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How To Get a Body Like Mine By Akira Marx "You know you look ridiculous, right?" Kim's mocking voice surrounded him. Her chiding had kept up steadily while Noah got ready for work. "I thought you said you were going to leave me alone," he grunted while he hiked up his pants for the umpteenth time that morning. Even with the belt pulled as tight as he could get it, they kept sliding down, only stopped from dropping all the way to the floor by his widened hips and newly pronounced butt. "I said I wouldn't interfere, not that I wouldn't point out that you look like a girl who took the idea of boyfriend jeans a tad too literally." "Would you shut up," he groused back. He was starting to question how much better it was to have control of his body again if he had to put up with these constant jabs the whole time. "It's not like you left me anything else to wear. I'm glad you missed a couple things in the back," he bent down to cuff the old jeans, a pair he had since college. They must've stretched out or something over the years, because he kept stepping on the ends of the pant legs. "Or you could put on any of the dozens of other outfits in your closet that fit you perfectly," she continued to tease. "But I'm sure everybody will be real convinced with how butch you are in those jnco's. Do you want to see if you have a chain wallet to go with them?" Noah turned quickly, his fury overcome with embarrassed frustration when he realized there was nowhere to direct his anger. With a resigned sigh, he grabbed his old laptop bag, rescued from under his bed where it had gotten crammed when it was replaced by an assortment of purses. "If you're not going to shut up then I'm just going to ignore you. You can't do anything to me so there's really no reason to listen to you anymore." He checked himself in the mirror one last time, wearing a polo shirt that may as well have been a poncho tucked into the comically oversized jeans. He was glad the extra fabric hid the shape of his body, especially eliminating any hint of his developing breasts, which now that he was aware of them felt like trying to hide a pair of beach balls for how self conscious he was.The rough material of the polo rubbing on his sensitive, braless nipples wasn't exactly helping either. "You sure you don't want to put on some makeup? I bet nobody would notice a little eyeliner. At least some tinted moisturizer so you don't look so washed out. You know they sell that for men now," she continued to needle. Noah brushed aside his hair to put in his earbuds, the textured bob springing right back into place, and cranked his music up loud enough to hurt. "I can't hear you!" he shouted over the screams and crashing instruments of the speed metal playlist he had loaded up after googling, 'songs to make you go deaf.' His intention was to buzz his head that morning, it was actually going to be the first thing he did, but the battery in his electric razor was dead, and once his momentum was broken he had lost the will to do it. Besides, he was forced to shave his head during initiation to his fraternity and the memory of how goofy he looked then made him second guess the idea. He told himself that this was a job best left to a barber and vowed to get to one as soon as possible. He slipped on his shoes, still loose even with two pairs of socks on his feet, and locked up. As he waited for the elevator, he tried desperately to only focus on the work he had waiting for him at the office, but he couldn't shake how hard this already was. One day in, one morning, really, and barely at that, and he was struggling. It was bad enough that when he looked at himself he saw a stranger -- forget about manly, all the effort he had put in and the best he could do was androgynous -- but the kicker was that he wasn't sure if the gnawing unease he felt was because Kim was right and he did look like a girl trying poorly to pass as a man, or because he wished he looked more femme so he could drop the pretense and wear one of the bright, silky things that he had to fight himself to pass over when he was getting dressed. Shaking his head, he couldn't ignore the tickle of his hair brushing across his face. He blew at a loose strand that had gotten stuck on his chapstick coated lips, another way he had found the most roundabout excuse to convince himself wasn't the same as using cosmetics. He didn't know why he felt so naked without his face done up, it wasn't something he had cared about even with Kim's manipulation, but this must've been what she meant when she said she was going to take down the wall between them. A nod to the doorman on the way out of the building, Noah tried to psych himself up as he hit the street and headed for the subway. He had worried how being out in public would go, but the sea of humanity swirled around him, indifferent to one more body swept up in its current. Of course nobody was going to point and laugh, this was New York, where people didn't stop for anything short of a murder, and even then it was no better than a fifty-fifty. Noah lucked out, there was a seat open. It was only after he sat down that he realized that the guy who got on the train in front of him had purposely let him take it. He smiled up at him sheepishly but quickly averted his eyes before the stranger would get the wrong idea. "Oooh, he's cute," Kim's voice cut through the music and roar of the subway, speaking directly into his mind. All he could do was let out another sigh, resigned to how the rest of his day was bound to go. The prospect of the mountain of work he had waiting being able to distract him from the nattering voice in his head that claimed to be a ghost, was the only thing that kept him from leaping off the train and going straight back to bed. "One week," he told himself. "I just gotta make it one week and I'll show her that she tried to steal the wrong guy's body." __________________________________ Dying is the easy part. They don't tell you about that, but for most people death is sudden, you don't see it coming. For all the people who want to go out in the storybook way -- being surrounded by their family, dictating last words, saying goodbye -- it doesn't work like that. Most of us die alone, in our sleep, unaware, painless. Even the rest of us who bite it in a tragedy don't have to deal with much worse. Sure, maybe you have a couple minutes to contemplate that the end is coming, but not enough to truly prepare for it. Take a plane crash. You're only in freefall for about three minutes before impact, just enough time to realize something bad is happening but not enough to make peace with it before BAM! Cut to black. Denial is powerful. Do you think that there'd be so many people praying on that crippled jetliner, frantically spending their precious last seconds trying to make a giant tube of metal fly again, the one with the blown and flaming turbine billowing black smoke that can only mean one thing? That they'd be offering up last minute hail marys if they were able to come to terms with a certain death that is staring them in the face? Hell no! We suck at accepting death. Every living thing innately, inherently knows it's going to die. We know from our first breath that we're on borrowed time. That doesn't mean that we bother to take any of that time to come up with a plan for what we'll do once we finally croak. Yeah, you've got your guide books from the different religions, but they all ultimately admit they're only guessing. There wouldn't be so many versions if anybody was certain. No, the only people who know are the ones who are already there. And let me tell you, if dying is the easy part, what comes after is just...boring. Relentless. Unfathomably mind numbing, and we do somehow still have minds to numb afterwards. Well, some of us do, eventually. That's the thing, dying is quick. After that there is nothing but time. And the universe, or God or whatever, didn't have any interest in speeding up the afterlife process. By my estimate it took about 12 years before I regained consciousness. Yup, a little more than a decade of nothingness. What was it like? I don't know. What was it like before you were born? Hell, what was it like when you were a year old? You don't know. Your brain wasn't able to interpret and retain information. I couldn't tell you which is more true, if I was a swirling wisp of incomprehension or just nothing and then something. Oh, I should take a step back in case this wasn't clear; I'm dead. A ghost, sort of. Like, not a cold wraith terrorizing a gothic mansion or something. I wish it was like that. I'd settle for the shade in a bed sheet look. Being a ghost is way more rudimentary than that. I'm just a presence, an awareness, a being with no fixed dimension. I can perceive, sort of. It's like a quasi simulation of the five senses, like a photocopy of a tape recording. Definitely not as sharp as the real thing. There's also a bunch of us around. We're everywhere. Oooooh, spooky! Remember when I said dying is sudden and that humans are good at denial. Well what do you think happens to a bunch of spirits that leave a bunch of things undone and don't want to admit they can't do anything about it. You get an atmosphere that's 20% oxygen, 50% nitrogen, and like 30% ghost. You can't see us but we can see each other. And we can see you, and hear you, and make bitchy comments to each other about what you're doing because we can also talk to each other. Really, that's all we can do. For whatever reason, ghosts are anchored to a point and unable to go further than a certain distance from where they died. Now let me lay it all out for you; Stuck in a specific spot with other ghosts that also can't go anywhere, don't have a physical body so can't interact with the material world, already kaput so nothing to do but wait around for the heat death of the universe. Remember when I said the afterlife was boring. Yeah, exactly. "Oh, but what about all the other ghosts?" you ask, as if you think being stuck with a bunch of strangers for eternity would be entertaining. Well, most of the other ghosts are in hibernation. Either they haven't awoken yet or have just gotten tired of waiting around and gone back to sleep. But that's not me. Screw that, I moved to New York to enjoy my life...uh, my afterlife now, I guess. Alright, so what's a deceased young woman to do about this? A garden variety haunting doesn't matter to me. What am I going to gain by that, scare these hipster tenants out of the apartment I lived in for about a year before a gas leak did me in? This is the Village, the building was torn down and renovated three times over before I had even regained consciousness. What I'm in for is a good old fashioned possession. The problem is that this whole ghost thing doesn't come with an instruction manual. It's not like somebody is there to tell you that you need to wait for a full moon on the third Sunday of the solstice or anything. And like I said, the old ghosts are usually asleep, so they're no help. That means trial and error, and when you've got eternity, finding a body is just a matter of time. He was a pretty boy, hundred dollar haircut and Italian leather loafers. I remember the day he moved in, treating the movers like his personal slaves as if he was Pharaoh and them setting up a peloton was his pyramid. When he unpacked the monogrammed towels, "Noah" with a little embroidered boat on them, I was already considering just going back into hibernation until the wheel of New York real estate spun again and I got a new roommate. This guy was nothing like the last tenant, Beatrice. She was cool, worked for some gallery and was always bringing around the most interesting people. Artists and actors, just the sort I moved to the Village to be around. She had the best taste in decor and the most glamorous clothes in her closet. I just know we would've been friends had we met when I was still alive. You'd think if there was anyone that I'd be able to jump into it would be her, but for some reason it was not to be. No, instead I got Noah. The most self absorbed, vacuous, uninteresting person in Manhattan. You couldn't throw a Katz's pastrami on rye -- that's a local reference for you -- without hitting a dozen jerks just like him. Maybe that's why it worked, because stepping into him was like slipping into an empty suit, but since the fates are cruel, the body I inhabited for the first time in so many years was this prick's. But you knew that already, what with the whole in medias res thing, so why don't we rewind. __________________________________ Cold steel glided over warm flesh, whisking away a fluffy, mentholated strip of foam with each stroke. Noah shuddered as a chill ran down his spine despite the thick steam still lingering from the hot shower he had just stepped out of. "hhsshh," he inhaled sharply. His hand had slipped and a slim trickle of crimson mixed in with the white lather. He rinsed his face and blotted at the cut with a wadded up bit of toilet paper. Feeling lightheaded, he braced himself on the edge of the counter, the sensation quickly passing. 'Weird,' he thought to himself. Noah moved back out into the climate controlled air of his bedroom. Taking a deep breath, the mental fog lifted and he finished getting ready for work. He tucked a crisp, white button down, slim fit to better cling to his squared shoulders and flat stomach, into navy slacks. The cocoa brown belt, encircling bony hips, paired with his dark dyed suede desert boots. He left the collar open and sleeves, stretched taut over biceps, rolled up to the elbow, trying to strike the right balance between professional and laid back. It was all artifice, the Armani hanging in the closet, the leather or glass or steel furniture throughout the apartment, all acquired to project to anyone he came across that he was a serious man with the correct tastes. "How boring," a whisper, barely audible, stopped him short as he was grabbing his wallet and keys. He looked around, taking in the bare white walls and dark granite countertops of the open concept space. He was alone. Of course he was. "Like a morgue in here," that thin voice again, just on the edge of his hearing. "Hello?" Noah called out to the empty room, getting no response. He looked at the TV, making sure it was still off, then up at the central air vent. "Damn, must be the neighbors," he chuckled to himself, happy to have solved the mystery. He slung his laptop bag over his shoulder and locked the door. There was no sign of anything abnormal on the subway up to his office on 34th Street; no whispers, no chills, aside from the icy cold glare he got from the very upset woman waiting in the foyer as he stepped off the elevator on the 13th floor. "You could've at least texted me if you were going to just bail last night," she fumed at Noah, the wooden sole of her stack-heeled clog knock-knock-knocked as she tapped her foot. "Yeah, uh sorry, Madison. I didn't get done until late and was wiped out. You know how it is, crunch time around here while we try to get everything ready for the Series B," he avoided the rage in the woman's eyes, his own gaze falling to the glossy silk blouse, pulled tight across her bust. Thoughts of how much he wished he could rip the shirt off of her body and bury his face in those soft mounds played through his mind. "Crunch time, my ass. I heard Jack talking about how you all stayed late to crack open some bottle of bourbon. I can't believe you'd do that after all the times you asked me out," she shifted her weight, her hip cocked. "Hey! I'm up here," she snapped her fingers. Noah's eyes darted back up to her face, immaculately made up and framed by curtains of pin straight hair, center parted and so dark it appeared to have streaks of blue where it caught the light just right. The frown on her nude painted lips told him everything he needed to know. "Fucking pig," he heard from