Tori C: The girl on the internet

A couple days ago, a commenter on my last post suggested I "Get up off that thing and do something till you feel better." This, in a way, is what happened. I retreated into the arms of my old friend, the internet.

I'll put it to you this way. When I became a girl, I made an attempt to keep my online persona active. Even though I had turned several of my old accounts over to Willy, I kept active on a few forums during the early months of my transformation.

Then, in early October, when I started feeling more comfortable as Tori, I began to leave the net behind. This was the inevitable byproduct of stuff that had happened way before I was Tori: comics lost their appeal to me when universe-spanning crossovers became the norm (Civil War/52/Crisis/etc). All the big franchise movies like LOTR and Dark Knight and Harry Potter were slowing to a trickle, and Battlestar ended, Heroes became pretty unwatchable, and suddenly my entire mindset of geekdom was a bit outdated. I stayed on those forums in a "what's new?" casual talk capacity, but as you can guess, my writing about myself was rapidly splitting off from what my reality was. Soon this blog became my only real internet activity. In December, when I saw Avatar, I was pretty disappointed with it, and wondered whether girlhood had actually erased the geeky part of my brain.

For a while after that, my internet usage became limited to this blog, MSN/Facebook, and the occasional Google search when I needed to learn something. Even then, I don't exactly blog here all the time, and I was so negligent to my Facebook account that when I saw one of Tori's tween-age male cousins at Mae's birthday, he complimented me on my Facebook profile pic... that is, a pic of Raine and Sara pretending to kiss my boobs!

(The point of this story: I didn't realize I had said cousin on Facebook, and my boobs have become such a prominent feature that no, of course I don't mind showing them off to the internet, albeit completely covered, you pervs.)

Then a few months ago, Danny (my gay friend) managed to get me to see Inception with him, despite my beliefs that I was no longer in that film's target audience. And my mind was so completely and utterly blown that I had to share it with someone. But my girlfriends weren't interested in hearing my theories about the dream-worlds in the film, and Danny and I kept getting into arguments. So I had to drag it out to the internet... only to find that the site I had last used as Cliff had moved and my account was deleted.

So, with "JHCliff" gone, it fell to me to invent a new username for myself. As you can probably tell, I'm not all that imaginative when it comes to inventing my own name. (Or other peoples: see "Buddy" and "Guy.") I couldn't decide what to call myself, so I decided just to use my old naming method, and become ToriC. The C stands for both Cecily, Tori's middle name, and of course, Clifford.

It started with a few innocent posts, one in the Inception review thread, one in the "Introductions" board, and a few others scattered around.

Aside from a minor war or words in the Inception thread, nothing controversial happened. I lived my day-to-day life, still a bit sore from Cyndi's verbal stabbing, and came home. With Sara and Raine busy with various things over the course of August, I found myself getting more and more time by myself, and feeling more and more comfortable on the computer. At first I was wary, because I didn't want to overplay my status as a (let's face it, above-average-looking) female on a board more than likely populated by guys not unlike J.H. Clifford.

(And I admit it, my username was slightly deliberate, designed to imply girlhood. But it's not like I outright named myself "HotChick87.")

Then I stumbled into a relationship thread and, with some voyeuristic curiosity, I started reading. Then the OP posted a request for a "female perspective" and a few other users came out of hiding (including ones I had seen and assumed were male!) I pitched in my own meager two cents, but was largely overlooked. Rightfully so, I just wanted to confirm to the world "Hey look at me, I have ovaries!" I'm not even sure why it was so important I get that acknowledged.

So yes, there are other females on the internet (I knew this but I still needed to learn.) Hell, one was even a mom.

So I'm starting to get over some of the stereotypes that go with femininity and the internet. Then I started to spend maybe way too much time on the net (this got worse when I discovered TV Tropes... which I have now cursed you with.) Then I started a thread asking for recommendation for a girl who is looking to get back into comics.

Not that "being a girl" is my whole defining characteristic, but I think it's a useful elaboration of "Not really into the whole superhero thing anymore" even if the two are unrelated. I got a few recommendations, which were hit and miss, before someone suggested I check out Image's "Invincible." I was about to reiterate my "not digging the superheroes" thing when it was pointed out that this being an Image title, it was at least less likely to succumb to crossover-itis, which is of course my actual reason for the aversion.

So I went down to the comic store to pick up the first trade paperback, just to give it a test drive. I almost regretted it as soon as I stepped in. I hate to reinforce stereotypes, especially after I just talked about getting over my fear of internet-girlhood, but my God the difference between that and real life was... jeez.

The way they stared. I mean, you wonder why I'm so accustomed to pubbing and all that? Because as far otu of my nature as it would've been, at least people in those places don't act like I'm the first girl they've seen.

I don't blame them, but they certainly didn't make me feel comfortable. I didn't have the desire to browse, I just zipped over to the trade shelf, got Invincible volume 1, and zipped out. The whole time I could feel their eyes following me. The sad thing was, some of them weren't even bad-looking. They were just like my old self, a bit out of their element. Thank goodness it wasn't a Wednesday so there was only a few. And some were subtle enough that they might not even have been looking. But a few actively were.

For what it's worth, the comic itself was really great, so I'll probably be braving the gawkers to get the next one. I haven't been this excited about a new find since... well... haha. That may be overstating it, but it is a very good book, and I look forward to catching up on it.

So that's pretty much why you haven't seen me in 2 weeks.

Alia: Everything old is new again

I don't think I can be blamed for going into hiding for a while since my last post. In some ways it's a bit harder to get back into my real life than it was to "become" Rob. After all, as Rob I had a fair bit of leeway just to sink into my new life, to explore and get comfortable. Here I have to re-learn all my relationships, and re-introduce myself to myself.

For a little while I shrunk away from the challenge. I got back to my own place, and I felt fine. My hiding from society wasn't out of fear or anxiety, for the most part. A lot of it was just apathy and exhaustion. I could also have done without Todd trying to coax me into every possible social situation just for the sake of renewing our couplehood.

I spent a few days bumming around the apartment, trying to rearrange my stuff in a way I wanted it, not the way Crystal had left it. I channel-surfed, I arranged a TA position for myself for the fall, to resume my life track and earn some money. I farted around on the internet and occasionally visited Bry and Todd, albeit not excessively.

The real problem with the self-imposed exile wasn't whether I was hanging out with Bryan and Todd... it was everyone else. Hell, I was putting off visiting my parents just because I didn't want to pick up whatever threads I'd left off with them, or what Crystal had done. Out of sight out of mind. This particularly extends to everyone I know who has never been to the inn.

Then a few days ago I got a Facebook message from a friend of mine, a grad school friend Crystal wouldn't have spent much time with. It was generally just a "hey long time no see, what've you been up to?" message, but it led to a nice chat.

He convinced me to go get a coffee with him one day, and we ended up having a good long hangout. Confession: this guy has had a bit of a flirtatious streak in him, to the point where if he hadn't been in a relationship when Todd and I were apart, I would've considered him a possibility. This may have subconsciously influenced my choice to see him, and I began to stress about our meet-up as though it were a date.

Except worse. I mean, do you have any idea how long it's been since I've had to be this person? The Alia who has never been someone else? With Todd and Bryan I can always fall back on their knowledge that I haven't been around. I can't explain that to this guy, and it made it a little tough to be straight with him about "what I'd been up to."

So while my friend was bemoaning his relationship woes (he's since broken up with the aforementioned girl) and possibly subtly hinting toward "We should do this again sometimes, but later at night" I suddenly felt very nervous and just flat-out told him, "I'm back with Todd." Even despite my own doubts that that's the case.

He seemed disappointed, knowing Todd and I have had a pretty bumpy past. I told him it's nice of him to care, but I can handle myself, and if things don't work out, I won't be staying in longer than I need to. He gave me a hug and agreed with me.

(I haven't named him because Todd hates this guy, despite their similarities. Although he can probably guess -- he should still be thankful that it brings me to my next point...)

After this meet-up, I convinced myself it was time to get back with Todd, because after all, if I didn't, I'd be a liar.

So after trying to pin down a good date, my nervous self got all worked up over having to prepare for my first date-as-a-girl. Surprisingly enough, this didn't include as much "What will I wear?" (a pair of jeans, a tee and a vest, thanks for asking, took about 10 minutes to slap together) as it did "Sitting in one spot on the couch hyperventilating oh god what if it doesn't work outtttt." Eventually I pulled myself out of it. Probably about 20 minutes into the date when he started joking about wearing granny panties (he wasn't.)

We started by going to see Scott Pilgrim, which had the added effect of giving Todd something non-Inn related to talk about for seemingly the first time in years, since he was a huge fan of the comics. I just nodded politely, since despite his recommendation, I never read them.

We fell back into our old rhythm. We managed to have some honest-to-God conversations that expanded beyond inn-talk, showing that he's maybe ready to leave it all behind, even if I'm not.

I told him how difficult I was finding it to be myself around people who'd never been. He said he understood: it's like the first time you go, you don't know how to act and you feel guilty pretending. Then as the inn gets further and further in the past, your own self takes back more of your mind and body. I found it comforting, but I'm still skeptical. I don't think an experience like that can just leave you. I think I might always carry some of Rob in me, just as he'll always carry some of Anne-Marie, even if he won't admit it.

He's different now. I'm different now. I told him I wasn't going to stay with him just because we had this much in common. Of course I still have feelings for him, but if it's not meant to be, we'll know.

He didn't like the sound of that, but agreed it sounded all right. We're taking it slow.

-Alia

Cliff/Tori: I was having such a good week, too.

The summer has been great for getting myself lost in my own totally undramatic life. Work, friends, family... I lead a comfortable life, it's true. This past week was particularly enjoyable until today.

A little after I came to Philadelphia last year, it was Mae's birthday. August 11th, to be specific. As you can understand, I was too caught up in my own crap to care about this random girl's 16th birthday. She was basically a stranger, and I had recently found myself transformed, moved, unemployed and whatever problem you want to put on that list. I was feeling sorry for myself, resentful of my surroundings, afraid and confronted on all sides. It was a real, real long time before I began to feel comfortable in Tori's family. The fact that I have at all says something about how awesome these people have been.

For her birthday, mom took her to a piercing place on Saturday to get a nose stud put in. I went along out of interest. When I first became Tori I had pierced ears, of course, and even put them to use during my Torification last fall, but like many of the aspects of that little experiment, I got tired of keeping up with them and stopped wearing earrings altogether. This led to the piercings closing up, and me being too lazy/focused on other things to get them done. But, I figured, since we were already there... it was a little gesture to show myself my current balance between the man I was and the woman I've become. My own woman.

