what I'm missing and there's still a disconnect between how I'm feeling and what I can do about it. Not knowing what else to do, I stuck my hand into my shorts. I found my clit and started to stroke it. It felt good, a bit like jerking off, but it also felt wrong. The longer I went, the more wrong it felt, and the less turned on I was, so it wasn't long before I stopped and eventually fell asleep.

The next morning, we both got up very late, nursing bad hangovers. We'd discovered that the cafe never opened the day after Halloween, to let everyone recover. I don't think we would have managed it in any case.

We spent the day on the couch, watching TV and recovering. Neither Shane nor I spoke a lot for the whole day. I don't know how much of that could be attributed to our hangovers, and how much to a mounting awkwardness between us.

It's seems to be becoming the elephant in the room, but I don't think either of us know how we should address it. We aren't good at talking about emotions or feelings. Even when we were helping each other through our divorces, there wasn't a lot of talking. We helped each other by just being there and doing things together. A lot of it was going fishing, and we sometimes sat on a boat together for what seemed like hours, not talking. But it helped at that time. Women would probably talk it all out, but even though we're both occupying the bodies of people who grew up as girls, the ability to open up isn't something that we've inherited by getting transformed into these people.

But I feel like something has to give. I don't think we can ignore this for the next 6 months, and ignoring it isn't making it go away.