that mouth and from inside his head as she stormed past him down the hall to her office on the far side of the highrise. Noah sighed, not exactly the way he would've wanted to start the day, but she would get over it. They always did. He'd just have to get her something sparkly, maybe an invite to dinner somewhere expensive, but he had never failed to get a woman in bed once he set his sights on her. "Flowers would be nice," the idea floated through his mind, somewhere between an idle musing and a flash of inspiration. "The apartment would look so much livelier with some color." Noah let that last bit pass him by, the whispers having melded into the background noise of the office as he sat down at his terminal. The rest of the day was busy in the ways that every day was for him. Meetings, emails, meetings that could've been emails had anybody cared to save the time. He actually was feeling worn down and decided to knock off a little early. On his way to the elevator he thought about stopping to see Madison, offer another apology to start smoothing things over, but he remembered that he needed to get those flowers first. Where had that plan come from, he wondered. Flowers? Some cheap bouquet that would die in a few days? Why do that when you can get something lasting she can't ignore. He tossed the thought around in his head during his commute home, walking in the door and dropping his bag on the sofa. He went to the kitchen to put water in the two vases he carried, one in each hand, and set the bunches of blossoms around the apartment, the velvety pink roses and summery orange zinnias set off by snow white lilies scattered throughout. The sun, starting to sink behind the Manhattan skyline, sent piercing beams of light through the floor to ceiling windows, igniting the petals like fireworks and dancing through the greened glass vases. "There, much brighter already," Noah smiled to himself, feeling a sense of contentment spread through him as he went into the bedroom to change out of his work clothes. Letting out a roar of a yawn, he collapsed into bed flat on his stomach, passed out before he could even get his pants off. __________________________________ How was he so heavy? For a gym rat who spent as much time keeping himself fit and trim, trying to move this lump of meat was not as easy as I expected. It was bad enough that I had to ride around in him all day and put up with an entire morning of looking at spreadsheets -- the bit of a diversion with that Madison girl was kinda fun though, she definitely deserves somebody better than this creep -- and now there I was, passed out face down in a bunch of rumpled bed sheets. But this was still more than I had hoped for so soon. Hearing, really hearing and not just pretending to, the sounds of drunk people stumbling home from whichever bar wafting up from the sidewalk below, the jaundiced glow of the sodium lamps broken up by flashes of green and red from the traffic light on the corner. I never thought I'd be so happy to just see and hear and touch, but I still needed more. If I hadn't spent the last twenty minutes wiggling one toe, then two, then a whole foot, I'd have given up hope that the best I could do was be a passenger in this human taxi, but part by part I struggled to figure this out. Okay, there's an arm, now we're getting somewhere. And the other! Ooof, not the most graceful flip but at least I was upright, not that the one pillow he kept on his bed was of much use to help me sit up. ""Fuuuuuuu..." Was that croak me? "Fuuuuck." Like, no way, that came from my mouth! Well, Noah's mouth. This voice was deep, just droned around the inside of my whole head. I didn't like it. Open, close. Open, close. "Aaaaaaahhhhh." There's the mouth and head sorted, now onto legs. Can't get out of bed if these legs don't work. Come on, Noah, move these stupid things! You rode a stage of the Giro d'Italia on that exercise bike of yours the other day, I know they're not broken! Yeah, I got them moving! I could finally check out what we're working with...as long as I could manage the whole learning to walk again thing. It's so weird, this body was all angular and hard, missing parts in some areas and bits just getting in the way in others. At least he had this good mirror, the prima donna. Tall with an oval glass, I couldn't help myself. Pout those lips, a sassy hip pop, and oh god, that giggle was just so wrong with that deep voice. Still, there was promise buried there. He was blessed with good bone structure and his skin always looked amazing, a healthy glow of a tan, cute trademark mole, and not a pore in sight. Thin enough even if he didn't have the hips or the ass. I was gonna have to do something about the short hair, and obviously the chest was sadly still waiting to blossom, but if we cut down some muscle we might be able to find some softness hiding there. Yeah, I could live with this, no pun intended. I stared into that pair of big brown eyes with those long dark lashes in the mirror. He deserved the courtesy of an introduction. "Noah, can you hear me?" Not a peep from sleeping beauty. "Hi, Noah, my name is Kim, sometimes Kimberly, Kym with a Y for a little while when I was twelve, but never Kimber or Kimmie. I used to live here and with your help it looks like I'm going to keep living here. I'm still figuring this out, but I have control now, so thanks for the body and I hope you don't miss it too much." Still nothing. That was all the permission I needed to go out and tear up the town, might as well jump right into the deep end of the pool and all that, but why did I feel so tired? Tired, I didn't know I could. I hadn't had to sleep in years. Maybe a quick nap...and why was the room spinning? "Uh oh..." __________________________________ Noah awoke with the sun already up, shining brightly through the double paned glass of his bedroom windows, greeted by the magical sounds of car horns honking and jackhammers hammering, not quite the pastoral backdrop of birds chirping and tinkly, breeze swept wind chimes his pounding head would've preferred. "Guhhh, how did I end up here?" He murmured to himself, picking his aching body off of the bedroom floor. The last thing he remembered was getting home and finding a nice place for the lovely flowers he had picked out, coming in here to get changed, and then nothing. He tried to recall if he had been drinking, the only explanation his mind could come up with for why he had blacked out. It would explain the headache and slight dizziness that still lingered, not to mention how tired he felt after he had been out cold for what had to have been at least twelve hours. Choosing to play it safe, Noah shot an email off to work saying he was going to be out that day and ordered breakfast with an extra large gatorade to be delivered. He spent the day vegging out in front of the TV, rolling through episode after episode of a couple shows he had queued up but hadn't gotten around to watching yet. A nap in the afternoon, something he usually never did, had him completely refreshed, and he was even able to get in a session on the bike before bed, this time making sure he was actually in his bed before he dozed off for the night. It was a restless sleep, that unreal feeling of a waking dream like he had never closed his eyes to begin with, but with disconnected snippets devoid of coherence or meaning. Noah could only watch, a voyeur as he went about his apartment, at one instant looking through his closet, then the next in the kitchen inspecting his workout supplements, one more tying up one of those big, black hefty bags and dumping it down the incinerator chute. He wondered in his half-lucid state if his brain really needed to take inventory of his possessions, but he let the dream continue without fuss. The blaring phone alarm woke Noah from the blackness, the void of sleep ruptured by electric klaxons, and for the second morning in a row he was starting the day exhausted. He thought about calling out again but didn't want to give any of the other partners an excuse to try and cut him out when the new funding round came in. Sluggish and struggling to get himself going, he picked out the first combo of shirt and pants his hands came to rest on in his closet, not noticing that there seemed to be more space open than had been there the night before. He ducked into the CVS around the corner from the subway to get a couple energy drinks, the hope being they would be enough to carry him through the day, and for some reason a bottle of lotion and a fresh pack of razors. He looked into the white and red plastic bag while he cruised into the lobby barely fifteen minutes past nine, well within what anybody at the startup would think of as on time, and tried to remember why he had thought it was so important to get these extra toiletries, an uneasiness keeping him from fretting over it too long. Sneaking through the office as quietly as possible, he closed his door in an attempt to ride out the day in his office. The aim was to catch up on his work while keeping the distractions to a minimum, a trick he almost succeeded at if it weren't for an overly friendly check-in from Steve, who as CEO was technically the only person in the organization he was subordinate to, not that the boisterous, brash executive acted like that detail mattered. "Noah, you look like absolute shit!" he boomed, drawing exactly the attention that the beleaguered man was trying to avoid. "Yeah, rough couple nights. You know how it can be," Noah replied, trying to just move the conversation along. Steve's thin lips curled into an oily grin, "Say no more. So how many this time? Two? Three? I know that it takes more than one woman to wear you out like this." "None, I think it's just a bug," he took a swig from the skinny aluminum can. "Not that I don't have plans. You know Madison, junior account exec we hired in the Spring? I think she's ready to ride Noah's Arc, if you know what I mean." A faint noise bubbled up from somewhere within him, like a hushed snarl, "so fucking gross." "Hell yeah!" Steve drowned out any chance of the small voice being heard. "That's the energy I want to see. Now keep it going and I want you to make sure the team is on point. I've got a call with the investors later and they've already got my nuts in a vice." And as quickly and gently as he had arrived, Steve stomped his way out of Noah's office, leaving him to get to the reports he had let pile up. Thankfully, the rest of the day was no more eventful than any other, and once Noah got home he had just enough stamina to eat the takeout he had picked up, leaving behind two of the three tacos al pastor and most of the rice. He had felt so hungry when he ordered them, but once he started eating he couldn't shake a nagging feeling in the back of his mind that he should watch his portions. Another big yawn followed and Noah's night was done before the evening news came on. He had another of those dreams that night, where he watched his body go around his apartment doing mundane tasks. He flashed in and out, trading periods of blank unconsciousness with barely tethered weightlessness, drifting in this liminal space. Noah felt and saw, observing from inside his body as if floating in a cocoon, but couldn't guide anything. The brief moments he was aware of -- tooling around on his computer, rifling through his drawers and taking out his passport and bankbook, stepping out of the shower and feeling a shiver as he rubbed moisturizer into a delectably hairless leg -- faded as quickly as they came, any lasting imprint evaporating like wisps of smoke that couldn't be grasped. Noah was once again slow to shake off his exhaustion in the morning, and while he got ready for work, considered making an appointment to see a doctor to find out why he was so lethargic lately. He searched for his insurance card; it was in his wallet but oddly all of the credit cards and his ID seemed to be in the wrong places. "You've probably just been working too hard," a soothing female voice drifted just on the edge of his hearing. "This is nothing to worry about." Sighing to himself, Noah put his wallet back in his pants. "I'm fine, probably just stressed over the investors meeting. Everything will be fine once I get through that bullshit." "That's right, everything will be fine. Nothing is out of the ordinary," the calm voice, as gentle as the breeze, continued to ease him. He finished getting dressed, grey twill slacks and classic pale blue oxford, the rough fabric scratchy on bare, sensitive skin, the discomfort tickling him unpleasantly despite his best efforts to ignore it. "Hmm, maybe it's time to replace some of the more worn out stuff from my wardrobe," he said aloud to himself. The day passed in a blur, followed by the next and then most of the weekend. Chunks of time vanished into the ether, filled with fitful sleep and scattered, hazy waking hours. Noah was roused from a stupor that Saturday afternoon by a sharp knock on his door, his listless mood buoyed slightly by a peak of excitement from somewhere deep within. "That's gotta be the clothes I ordered!" a cheerful sound rang inside him. He opened the door, a stack of packages piled in the hallway, the tower of boxes and bags toppling over as he tried and failed to collect them all in one armload, dumping them in his bedroom after a couple trips. "Good, finally got those new shirts I needed," he thought to himself as he absentmindedly scratched at his hairless chest. "But I only ordered three, couldn't they have sent them all in one thing?" Parcels were torn open and Noah robotically put each item away, hanging up shirts, folding sweaters, making space for pairs of shoes, and creating room in drawers and on shelves and along the rail for every other scrap of delicate fabric and silky material that needed a new home. A pleasant feeling spread through him as he imagined which of his new shirts he would wear to work on Monday. Humming with anticipation, Noah strolled into the office, lingering at the coffee maker and stopping to chat with one of the associates, but nobody bothered to compliment him on what he thought was a quite fetching satin shirt. The fabric felt so slippery and smooth on his skin, and he was happy that the deep magenta still looked good even under the harsh LEDs. "It would look better with the silk scarf." Noah looked around, but he couldn't tell who made the suggestion, everybody either still getting settled in for the day or already busy with whatever work they had to have made the comment. He shook it off and went into his office, leaving the door open, and pulled up the latest update on where his team was on their assignments. Deadset on putting the last, unproductive week behind him, Noah was unsuccessful as he found his mind drifting every time he tried to focus on the task at hand. Cells on spreadsheets bled together, lines of text ran off the screen, and despite not feeling tired, his eyelids felt so, so heavy. "Noah?" He was staring at his monitor but couldn't remember what he had just opened. "Um, Noah?" Or had he closed something. Was he looking something up? "Noah!" He jerked out of his stupor, suddenly aware of Madison standing in front of his desk. "Oh, uh, yeah? What's up?" he sputtered while trying to catch himself up to whatever it was he had just been doing. "Lydia sent me over to get your signature on these estimates for the Lexington project," she held out a clipped sheaf of papers. He took them and hastily scrawled his mark at the bottom of each page. "Sure, I think these all looked good when I reviewed them last week." Madison came around behind the desk and collected the papers up as he signed each one, stealing a peek at what he had been working on so diligently when she had come in. "I always liked that boho, vintage look, myself," she said, pointing over his shoulder. Noah followed her finger to the home decor website he must've been looking at earlier, not