I did stop just short of getting a tattoo that of my old initials -- "JHC" -- just because I don't go for that sort of thing. Plus, everyone might think it stands for Jesus H. Christ.

It was a nice family gathering after that, seeing many of those obscure cousins I still don't feel comfortable around. Aunts wondering why I'm not seeing anyone (and me getting surprisingly flustered at the question.) Always nice to hang around and be Ken's little sister. He was pretty concerned with wedding stuff, which was odd to me. I've never known a guy to take much interest in that aspect, but he professed his desire to me not to have his wedding be "lame," which amused me.

At the end of the night, with the guests all cleared out, mom took a look around the room and declared her desire to re-paint the place. Like, immediately. In the year I've been here, she's always slightly tweaking the look of the place, and on at least one occasion I came home from work and the furniture was re-arranged, but this was a new level of impulsiveness.

So after I got to learn how exhausting it is to move furniture around in a petite female body, I decided to escape the chaos by shacking up with Raine at her parents' still-empty place.

The week that ensued was one of the most relaxing of my entire time as Tori. No family, no pets, nothing but my one friend, and sometimes our other friends. She doesn't even bug me when I don't feel like hanging out, just leaves me be. Besides, Guy has been around a lot to keep her busy. And you may think "Oh that must be awkward, if they're constantly screwing around," but the truth is, if they are, they're being a little more discreet about it than mom & dad Pearce ever are.

I've gotten to learn a lot about Raine just be staying at her place. Since it's her parents' place, I try to minimize my impact by constantly washing dishes and clearing away debris. She tells me not to worry, but I can't help it. Call it a compulsion I've had since I became Tori, not to disturb the original state of things. That's how I was for the first several months of the change, before I got, possibly, too comfortable.

If only I could have her comfort with the scenario. I never realized, but Raine is really, really, um, free with her body. If she's not going out, she doesn't bother to get dressed, and has spent entire days in a pair of shorts and bra, or a swimsuit, or less. It's really more irksome to me than anything, since I can't help but look, but I'm always disappointed by what I see and how it does or doesn't affect me. It doesn't turn me on, but it still fascinates me on some weird, perverse level, so I have to remind myself not to gawk (even though, let's face it, it's pretty out of the ordinary in any context.)

Guy, luckily, has not let me catch him in any state beyond shirtless, which could be awkward for any number of reasons.

Things were going really well, until today, when I was talking to Cyndi at work. Back when we first met, it seemed like Cyndi really wanted to be my friend, and for a long while was the one I felt most comfortable around, since she had no prior relationship with Tori, no expectations for how I was supposed to react. as time went by and Sara and Raine noticed my behavior less and less, I depended on Cyndi less for companionship, which was fair enough since after the summer began, she started getting a lot of modeling jobs. See, the reason I felt so attached to Cyndi was that she is probably the most attractive woman who has ever spoken to me. And she'd never been anything but sweet and accommodating of my weirdness, and back in March, I even helped her through a spat she had with her boyfriend, Leo.

So imagine my shock when I was trying to get Cyndi to finally turn up for one of our backyard BBQ pool parties, and she just let out this exasperated sigh and cut loose, basically saying:

"I can't do this. You know I have my own life, right? I'm sick of you trying so hard to be my friend. I don't want to talk to you anymore. You're so unaware of the world around you. You sponge off other people, you coast through life, you complain about being alone in life, but you never do anything to fix it. Look at you. Sometimes you sound like an intelligent, independent person, but there are some times it sounds like you just woke up from a coma or something. The worst part of it is you work here, and what does that say about your personality? You don't even have any ambition. You're coasting" (I'd point out the hypocrisy of her saying this, but she does have those modeling jobs.) "I'm through with you, Tori. You used to be interesting, but now I just don't care. Don't talk to me. I'm done."

And that was... pretty much it. I had no idea she felt like this, but I couldn't stop thinking about it for the rest of the day, couldn't focus on work, went home and couldn't sleep. On the ride home, I started to tear up and struggled to hide my breakdown from the other SEPTA passengers. When I got back to Raine's, I hurried up to the guest room, collapsed in bed and started to bawl.

Here's the fucked-up thing: I know she's wrong. I know the reason it appears I have no ambition is because I can't actually get a job using my real skills. I know I seem whiny despite my looks, but it's because of years and years of shyness and romantic insecurity. I just can't explain any of this to her, and if she was just going to unload on me completely unprovoked, I don't want her as my friend anyway. But that doesn't mean it can't hurt my feelings that somebody thinks of me this way.

Months and months of being okay with my life -- hell, enjoying it -- nearly unraveled by one completely unrelated altercation. It just makes me think, what if I never do go back? That's a real possibility. I've got to stop wasting my time living the status quo left to me by a girl who didn't even want her life back. If the world's already changed me, I need to make changes of my own.

Alia: Holding on

I feel a long rambling post coming on. I feel like such a girl for wanting to share a whole bunch of my feelings with you, which is silly... it's not even something I would have been concerned with as a guy so why I'm suddenly feeling self-conscious and guarded, I don't know. Which is... kind of the problem.

For a few days after I transformed, I was in "superhero crisis management mode." Even if the new victims didn't particularly want my brand of help, at least not all of them, I felt important offering it to them, and it gave me something to focus on. That week I alternated between stress of holding these unfortunate peoples' hands (those that were new to the process - and "Max," who was showing signs of doubt as to his ability to cope as a male) and the euphoric relief of being female once again and putting this mess behind me.

But on the way home, I had a lot of time to think. And the more I thought about going back to Toronto and resuming my life, the more I worried that I was kidding myself.

I started thinking about the last time Todd and I had been together. By now it's been over two years since our break-up. We reconciled, briefly, before he went to Maine, but by the time he "came back" to Toronto, he was another person.

I've never really explained what happened in detail. Even knowing what I know now, it's hard for me to separate the Todd I know from the person who was Todd during that time. It wasn't simply a matter of Deb, the woman in his body, letting me down gently. In fact, for longer than seems appropriate, she went along with it. Through August and September of that year, we were a couple, and I let myself believe that Todd was acting normally and everything was okay.

Partly it was the curse. Partly it was that I didn't want to be alone. When, in fall of 2008, I realized things were simply untenable between us that what Deb-Todd and I had was not a relationship, it was still a long time before I acted on that impulse. And when it finally ended, the ease with which "he" let it go was painful. Knowing what I know now doesn't ease the pain it caused, and it certainly doesn't excuse what happened next.

I realized I didn't like being alone. I couldn't handle it the way I had in high school, because I'd spent the better part of 4 years with someone I still cared about. And that's why the thing with Sean Flaherty happened (and why Erica LaFleur got with Deb-Todd resulting in their daughter.) And it was this desperation that led me to following Todd to Maine, and ultimately, spending a year with a penis.

So it seems like everything's worked out, everyone's back where they belong, happy endings all around. But it was Fletcher-Beatrice's words that haunted me all the way home.

During one of our time-killing sessions before changing, I asked Fletcher why he (at the time, male) kept coming back to the Inn. If he found a body where the owner can't come back, or doesn't want back, and can get comfortable, why not just settle down?

What he told me is that it was harder to quit than I might think. To simplify it somewhat, it's like how people keep playing the lottery after they've won. Knowing you can just slip out to Maine for a few weeks and come back with a new life, that you get to keep for at least a year, how could you say no? I said "easily," now that I've got my own life back.

He said it was more complicated than I thought it was; that changing once changes you, and going back does not mean returning to normal. I didn't think anything of this until I left the inn, then it hit me.

I had tried to ignore it, but it did feel weird to be a woman again. I felt uncoordinated, weak, unattractive. I got my period the day I headed back to Canada and I was so unprepared for it I wanted to destroy somebody. I had gotten too used to the relative simplicity of manhood, I felt like I was playing pretend, like the first few weeks of being Rob. I was literally uncomfortable in my own skin.

I was still depressed about it by the time I got back to Toronto but I was too exhausted to say even a word to Todd or Bryan. In fact, for a few days I was just a useless, barely-conscious walking corpse, wondering about the futility of it all.

Todd did his best to reassure me that things were fine now, we were out of the woods and ready to get back to reality, but as far as I was concerned we left reality a long time ago. We spent our nights in silence, I slept on his couch.

Then one day he went off to work and left me by myself in the apartment. I got up and made myself some lunch and began to imagine myself, back in Philadelphia, back in Rob's place. It was just a grilled cheese sandwich -- the poor guys aren't much for groceries -- but as I stood there in the empty apartment, I felt a bit better. This is going somewhere that probably seems really obvious but is really hard to learn when you're living this.

I've lived through this whole ordeal. It's part of me. My time as Rob is as real as my time in High School, as much a part of me as my first job. I can't leave it in the past, because Fletcher was right, it did change me. Just like being Anne-Marie definitely changed Todd. And maybe I'll never be the girl I was before I went to Maine, but I can live as the woman I've become. I think.

As Rob, I learned to be on my own in a way I hadn't as Alia. Yes, I had my moments of weakness... I especially regret my error in judgment with Sam... but I've grown a lot stronger, and that's an experience I can't write off. Wouldn't want to. It's all me, even if being me doesn't mean what it used to.

And so it goes. I've moved all my stuff back to my little attic apartment. I'm still with Todd, in a sense... I know he was very gung-ho about us getting right back together, but I do need to take it slow, to get to know him all over again, before we can get back to where we were.

And if it doesn't work out... if all this was for nothing and we have to get on with our lives, so be it, I suppose. It'll hurt, but I don't think there's anything I can't survive, now. I hope everyone, no matter what their destination, gets the peace of mind I've gotten from finally knowing who I am.

Here's to the big scary future. I'll let you know how it goes.
-Alia

Greg/Didi: Happiness

So in the comment section of my last post, not only did i get some great advice on how to be a better smoker, I also got a question asking me that if I have to be female, can I at least ever be happy in the body that Im in? And ive been ruminating on it ever since.

Truth is, my gender isnt really one of the things Ive been mad about during this ordeal. If Dee had been a man, Id probably be just as pissed. I actually think my whole "its weird being a girl" thing was pretty short lived, and it happened last year. When I became Priya, everything was weird for a while, but since I was basically playing another part in my former life, things werent THAT different. In retrospect, this blog was really helpful in me getting over being a girl. The fact that Arthur and Jake seemed to get used to it compounded with the fact that it would only be temporary made me put it out of my mind and concentrate on being Priya, not just being a girl.

After spending the last year or so as a female, changing into Dee wasnt much of a big deal in that regard. Ive got all the same parts, I just had to get used to them being in different shapes (and a different color). I think if I woke up tommorow as a man, Id have a tougher time readjusting to that than I did adjusting to being older and fatter.

Another commenter said that I probably could never be happy, since Gender Dysphoria Disorder is difficult for people who ARENT cursed, and that got me thinking in an entirely different brain. Do I have that? It doesnt feel like it. Most people with GDD want to kill themselves because they were born the wrong gender. I was cursed this way, but dont feel so overcome by femalehood that I dont want to live. Did the inn change that part of my brain too? If I got a brain scan tommorow, would it show up as a female brain or a male one? Obviously I cant talk this over with a shrink, unless that shrink had previoulsy visited the inn.

This leads us to the queston: Can I be happy living as Dee? So far I dont know. You guys missed my first month or so when I was in this body, then I was miserable and mad at the world. Cursing my rotten luck to have to precede the awful woman whose face I had to see every morning. Disgusted at the flab and sagging that I have to see everytime I take a shower. Nowadays? Ive calmed down some, and I dont think thats just the nicotine talking.

Maybe its the knowledge that I wont be her next year. Maybe its just me getting used to things via a routine. I like to think that theres a part of me that will always be Greg, and hes not a quitter. And now matter what I look like on the outside, on the inside Ill be making the best of my situation and adapting.

So while this isnt anywhere near where I want to be, for my own sanity i'm gonna keep plugging along, enjoying small moments of happiness when I find them.

-Greg.

Cliff/Tori: New old friends

It's been a bit hard for me to find time to get back on this blog, even though I felt like I was in the middle of a story when I last posted. A lot of the time I'll write about something that seems important at the time but something bigger comes along and shows me it isn't.

Reading about Alia's and Greg's recent trips have really hit home to me how normal everything in my world has become. I'm not being transformed again anytime soon, I'm not having to adjust and rearrange my life and it's been a long time since I felt out of place in a woman's body... I mean, compared to everything else, it feels boring to talk about my own life.

The weird thing is, I'm actually having a really nice time. I'll tell you for sure, this summer definitely kicks ass over last year. I like myself, I like my life, I have an almost sickeningly positive outlook on things. And I feel like, despite all the chaos in everyone else's life, there might be some value to me continuing to share my story, so I'll catch you up on what July was like for me.

A little ways into the month, I was contacted, via Facebook, by an old friend of Tori's. This is part of the reason why I'm still Cliff/Tori... it isn't that I still deny the fact that I'm Tori, it's just that I don't think I can take the Cliff out of my name until I can be sure the life is more mine than hers. It's getting there, but meeting this person set me back a fair bit.

I've met a lot of people over the last year. Sara and Raine, who are pretty much my best friends, are just the tip of it. They've taken me to more than a few parties where I've had to fake my way through conversations, and I've run into an ex or two... some who are attached, some who would want to hook up with me. I try to ignore these people and keep to my comfort zone. But this one shook me.

It was Tori's old friend Daniel -- as in her gay childhood friend, the one she had a crush on, and basically stopped hanging around with after he came out.

He found me on Facebook and, pretty casually asked me if I wanted to catch up. I was reluctant, because I'm still wary of new people, especially guys, even though he's gay. For some reason that fact didn't help me, it just raised me a whole bunch of new questions, because I don't think I've ever been friends close with anyone who was openly gay. There was a couple people in high school and college, but I stayed away from them because there was a whole clique thing.

I talked to Raine and Sara about it -- they were around in high school but I think what happened was Tori had to make a choice between Danny's crowd and theirs. At the time, in Tori's diary, they came off a bit bitchy about it, but by now they were encouraging, "Yeah, go meet him, it'll be good." I looked over his profile and I realized we might have a few things in common, so I might get along with this guy. So I did.

We met for coffee. He has this really warm presence about him. I don't want to seem ignorant, but I have this whole perception about how gay dudes act based on the few I've met. Danny wasn't especially effeminate -- I mean hell, by this point I'm way girlier than him -- he has a really good sense of humor. A real smart-ass. After an awkward beginning of "What have you been up to these past few years?" we just started riffing about life and work and ambitions. He's constantly searching for new jobs, changing career paths, meeting new people.

By the end of it, I was actually feeling really good about this. Maybe... a little too good. Like, I haven't gotten along with someone this well since the first time I met Buddy, and we know how that worked out... it really felt like a date. Maybe because he wasn't trying so hard to impress me, since he likes guys.

I was just so embarrassed, because I had a ton of questions but didn't want to, you know, pry.

Since then, the summer's been rather free. Raine has taken up in her parents' house, because they took her brother (AKA Mae's ex) to England for the summer, and she's been using it to basically throw a pool party every weekend. So us girls have been lounging around soaking up the sun as much as we can, with their guys often along. Occasionally we invite the others, like Cyndi and Leo, and Danny and... his boyfriend. Watching them together has kind of put me in this space of "Why shouldn't I be that happy with someone?"

And who knows. Maybe if that person comes along, I'll be able to recognize it. You only live once... getting a different body during that lifetime doesn't really change that.

Greg/Didi: Quitting

No, im not quitting the blog again. If I did I wouldnt be posting here, and as one commmenter put it, this blog is a very useful source of information. If anything its cool to read up on the trials and tribulations of others who have been cursed like me, and how they react to it.

On that same, note, I wish Emily David had turned into me, because then I wouldnt be in this situation, when I talked to her via email a couple times, she seemed pretty cool. Never let on that she was in love with her inherited gf. But she was able to walk away from a newfound love in order for the body's rightful owner to reestablish his. She basically was faced with the same situation as Dee, and chose the opposite path. I hope good things come her way, and next to her Dee looks like a complete bitch.

Anyway, right now I look like that complete bitch, but i'm trying to make the best of it. Knowing that its probably temporary helps, but it still doesnt assuage the anger I feel ever time I look in the mirror. I think that attitude has been reflected in my personality because Vicki, one of my new co-workers, asked me if everything is alright, because ever since I've came back from Maine this year Ive been standoffish, when last year the trip had the total opposite effect. It dawned on me that this isnt the first time that the people in Dee's life have had to deal with a sudden change in her personality. Apparently Susan was nice enough that they all got used to her being nice and mellow, and here I come in all mad at the world and taking it out on them.

For the first few days down here, I was a real bitch to everyone, and I couldnt help it. I had massive headaches and moodswings all the time and I had no idea why until one day I was in the basement and on one of the shelves I saw two cartons of Virginia Slims. Dee was a smoker. Which meant now I was a smoker and was having serious nicotine withdrawls. This was both annoying and enlightening.

Originally, I thought the way the Inn worked was it remolded your body to look like another person, but your brain stayed the same. Now I think it must also reshape your brain also to some extent, because the receptors that respond to nicotine changed for me. It also makes some sense, because theirs now way my brain as Greg wouldve fit into Priya's little skull, and id Imagine it changed size as well last month. Maybe your memories stay intact but everything else changes. Its probably why sexual orientation changes to match the body.

Anyway, apparently Susan was also a smoker and didnt feel the need to quit. But this was before my epiphany last week and my decision to become a traveler. As far as I was concerned, I was gonna be Dee forever, and Id already lost 20 years of my life to the Trading Post Inn and I wasnt about to lose anymore to lung cancer.

For those of you that have never done it, quitting smoking is a hellish endeavor. I tried the patch, I tried the gum, I tried cold turkey, and none of those made it any easier. Finally yesterday at work I gave in and lit one up. It felt amazing. Like my greatest desire had been fulfilled. I relaxed so much right then there that I made an effort to be extra nice to my co-workers, and they seemed to appreciate it. Its the best I've felt since I'd become Didi.

So now I have a habit. Im not sure if I wanna quit it or not, because on the on hand, it causes all sorts of horrible health problems, but on the other hand Im not gonna be around when they kick in, so why not let the next person deal with them?

Not gonna lie, the cigarettes have a huge calming effect on me. Very effective at relieving all the stresses. That doesnt mean that I advocate all our readers to go out and buy a pack. Presumably youll all have to deal with your bodies for the long run.


-Greg

PS: To the Real Dee: If your reading this, you should know that all of your co-workers, friends, and neighbors like me and liked Susan a helluva lot better than they like you. Hopefully soon Heather realizes what a bitch she married and kicks you to the curb.

Todd: Getting the band back together

Alia arrived back in the city earlier tonight. Bryan and I met her at Union Station, after taking a more or less direct route from Maine to Montreal to Toronto that took, I would guess, 12 hours of straight travel. We hauled her bags back to our place, as she asked we put her up for the night after her trip, and I can see why she wouldn't want to be alone (her apartment is essentially an attic.)

I didn't know what to make of this. I mean, I know what I hoped would happen. She'd see me, fall into my arms, we'd have a big tearful reunion and cement our long-delayed reconciliation by humping. On the flipside, I considered it equally likely that we'd solidify this thing by staying up all night talking out our issues in a way-past-due moment of catharsis for the both of us. This would also be acceptable, but also less fun.

This did not happen. When we saw her at the station, she was bleary-eyed and sleep-deprived. She looked like she thought she was hallucinating when she saw us. She did wrap her arms around me and just stayed quiet the whole way home, like a trauma victim. I wondered whether this was the same verbose woman I'd known all these years, the one who'd spent practically her whole stay in Maine blogging. Briefly, I entertained the notion that Alia was an impostor, so I asked her, quickly, to say something only the real Alia would say. In response, she reminded me of the time I convinced her to have sex in the ladies' room at her parents' anniversary party.

It was my statement on matrimony, at the time.

When we got back home, she flopped down on the couch and zonked out. And there she lies fast asleep. I mean, I don't want to force the issue, but it's feeling slightly anticlimactic. No big dramatic reveals, no stunning confessions, no passionate copulation. Just "I'm tired, mind if I crash?"

I've just been sitting here at the kitchen table watching her, thinking about how she inhabits the same space a different woman recently did -- same face, same voice, same clothes -- but with an entirely different aura about her. I spent a long time adjusting to the idea of Crystal in Alia's body, and now I have to switch back... I can only imagine what it was like for her realizing the Todd she'd known for a year was a faker. I haven't brought it up even in our online conversations. Well, I've mentioned it, but I don't push the issue. If she ever wants to delve into it, that's her choice.

In the weeks since Crystal left, Bry's been picking up his guitar more and more. I've hardly seen him so much as tinker with it -- I mean, he's barely even played Rock Band -- since we got back to Toronto last year. Could be maybe residual bitterness from his American musician ex-lesbian girlfriend, or maybe something about Crystal or just not having the energy for it. But lately I've been hearing it through my walls a lot more. And last week, he caught me in the living room to play me something he'd written recently. And it was good.