that he could recall ever opening the browser to begin with. "She has a good eye, it's too bad he's such an ass or we might've gotten along," that barely perceptible, almost unheard voice tickled the edge of his senses again. A thought entered his mind, one that forced its way out of him before he could process fully. "I just love the way the colors can be bold but all fit when they come together. Kinda like how your purple top really emphasizes your green eyes, by the way," the words passed his lips easily. She was taken aback, not expecting a comment like that from the guy who usually didn't seem to take any more notice of her than the fact she was a woman and had a pulse. "Oh, well thank you. And your shirt, is it new? It's working for you, suits the slimmed down thing you got going on." Wait, what was that shit about colors? And slimmed down? The thrum of satisfaction at the compliment kept him from dwelling on the odd direction he had sent the conversation, but if he wasn't mistaken, Madison seemed to be flirting with him. A switch flipped inside of Noah, an almost effervescent rush of adrenaline flooded him as his predatory instincts kicked in. "Hey, you know we never did reschedule after the other night," he placed his hand on her forearm and fixed her with his best smoldering stare. She wanted to tell him to fuck off, that he had blown it already and that a polite compliment didn't mean she wanted to sleep with him, but trapped on the wrong side of the desk, a man, furniture, and too much distance between her and the door, she tried to defuse the situation. "Look, Noah, I think we should just leave things where we did. I mean, you're so busy and all..." she tried to pull her arm away but he didn't let go. "Come on, babe," he was outright leering now, but his tone softened, "let me make it up to you. I was a jerk, but how about I take you somewhere nice this Friday." A silent scream barely reached the very fringe of his consciousness, the feeble protest ignored. "I have to get these back to Lydia," she tried one more time to get away. "Just dinner, and then we'll see where it goes from there. How about it, babe?" "Fine, just dinner. Alright?" his grip on her arm relaxed and she yanked it away, hurrying quickly out of his office. Noah got up and closed the door, allowing himself a satisfied chuckle once he was hidden from the rest of the office. "Fuck yeah! That's what I'm talking about!" HIs body bristled, enervated, like he had been shaken from a long malaise. He felt like himself for the first time in what seemed like ages, so delighted in himself the incessant buzzing, like a mosquito trapped in his head, faded and grew quiet. Firing through the few notes that remained in his workflow, Noah had made up everything he was behind on and then some by the time he closed down his computer and headed through the rapidly emptying office for the elevator. On the way home, he stopped at the cocktail bar a couple blocks from his apartment, picking out one of the few empty stools and caught the bartender's attention. This wasn't one of Noah's usual spots, the old oak bar and velvet upholstered booths a little dated for his tastes, but he knew from the couple times he found himself there in the past that they made a hell of an old fashioned. "What'll it be," the bartender asked him, a guy around Noah's age, maybe a couple years younger, with hair slicked back. He wore a clean white shirt and suspenders along with a thin pencil mustache like a casting director's description of an old saloon keep. "Aperol spritz, please." The bartender cocked an eyebrow, "I'm out of prosecco, you okay with champagne?" Noah stared back for a second confused -- why would they need champagne for an old fashioned? -- until he realized that instead of the cocktail he had intended to get, he had asked for the pinnacle of Hamptons basic bitch drinks. Feeling his face flush, "Forget it. What's that, Yamazaki?" He nodded to an amber filled bottle on the top shelf over the dapper man's shoulder. "Give me a double. Neat." The harsh burn of the whisky sliding down his throat and smoldering in his upper chest got him back to where he wanted to be, enjoying his evening, and the woman sitting by herself in the far corner could help him with that goal. Smartly dressed in a navy blazer and skirt that fit her too well to have been bought off the rack, her long chestnut hair, streaked with yellow ochre in the dim lights, was twisted up into a loose bun, two artfully plucked coils sneaking down either side of her oval face. Her eyes, dilated pupils making them appear almost completely black, were hidden behind half closed and dark shadowed lids. These types were always a challenge. Noah preferred the early twenty- something, fresh to the city variety. All he needed with those girls was to send them a drink and flash a glimpse of his watch that cost more than their rent. The only downside with them was that too many didn't realize it was just a hookup until he was calling them an uber. This woman, though, she wouldn't fall for any of that. This was the kind of woman who didn't have time for those games and Noah knew the direct approach would work best. He picked up his drink and moved over to her side of the bar. "Hi, I'm Noah," he said, sitting down without asking if the stool next to her was taken. "And I'm not interested," was her reply. She took another sip of her drink, something pale and cloudy, her fingers gently holding the delicate stem of the coupe. Undeterred, Noah knew that with how his day had gone he could win her over. Something inside of him gave a push, not that faint voice that had been nagging him for days, this was like a beast roused from its slumber and it sought only to sate its desires. "Nothing wrong with a woman who knows what she wants, and I think I can guess what that is." She turned to look at him, taking the measure of this cocky guy in the unexpectedly less than masculine shirt. "Really, that's the line you want to go with? Does telling women what to do usually work out for you?" The look she gave him could freeze hell itself. "I wouldn't dream of telling an empowered woman like you what to do, I only said that I know what you want." Noah's lip curled into a sly grin. She hadn't shut him down and he wasn't going to give her the opportunity. "Your clothes tell me you came here straight from work and, how good it looks on you notwithstanding, the cut and the drab color of your suit means you don't want to be the center of attention. So I'm guessing a lawyer, not the lead attorney but you probably do all the work, and since you came here on a weekday you're either celebrating or drowning your sorrows." She didn't stop him so he continued his Sherlock Holmes impression, "Well, I don't see any of the rest of the legal team here, so I'll assume things didn't go your way today, and you just wanted to go somewhere quiet and blow off some steam," he finished with a satisfied smirk. The woman's glare softened, but her tone remained hard, "Close, but I'm not here to get wasted. The rest was impressive though." "I didn't say you were, just that you were looking to blow off some steam," Noah threw a couple bills onto the bar, indicating to the bartender it was for him and his new friend. "My place is a couple blocks from here, in case you want to relieve some of the day's frustrations." He stood, holding an arm out to her. She finished her drink in one swallow, pushing the empty glass onto the dimpled rubber mat, and rose with the assistance of the offered support. She took charge once they got into his apartment, skipping any of the awkward small talk about how nice it looked and if she would like another drink, kissing him hungrily as she undid Noah's belt, forcing his pants to the floor. She pushed him over the arm of the couch, he landed flat on his back, stunned stiff by the voracious look in her eyes. Hiking the hem of her skirt almost to her hips, she reached a hand underneath and pulled down her panties, a lacy black wisp that caught on her heel. She shook her foot a couple times before snatching the pesky undies and whipping them across the room. She came around the side of the sofa and slung a leg over Noah's waist. Pausing for a second to steady herself, she lowered slowly onto the erect cock pointing up at her like a compass needle finding true north. Noah could feel every soft, moist inch of her pussy envelop him before she raised up and crashed back down. She settled into a less forceful rocking motion while he found the rhythm, matching thrusts in time with her. Hands pressed to his chest for balance, she rode him to a thunderous orgasm, moaning and yowling her pleasure loud enough to wake the dead. He was close, loins tightening in anticipation, but a twinge of guilt froze him mid-thrust. What was he doing picking up a stranger right after he had made a date with Madison? "Oh fuck, don't stop now!" the flat of a balled fist hit him just under the clavicle. He looked up at the woman on top of him, the woman he was fucking now, not some hypothetical lay in the future. Her eyes closed, bottom lip pinched between her teeth as she bit down to stifle her cries. Beautiful, a woman on the verge of ecstasy. Any other worries left his mind as he erupted inside of her. She rolled off of him, Noah shifting to the side before she could snuggle up against him. "Mmmm, looks like you were right. I really needed that." He got up and went to the bathroom. Coming back with a towel, he tossed it to her and sat on the love seat facing the sofa she was stretched out on. "You were great, baby, but it's getting late and I got a big meeting tomorrow." Using the towel to keep from leaking on her clothes or the couch, she tried to hide the hurt in her eyes. She knew this was a hookup but didn't expect it to be this abrupt. "Oh, yeah, no. Me too. Work and everything," she started hastily gathering up her things; blazer on the floor, purse by the door, and stood waiting for something until she realized Noah wasn't even going to get up to see her out. She gave a snort, imperceptible from across the room, and slammed the door as she left. Noah dismissed her obvious anger, he was never going to see her again so what did it matter, and got in the shower to clean off the remnants of the evening's activities. He noticed the stubble growing back on his arms and legs while he soaped up, the purple and teal disposable razor in his hand before he could even think about what he was doing. Rinsed off and patted dry, he wrapped himself in a silk, thigh length kimono, luxuriating in the feel of the slick material sliding over his skin. A little water for the flowers, they were keeping wonderfully, he shut off the lights and climbed into bed. __________________________________ I was so damn close. The boy barely knew if he was coming or going, then his dick gets hard and all of a sudden he's got full control again. Couldn't be bothered to find out that woman's name, I guess. Just fucked her and kicked her out. The poor thing didn't even have the time to retrieve her panties, that sexy thong that I bet the judge would've died to know she was wearing under her power suit. Well, if it made her feel confident... It was only fair that I let Noah experience what it's like to have a lace wedgie. Do you think he felt pretty and self-assured picking the thong out of his crack, or just confused about why he was wearing it when he woke up? If only that was enough to make It all fair. I had made so much progress in such a short time. Little nudges here, whispers there, sure it could be tough to tell if it was having any effect or not, but that first time he shaved his pits without me having to do it for him I knew I was getting somewhere. This possession stuff is hard. And draining. That totally sucked when I passed out. I didn't even know I could pass out. Like, how does a ghost fall asleep? Well, turns out there's some sort of energy involved in all of this. At least I think there is. No instruction manual, remember? But yeah, whatever it is, I learned that I could keep myself going through the night by taking some of Noah's stamina during the day. "Why am I so tired all the time?" Boo hoo, pal. Why am I so dead all the time? He's not even using the body half the day, so what's the big deal if I borrow it while he's asleep? And if the stuff that keeps me from fading out gave me a bigger window to drive this body, then I don't see how that's a problem. Look, it's not like I was killing the guy. He's fine, just sleepy. We had a good system. Things were working. I put up with his bullshit and his boring job and his lack of personality during the day and in return he got some suggestions to liven up his apartment and some cute new clothes to clear out all of that boring blue and grey and khaki. I could've just done all that stuff myself. I found all of his credit cards and bank info, and it's true what they say about New York being the city that never sleeps. How many other towns have furniture stores and movers and boutiques open past midnight? He could've gone to sleep on Monday and woken up on Tuesday in a new bed, one with those thousand thread count sheets and a canopy like I always wanted, all that Scandinavian cocaine-chic junk out on the curb. But I didn't, and that's the point. The real trick was getting him to not freak out as everything changed around him. That's why I went slow, piece by piece. It's also why I had to keep such a low profile over the past month. It was hard enough to keep him calm and to nudge him to accept everything. If I had gone full speed ahead then I damn well may have killed him. The amount of energy I had to borrow just so he didn't realize that his closet's now full of blouses and dresses and pants without pockets, rows of sandals and boots and heels, the drawers stuffed with lingerie. Which brings me to my next project, one that I was further along on than I would've expected. It was time to get this body looking more...appropriate. More like what should and could fit into that hot bodycon dress, or that wouldn't be all lumpy and bulgey in that pair of leather pants that were too totally perfect to pass up. Alright, I'll admit, I wasn't thrilled that this guy was who I got stuck with, but if you're going to literally be a woman trapped in a man's body, a vain pretty boy is probably the best starting point. He was already an exercise junkie who practically counted every calorie, all I had to do was whisper in his ear that maybe he could stand to lose a few pounds, that he should probably skip breakfast that day or only a salad for lunch the next. And for his workouts, a couple blasts of motivation-sapping ghostly interference whenever he picked up his weights got him off any strength training and onto an all cardio routine. The results speak for themselves. In barely no time this body went from hard corners and bulk to graceful curves and visible ribs straight out of a thinspo account, all that muscle melted away without his protein supplements and heavy lifting. He was down to a size 8, and I'll tell you the one good thing about early-aughts styles being en vogue again, with the corsets I ordered, I was pretty sure I could get into a 6 or, god help me, maybe even a 4. This would've all been so much easier if I could just mold and shape this body like a clay figurine, but if that's possible I have yet to figure out how to do it. I was able to trade a couple hours of awake time to jump start his nails, filed and kept to a neat oval shape, and grow his hair out, the side swept tresses now covering his ears and on its way to shoulder length and beyond. I'm patient. I have time. Time to plan and time to wait for all of these changes to run their course. Which is what I was going to do, because I thought I had this all under control, but how was I supposed to know that a pair of breasts and an available vagina were all it took to push me into the background. Well, buddy