"Look," he says to me, "I know it hasn't always worked out in the past, but I was thinking about getting a band together. You, me... whoever else. It won't be like the past, we won't take it too seriously, we'll just gig around and have some fun, then get on with our lives other than that. Just to do something, you know?"

I told him I'd think about it. Now that Alia's back, I'm feeling more into it. Maybe to get back in touch with the last time of my life where things made sense. Bry and I played music, Alia and I dated, I was still in school... none of us had ever been anyone else. Maybe you can't go back, and there was enough craziness back then that I wouldn't totally want to... but there's something to be said for trying to recapture a special time in your life.

I want to do it. I can't let it interfere with my school this fall, but I could use the release. I don't know if things can be the same as they were 3 years ago, but I know they can't stay like this.

I think I'll get some sleep. Later, all
-Todd

Alia: Emily's story

So, Monday.

Exhausted from a very busy morning, and disappointed I hadn't done a good job of dispelling the hysteria, Max -- formerly Sam -- and I took off for some breakfast to re-orient ourselves at a little family restaurant by the shore.

I was feeling hungry enough to eat three breakfasts, so I overdid my order. I had neglected to take into account the fact that while my hunger may be big, my appetite was not the same size as Rob's. Max ended up finishing my meal. I was still slightly irritated at him for manipulating his way into Roger's room, but part of me didn't want to hold it against him.

We walked along and I looked up and asked him, "How do you like manhood so far?"

He smiled a goofy, awkward grin, "Seems simple enough. Walking down the street without anyone shooting me phantom glances is gonna take some adjustment. I'm all hairy and bulky and weird. I don't think I like it so far."

"You get used to it," I assured him. "I guess no matter what body you get, it becomes second-nature after some months." I told him the best was benefiting from the double-standard that he'll be made fun of if he has too little sex, rather than too much. This attempt at levity didn't take.

That reminded me - I stopped into a drug store to get some Febreze, since my room still smelled like a sweaty man. I was planning to stick around for the rest of the week in case anyone needed my help. Maybe it was a misplaced gesture. Some of the transformees, including Roger, seemed to resent my premise. Fletcher and his crew laid low.

In fact, Fletcher/Beatrice, "her" new husband, and "their" daughter Roger/Lily, were packing to leave as early as Tuesday, while everyone was still milling about, some of them remaining in denial.

"What's the hurry?" I asked.

"Hey, you may have time to lounge around on the beach, but some of our bodies have obligations. My husband's got to earn the money."

I rolled my eyes. "Your husband. And how does your daughter feel?"

"Oh, she's not happy about it. You know kids."

"Kids that used to be grown men? I don't have much experience with them."

"Well, we'll buy her a new bike, she'll forget all about her old life."

I stared a dagger at her. She extended her hand for a shake. I told her I hoped we'd never meet again.

She winked at me. "If you're lucky. Of course, in a year or two, you might see me again and not even know it."

And with that, she was gone. Now, I might have considered offering her a membership to the blog, but when, as Fletcher, he surmised my identity when we first met, he expressed the viewpoint that this blog was not a smart endeavor. "Hey, that's your thing, but some of us -- most, from what I can tell -- prefer our anonymity."

I understand that viewpoint... if someone had wanted to mess with me, I suppose it would be easy enough to get means to do so from this blog. But it doesn't look like that's happened, so I don't know what to say.

I shared some contact information with some of the others, but none seemed all that into it. If anyone else wants to contact me about the blog -- if you've tried to get onto this blog, if you've been transformed, please remember that you can contact me at alia.rob[at]hotmail.com -- I'll see what I can do.

Anyway. Wednesday, I was lying in my room reading when I had a knock at the door. I opened it to see a girl about my age. I had recognized her, but we hadn't spoken yet. I welcomed her in and asked her how she was adjusting.

"Well that's just it. I'm like you. I've been here before."

I was both surprised and not. Surprised because I guess I took it for granted that it was just me, Sam/Max and Fletcher -- and his friends -- as veterans.

She told me her name was Emily, and that a woman named Priya had been living her life. I told her I was vaguely aware of the "new" Priya, through the blog: Greg, obviously. At this point I hadn't been made aware of the circumstances of his/her latest transformation. If Emily knew, she didn't care to divulge. She was more interested in talking about herself.

A year ago, she summarized, she'd woken up in a new body. Of course. It was a gangly, pale, male body, a freckled redhead with a beard and a receding hairline. She was far from amused. The guy had been on vacation with two of his guy friends, and amongst them, she was the only who had been female. The other two, in fact, stayed in their new lives.

She went on, getting a bit more emotional as she did. Like anyone else, she found it daunting when she first got to her new life, particularly as this guy had left her a long-term girlfriend. At first she resented the fact that she had to keep this relationship up, and considered breaking it off out of practicality, but once she met her she was so struck that she had to stay.

From the way she described it, this wasn't some slow, subtle process of coming into one's sexuality. It wasn't the long transition into a romantic relationship. "Within a week, I felt like I'd known her for years. You ever meet someone and you just make a connection? Like you wouldn't think it's possible, since I was just pretending to be her boyfriend, but it was like she really understood me, and I really, honestly loved her. Immediately. And that's what kills me. I'll never know whether it was me, or the curse, that made it so. Maybe it was just the leftover feelings of his body, or maybe I just loved her, and now I don't think I can ever go back to guys, or maybe even find anyone else... I feel like I'm ruined, you know? Like that was it. And I gave it up." She sniffed. "I gave it back because somewhere even thought I felt it wasn't true, I knew it wasn't really me she loved."

She explained, "I guess I'm telling you all this because I need to get it out there. I wanted to know if you knew, if I'm just crazy, if I was really in love, or my body was playing tricks on me."

I told her I couldn't say for sure. I've only ever loved one person, and I've known him too long to let him go. but the way I feel about him is what I imagine she felt for her lost love. Did she do the right thing in giving the body back? Maybe. Maybe the story won't have a happy ending -- I'm not really a big believer in "you'll find your special someone eventually" or any typical romantic stuff. But I couldn't say that.

All I could say was that I had felt attracted -- physically attracted, drawn, aroused, whatever you want to say -- to women as a man, in a way I'd never expected. So I know the Inn has some effect. What she was feeling, though, seems too real to just be a side-effect of the Inn. And I feel like, if you felt it once, it's still like you'll feel it again. I mean, that's not romance, that's statistics.

She wasn't heartened by this, but told me at least it felt good to get it out there. She was gone later the next day. The inn is practically empty now, with Max lingering about as long as me. In fact, he's standing in my doorway right now, rubbing his chin stubble. I'll be back in Toronto tomorrow night, if all goes well.

Well we can only hope.

-Alia

Greg: Wheres Greg Part 3

So when I said goodbye to the Inn i took the train from Old Orchard Beach to the Portland Maine airport. After connecting at Boston Logan, Atlanta, and Tupelo Mississippi I was finally able to fly into tiny and new Oxford airport.

When I was deciding on becoming Dee, one of the biggest logistical concerns was living in Mississippi. I, like many Americans, look down on that state with a certain level of derision and superiority because of the reputation and stereotypes that have become attached to it (some of which were earned, btw). But Oxford is different. Its a college town, home to the University of Mississippi, or as the locals call it "Ole Miss" because 10 syllables is a lot of work. For that reason, Oxford is a lot more progressive than the rest of the state. Its not unlike Evanston, IL in terms of its layout and design. And the people here tend to be working hard to shake the stereotypes of hick Mississippians and move the state forward. Its kinda like Austin in Texas. If a Chicago yankee like me had to pick one city in Mississippi to live in, Oxford would be it.

Dee had told me that my new car was in spot number 583 in the airport parking lot, and thats where if found a silver 2002ish Toyota Camry. I dont know if I ever went into detail about it, but Im kind of car buff. I didnt drive much when I was living in Chicago but when I did I had a 1967 Mustang that my father and I restored. Between the sentimental memories and the fact that it hauled ass, I loved that car and really miss it. I dont know if the real Dee took it with her when she and Heather ran away or if its just sitting in its parking garage but I dont have a key nor a way to transfer title, so its on the long list of things that are lost to me. Driving Priya's BMW for past year was a nice consolation prize, but a Toyota Camry is just bleh. Its not like its a bad car, its just not really an exciting car. The slogan for the damn thing should be "Camry: Just a car".

Anyway, the thing did have a GPS in it, so I was able to just input the address I had for Dee's house. The place is actually pretty big. Not mansion big, 4 bedrooms, 3 bath, but thats a lot bigger than the artists loft I had been living in. The reason for this, is because about 8 months before her trip to the inn, Dee had gotten divorced, and apparently she got the house in the settlement.

My first reaction upon entering the house was how empty it was. Dee had a kid but it was grown up and out of the house, leaving her all by her lonesome here. My 2nd reaction was how messy it was. I dont think Susan cleaned AT ALL for like 2 weeks before leaving for Maine. I wouldnt either, of course. Its not like shed have to clean up the mess. I kept Priya's place tidy as a courtesy to her, but Susan reads the blog and knew what a bitch Dee was, and apparently wasnt too concerned about keeping the house tidy. Add to that the fact that the place had been sitting vacant for about a month, which led to a pretty unpleasant smell. I spent my first weekend down here cleaning it from top to bottom, which also gave me a pretty good idea of the layout of things.

The following Monday, I put on one of her many drab women's suits and headed into work. When I first talked to Dee she mentioned she was in insurance, which led me to believe she worked for an insurance company (a fact that made a lot of sense when she turned into a hell spawned bitch). Turns out she actually processes and prepares insurance claims made by and against the University, so "work" is actually a small office in the administrative building of campus. And being summer, there are very few of those to do, meaning Ive been able to adapt pretty well to the job by taking it slow. Like most office work its kind of repetitive and once you get the hang of it youre golden. Not like teaching where you had to be on every day.

Other than working Ive spent the last month or so learning the layout of Dee's life. Meeting her friends, which outside of a few acquaintances and neighbors and co-workers, there arent very many. Learning where everything is in the city. Catching up on bills, which wasnt hard because Susan was nice enough not to drain the account so paychecks and alimony checks were in there waiting to be used. I was ready just to zone out and live life as Dee when I got bored and started reading the blog again.

Reading about Alia's recent posts gave me an idea. Hope even. I know from the way she describes him, Fletcher is kind of a creep, but he's got a pretty good idea. I had never thought of being a "traveler". The idea of going to the inn every year and trying out a new body never crossed my mind or appealed to me. But given my current situation it actually seems enticing. Its not like I could never be happy living in Mississippi, but the face in the mirror still brings back memories of what ive lost and Im not sure that would ever stop.

Having been in 3 different bodies the past 3 years has already kind of gotten me used to it. And Im less afraid of the consequences of the Inn than I was before, not to mention the fact that if I dont like the body of the luggage in the room, I can always bolt.

Its weird thinking this way, but its become pretty clear to me that my destiny is to become a traveler like Fletcher, or that other couple that was mentioned before. It gives me a lot more control over things than just being forced by default into Dee's body.

So thats what Im gonna do for the next year. Go through the motions, enjoy myself as much as I can, and see where the wind takes me next time. Im less mad at the blog than I was before, since the blog is what tipped me off to the concept of "traveling". I'm gonna see if I can get in contact with Alia for more information, but until then, Ill keep on posting about the events of my current life

-Greg/Didi

PS: Didi is what ive decided to call myself in this body. Dee reminds me too much of its original occupant and Dolores literally means "pains". So I looked up nicknames and among the human sounding ones were Dolly, Didi, Lola, and Lolita. Dolly sounds TOO southern, I dont look like a Lola and Im DEFINITELY not a Lolita, so Didi it is, at least until fate changes it.

Greg: Wheres Greg? Part 2

When the school year ended in late may, I had a decision to make. Probably the biggest one of my existence. Obviously I was going back to the Trading Post Inn, but the question was, when?

My original plan was to go the last weekend in June, with Dee having gone in the block before in the same room. That way my body would be waiting for me when I got there, obviously that plan backfired. And when it collapsed, so did the chain of transformees to some extent.

Dee not going to the Inn meant that whomever stayed in that room (or closest to that room) meant that the would transform into her, and I would transform into them two weeks later.

The thing is, I had no way of knowing who would be sleeping in or near that room. Let me reiterate that I was terrified of the inn to some extent. There are dozens of awful scenarios that could land me in a body or life that would be a million times worse than just turning into an Indian girl. I really didnt wanna roll the dice, especially with "Pygmalion" floating out there. I did have one other option. Go to the inn 2 weeks earlier and turn into Dee.

This was by no means an easy decision to make. The idea of turning into and living life as the woman who ruined mine was and still is loathesome. But it was knowingly turning into a woman in her 40s with good health vs. rolling the dice and winding up a child or an old person. Weve already had one person in this chain die from a heart attack in the body they inherited, I wasnt about to take that risk. I went with the devil I knew. (Or at least her body)

I packed up and left for Maine in mid-June, telling Priya's friends and family that I enjoyed last years trip so much that going away by myself seemed like a great idea again. It was weird knowing I was saying goodbye to them forever.

Saying goodbye to Amber was painful, but I made it through it. I guess it was because Id already said goodbye to her in my mind so many times. I still said some pretty sentimental things that probably seemed really cryptic to her, as she believed id be back in 2 weeks. I kissed her goodbye on the cheek, and then I turned to Tony who was there, gave him a hug and told him to be good to her. With that I got in the cap and headed to O'hare.

Arriving at the Inn was the weirdest feeling of deja vu out there. I knew I'd be back, but never under these circumstances. Getting the key to the room was tricky, since the reservation was under the name "Greg Armstrong" and I didnt look anything like him. I simply told the lady at the desk at the neighboring hotel that gives out the Inn keys that I was in the Armstrong party, and after answering several security questions about date of birth and mothers maiden name stuff, I was able to get the keys to room 9. When I got to the room, I opened the closet and saw luggage inside with 2 notes.

For the past year, the person living as Dee was a girl from Detroit named Susan Phillips. I dont know much about Susan, only that shes around my age. We never talked much, never had reason to talk much. But after I had made my decision to become Dee, I told her about it and we coordinated. Apparently she did get her body back and was on her way back to the motor city. The first note she left was a typical inn note giving all the details and ins and outs of Dee's life. The 2nd note was much shorter and said

"Greg, hope this finds you and good luck with all this
-Susan"

I smiled, unpacked, and left the room.

The coast of Maine is really beautiful in the summertime, and despite my circumstances I had resolved to enjoy my vacation. I had adopted the motto "Omnes una manet nox'
which is Latin for "The same night awaits us all". What was gonna happen was gonna happen, and I wasnt about to stress out about it. Not while the weather was nice and I looked good in a bikini.

I explored the town, ate at restaurants, enjoyed the bar, sunbathed. Getting back to the inn that first night, I was a bit wary. I wasnt sure how many people were there that night, and was unsure if the 13 needed to start the change were present. That meant the change could happen that night or it could not. The suspense wouldve kept me up all night.

Fortunately, I had a bottle of prescription strength sleeping pills that I got from a kinda shady friend of mine. A couple of those babies and Priya's little body was out like a light. I had no desire to see the changes of the Inn, I slept through them last time and was content to sleep through them again. I did that every night of my stay, and I hope her body doesnt have an addiction now.

Anyway, the next morning, I awoke and hadnt changed. I was both relieved and annoyed. Relieved that I didnt have to face it just yet, annoyed that I would still have to. I spent that Day around the inn, observing the other guests. I didnt talk to them much, mostly because I wasnt feeling particularly social and also because I didnt want anyone who had been there before to recognize me from the blog and ask a billion questions and then post answers to the blog (I was still mad at the blog). It was weird, you could tell which ones were first timers, they were the ones who looked like regular vacationers, totally unaware of the fact that their lives were gonna be changed forever soon. Like lambs to the slaughter almost.

Anyway, I continued in aloof vacation mode for the rest of my stay up until the 8th night. That night was "change night, I of course didnt know until the next morning.

Waking up to the changes was different than last year. Last year, when I changed genders, I immediately knew something was way wrong. The smoothness of my skin coupled with breasts and curves as well black hair in my face was an instantaneous message that I was different. This year, the thing that tipped me of as I emerged from my pill induced coma was the digging of fabric into my hips.

I had slept like I always did as Priya, in just a pair of panties. When I opened my eyes and looked down to see the source of the pain, I saw pale white skin rather than the soft brown Id gotten used to. I sighed, took off the panties, and went to the bathroom to assess the damage.

There, in the mirror, I saw for the first time the face of Dolores Henderson. I gave my reflection the finger instinctively. Looking back at me was a naked, 44 year old woman. It didnt feel all to different from Priya just standing there, all the body parts were the same, but it sure looked different.

My hair was now long and curly, with a few gray ones in the mix. My face had wrinkles on it, not a lot but definitly noticeable around the eyes. My body was wider and less in shape than I was. I wasnt fat or obese or anything, but a woman in her 40s who has had kids is gonna show it somewhere. Not to mention the sagging, especially in the breasts. It wasnt ideal, it wasnt even close to what I wanted to look like, but I shrugged to myself and thought it could be a lot worse.

I opened up my new luggage and got dressed, and went out to greet the chaos. I didnt do like Alia did, and give a great big speech explaining what had happened, I wasnt in a leadership mood. But I did give some advice to a few people, and filled them on the details of the curse, and even gave a few links to the despised blog. After that people started figuring things out the best they could.

That left me with 6 days left on my vacation. I wasnt about to head off to my new destination just yet, like some guests were just itching to do. I had a flight in 6 days but until then I was content to enjoy the town.

Finally, when my time was up, I wrote my 2 notes. One detailing everything about Priya's life, another one that said:

"Dear Priya,
Hope this letter and this body find you. Take good care of yourself and never let Amber forget how much I love her and no matter what I look like shell always have a place in my heart. I know you cant tell her directly, but show her.

-Your friend forever, Greg"

With that, I went to the airport. I did find out that later, Priya did make it to the inn and is now back in Chicago with her life intact, but her apartment was kind of a mess. As far as I know, the girl she had been, Emily David, is at the inn right now and got her old body back the other night. So while my life got turned upside down, at least those two got things back on track.

So now Im here in Missisippi. My next post ill give details on Dees life and where I plan to go from here

-Greg

Greg: Wheres Greg? Part 1

So over the past few weeks, there's been commenters on Alia and Cliff's posts asking if they knew what had happened to me and where I was, and thats a legitimate question since its been 107 days since i posted last. Im gonna spend the next few nights recounting my story the best I can and answer that question, which is really pretty complicated.

The short answer to "Wheres Greg"? Im currently in Oxford, Mississippi. In the body of Dolores "Dee" Henderson. How I got here is a harrowing tale and easily the saddest thing to ever happen to me.

In my last post, I was all ready to fight back against Dee's bodytheft. I had laid out detailed plans to thwart her, including sending links of this blog to Amber and Heather to see if they could be convinced. This was to no avail, as Amber and Heather hadnt been transformed, they were subject to the curse and couldnt make sense of this blog.

But Dee could.

Turns out she saw the link on Heathers computer one night and read all about my plans. Seeing as I aws taking desperate measures, she resorted to desperate measures of her own.

I got the phone call April 19th, a week after my last post. It was from a restricted number. When I answered I heard my voice on the line.

"I just wanted to tell you that its over,and you lost" Dee said

"What are you talking about? Whats going on?" I said, trying to play dumb.

"Your little 'insurgency'. I read the blog, I know all about it. Its not gonna work because youll never get a chance to mess up my new life"

"What do you mean?" I asked shakily.

"Simply put, I ran away" She said. "I took all the money you had saved for the honey moon and ran away with heather. We eloped. As of 3 hours ago at the local courthouse, shes now officially Mrs. Heather Armstrong"

My jaw fell. "you cant do this!" i spat "Where are you now?"

She chuckled. "Like id ever tell you? And dont try asking your old parents where we went. I told them that one of Amber's friends was stalking us and that if she contacted them to call the cops"

I sat down in shock. "Youll never get away with this" i said softly.

"I already have" she said wickedly. "Now if youll excuse me im about ready for round two of my wedding night." With that the line went dead.

I cried myself to sleep. Cried harder than when I found out that Dee had dumped Amber. The sad, sick, sense of defeat consumed me. I didnt blog about it, like I had before, because I was mad at the blog. Mad at myself for posting my plans for all the world to see. If I hadnt made my situation public, Dee would never have done what she did. I mightve been able to stop her. That anger was why its been 107 days since I posted.

I didnt go into school the next day. I didnt go into school for the rest of that week. I was in no position to be around 5 year olds and I really didnt feel like pretending to be Priya for all the world. Fortuneatly Priya had a ton of sick days saved up, so I just told the principal I had mono.

What did I do that week? I stayed in. I cried. A lot. I also drank a lot too. Several times I threw up from too much booze, and most mornings I woke up having passed out, not remembering what happened. I didnt watch TV, because eventually Id see something to remind me of that situation. I didnt answer my phone. Only left the apt to get more booze at the liquor store at the corner. Showered maybe three times that week, all 3 times were to wash vomit out of myself and my hair.