boy, if you get to have your fun then so would I. This body might not have been exactly where I wanted it yet, but this city is big and it's not afraid of a little kink. And once I could figure out how to really get it looking the way I want then you'll have as much access to tits and pussy as you could ever handle. __________________________________ "Asymetrical? Or maybe straight bangs next time," Noah fussed with his hair, picking and pushing at it in the handheld mirror he had taken out of his bag. The leather, crossbody carryall sat on the corner of his desk, its silver YSL buckle gleaming in the light of his monitor. A video sat paused on the screen, '10 Heatless Styles for Short Hair.' He had already nixed the first seven, the woman in the tutorial acting like everybody had the time to do braids and twists. "Oh, but that last one with the twin rope braids was too cute," the thought flitted by unnoticed as he tucked a strand behind his ear. The unadorned lobe drew his attention, like it was missing something, but he put the worry aside as he focused back on trying to do what he could with these stubborn locks, ultimately giving up and tying it all up in his now standard top bun. He almost had a heart attack at the salon, in desperate need of a cut his hair had gotten ragged and down to his collarbone, the shampoo and scalp massage was so relaxing he couldn't help drifting off in the stylist's chair. The fatigue he seemed to be locked in eternal combat with got the best of him, but that didn't give the stylist permission to do what she did when he dozed off. Then again, a couple weeks out, she was totally right. The choppy bob with caramel highlights, that when let down tucked naturally under his chin, was so fun and flirty and he found himself playing with it whenever his mind wandered. Or unable to stop fretting over how it looked when he was nervous, like when he only had two hours until the biggest presentation of his life. No big deal, he just had to impress some billionaires, or really guys who hold the money for the billionaires, so that he could become a millionaire. Of course Noah was stressed and wanted everything to be perfect. He was confident in what he and the company had to offer, and these types of meetings were usually dominated by the CFO discussing the financials, but this wasn't initial funding anymore. Noah was going to be expected to demonstrate that his team was actually delivering on the promises they had made to the investors in the last meeting. This wasn't like him, to be so on edge. He'd done his pitch countless times, the only differences for this one were a couple wrinkles he would normally have no problem improvising, let alone having actually prepared for. Maybe it was an extension of the constant feeling of unease he just couldn't seem to shake. The strangeness and cloudiness that every day was shrouded in and every night was overtaken by. He should care that he was losing time more and more frequently. That he woke up sore most mornings like he had been training for an MMA fight; his legs, his jaw, the few times his ass hurt so bad he had to break out the standing desk to be able to get any work done. And every time he tried to really think about how it all seemed so wrong, something inside him told him to relax, to calm down. "Everything's fine, just breathe," as if on cue, the bodiless voice was in his head. "Everything's fine," he repeated almost instantaneously, taking a deep breath. Noah got up from his desk, crossing the space of his office, and pulled the cream blazer off the hook on the back of his door. He fastened the top button just beneath his breast bone and yanked on the bottom of the jacket to straighten it out, pulling it down to barely cover the waistband of his slacks. He wore them without a belt, not that there were loops for one, a choice he hadn't thought twice about owing to how tight the pants were on his butt and thighs, too tight for him to fit a wallet or phone in without ruining the lines, before they flared out at the knee into a pseudo-bell bottom that would brush the floor if not for the couple inch square heels on his white, alligator skin loafers. He couldn't remember where he had bought the suit, or when the blush pink, collarless silk shirt had appeared in his closet, but a magnetic pull towards the outfit when he was getting dressed that morning couldn't be resisted. The door opened inward nearly hitting him, Noah sidestepped to avoid being bowled over by the man who barged into his office. "God dammit, they're here already," the stocky man was visibly upset, his face red with anger all the way up to his thinning hairline. He had stopped only because the office's occupant wasn't at his desk where he expected, yet no part of his bluster was diminished. "Steve," Noah piped up from behind him, causing the usually unflappable CEO to startle and spin quickly to face him. "Jesus, you're like a fucking ghost some times." A quiet giggle chimed in Noah's ear. "Steve, breathe. Now, who's here?" he asked in a calming tone. "I'll fucking breathe as soon as everyone gets their asses into the conference room. I'm not losing this funding because Gabby put the wrong time for the meeting in the calendar," he fumed. Noah felt his stomach sink, "You're fucking kidding. Mitchell's not going to be in until noon. We knew we might have to stall for him, but what the fuck are we supposed to do about this?" His already tenuous confidence was shattered with the news that their money guy wouldn't be in the meeting. The firm's fearless leader gave him a look like Noah was stupid for even asking the question. "We're gonna go in there and convince them to give us twice what we asked for last time." He clapped Noah on the shoulder, raising an eyebrow when his companion winced. "Look, I'll do what I can with the numbers, but I'm going to really need you to blow their dicks off with where we're at on everything." With that fizzle of a pep talk over, Noah followed the other man out of his office as he marched to the conference room. In the glass walled box, the group of investors had been gamely waiting, putting up with a recounting of the best pizza places in Midtown by another of the company's VP's who had been offered up as a sacrificial lamb. Steve entered as subtly as he had come into Noah's office earlier, bellowing a welcome to the seated row of men in varying shades of blue suits. "Gentlemen! My apologies, it seems my assistant needs a refresher on keeping a schedule," he walked to the front of the room. "I swear, if she didn't suck cock like a porn star I'd have never hired her." Jaws literally dropped, the silence only broken in Noah's hearing by a wordless cry. He was equal parts embarrassed that his boss had said something so vulgar in front of the people they were trying to impress and furious that he once again had to share time and space with this misogynist. For his part, Steve may not have had much tact, but he possessed enough interpersonal sense to know when he had stepped in it. After a tense couple minutes of trying to rocket through as much of the financials as he was familiar with, he hurriedly tossed the hot potato of leading the presentation to Noah. Feeling like a deer in headlights, Noah turned to the group. "Hi, everybody," his voice warbled. He cleared his throat and took a sip of water. He looked around the table at each one of the potential investors, all familiar to him from the previous meeting and yet all still strangers. All except the tall, blonde guy directly across from him. He wasn't at the last meeting, but for whatever reason Noah felt an unspoken connection between them. There was something about that face that looked familiar. The square jaw and prominent cheekbones, crystal blue eyes so bright they could light up the darkened room, soft lips and meticulously maintained stubble that he just knew would tickle in that scratchy but pleasant way. Noah stole another glance at the man before turning back towards the projector screen. Their eyes met briefly, just a flash, but he thought he saw a glimmer of shared recognition there. As he went over each slide in the deck, occasionally turning to make sure the potential investors were following along, he felt his heart pounding in his chest. Was it nerves or was it because every time he did turn he caught that man staring at him. "Excuse me," he had an accent. It was slight but sounded German, maybe? His hand was raised and he was pointing at something on his printout of the deck. "Uh, right here, you mention something called the 'Broadway Plan' but you have no properties on Broadway listed." "Hmmm, Broadway..." Noah leaned across the table so he could better see where his questioner was pointing, a tendril of hair coming loose from his hastily arranged bun as he did. "Oh, that. It's still being finalized but we're set to acquire eighty-five hundred square feet to convert into cowork spaces. It's 666 Broadway, an old office building two blocks from NYU. It will be the perfect place for students to gather, study, launch their own startups. You know, like Zuckerberg did in his dorm." A smile crossed the man's lips, "That's all well and good, but why would they pay for a workspace when they could go to Starbucks? You don't even make coffee." Noah laughed, "I see how it is, you boys brought your ringer in today to ask the tough questions." The brief chuckle caused another lock of hair to spring free. He reached up to push it behind his ear, but his hand kept going, undoing the tie and letting his glossy mane fall free. "Well, Mister..." Noah looked at him expectantly. The room was silent for an awkward beat before another of the men at the table jumped in, "Wolfe. This is Kurt Wolfe, and we don't fly in the big guns from Berlin for just any pitch." Kurt's easy smile widened, those dreamy blue eyes sparkled, "My apologies for not introducing myself. And Bill is right, I only come in when there is a proposal that is especially intriguing, so I'm hoping that my query isn't a stumper, ja?" The mood had lifted, his nerves had disappeared as the plans for the Broadway Project were Noah's baby, what he saw as the culmination of everything they had been working towards. "A stumper? Not at all. Why would anybody pay to share space in an office when like you said, they could work from the coffee shop or at the library for free? But let me ask you, what do those places offer other than a couch or table...aside from coffee? Nothing. You can have all the great ideas in the world but you're missing the pieces to get them off the ground. "But who's working all around you?" Noah continued, "you've got a coder writing a script to mine crypto, a graphic designer touching up their latest freelancing gig, a law student trying to get through their latest review for their tax law class, an accountant studying for their CPA. All of these people with unique skills that could all help each other; the coder will need a lawyer to help them make sure the SEC can't seize their digital gains, the graphic designer needs the accountant to make sense of their 1099s, and so on." Holding his chin in his hand, Kurt's expression had become contemplative. "Very lovey-dovey and all, but why would any of these people help each other, and more importantly, why would they pay you for the privilege?" "That's the thing. They're not going to pay us. Well, not directly, otherwise we would have a bunch of employees we'd have to manage. No, all we're doing is offering a work space and an app, then in return, anybody who would like to use the space checks in to say what services they offer or what they're looking for. If they make a connection, then they can pay one another for whatever service is performed through our app, where we of course take a cut. It's Uber, but for the professional class." He could tell they were impressed by the idea. Why wouldn't they be? This was the last frontier, finally a way to industrialize high- skilled labor. The men around the table conferred before Kurt spoke up, "This building, it's address is 666?" The way he said it, his accent making the numbers sound like "sex". Noah couldn't help himself, he reached across and placed a hand on the Berliner's forearm, looking deeply into his eyes, "What's wrong, you're not telling me the big bad Wolfe is superstitious?" Kurt looked down at the hand on his arm, cocking an eyebrow at the sudden familiarity, "It is an interesting number, that is all. Very memorable, and it will stick in the minds of all of the media when we announce our new investment." "Hot damn!" Steve shouted. He had remained quiet through the most important part, but he couldn't contain himself any longer. "You all are coming out with us to celebrate! I'm not taking no for an answer. Wouldn't earlier and we're not starting now." The men all stood, shaking hands and saying their congratulations, but two members of the meeting remained seated. Kurt's hand covered Noah's. He leaned in and said softly, "That was a brilliant presentation. I hope that my being here wasn't too much of a shock for you, but I do hope to speak with you further at this celebration, Kim." He then joined the other investors as Steve circled the room slapping backs, his loud guffaws echoing down the hallway as he ushered the men towards the lobby. Noah sat alone in the conference room, replaying the past few minutes. He must've misheard Kurt, but he wondered why being called Kim, if that's really what the strangely familiar man had called him, caused a nervous if not unpleasant tightness in his chest. And what was with the way he had acted? Playing with his hair, batting his eyelashes, casual touching, if he didn't know better he'd think he was...flirting with the other man. "Oh honey, that was more than flirting, you were practically throwing yourself at him." Noah looked around for the source of the voice, "Who's there?" He called out to the empty room, a hint of anger in his voice, but once again received no response. "Shit, the adrenaline must be messing with my head," he muttered. Trying to tamp down the thoughts racing through his mind, about the voices he had been hearing, the success he was looking forward to celebrating, Kurt's warm smile and strong hands...No! He shook his head, hair flailing around him in a mess. "Hey, you alright in here?" Noah looked up, Madison was leaning against the half open door, concern written across her face. She had been a welcome presence the past few weeks, ever since that first date she had finally agreed to, a night that uncharacteristically ended with a kiss on the cheek and the two parting ways after dinner. Noah had told himself he was playing the long game, that because he could tell her guard was up he shouldn't pressure her, but the more time he spent with her the more he kept finding himself appreciating her companionship. Which isn't to say that he didn't still have plans to get her into bed, but that all seemed less urgent. He pushed his hair out of his face, using his fingers to roughly comb it straight, "Yeah, I'm good," he took a deep breath, "Everything's good." "I'd hope so," her worry eased, "I was coming to see how the presentation went, but considering that Steve came through a couple minutes ago yelling something about John Denver, I'm guessing you guys got the funding?" "Of course," Noah gave a wry chortle, "It's not a deal unless he sings 'Country Roads' to a room full of drunk people. I think I'll pass." He wanted to go, but he also knew he needed some space to sort himself out, and a neon lit karaoke bar in Koreatown wasn't really the place to do that. And yet, that nagging feeling deep within him kept urging him to go with his coworkers. Madison fanned herself with a hand in mock surprise, "My word, our very own Noah turning down a chance to ply an unsuspecting young lady with drinks? Maybe a person can change." He was genuinely hurt, realizing that he didn't want Madison to think of him that way. "Hey, that's not funny." "Oh don't be so sensitive. Now, I'm not turning down an open bar when the boss is paying, so are you coming or not?" Noah sighed, "Yeah, sure. Let me get my stuff and I'll meet you at the elevator." He went back to his office for his bag, stopping to take out and check his phone where he saw a missed message from Madison. "Good luck! You're gonna kill it!" and then a series of emojis. A warmth spread through him, they really had grown closer. He couldn't imagine having this kind of relationship with just about anybody in the past, let alone with a woman. "Don't fuck this up," a warning he was already playing over and over again as he slung the carryall over his shoulder and rejoined -- he couldn't believe he would use this term -- his girlfriend. They walked the couple blocks to the bar, the celebration already in full swing as they made their way through the crowd, dense for the early afternoon but not a surprise considering most of the office was there. Somebody was belting out an offkey Journey song, the poor rendition eliciting both jeers and shouts of encouragement from the other patrons. Noah slipped through the throng and secured a booth in a back corner while Madison headed to the bar to get drinks. She came back holding two clear plastic cups, each mostly full with ice and something pink. "What's this?" Noah shouted to her over the noise. "Vodka cranberry!" she replied. "Yum!" he reached for the offered drink and took a less than dainty slug. The karaoke bar wasn't the ideal place for a chat, but they had little trouble talking, laughing, and drinking between the noise of coworkers mangling the catalogues of Bruce Springsteen, Madonna, and an assortment of other chart toppers from the distant past. Noah was glad he had been convinced to come, the time with Madison had put him back at ease. She always seemed to have that effect on him, and he was thinking that he must really be falling for her. There was so much about her that he admired, more than just her looks, he enjoyed her upbeat attitude, her style, and the way he felt so comfortable with her. He loved that they had this emotional intimacy even if they hadn't been physically intimate yet. "Hey, what are you thinking about?" she asked him, coming back with another round and catching him staring off into space. "Nothing," he said it reflexively. "Come on, that's such a guy answer. You gotta have something rattling around in there." Noah demurred for a second before he felt a push to answer, "I was just thinking how I'm so lucky to get to spend time with you." He surprised himself with his honesty, and even then again that he had more to say. "Like, I know we've worked together for a while, but it really hasn't been that long that we've been spending time together like this, and I just feel like I can talk to you about anything. Like I could share any secret with you." "Wow, that's some nothing," Madison giggled. "But of course you can share anything with me. It's not like you haven't already." "Yeah, I guess you're right," he smiled back, glad that she was so cool with him spilling his guts like he just did. "I mean, it all makes so much sense, the sleeping with random women, the misogyny, the just so always extra bro-ness. Once you told me about...you know, like it's so easy to see that you were overcompensating. And I still think you should go see a professional about everything, but look at you!" she waved up and down his body, "every day you let Kim out a little more and every day you look a little happier." His good mood instantly faded, "Wait, what? Kim?" His head was suddenly swimming, "Sorry, was that a little loud? I'm sure it's okay, nobody heard me over the music," she tried to be reassuring. "I gotta...I gotta get up for a second," he clambered out of the booth and made a line straight for the bathroom. Splashing some water on his face, Noah took another deep breath. He studied himself in the mirror, unable to shake the sensation that something was off. This was the second time in a matter of hours he heard that name. Too close to be a coincidence, but he was as in the dark as ever about what it meant. He dug through his bag, it was second nature that he brought it with him, but he wasn't sure what he was looking for. He clicked the clasp closed and opened the door. The few seconds of air, away from the noise, was enough to settle him down. He was heading back to his table, back to Madison and hopefully a new topic of conversation, when he felt a hand grab his elbow. "Now this is more like where I'm used to seeing you." There was that German accent again. "The disco and some partying, is this where I get to spend some time with the lovely Kim like the other night?" Noah tried to pull his arm free but was unable to break the larger man's grasp. "What are you talking about? Could everybody just stop talking about Kim?" A flash of concern crossed Kurt's face but his grip remained firm, "I'm sorry, I just assumed that with the way you are dressed you were out to your office." "Out? I'm not 'out' at all. I think you must be confusing me for somebody else, because I've never seen you before today and I have no idea what you're talking about." Kurt removed his hand, Noah taking the opportunity to try to leave, but he was pulled up short by the phone that was thrust in front of him. "Perhaps you had more to drink than I realized, but is this not you?" The picture on the screen showed two people, their faces oversaturated from the camera flash in a dark bar or club. The man was very definitely Kurt, Noah was sure of that, but the second person who was nuzzling into the neck of the large man was harder to place. She wore a skintight leather bustier, the stiff boning pushing her tiny breasts up into respectable cleavage, and her short skirt showed off a pair of shapely, fishnet wrapped legs, but still nothing identifiable as to who she was. Kurt advanced the roll to the next picture, this one more clear, he could see a heavily made up face, racoon black eyes and blood red lips. Her short haircut didn't reach her shoulders but curled at the ends just below her chin. No, it couldn't be. He wouldn't let himself believe it, but the woman in the picture could've been his sister, the resemblance was uncanny. The picture advanced again, now it was just her, this time somewhere much brighter. The camera was able to capture every detail of the bathroom's blue tile floor as the angle of the picture was from what he guessed to be Kurt's POV. The woman had her hand with its neon tipped fingers wrapped around an engorged, angry looking cock. From the floor, the mystery woman looked up into the lens, a wanton fire burning in her eyes, only now under the fluorescent lights there was no hiding her bony but slightly broad shoulders, her too familiar brown eyes, the tiny mole on her left cheekbone...just like the one on his. He suddenly felt nauseous, the urge to flee overcoming him. He bolted out onto 33rd Street, pushing through the tourists and pedestrians until he saw an available taxi idling at the corner. He jumped into the back before it could pull away, giving the driver his address in a pained voice. Images flashed through his mind, out of place, he insisted to himself they couldn't be his memories. Scenes at a club he somehow knew was in SoHo, the beat of the music pounding through him, the smell of sweaty bodies mixed with the dizzying vapors of alcohol and perfume. They were like his dreams, the ones where he was a passenger in his own body. The cab swung up to the curb and Noah vacantly swiped his credit card. Springing to his feet he rushed to his building. Through the lobby and he could feel hands on his body, gripping his thighs and ass, pulling him against his dance partner. The door to his apartment flew open, he practically ran to the toilet, shedding his jacket and dropping his bag in the entrance. Falling to his knees, he looked up into the eyes of the handsome stranger. His hands fumbled at the man's belt, pulling feverishly at his pants. Noah pushed his hair aside and suppressed a heave, the afternoon's drinks threatening to come rushing up. The heat of the cock swaying in front of him was like a furnace of lust. He grabbed hold and gave it a few tentative pulls before reaching out with his tongue and licking the head. The taste of acid washed across the back of his mouth, he swallowed with an audible gulp. It was stiff but spongy, his tongue wrapped around the veiny shaft as his head bobbed up and down. He felt a pressure on the back of his throat, an impassable barrier that caused him to pull back. As he did, the turgid monster between his lips twitched. A hand patting him on top of his head was late, the penis slipping from his mouth just in time to blast him in the face with shot after shot of thick, sticky cum. The dam burst and Noah vomited the contents of his stomach into the waiting bowl. Snot dripping down from his nose and tears stinging his eyes, he wiped up with a hand towel and swayed out through the living room, into his bedroom. He could hear his phone chiming from the carryall, but he was too unsteady to collect it. Noah collapsed onto his bed, "What is happening to me!" he wailed at the ceiling. The turmoil inside him, twisted in chaos and agony, sobs racked his prone form. "It was bound to happen eventually," a woman's voice pierced his cries, resonating in his hearing as if she spoke from no direction and everywhere at the same time. "I knew this wouldn't last forever." "You!" the tormented man shrieked, recognizing the speaker, the disembodied voice he had been hearing for months. "What are you, a hallucination? Am I going crazy?" The apartment remained silent for what felt like an eternity, but by the digital clock on the nightstand was very clearly no more than a minute. "Now you stop talking? Jesus, I really have lost it." "No. No, you haven't. Noah, I'm Kim. I'm the one who Madison and Kurt were talking about," the sensation of a breathless sigh, "This might be better if we speak face to face." His body began to move on its own. "W-w-what...how?" Noah sputtered. He attempted to resist, but all he could manage was to slow his limbs momentarily before they continued carrying him over to the corner mirror Unable to regain control, he stood still, forced to take in his reflection. It was as if a shroud had been lifted, seeing himself in full without any influence or interference. The untroubled face hid his dismay as dozens of thoughts flew through his mind nearly simultaneously. "What's happening to me? My hair, my clothes? These are women's clothes. Why am I dressed like a chick? What the fuck is going on!" "Let me answer that for you," a crooked smirk creased his mouth, the voice coming out recognizable as his but higher, softer, and decidedly feminine. HIs body's weight shifted, one leg slightly bent, the opposite hip cocked, the back of his hand resting on it. "I wanted to live again and you were here. Bad luck, really." Noah tried to respond, but he couldn't even twitch his lip, let alone form audible words. "Fuck you," he tried to make the non-verbal thought sound as threatening as he could muster. "Hey, no need for that," his body's wrist flicked at the mirror. "Look, I'm not evil. I was going to propose this sooner or later, but how about we share? You get the days and I get the nights." "What? No, you psycho." "Alright, then what about I get all day Wednesday through Friday and every other Saturday? Sounds like a good deal to me." A hair flip and arms crossed. "Fuck. You. This is my body and you don't get to have it for one second," He tried again to move away from the mirror, focusing with all of his might, but remained rooted to the spot. The laugh was like an assault on his very being, "Oh, sweetie, that train left the station a loooong time ago. And now that I don't need to waste so much power keeping you in the dark, I could take over twenty-four seven if I wanted." A chill ran down Noah's noncorporeal spine. He was staring at proof that he was being manipulated, but he refused to believe that something could take his own body from him like that. It was his. He knew that once he calmed down he would figure out what was happening, make an appointment to see a shrink, and be right in no time. "Is that what you think this is? Some sort of nervous breakdown?" That laugh again, "Come on, let's take a look at how much you've missed out on. Then you tell me who's in charge here." His body was on the move again. Untroubled by Noah's token attempts at resistance, it walked into the living room with what to an outsider would appear a natural grace but to him felt like an unsettling swishiness, arms swinging side to side from the elbow, steps short and mincing, hips rolling and backside undulating. "Well, do you like what I did?" a hand was held out, sweeping across the apartment. She turned his body slowly so that he could take everything in. Gone were the sterile, minimalist furnishings, replaced by cushy, cloth and wood furniture in stark primary colors. Throw pillows and puffy cushions were arranged artfully on the twin couches. Vertical blinds had been removed from the windows, which now were shaded by diaphanous white curtains over coarse mint drapes. Lamps, fitted with color changing bulbs casting gentle yellow light, were placed around the room, with candles and fairy lights to provide alternate illumination for more cozy moods. Flowers and ferns dotted every otherwise available surface, an intermingling of greens and pinks and yellows and violets. Patterned rugs, soft as clouds and decorated with multicolored geometric shapes, tied the room together. "Where did all of this come from? When did you get it in here?" Noah asked in disbelief. "That's all you care about? What about how it looks? So much better than that serial killer vibe you had going on before." For the first time since she took over, Kim sounded genuinely annoyed. "But if you really must know, you picked out half of this stuff. Sure, I may have given you some suggestions without you realizing, but it was your hand clicking the buy button on those websites." "You're Lying!" "Am I? Why don't we take a couple seconds so you can remember?" Moments from the past few months began playing in his mind's eye. Noah was unsure if it was something Kim was doing or just the result of her prompting, but no matter the cause he relived snips of days he otherwise filed away as unspectacular. Browsing design blogs at work, taking long lunches to check out window treatments, running a couple particular choices past Madison. "Madison," he was suddenly aware of how he left her. She had to think he was such an asshole to ditch her, and after he had done so much to convince her he wasn't. "Ah, that's right. She helped too. That girl really missed her calling as a decorator," Kim continued to tease him. "But that's not what you're bothered by, is it? Your phone's been blowing up since we got back. Why don't you check it." Noah crossed the room to where he had dropped his bag, reaching in and taking out his phone. There were more than ten new messages from Madison. They started out playful, asking when he was coming back, but got more concerned with each text. He scrolled through feeling awful that she was so worried about him. "Wow, would you look at that. Our little Noah, so concerned about another person's feelings that he didn't even realize he had been put back in the driver's seat." He looked up from the phone, suddenly aware as he did that his body was responding to him again. "Go ahead, you really should let her know you're alright. In fact, why not tell her exactly what's going on?" He started tapping out a reply but paused. He knew he couldn't tell her about why he left. What was he going to do, say that he ran out when he suddenly had a flashback to sucking the dick of the guy who was about to invest nine figures into their company? That he got home and had