What finally broke me out of my week long depression was, surprisingly, Amber. I didnt text her but once during the week, too much pain. Good friend that she was, she came over Sunday night to see how I was doing. When I answered the door she took one look at me and said "Damn, you do have mono". I actually laughed. More of a sardonic giggle, but I didnt burst into tears. Maybe I was all cried out, maybe I was just so used to pretending around Amber I locked into Priya mode.

Amber spent that entire weekend with me. She slept over. We watched movies. We reminisced. We did each others nails. And while that sounds like it would be painful, it was actually strangely helpful.

I think I had reached the last stage of grief, acceptance. Lemme explain: Dees phone call basically told me that Greg Armstrong as I knew and was him, was dead. He wasnt coming back, ever, and I wasnt going to get to be him and live out my life as planned. And thru the course of the week I went thru Anger, Denial, Barganing, and the other one so that by the time Amber showed up on Sunday I was acknowledging it.

Its weird to mourn your own death. But unlike a lot of people who died, I still had a few months left with the people from my old one, most importantly the woman I loved. Spending that weekend with her was oddly one of the happiest experiences Ive ever had. It was the realization that yeah, things were gonna be over, but they werent over yet.

I spent the next 2 months living it up. At least to the extent I could. Unlike most dying people I had to keep my financial and social situations intact because Priya was gonna get her life back. But Amber and I hung out like a couple of high school girls. Every day after work and every weekend we spent time together. It was like when we were first dating, minus all the sexual stuff.

Dont think I didnt think about it though. But every time I saw her in a bathing suit or undressing causally in front of me, my mind kept telling me to get turned on, but Priya's body would not co-operate. Still the closeness was memorable and much appreciated.

One night, after a bar crawl, we both wound up at her apartment, drunk off our asses and getting ready to pass out in her bed in our underwear (something that we had done many times before. Wasnt sexual but made me feel good anyway). As we talked to each other, lying next to each other, I looked deep into her eyes and drunkenly said "Im really Greg"

Apparently that moment wasnt right enough to break the curse, and she just tossed a pillow at me, giggled, rolled over and went to sleep.

Things went on like that for about a month and a half. A happy enjoyment of my last days in Chicago. It turned out to be really great for Amber too, as she was still emotional about being dumped. How weird that I was the one to comfort her over her being dumped by "me" Still, there was always that date with the Inn dangling over my head.

I was able to teach again. Actually getting some joy out of it. I was never really a kid person, but this past school year really taught me how fun they can be. I hugged each and every one of them on the last day and told them to stay in touch in first grade the next year.

I went back to yoga. I had long lost all the weight I had gained, but something about it was really calming. Like when I closed my eyes, it was just me, my mind and it didnt matter what body I was in.

Reality set in early June though, when Amber introduced me to Tony. Tony was a guy she had seen a couple times and I was the first person to meet them as an official couple.

I didnt know how to react to that. But really its not like I blame her. Her relationship ended 2 months beforehand, and in a very abrupt and rude manner. It was weird that she was getting over "me", but we hadnt been an Item since September and the "Greg" she was getting over was a vile bitch who didnt really love her. I felt helpless, but at the same time happy for her. Acceptance again, I dunno.

It was then that I started preparing for my return to Maine.

Ill post more in the next few days

-Greg (Always in mind and spirit)

Alia: Get Back to Where You Once Belonged

When a car pulled up to the Inn yesterday after dinner, I got a bit of a chill. Out stepped a young man and woman, modestly-packed. Fletcher walked over to greet them, and I was introduced.

"Alia, these are my friends... it's probably better you don't know their names, but they're here to fill in."

"Where are they going to stay? That one guy's still got the rooms booked."

"They'll be in my room," Fletcher said, "It might upend the room-by-room scheme somewhat, but I wouldn't worry about it if I were you. It'll mostly be down by our room, and the room next."

The room next to Fletcher's, of course, was Sam's, which I recalled had no identifying bag. I wondered what that means.

"If Sam's done her part, the mark will still be in his room tonight." The mark, of course, was the guy whose wife up and went to Boston. His name was Roger, in case you were wondering.

I grumbled, "So we're splitting him off from his family."

"Hey man, there was half a chance that was already gonna happen. So his kid gets a new daddy. At least he doesn't have to worry about a new body."

I tried to mentally wipe away the ethical implications of the inn's curse, and trying to meddle with it, but it kept nagging at me all night. It didn't help that I ran into Sam at the bar again -- this time, chatting up Roger. I tried to stay clear, act like I didn't know her.

I shuffled off to bed around 11 and, as I have all week, just lay there not sleeping. This time I was certain it was going to happen. I was feeling some serious skin irritation around midnight. It was maybe 2 AM when I started to feel any real changes.

Subtle stuff at first. My skin began to feel smooth, my nails were growing. My hair took on a finer texture. Excited by the sensation, I turned on the lights and headed to the mirror where I watched as I slowly passed from one gender to the next. It was like I could feel weight being evaporated off me into a cloud of nothingness, draining me away. Not particularly pleasant, but not utterly painful. For a moment the transformation seemed to stall and I was just a short, slender boyish figure with growing hair. Then the last phase kicked in and my legs gave out.

I doubled over on the bathroom floor, numb, shivering in the cold. Hair fell over my face. I gasped, "Yes, please, God, please... yes..." in a creaking voice. I propped myself up against the bathroom wall, sitting on the floor with my legs stretched out in front of me. My vision blurred and corrected itself -- in my real life, I'm slightly nearsighted and need glasses to read. My breasts slowly grew in fuller and heavier, my stomach flattened and my genitals slipped quietly into my body -- frankly it wasn't as painful as I might've thought, although I certainly wouldn't want to go for another round. I pulled my self up on spaghetti legs and saw her.

My eyes watered up. I had gotten used to seeing hard features, short dark hair, a thick neck and broad shoulders. The girl in the mirror seemed so fragile, but I lived 24 years of my life as her. I suppressed a squeal of delight. I tried to take a few steps with my new old little feet and legs, and found that muscle memory took time to return.... I was tripping all around the room, grabbing the walls for support.

I flopped back on the bed, a layer of sweat clinging to my skin. I was flustered. My mind raced. I tried to figure out my next move. Do I go check on Sam? Sit in my room and wait for pandemonium to erupt? Confer with Fletcher and his brood? I meditated in indecision...

...and proceeded to fall into the deepest sleep I've had in months, if not years.

I awoke to the sound of general chaos outside my door, several hours later. I bolted upright, suddenly realizing that, as one of the handful of people who knew what the eff was going on, I'd be called on to do some explaining.

First, I had to attend to myself. I unzipped my proper Alia-luggage and chose the most practical outfit I could, a pair of shorts and a white t-shirt. I pulled my hair back into a loose ponytail and was set to head out when I felt something amiss. I had forgotten to put on a bra.

I laughed to myself for this innocent gaffe. When something drops out of your routine, it can be hard to get back to old reflexes. After a second stab at dressing myself, I wobbled over to the door.

I slowly headed out. To one the left, a man in a loose-fitting shirt and pants was frantically pacing and theorizing about the situation while a small group of onlookers discussed the issue. I made my way the other way down the hall to Sam's room, trying to avoid attracting attention for the time being. Out of a sense of duty maybe, trying to alleviate my conscience for freaking out the day before, I wanted to make sure there was no negativity.

I knocked on the door and waited. For a moment it seemed like anyone could be on the other side of that door. An old man, an infant, a college girl. The wait was interminable, until finally the knob turned and the door crept open.

"Hello?" a little voice whispered.

I said softly, "Sam? Is that you?"

The door opened a little wider. A little girl of Asian descent, maybe 10 or 11 years old, stood there in a men's white t-shirt that went down to her knees. Black hair matted down her face in a messy tangle. Her eyes seemed to burn as she looked up with me.

"No," she said in a deflated whimper. "My name is Roger. Roger Templesmith."

Speechless, I gawked a moment before asking, "Do you know where Sam is? The woman you were talking to-- why are you in her room?"

Walking in slow, measured paces, she went back to the bed and sat on it -- her feet not touching the floor. She talked in a hushed tone as she said, "She said... she asked if we could trade rooms, because she said she didn't like the guy in the next room over, and... was worried he might do something. I tried, I mean... I tried to be a good guy. I wanted to help."

She looked up at me with saddened eyes. This poor guy got into something big, and maybe he was legitimately trying to impress Sam, although how he might've accomplished anything from a different room I don't know.

"So," I reasoned, "Sam was in your room last night?"

She turned away, nodded and sniffled, then looked back at me. "Who are you? What happened last night?"

I said, probably with some feeling of burden in my voice, "I'm someone who knows what's going on. I'll be back."

I headed back toward Roger's original room and knocked on the door.

A guy answered, a young man in his early 20's. He took a look at me and guessed, "Rob? Or Fletcher."

"Rob. Well, Alia, actually."

"So this is the real you? You didn't mention you were a woman."

"Would that have mattered?"

"Well, you sure didn't feel like a woman," he snickered. "I guess the joke's on me now." I went into his room and, on the brink of another outburst or moral judgment, asked what was the deal with Roger switching into her room.

"Well," he explained as he unpacked his new life, "We were talking at the bar last night, he and I. And I mentioned I was a little nervous about Fletcher and his little crew. Nothing desperate, but I was venting. I was drunk, and that's what happen when I drink, I fabricate."

"Uh huh. So what, you tricked him into the room-switch by pretending Fletcher was a threat?"

"Not exactly. I wasn't really thinking about the switch. And I wasn't afraid of Fletcher, I just wanted someone to make me feel safe, and he was happy to oblige by accompanying me to my room. And then..."

"Go on."

"Then he got fresh. Some men, they're only faithful until they have an opportunity. He wanted to stay the night, to keep me safe. I told him it might be wiser if we just switch rooms, in case Fletcher came by, which was my subtle way of reminding him of his marital vows. He was embarrassed, so he agreed. And that was that."

"But why?" I asked, "Why pin it all on Fletcher? Why do anything?"

"If you were a girl--" he said, stopping himself, "I mean, if you were a girl when you met him, you'd have noticed the way he leers, like he's got something dirty on his mind all the time." I must have missed that, and I wonder whether that was due to my maleness. It's not like he didn't come across as creepy at all. Sam continued, "So yeah, I was just a tad nervous around him. But you're right, it wasn't about him. It was about the room. It gave me a bad vibe, Rob--"

"Alia."

"Whatever. The lack of luggage didn't sit well with me. I needed a sure thing. So I got in here, took a gander at this luggage, and thought, Yeah, this'll do."

My face began to get hot. "Was that why you slept with me? To see if you could get my room?"