spent the past hour arguing with the voice in his head that claimed to be a ghost? No, instead he sent her a short message saying he had felt sick and was sorry he didn't tell her. "We already went over this, I'm not in your imagination." And just like that, control of his body had been taken away from him again. He felt his chest rise and fall as another dramatic sigh was released. "I think I know what will finally hammer this through your thick skull." Back to the bedroom and back in front of the mirror. His body began undressing, not making a show of it and quickly dropping one article of clothing after the next. Down to nothing but a skimpy pair of bikini briefs, Noah's hairless body was fully revealed. He was emaciated, all the muscle he had worked so hard to put on and maintain with hours of working out each week had disappeared. His arms were like twigs and his squared shoulders were sloped and narrow. Thick, strong legs had shrunk to half their size. They retained some padding around the hips, but otherwise had withered to the point that light could pass through the gap between his thighs. Sixpack abs had vanished, his stomach still flat but now with a gentle doughiness instead of the chiseled surface he had been so proud of. Finally, his eyes settled on his chest, the one part of his body that hadn't shrunk. Or more specifically, the two parts. Gone were firm pecs and in their place were two small but distinct mounds. "I have tits?" He shrieked inside himself. "Well, technically...yes. Not as big as I wanted, but they're new so that will hopefully change." "How?" The question sounded less alarmed and more perplexed, the sheer weight of everything exhausting the confused man. "You keep asking that, you know. But yeah, I should probably explain this part." Kim moved the body's hands over each part as she described what she had done. "The muscles were easy, just stop lifting and cut some calories and they took care of themselves. I'm surprised you managed to get your arms so big, really. The amount of dedication that must've taken," she mused. "Your face, well, you're not going to like this. That was the one spot where I had a little work done." She ignored the wordless roar that responded to that revelation. "Nothing major, just a couple shots of botox and some fillers, enough to soften the blunt edges and give it a more pretty shape. The kind I wasn't going to be able to do on my own." She took a beat, seeming to actually be thinking about her next words. "I probably shouldn't tell you this, but I didn't know what I was doing at first," a spike of both anger and optimism came from deep inside, "I said 'at first', I've got things pretty well handled now. Anyway, what I learned is that I can't just do some magic and make you into a clone of my old body. To be honest, I've been out of that body so long I doubt I could remember all of it anyway." She waved a hand, dismissing that part. "But that's not the point. The deal is that I might not be able to change this body from nothing, but I can influence its own biological processes." No response came, only trepidation. "Like, I'm not a scientist, obviously, but I'm not dumb either, and you'd be amazed at what kinds of stuff they have online and at the library. You probably know that everybody has an X chromosome, but did you know that just turning it on won't make a boy into a girl? I mean, it's a good start, more estrogen will start putting fat in the right places," she cupped the apple sized breasts that had sprung from his chest, "but it won't change what's already been done." Kim flexed the skinny limbs in a mock expression of masculine girth. "There's these things called osteoblasts and osteoclasts, they're big cells that build up and break down bone tissue. Usually they're for dealing with stuff like when broken bones heal, but it turns out if you push them in the right direction they can widen boyish hips and shave down testosterone thickened shoulders." Shifting her stance, she turned slightly to the side, giving a glimpse for the first time of a now more plump behind. One leg was crossed in front of the other, toe pointed, and she returned hands to hips. Noah was in shock, both at the explanation and at how changing posture made his body go from looking thin and fey to outright womanly. He had curves! A narrow waist, full hips, round breasts all creating an hourglass figure. He wasn't able to move his eyes, but Kim could tell where he was trying to focus. "Don't worry, it's still there," she brushed a finger over the slight bulge in what Noah had come to realize weren't euro cut briefs, but were actually panties. "I'm not sure for how long, though. Especially since you were so rude earlier. To be honest, the way you treat women it would probably be best to get rid of it even if you had agreed to the timeshare." "Don't you dare!" The prospect of losing his manhood, or at least the last and most important vestige of it, recharged his will to fight. "You crazy fucking bitch! I'm going to send you back to hell!" "Aw, Noah, how have you still not gotten this?" Her tone was condescending, mocking, as if she was speaking to a child. "You've lost. I've taken over and there's nothing you can do to stop me. Face it, sweetie, at this point you're more girl than boy. Why would you even want it back?" Still facing his reflection in the mirror, there was no escaping that last truth. Even if he did get his body back, he would be a freak. A shadow of himself. And that was preferable to giving up. "I don't care. This is my fucking body and I don't care if it takes me the rest of my life I'm not going to let you win." Kim laughed in the face of his strident remarks, "You really don't understand. It's more than how you look. You've been under my influence for so long that you've started to lose your very being. Look at how you've been acting; timid, indecisive, lovestruck. The old cocksure, master of the universe Noah is gone and he ain't coming back." "That wasn't me!" Despite not having control of his tear ducts, Noah's distress made him sound like he was crying. "You were messing with me, but now that I know what you are, it won't work anymore." A devilish grin returned to the face in the mirror, "Are you so sure? I'll tell you what, I'm willing to put the old deal back on the table. Split control, but you have to show me I'm not wasting my time, that there's really any 'you' that could count as a separate person." She fixed her gaze on the reflection's eyes, aware that Noah was powerless to break eye contact. "So here's the terms, I'm gonna give you this next week all to yourself, no direct interference or manipulation. I won't even do anything while you're asleep, but I'm not going to stop any of the stuff in the background that I told you about either. If you're really such a big, tough, manly man, then you won't have any trouble getting right back into the swing of things. But if I'm right, you're so far gone that by the end of the week you'll be begging to go dress shopping with your bestie. Well, what do you say?" There was no response from Noah. There didn't need to be, she knew that he was in no position to decline, but that he didn't want to betray the doubts he was holding, the terror that she may be right. __________________________________ I'm not a slut, not that I think there's anything wrong with a woman who takes charge of her own needs, but I feel like I should mention up top that I did what I did because I'd been without a body for way too long. I mean, how about you try going years and years without being able to touch or be touched and we'll see how much you don't want to jump in the sack with somebody when the opportunity presents itself. And come on, what was I supposed to do with all of these hot guys all around! Yeah, yeah, maybe not steal somebody's body and then use it to hookup with strangers. I feel bad about that, really, but I think I made my case by now about how Noah wasn't exactly an innocent choir boy. So he gets to fuck and run out on every girl he sees but I'm supposed to just putz around the apartment? It's up to me to protect his innocence? Screw that. I already lost my life once, I wasn't going to spend my second chance as some lonely spinster while he got to do whatever he wanted during the day. I always used protection, doesn't that count for anything? I only used my own name, too. I could've just taken over his Tinder profile and switched the orientation, but I went to the trouble of setting one up for myself. God, this all got so much more complicated since I died. Like, you used to go to a club or a bar or anywhere in public, to be honest, bat your eyes at enough cute boys and eventually one would work up the nerve to come over and talk. But now everything's all upside down, everybody's too scared to get rejected so they need the app to make the connections for them. Alright, I guess it makes a little more sense when you're a gay guy, or trans, or whatever my potentail partners think I am, but I still don't get why it has to be such a problem. At least, not at first. Maybe once pants come off, yeah, then we've got some things to talk about, but I did a damn good job on this body, and I just don't believe that the entire city is full of experts in spotting men turned into women at the genetic level. I was honest with all of the guys, by the way. Well, the ones that made it past second base at least. Hey, sometimes a girl wants to dance and make out without it going anywhere further. Call it being a cocktease, but if you can't seal the deal after that, it's your own fault. But yeah, anybody I blew, or the handful I let in the backdoor, I made sure up front that they knew what they were getting into. Then there were the guys who wanted to suck me. They obviously knew, but that was just too weird. I didn't like it when it was flopping around and I especially wasn't thrilled when it was all hard and out of control. It felt good, but not enough to get over how grossed out it made me, and not nearly as good as what this body is missing. I threatened him that I was going to get rid of it. The truth is if I knew how, it'd already be gone. It shouldn't be too difficult conceptually, but who knows where the gene is that grows a uterus and vagina? I sure don't. I hate to consider it, but this may be something that surgery will have to fix. Ugh, that's a decision for later though, and I've got time. Oh yeah, he's not winning this one. Over my undead body, I spent too much effort fixing everything to make him an offer I didn't already know the result of. He thought he could go a whole week without breaking? He didn't even realize he's already gone over the falls. I'd actually been putting up a wall to keep some of his new urges in check because I was afraid that him finding out too early would ruin everything. I was there with him through the whole day, you know. I didn't stop sensing what he's sensing when I let him move the body around. The little thrill he got when his eyes accidentally lingered on the delivery guy's butt, the insecurity when his look wasn't perfectly put together, the longing for Madison that he confused for romantic attraction, not realizing it's because he actually saw her as a role model in femininity. I swear I wasn't doing those things to him. I won't rule out that there was some bleed over from what I was getting up to in our shared body...and by some I mean like that's exactly why, but I wasn't forcing it on him, is my point. If anything, it just proves that I'm right to take over. Don't you think that if he were the rightful and undisputed owner that it shouldn't be so easy for him to lose it? Come on, now that we're all caught up I think it's pretty clear I'm the sympathetic figure here! __________________________________ "Hey, do you want to talk about yesterday?" Noah had hoped to make it to his office without having to talk to anybody, just bury his head for eight hours and leave, but Madison was up to her old tricks and stood waiting at the elevator bank when he got in. He shrugged, the gesture a mistake as it pulled the billowy, excess fabric of the polo shirt taut against his budding chest. "There's nothing to talk about. I'm sorry, Madison. Really. I shouldn't have ditched you, but I needed to get home and lie down." She raised an eyebrow at the excuse. It was the same line he texted her after he had disappeared from the karaoke bar, but that didn't explain why he had suddenly decided to come in that day dressed in some very ill fitting boys clothes that, worn and faded as they were, looked like they were more suited for the goodwill than how meticulous Noah usually dressed. "Alright, if you say so. But if there is anything, you know where to find me." He was glad she had left it at that. Noah had been dreading what he would say to her, he just didn't expect her to have been so concerned about him not feeling well. And better still, she hadn't said anything about him looking strange or distracted. He figured if he could get through a conversation with his girlfriend, brief as it was, without any meddling ghosts bothering him then everything else should be a breeze. "You really are that oblivious, huh?" and as if on cue, there was that disembodied voice. "I guess a man's cluelessness is the last thing to go." "Please, just shut up," he groaned, "I know you're just trying to mess with me and it's not going to work." The sound of a snort, without breath, more an approximation than the real thing. "Whatever you say, sweetie." The condescension wasn't the worst part, but it did make Noah contemplate a trip up to St. Patrick's on his lunch break to see if there were any spare priests around who wouldn't mind performing a quickie exorcism. Then again, he'd seen enough movies to know that route doesn't usually end well for any of the living people involved. It was an easy decision to stick to the original plan. Just make it through the day, nothing weird, no drama. Work, home, sleep. That's all there was to it. And he accomplished that goal, not that it was without hiccups, but outside of the clerk at the liquor store who called him miss when he decided to pick up a bottle of wine on the way home, he made it through the day virtually without incident. "That's one down," he said to his unseen spirit companion while he sat on his couch, chilled glass of ros? and a half finished cauliflower and feta salad by his side. He flipped through the guide on his TV, pausing briefly over Thursday Night Football before continuing past and settling on an old Friends rerun. He pulled his feet up under him and took a sip of his wine. "I don't even know what I was worried about." "Yup, you really got me on the ropes here," Kim laid it on a little thick, making sure her audience of one picked up on the irony. "The picture of manliness, manning it up. I might need to throw in the towel early at this rate." "Yeah, yeah. You know these weren't my first choice, but you're not gonna catch me wearing spandex." He had changed into a tank top and light pair of cotton shorts when he got home. He knew they were unisex at best, but it was the most masculine thing he could find that passed as comfortable, laying around clothes. If only he knew that the flappy, stretchy part inside the tank top, the bit with the elastic band that hugged around his chest, was a built-in shelf bra. "Just remember, I've got the doorbell camera turned on so I'll know if you try to pull anything during the night." he tugged again at the pesky narrow strap that kept slipping down his shoulder. He couldn't believe he was entertaining the idea that this thing that claimed to be a ghost could take his body at night without him knowing, hijack it and do all manner of debauched acts while he was asleep, but he had seen the pictures and short of ridding himself of Kim completely, he was best off taking whatever precautions he could. The next morning came quickly, his sleep was once again dreamless