He stared off into space, taking a long time to formulate his answer.

"To begin with, yeah." Before I could say anything, he interjected, "But when I found out you were trying to get your body back, I gave up. I wanted somebody it wouldn't make a difference to."

"To whom it wouldn't make a difference," I snapped, proving even in anger I'm a stickler for the language.

"So I found someone else."

"And this wasn't about me?"

"Well, it definitely benefited you, didn't it? You got your body back."

"Yeah, well--" I sighed. "What about the sex? What was that about?"

"What about it?" he shrugged. "We both wanted it. It just made sense."

I shook my head and made for the door. As I left, I said, "You might want to check on your friend Roger."

I left him and went to check on our other mutual acquaintance. When I knocked on Fletcher's door, a topless middle-aged Asian woman answered.

"Alia, I presume."

I nodded. "Fletcher? That's an... interesting look."

"Just exploring the terrain. Come on in."

I entered, she closed the door. I stayed next to the door frame because I felt like I might need to make a quick escape. Gathered on the floor was an Asian man and a Caucasian woman who looked older than me.

Fletcher explained, "The three of us are trying to understand it. There are three pieces of luggage in here, one for myself, Mrs. Beatrice Tran, my new husband--" the man waved to identify himself -- you know, in case I couldn't gather -- "And our daughter Lily. But instead, we have this one."

"I think I may have run into your daughter earlier. She's in the next room."

Fletcher's face brightened, "Sam's room? Well that's a relief! I'm glad it's someone I don't have to explain things to."

"Well not so fast," I said, "It's Sam's room, but Sam wasn't there last night. She switched out with Roger."

Fletcher looked slightly irritated. "Well that's a kick. Oh well, we'll make do. Meanwhile, this woman needs to find out what her name was. See how many of the noobs you can round up and we'll get some kind of explanation underway."

I rolled my eyes. "You were a 17-year-old boy in a previous life, weren't you?"

"No........." she said, trailing off. "Just go, okay? We need to make a press conference here."

I went, no longer wishing to be exposed to her nipples.

Most of the patrons were gathered in the common area already. When I appeared, having slightly more certainty in my step than others, I drew attention. Someone immediately surmised I must know what had happened. All eyes were on me.

I started off stammering, "Well... uh, the um, bad news is, this inn has a, uh, well, what people have been calling a curse, um, the inn has a curse."

Silence.

"As you have noticed, um, we're all in the bodies of the people who stayed in the rooms before you. You should have luggage in your room somewhere, you may have noticed it when you checked in, uh, belonging to the person you've uh... become."

Fletcher appeared beside me, now properly dressed. I turned to her for some reassurance, but she just pushed me on.

I continued, "Uh, the news doesn't get much better. The next people who stay here -- their reservations are mostly already made, I think -- are going to be turned into you. You have to live the lives of... well, live as the people you now look like."

I paused to let this sink in. One woman's voice called out, "I want my fucking cock back!"

I went on to explain, you know, how it's possible to get your body back, although when I revealed that I was a successful example of this, people started to suspect me. It shouldn't be surprising for me to say that people don't like getting the news that they have to uproot their entire existence for a year. I didn't have much hope to offer them other than that, so I tried to emphasize it, but I mostly lost it.

I was feeling embarrassed, and I was about to run and hide in my room forever, when Sam poked his head out of his door. I turned back to the grumbling mob and announced, "Hey! Listen, I know it all seems crazy. I know it's hard to absorb. Believe me, when it happened to me-- yeah. But it's not that bad. Most people lead normal lives. You get used to it. Some of you might even learn to enjoy the experience of seeing the inside of another person's life. As shitty as this all sounds, you're getting an experience you never thought possible, and it's just... it's not all bad. So learn to live with it, okay? I'm done."

I went back to my room. There was a knock at the door and Sam poked his head in.

"That was an interesting speech..."

"Well, I got a little frazzled when that one person yelled about her cock. You know? Well, I can understand. Guys get attached to those things."

He blushed. "You'd know all about that, eh?"

"You get used to it. You know how it is."

"I guess so. Hey, I just found out who I am. My name's Max McGill, from Fredericton, New Brunswick. I'm Canadian like you!"

I smiled. "Glad to see you're so excited."

"Could be worse, you know? I used to live in Detroit. New Brunswick might be a nice change of pace."

An African-American man looked into the room holding a Blackberry. "A woman claiming to be my wife just called this phone. What should I say?"

I advised, "Tell her you got delayed on your way out of Maine, and you'll be home soon as you can. There might be some kind of letter with your luggage... I advise you to write one about you life."

"Thanks," he said. "It's going to be okay, isn't it?"

I nodded. "It'll get better."

And that was all before Breakfast.

More to come...
-Alia!

Alia/Rob: Necessary Measures

I'm a nice person. At least, that's the image I have of myself. I don't want to ruffle anyone's feathers in life, don't want to step on anyone to get what I want, don't want to cause a fuss or inconvenience others. I order coffee but get tea, I just drink tea. I wake up one morning as Rob Garcia, I live a year in his life.

But there's something to be said for doing what it takes to get what you need.

Earlier, I mentioned the logistical problem of this dad-guy and his wife and kid, if they happened to head off to Boston before any of us had transformed. I'm guessing somehow the transformation would occur anyway, and for all I know I'd still get out of here with my own body. Or maybe I'd get to the end of my reservation and not transform at all. That's not acceptable, even a marginal chance of it.

The other side of it, though, was the kid -- they had a son about 10. If I was just some random visitor, and I saw a couple with their kid, I wouldn't think anything of it. So when the kid gets transformed, oh, it's just as much a surprise as anything else. But knowing it was going to happen? Something about that didn't sit right with me. Part of me wanted to let them go, and try to find another way to let it happen.

I was discussing this with Fletcher. He said he has a couple of people nearby he might be able to call on -- "travelers" tend to stay in the New England -- but the loss of three bodies at the inn wouldn't be easy to overcome. He suggested it would be smartest to try to convince them to stay another day. I said I wasn't much for manipulating people.

"Leave it to me," he says.

I spent last night tossing and turning, hoping the change would happen, but it still didn't. Afraid of what might happen if this whole thing somehow goes bust, my dreams felt haunted.

The next morning, I awoke to the sound of a rumbling. It was the unmistakable sound of a lover's quarrel. She was screaming something about broken plans and bad promises. I didn't want to eavesdrop, but they were having at it in the open air, so I heard whatever I heard.

The fight ended with the sound of luggage being carried out to a car. In a worry, I thought, "This is the opposite of what I want to happen!" So I scrambled to find some pants and see what exactly had occurred.

I found the Dad on his own. The wife had driven off with their son, presumably for Boston.

"Sorry you had to hear that," he said, "The wife and I had a difference of opinion."

"What about?"

"This place. I wanted to hang out a bit longer, and she was laying into me because she has a thing about plans."

"I know what you mean," I said, albeit with more sympathy for the wife than I let on. "She just left you here?"

"Eh, I just thought we paid for the room, why not enjoy it? It's a little nicer than your average roadside joint, don't ya think?" Yes. "But she says, oh, we've gotta keep to our schedule, Boston this, blah blah. So I let her go, and I'll take a bus down and meet her there in a couple of days when it's all blown over."

It seemed miraculous how it had all worked out. A little too miraculous. And some of this didn't sit right with me.

I went and found Fletcher. "What did you do?"

"What'd I do?" he snickered, "I didn't do anything, man. I mean sure, some stuff happened, but I don't think it has anything to do with me." He grinned and said, "Come to think of it, what makes a man suddenly gain a fondness for a little Inn in the middle of nowhere?"

I asked him again. "...Fletcher, what did you do?"

He looked me in the eye. "I had a little talk with your ladyfriend Sam. She knows more about what's happened here than I would."

I rushed off to Sam's room and knocked urgently on her door. She answered in pajamas and tousled hair, like I'd just woken her up. "Oh, hey Rob, are we still here?"

I hissed in a quiet tone, in case anyone could hear, "What did you do last night?"

She looked at me, defensively, with a cold, annoyed look that didn't care to be accused at. She pulled me into her room.

"What did that asshole tell you?" she asked.

"Which asshole? The asshole whose wife just left him here, or the asshole who bodyjacks strangers for fun?"

"Either one. What did you hear?"

"I didn't hear anything. But Fletcher strongly implied you were responsible for whatever just happened to that guy."

She sat on the bed and said nothing. Irritated with the lack of explanation, I began to yell, "Did you--" before I realized exactly how loud this body's voice can be. I stopped to compose myself. "Did you fuck him?"

She shot back, "No! God, is that what you think I am? Some kind of whore? That I'd have sexual intercourse with a married man just to, just to what? To help you get your body back faster? No, I didn't sleep with anybody." She looked bitterly at me. "I only sleep with people I like."

"So, what then?" I demanded, trying to brush away the embarrassment of my accusation.

"Well," she said very hesitantly, "I convinced him to say."

"With what, a sandwich platter?"

"Ouch," she said, "No, just a few choice words. I never said anything was going to happen, but I just... had a talk with him. About Maine, and about not missing opportunities for seeing sights, and experiencing things... I may have planted the idea that staying would be a good idea."

After a moment, I said, "So... you led him on, into staying at the inn so he could be transformed?"

"That's one way of looking at it. It's not my fault he may have drawn certain... interpretations."

I fell silent for a moment. She asked whether I was mad.

"I'm not mad," I said, half-truthfully, "I just wonder why any of this had to happen. I could've left well enough alone. Maybe figured out some other way."

After a moment when neither of us could figure out anything to say, Fletcher appeared in the doorway. "Just thought you might like to know," he said, "My friends are on their way, and someone else just pulled up in the parking lot. Might as well get ready for tomorrow."

I don't know if any of this is all right. I feel like maybe I overreacted to Sam's actions. Maybe none of this has anything to do with me. I don't even know if it was necessary. But it happened. Now the rest of us just have to deal with it.

I'm just tired of thinking about it
-Alia

Alia/Rob: Closer and closer

I met up with Fletcher again last night. More people have checked in to the Inn - by his count, a family of three and a young couple.

"None of them look like they've been here before," he said, "They underpacked and they looked, well, genuinely upbeat about being in Maine. You know, there's a beaten-down, antsy look people who return get. Just waiting to get it over with."

"Of course."

"It's the weekend, so I'd expect you to be back in your own skin by Monday morning. We'll probably see our last five friends show up tonight or tomorrow morning. How was your date last night?"

I scowled, "It wasn't a date."

"Hook-up then. Whatever. You banged, didn't you?"

"Keep it down." I felt awkward discussing this.

"Ah, come on. She looks like she like it rough."