and blank, but he woke up in his bed still wearing the loungewear he had gone to sleep in, which he took as a sign that nothing funny happened. Noah usually slept nude, but thinking that there was something watching him all night made him reconsider his prohibition on pajamas. He was actually slightly unnerved that he hadn't been greeted with any snide remarks from Kim, but he wasn't going to complain if it meant he could shut his brain off and get ready in peace, saving his energy for the battle he expected would be coming later. He initially reached for the polo he had worn the day before but removed it as soon as he had put it on. Noah reassured himself that his disgust came from the idea of wearing the same thing two days in a row, something he would never have done even before all this started. The only problem was that the only other acceptable choice he could find, and it was barely acceptable at that, was a slate grey tunic top with a round neckline and some sort of shimmery, synthetic material woven throughout. With a pair of black jeans that clung to what he refused to acknowledge were his curvy thighs and shapely calves, he convinced himself that the loose top could be passed off as a light sweater. Strutting through the lobby, the heels of his suede ankle high boots clacking off the marble floors, he gave a smile and wave of his fingers to the doorman as he held the entrance open for Noah. "Have a good day," the stocky, middle aged man gave his usual greeting. "It's already good," the smile on Noah's face grew as he breezed out onto the sidewalk and pulled his sunglasses down from where they had been resting at the crown of his head, acting momentarily as a hairband. Despite all expectations, he had meant it. One day was already done, this one had been a cakewalk so far, and without Kim bugging him, the morning sunlight felt all the more invigorating. The positive vibes kept up under the otherwise drab setting of the office, an easy Friday workload dealt with by noon so Noah could relax and take his time answering a couple stray emails to end his day. Once sent, he leaned back, putting his feet up on his desk while he allowed himself the thought of a stress free weekend ahead. "Cute shoes," she always knew how to pick her spots. After an entire morning and afternoon of silence, Kim soured everything with two simple words. Noah wiggled a foot back and forth, not letting her rile him up. "You're not pulling any of that shit on me, trying to make me all insecure. These are my favorite boots, I've had them since before you showed up." "Have you?" she asked with a playful lilt. "All that practice, explains why you were prancing around in those stilettos all day without any trouble." "Noooo, what are you-" he started to object but cut himself off as he realized what he was wearing on his feet, the pointed toe and slender, three inch heel not how he had remembered the old pair of desert boots he had thought he put on that morning. "Oh my god, you really didn't know." Her laughter was like needles jabbing into him. "Please tell me you've looked in a mirror recently." Panicked at what she meant, Noah dug through his desk, not sure what kind of mirror he would keep in his office until his hand found the spare compact he faintly remembered leaving there several weeks earlier. He flipped open the cover, seeing the makeup he had no recollection of putting on. And not just a little, his whole face was done. Eyes, lips, foundation, and a barely noticeable touch of highlighting and contouring. But what shook him most was that as his eyes moved over his reflection, he could picture precisely what he would have to do to recreate the look he was sporting. "No no no, what the fuck did you do to me?" the question came out in a pathetic whine. "I didn't do anything. Well, nothing today. This was all you, Hun. Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to keep quiet while I was watching you worry your pretty little head trying to decide on the perfect shade of lipstick?" "Fuck you! You're lying," he meant to sound intimidating but could only manage petulant. In mock anger, Kim twisted the knife, "How dare you! I would never pick that metallic bronze for your lips." She gave a haughty scoff, "Not with that skin tone. I'd have gone with more of a matte burgundy." The pestering was lost on her distressed object of torment. Noah was too busy mentally replaying the day, trying to figure out who he had dealt with face to face. Nothing immediately came to mind, maybe somebody caught a glimpse one of the times he had used the restroom, but outside of that he had been in his office all day. He breathed a sigh of relief, feeling his pulse begin to slow. He had plenty of tissues and a large hydro flask, a little elbow grease and he could clean his face. Then it was just a matter of waiting everybody else out and he could slip out of the office without having to explain his shoes. A stop at any of the dozen department stores in Herald Square for some sneakers, maybe shorts and a t-shirt for the weekend, and everything would be taken care of. Wetting a handful of kleenex, he started scrubbing at his painted face. Wipe and discard, grab some more and wipe again. The wastebasket filled with peach and umber and golden wheat streaked rags, crumpled remnants of his unwanted feminine trespass. He felt lighter with each cleansing dab. Checking his progress in the compact, his lips were pink and chapped, skin shiny and uneven, just what he was hoping for. As he tilted the mirror up, he blotted at the corner of his eye. Noah tilted his head, wondering, was it his imagination or were his lashes always so dark? Did his eyes naturally have a subtle, almond shape? The thunderous cackle that burst around him was all the answer he needed. "I'm so happy I got to see this!" Kim squealed with glee, "you just had to go and use the waterproof eye makeup, didn't you? Smart move really, I remember how many times I accidentally smudged my liner when I was still getting used to wearing it." "Waterproof?" The color drained from Noah's face, all the more noticeable without the foundation he had just removed. "That's right, beautiful. It's going to take some real deal makeup remover to get rid of that surprisingly well done cat eye. Hats off, by the way, that can be tricky to get right." "Jesus, would you just shut up," he snapped. "Bullshit this stuff is waterproof, it's just some goop, and I'll get it off one way or another." He soaked a wad of tissues and pressed hard against his lids, plying the sopping, makeshift wipes with enough force they began to break up in his grip. He let out a frustrated grunt, his voice breaking, inadvertently turning it into a high pitched whimper. Five straight minutes and he had failed to remove the first trace of black from his eyes. Not a smudge, not a smear. Some chemist at the cosmetics company deserved a raise. A gentle knock on his door, little more than three brief taps, before it opened. Noah froze, he wanted nothing more than to hide but short of diving under his desk, he didn't know what he could do. "Hey, are you in here?" Madison slipped into the office, stopping short at the sight in front of her. The man who had been one of the most inappropriate, boorish, scummy examples of toxic masculinity, an HR complaint made flesh, sat in front of her, eyes red and puffy with water stained cheeks. "Oh, sorry. Is this a bad time?" Spinning his chair around so he faced the far wall, Noah's ego crumbled at the thought of letting her see him like this, face made up and in distress. "Yeah. No. I mean, now's not good. I'm very busy, can't really talk." he stumbled over his own words. She took a step towards his desk, seeing the pile of tissues in his trash. It looked like there was most of a box in there, her concern growing at Noah's fragile state. "I'm going to come by tonight. I don't think you should be alone right now." She stood, waiting for him to acknowledge what she had said. "I don't know. I have some things I need to do after work..." He wanted to tell her to leave, that she was wrong and he did need to be alone. That his only chance over the next few days was to keep to himself where he would be able to monitor everything he did without the risk of distraction, but he was also heartened by how much she cared. He swooned at the thought of how lucky he was to have found such a wonderful person. Not wanting to push him further, Madison relented. "Okay, but call me as soon as you get home. I want to know you're safe, and if you won't let me come over tonight, you're not keeping me away tomorrow." He waited for the click of his door closing before turning back around. Another glance in the compact told him what a wreck he was, and only convinced him further that he should be around other people as little as possible. After a couple more hours had passed, Noah took a tentative step out into the larger office space. The lights had been dimmed, a good sign that whoever turned them out thought they were the last person to leave. He always liked being in the office after dark, not so much when there was actual work to be done, but more because it reminded him of the times back before the people who he thought of as the second wave had joined the company. Those were the days, Noah reminisced, back when they had barely more than ten employees, when late night strategy sessions were accompanied by adderall to help the guys focus and whiskey to round off the edges. Back before they had enough eyes on them from VC's and hedge funds to worry about how a little partying, a discreet payment to keep a personal assistant quiet, how anything they did could cost them as much money as it would now. They were on top of the world with nothing to slow down their dreams of getting rich. His trip down memory lane was interrupted by the all too noticeable clacking of his shoes as he walked through the office, each step a reminder of how much had changed and how helpless he now felt. The heels felt so awkward, perched on needle points, wobbly like a fawn. His toes were pinched, his center of gravity was off, which he couldn't figure if it was just the boots or if it was because of his newly developed chest and rear, but he found that as long as he didn't think too much about it, if he gave in to all the other distractions, muscle memory he shouldn't have took over. He just didn't know that his body was doing more than finding its balance, as he glided with a runway model's grace towards the elevator, one foot in front of the other on an invisible line, shoulders back and hips rolling, the entire walk oozing a confident sensuality. A feeling that the body's original owner couldn't have felt further from. And distracted he was, as he passed storefront after storefront, window displays with the latest styles, errant tickles played at his deepest desires. That dress looks cute, those shoes are to die for, that bag would go great with the sandals I have back home. Each thought played out in his mind, unbidden but unceasing. Out in public, he didn't dare yell at Kim like he wanted to, accuse her of planting these temptations, demand that she stop, and yet as ripe as he was to be toyed with, that she had decided to remain silent was even more unnerving. Steeling himself, Noah put his head down and pushed through the revolving door, spit out the other side and finding himself inside the self-contained ecosystem that was Macy's flagship. He made a beeline for the escalator, passing counters full of bright and colorful and alluring cosmetics, and stepped off when he had reached what he was hoping was the men's section. Nope, that was cookware. One more floor up and all he saw in front of him were rows and rows of leather accessories and coats. Next floor, he was greeted by a sea of mattresses. Sporting goods, then kid's clothes, finally he gave up when he got off one last time and was surrounded by women's evening wear, and while part of him thought it wouldn't hurt to take a look, he walked to the opposite side of the escalator, set to ride it back down. Of all the stores, he had to ask himself why he chose the most complex, unnavigable, labyrinthine one possible. If he had been pinning his hopes on them having a considerable selection of men's clothing, he was right, but he failed to consider that it didn't matter if they stocked a mountain of rough, baggy jeans and scratchy, cotton t-shirts if he couldn't find them. A hand on his shoulder caught him before he could step onto the moving stairs. "Excuse me, but you looked lost." Noah spun on his heels, snapped out of his growing defeatism. The hand belonged to a young woman, neatly attired in a black turtleneck and crimson skirt. "This place can really be confusing, is there something you're looking for?" "Where to begin," Noah thought to himself. "Um, just a couple things for work and some other stuff for weekends." He answered with a lack of confidence, intimidated by what he wanted to believe was the overwhelming surroundings. The sales associate's face lit up, whether because she was genuinely interested in helping or because she could smell a commission wasn't clear. "I have just the things that would look so great on you. Follow me," she walked deeper into the department while Noah scurried to keep up. Something in the back of his mind told him that it wasn't normal for him to be so skittish. So what if he was out of his comfort zone, he was used to shopping in higher end boutiques, a pretty little salesgirl shouldn't be anything to throw him off his game. And yet, he let her take charge, making suggestions and pointing out things that, even though she kept saying she knew it wasn't what he had come in for, would go with some other thing they had already set aside or pull this or that outfit together even better. She finished ringing him up, explaining the return policy and admonishing Noah for refusing to try on anything no matter how many times she insisted. His arms were loaded down with shopping bags, and not wanting to deal with the Friday evening subway rush, he ordered a car to take him home. Once inside, he dumped the things he had just bought in his bedroom and filled up a pitcher of water. He went around watering the flowers before returning to his abandoned purchases. "How the hell," he murmured to himself as he realized he had traversed the area of his apartment, not to mention city streets and a department store, in stilettos. He slipped the boots off and rubbed his feet, trying to work out a knot, his arches letting him know they weren't used to spending a whole day flexed at that angle. He remembered he had promised Madison he would call her when he got home, but not wanting to get into anything with her hoped that a text would suffice. "Hey, I'm totally wiped. Talk tomorrow." Noah put his phone down and shed his work clothes. "Alright, time for the fashion show," Kim's mocking tone never failed to raise his ire. "Nice try. I'm going to bed, you can do whatever it is you do. Oh wait, that's right, you have no body of your own so I guess you're going to bed too." Kim didn't like being mocked, but a deal was a deal, and she figured anything she did would pale in comparison to whatever the next day had in store for him. The chance of an audience if Madison was there made the prospect all the sweeter. "Hey, still want to talk. Call me" Unnoticed by both, Noah's phone had been lighting up on the nightstand, messages from Madison flashing unseen. "Noah? U asleep already?" Her unease flattened and stripped by the digital text, seeming simply curious when the messages were loaded with anxiety. "I'll be by early. Stay safe." Pair of coffees in hand, the door was unlocked when Madison showed up just after ten. She wouldn't have let herself in, the one sided argument it sounded like Noah was in the middle of not the type of thing she felt comfortable intruding on, but the previous night's worry hadn't faded, the