"Now you're just being misogynistic. Besides," I admitted, "I had a bit of a stamina problem."

He laughed, "Alia, you dog! I can't believe you fuckin' did it! That's awesome. I'm impressed. Congrats." He put out his hand and I shook it reluctantly. I told him I felt like a hypocrite, after all my lecturing to Tori.

He dismissed this idea. "We're nobody, here. Between identities. There ain't any Alia right now, there ain't even really a Rob. You're just a dude who did what any other guy would've done in the same situation. Lucky guy."

Sam didn't appear again. I considered going by her room before crashing, but ended up just staying in my own. It's been raining again.

In the hallway this morning, I ran into the dad of the family of three Fletcher had mentioned. I asked him if he was enjoying his trip. He said yeah, but they weren't going to be here long, they were going to head down to Boston on Sunday.

A mild panic struck me. 13 people have to be in the inn at once, right? It doesn't just release the new bodies to the 13 closest humans, I mean, if they're not close enough... the particularities of this whole curse still elude me. But it seems clear that if these three bodies aren't at the inn with the rest of us, this whole transformation is going to be messed up.

This morning, another woman showed up. We're that much closer. I've got my fingers crossed.

Alia/Rob: Noble pursuits

I had been trying to mentally prepare myself for this for weeks. Now that I'm here, walking these halls again, I feel like my stomach has sunk down to my knees. This place carries an ominous cloud over it and if I never see so much as a photo of it after this week, I'll be happy. A lot of people come here every year, and none of them leave the same. Some never go back. And some...

I was sitting in the bar last night after dinner. It was about 9 PM and I was dragging my feet on going back to the inn. Not from fear of transforming. The place was still relatively deserted. There was one new car in the parking lot since I'd woken up that morning. It was me, the sunbathing beauty, and one other unknown, no more than five people but maybe just the one as far as I knew.

I was just stalling because I knew that once I got back to the Inn, that'd be it for the night. I'd go back to psychodrama, back to fear and guilt and nervousness. It was inevitable that I had to confront it, but I was putting it off as long as possible. So it was a slight relief when a dude took a seat next to me in the bar and struck up a conversation, albeit not one of the most intellectually stimulating discussions I've had recently.

"Dude, don't look now but that chick is checking you out."

I instinctively twisted my neck to see the woman in question, then realized myself and faced forward. Not that I wanted to seem to care, but I was curious.

The guy was dressed in a black long-sleeve shirt and blue jeans, not ideal clothing for the weather, although he was stylish. I asked, "You know her?"

"I've spoken to her a bit, but I can tell she digs you."

I turned, slowly, to see the same pretty woman I'd seen around the inn.

I turned to my companion, "We're staying at the same inn. She probably recognizes me."

He grinned when I said this. "That wouldn't be the Trading Post Inn, would it? Up the road? Quaint little place, kind of haunted-feeling?"

I got a shiver, sensing where this was going. "That's the one."

He took a swig of his drink before asking, "You've stayed here before."

I bit my cheek a bit. "Mhm."

"Your name wouldn't happen to be Rob Garcia, would it?"

I was feeling just a bit embarrassed, but it seemed pretty obvious he's read the blog. "That's me. And you are?"

"Never mind that. You can call me Fletcher. Must be nice, heading back to your old life."

"That's the plan," I said. "What about you?"

"I go where the wind takes me, my friend. I'm a traveler."

"A traveler?"

"It's a little club. There aren't many of us, but you've got to figure... over a hundred people come to the inn every year. About half of us are return cases. But not all of them are headed back to their own bodies. Some of us just like the thrill of it."

I thought back to George and Jan. I knew that there are people who come back, but those two had managed to make their frequent trips sound... altruistic, I guess, since they lost their own bodies. Fletcher seemed like he was getting a weird thrill out of it.

But he did make me a little sales pitch to explain himself. "Look," he says, "The transformations happen, no matter who's sleeping in those rooms. Not everyone gets to keep their bodies. So a few of us dedicated hobbyists show up whenever our time is up. It helps to have some experienced hands around, you know? My old life is over for me, so why commit? Who says I have to?" He said this with a mischievous gleam in his eye. I assured him I'm not here to judge, but I'm hoping I never have to see this place again.

With a flash of paranoia, and known he's read the blog, I ask, "Do you know anything about that Pygmalion guy? Or people?"

"Well if I did, I'm not sure I'd be allowed to tell you," he said, "But no. I only know what your blog people have said. Whatever their agenda is, I haven't seen it in action. I'm just in it for myself."

"What about her?" I asked.

"Don't know her story," he said. "Looks like a return case, but she doesn't have that obvious look of familiarity in her eyes. Why don't you go chat her up?"

I finished my drink. "If you know my name, you know who I really am underneath this skin."

"Yeah, I know," he smiled evilly, "But it couldn't hurt to talk to her, right?"

Somewhat embarrassed, I walk over to her table. She's wearing short shorts and a white top over her bikini. I ask if I can get her a drink, in a very smooth, uncertain tone of voice.

"I'm fine with the drink I have, but I could use some company."

"Well, if there's anything I can do to help..."

"Have a seat," she said. "That guy you were talking to, Fletcher. He's been here before, right?"

"So it seems. You?"

She nodded. "Looks like we all have that in common. He creeps me out, though, so I just want to talk to you."

"He seems harmless enough. A little sleazy, like he's got something to gain by being here, but... not dangerous to anyone. Do you read the blog?"

"What blog?"

"There's a blog, some of us write in, talking about our experiences."

"Oh," she said. "That sounds very... therapeutic. I'm Sam."

"I'm Aaaaa....Rob."

"Well, Aaaaaa-Rob, I'm about ready for another drink. How about you?" She flagged down the waitress and we each got a beer.

"So, are you getting your own body back?" I asked her.

"Me?" She sipped. "I was the 14-year-old daughter of a millionaire. That was 5 years ago. The current owner is not interested in making a return."

"So you're 19."

"I'm 26," she said, "The whole experience has a way of aging you."

"That must have been tough."

"I couldn't even begin to describe it," she shook her head and got a faraway look in her eyes. "I spent two years in a hospital. Got a lot of reading done. Did some growing up. I've seen some shit, Rob."

"I can only imagine. So why come back after all this time?"

"Because," she said, "The real Sam asked if she could come back. Why now? Who knows. But I wasn't doing much with the body."

"So, what happens to you after we change?"

"No clue," she sighed, "I'm flying blind here."

"Is there anything in your room? A bag, a letter?"

"Nothing. Whoever was in there before me didn't leave me much to go on."

This comment struck me. We talked a bit more before we decided to walk back to the inn together. Fletcher had gone by this point.

"Listen," she said, "I don't know who I'll be in two days. I was wondering if you'd do me a favour."

By this point we had established some trust, so I asked what.

"Keep me company. Just for tonight."

I felt a little heavy. "That's not a good idea. With the whole inn curse, and... I mean, if you're not in your room, then things might get messed up for me."

She gave me a saddened look. "The inn isn't full, Rob. Not even close. I've got an uncertain future in front of me, I'm understandably jumpy. I just want one night of your time, okay?"

Feeling just a bit manipulated, I agreed to bring her to my room. This had a large amount of potential to get way, way out of hand, but I couldn't see my way out of it at the time.

I brought her to my room. She flopped down on the bed.

"You've got a nice room, but mine can see the ocean." I laughed a quick, embarrassed chuckle over how this issue had come to determine Cliff's and my fates.

She slipped her shorts off and let them fall to the floor. My eyes were transfixed as she slipped her tanktop off over her head. She asked, "We're going to be mature about this, aren't we?"

I tried to stammer out a response as she climbed under the covers, continuing, "I mean, you're not going to sleep in your clothes, are you?"

"I may not have a choice," I told her. But it was humid, and I had to strip down to my boxers.

We began back to back, but I couldn't get comfortable. I was on my wrong side. I had to turn over and wrap an arm around her.

"Oh, hello," she whispered.

"Don't get excited," I said, "This is just more comfortable."

"You're telling me..." she said.

I began to drift off into a comfortable sleep, but was awakened by her jostling.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"Nothing," she said, "But I'm not going to be able to get any sleep until I do this."

Then she kissed me. She was on top of me, topless now, grinding on me through my shorts and her panties. Exhaustion and hormones blocked every instinct I might've had to push her away. I'd come this far. I'd nearly broken the barrier a few times before, every reason not to suddenly faded from view. I just went along with it.

We began to kiss deeply, with hands running all over each other's bodies. I haven't felt a pair of breasts in so long they suddenly had a novelty to them. I can't articulate the male attraction, but I understand it better now that I've felt it. This was followed by the surreptitious removal of the remaining clothing layers.

"Wait," I gasped, "Do you have anything."

She rolled over me and reached into her purse for a prophylactic. "I'm not an idiot, Rob."

After a pause to slip it on, we got back to business. It was... practical. It was sex. I tried to go according to her body, but when I started to speed up, I lost a bit of control and finished probably a fair bit sooner than I'd imagined myself. I thought maybe with a bit of self-control, I could last, but my body had other ideas.

It was awkward, stimulating, and very revealing. When I finished, it felt somehow more significant than any time I had gone by myself. The feeling of having her on top -- then under -- me, moaning, completely at my whims, just felt... indescribable. A shame it couldn't last.

I drifted off to sleep wracked with guilt and the desire to apologize profusely. On top of all the other complexes I already had, this woman was pretty much a stranger. I felt embarrassed and ashamed of how quickly it all got out of hand. My mind swam with paranoid thoughts that Sam was some kind of Pygmalion agent using sex to manipulate me. For her part, she just rolled over and fell asleep. I thought I was supposed to be the guy.

When I woke up I was alone. I ran into her at a cafe up the road, and we had a bit of breakfast, where I explained that I was technically "with someone." She got a disappointed-annoyed look on her face when she asked whether "someone" would care about what I've been up to for the last year. I began to answer in the affirmative, but I stopped.

Todd's been on my case about this practically since I got a penis. At first I thought he was just being gross, but I'm thinking there might be some psychological basis for this, like it affirms what he's done with Hal Adkisson, or with Donna. It puts us on some kind of equal level (well sort of... we'll never really be equal in this respect, at least I hope not.) Maybe it allows him to feel absolved from the situation he was in, which I don't hold against him anyway.

But with all the guilt I've got pent up about our relationship, as well as my resentment at his own transgressions, it's not easy to feel good about what happened last night. Still I think the only one who's going to be mad is me. Still, I told Sam it probably wasn't a good idea that we do it again. She said we'd see. I still intend to practice self-restraint, now that I've been there. That said, once you get a taste...

Ugh, just no.

-Alia