anguish in his voice served as the excuse she needed to intercede. She couldn't have expected the disaster she walked into. Potted plants were knocked over, soil spilled onto the floor in tiny heaps mixed with broken ceramic shards. Noah was yelling, she assumed at somebody on the phone, but the way his cries were becoming more harried and desperate made her wonder who he was directing it all at. "You switched everything! I don't know how, but this girly shit isn't what I bought yesterday!" The bedroom door shot open. Noah streaked through the living room failing to notice he had a visitor. He was still wearing what he had gone to sleep in, a pale green cami and matching boyshorts. "That's it! The only way this will work is if all your shit is in the trash!" He stormed into the bathroom and started loudly and angrily grabbing things out of the medicine cabinet and pitching them into the wastebasket next to the sink. Madison looked one way into his bedroom, clothes strewn everywhere as if they had been thrown about by a natural disaster, then back to Noah as he continued to indiscriminately lay waste to anything his hands could reach. "Noah," She called out, his torrid demolition project continued apace. "I'm not a woman. You can't make me a woman," he muttered to himself, quieter now. "NOAH!" His head shot up at the realization that the voice came from outside of him, from an actual person. He spun quickly, bottles of nail polish clutched in one hand, tubes of lipstick and mascara in the other, panting as his adrenaline began to subside. "Madison? Wh-wh-what are you doing here," he stammered. Turning his head to the side, he paused, as if he were listening to something. Skin flushed, abject humiliation and terror overtaking him as he tried to cover his lingerie clad form with his hands. It was too late, she had seen everything. He followed her gaze as it played over his body. His small but rapidly developing breasts pushed out at the front of his camisole, puffy nipples visible through the thin cotton. A tiny bulge spoiling the not-so-flat front of his panties. "Don't look!" His voice inadvertently raised in his shame. "This isn't me. This is all a mistake, I'm not like this." "Sweetheart," the pity in her eyes made Noah want to shrivel up on the spot, "It's okay. I'm here for you. I could tell something was wrong since the other day." "You could?" He let himself hope. He and Madison had been growing closer, she could help him with this, help him beat Kim. "I didn't want to push you. It's your journey and ultimately you need to make your own peace, but the past couple days, I don't know what happened, I know you've been hurting so bad." She moved in front of him, taking a hand and guiding him over to the couch so they could sit side by side. She spun to face him, they sat so close that Noah's bare legs pressed against hers where skin showed through holes in her ripped jeans. She continued to hold both his hands in hers. "I...I..." he tried to begin. Where to begin? "There's this voice inside me-" he stopped himself. He couldn't tell the complete truth, she'd be taking him to get an emergency psych evaluation if he did, but he tried to describe the last few months as best he could. "It's this voice that is trying to turn me into a woman." "And you think that voice is Kim?" "Right. That's right. I forgot you knew that part. But yeah, the voice, Kim, she keeps pushing me, and trying to take control, and I feel myself slipping. I feel like I'm losing myself and I don't know how to keep her from taking over." His battle and his fears came pouring out, he tried to blink away the tears he felt forming. "Shh, It's alright. It's alright. It's totally normal to second guess things like this," Madison pulled him closer, hugging him and rubbing his back. "I read up on all of this after the last time, when you first introduced me to Kim." "When I what?" He didn't remember sharing anything about this with her before. Not since the cryptic stuff she said at karaoke at least. "Yeah, that night I ran into you outside of that club. I barely recognized you, in that pink wig and silver dress. I never would've guessed if you hadn't come up and introduced yourself." "Kim!" Noah barked at the unseen ghost who had been quiet since Madison found him. "Yeah, that's what you told me. That you liked to be called Kim when you were like that." Madison responded, thinking he was talking to her. "No, that's not what I...you know, nevermind. Was that the only time you saw her? I mean, saw me dressed as Kim." Madison was confused by the question. "Well, you told me that you wanted to keep it quiet, not talk about it at work or unless you brought it up first. You made me promise because you said you were scared of what the other guys would think if they found out, but you haven't really been doing much to hide it coming into work wearing women's clothes." "But that's what I'm saying, that wasn't me. That was Kim! She was making me do that!" The worry returned to Madison's face. "You're not making sense. If you felt like you needed to be Kim, then isn't it great that you could start taking those steps? Like, you obviously started transitioning a while ago. It may be different for us genetic girls, but even with hormones, boobs like those don't grow overnight." The slow trickle of tears turned into a flood. He grabbed his chest, "I never wanted these either!" he choked out through wet sobs, "I'm a freak!" Pulling Noah's head to her, she let her shoulder soak up his blubbering while she stroked the back of his head. "You're not a freak. You're beautiful, and you're finally becoming the woman that you always were inside." Her kind words and motherly care made him feel safe and protected, but what resonated greatest was when she called him beautiful. He hated to admit that he felt a thrill when she said it, and despite whatever feeble protests he made to himself, he could feel his will to fight weakening. "Do you mean it? You don't think I'm a freak? Do you think I'm still me?" "Sweetie, I told you, it's your journey but the outside is just finally catching up to who you've always been," Noah felt that thrum of pleasure again. "I'll tell you what, let's start sorting out all this mess and get you put together. You'll see, you're going to show me exactly who you are inside." Madison stood, giving Noah a minute by himself while she went into his bedroom to start tidying up the clothes he had thrown from his closet and dumped all over the floor. "Don't forget who made you beautiful," Kim broke the silence, speaking directly into Noah's ear. Noah sighed, weary from fighting, disarmed from his conversation with Madison, and just wanting it all to end. He whispered to himself, trying to keep his friend in the other room from hearing, "Just stop. Please, I don't know why I'm the one that you had to torture, but I just want it to be over." A moment passed, as if Kim was considering her actions to that point, but her answer showed no sign of remorse. "It's all in your hands, Noah. It's always been in your hands, but that doesn't mean that you're not going to go in there and put on one of those dresses you bought yesterday. Or maybe it will be the skirt and tights, or the lycra bodysuit." He tried to object but the protest died before it was formed. "Face it, you could've just bought a pair of jeans and gotten through the week, but you went out of your way to put yourself in a position that you could blame me, or the salesgirl, and now probably Madison because you refuse to admit to yourself what you know you want." "But I don't want this..." his voice wavered. "Then prove it." "Hey, I think I found something perfect. Come here!" Madison called from the bedroom. Noah went to join her, walking the couple dozen feet as if he were a condemned man heading for the gallows. He pushed the cracked door all the way open and revealed what would decide his fate. She stood in the middle of his room, holding high a red sheath of cloth, formless as it hung from her fingers. A couple wrinkles towards the bottom, the damage from being balled up and thrown, it was otherwise gorgeous. "Isn't this pretty?" She gave the dress a playful flourish, like a matador drawing the attention of a bull. Noah stood in the doorway, Kim had gone quiet, but that didn't matter. His inner battle was with himself now. He kept trying to tell himself that this was all wrong, that he didn't want this and never wanted this. He was a man, and men don't wear dresses or want to be pretty. But that's not what his body was telling him, as he felt his feet start moving, an excitement building at the prospect of trying on this ultimate example of feminine regalia. "Come on, lose the top, the panties are fine for now." She held it out to him, the back already undone. He did as he was told, dropping the camisole at his feet, and stepped into the offered dress. Madison spun him around so he was facing away from her. As she tied something at the back of his neck, he felt his breasts lift with the support of the fastened halter, the lined front delicately caressing his unprotected nipples. The deep V neck put all of his modest cleavage on display, the plunging neckline not stopping until it reached a spot a few inches above his belly button where side seams darted in. A metallic hum as the zip was pulled up to where it stopped at the small of his back, the rest of the bodice tightening around his sides and waist with each centimeter, finishing with a figure hugging closeness and leaving his shoulders and spine almost fully on display. He stood still as she adjusted the straps and fussed at the hem of his skirt, which fell to his shins. A slit in the left side that cut generously above his knee allowed for some freedom of movement, but the otherwise close fit clung to his hips and butt like it was painted on. It felt good, like the dress was made for him, like it was a part of him. He tried to turn back to the mirror but was prevented by Madison's firm grip on his upper arms. "Not yet, wait until you see the complete picture." "What do you mean?" "You tell me. What would you need if we were going out?" she prompted. Thinking over what his routine would normally be in the morning, Noah hazarded the first thing that came to mind, "Um, shoes, I guess." "Okay, not bad, but that's last. What would you do before that?" He tried to imagine it step by step: Get up, brush teeth, shower, shave if his legs were stubbly, makeup, hair, then get dressed. "Ohhh, you meant hair and makeup," he replied confidently, missing how these particular tasks had only recently become part of his day. "Ding ding ding," she smiled at him. "Not to sound too much like my mother, but don't you just feel naked without putting on your face?" She gave him a subtle push back out towards the bathroom, following behind him and telling him to sit down while she retrieved the cosmetics he had wanted to exile minutes earlier. Sponges and brushes tickled and danced over his face as Madison applied pigments and ointments and shadows. Noah sat still, placid, compliant, as he was told to close his eyes, look up, purse his lips, he followed every instruction without hesitation. Rather than a burning shame to have somebody putting makeup on him, he felt as if he was sharing a bonding moment that he never would've dreamt of being a part of. He knew he should hate it, knew that it was another step down the path of no return, but sitting there as Madison took care of him, final touch ups on his face before rolling a curling iron through one section of hair after the next a couple seconds at a time, he had never felt more relaxed, more at ease. He was almost startled when she announced to him she was finished, making sure to keep him from seeing himself in the bathroom mirror. She walked in front of him, telling him to close his eyes as she guided him back into his room. Temporarily blinded, he held onto her for support as she told him to lift one foot and then the other, lowering each to stand on tiptoes, the stiff soles he perched on held to him with only a thin wisp of a strap across his toes and another encircling his ankle, buckled fast by Madison. He felt his calves flex and butt push out to counter the way the shoes pitched his balance forwards. He was pulled from his spot, short probing steps he knew were taking him towards the corner of the room. Hands ran down his sides and over his hips, straightening out any unstraight lines. "Okay, ready? Take a look." Heavy eyelashes fluttered as he blinked away the darkness. Standing only a few feet from the mirror, far enough to reflect everything but close enough to not miss any details. "Who..." He was at a loss for words, entranced by the image. Trying to process, his mind failed to catch up to what his eyes were telling him. "Who is that?" The question whispered, either to himself or the ghost who had sought to turn him into this he didn't know. "I think you know," Madison moved a couple steps away so he was the only one in view of the mirror. "Tell me, what do you see?" she prompted. Broken down to its constituent parts, what he saw was a face made up with a darker nighttime look; smokey shadow, arched, defined brows, thick eyeliner pulled out to a sharp wing, impossibly long lashes. Slightly parted lips, plump and full with a candy apple gloss, a perfect match for the dress that fit so snug to the body below. That body, with slender, bare shoulders and pert breasts. Skinny limbs and tiny waist contrasted by round hips that tapered as long legs ended at dainty feet held at an imposing angle by barely there high heeled sandals. Taken all together, the only possible answer escaped those sweet, kissable lips, "A woman." "And who do you see?" the question surfaced from all around him. "...Me," a single tear rolled down the cheek of the vixen in the mirror. "And what's your name?" "Nnnnn..." struggling to get the name out, it felt so wrong on the tongue. "Nnnnoooo..." "Don't stop now! You wanted all of this, practically leaped at it. You know who you are! Now say it! Say your name!" The charge boomed from every corner of the room. "Kim! I'm Kim!" The declaration felt like a knife to the heart. Noah had lost, unable to make it through a weekend let alone an entire week. The last of his willpower extinguished, what was left of his consciousness ebbed and flowed away. A hand rose to wipe away any tears before they could spoil Madison's heartfelt work. "That's right," the troubled frown curled into a satisfied smile. Madison had stood in silence, watching her friend grapple with their inner demons, but was overjoyed once it was evident that he had achieved personal acceptance and become she, and could barely believe the change that had overcome her from one second to the next. Everything, how she carried herself as she came over and took Morgan into a tender embrace, the ease in her voice as she thanked her for everything she had done, her aura itself as she moved through the apartment cleaning the mess and restoring order to her home. She was happy. She was in control. She was Kim. __________________________________ I bet you didn't think you'd see me here anymore. Why talk to myself now that I have an actual body that can go anywhere and do anything? Well, you're right, but I figured I'd poured my heart and soul out so far so I owed you one last confessional. You want to know what's up? How things have been since I got my wish? Fucking great, that's how things have been. Awww, I'm sorry, I bet you wanted some sort of monkey's paw thing where I finally got a body but got hit by a bus the next day. Maybe I died, or maybe you've got a sicker imagination and wanted me stuck in a hospital bed, alive in name only. The villain who stole that poor man's life getting her comeuppance. Nope, things don't work that way. I'd say I'm sorry but, come on, we both know that's not true. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have big important plans to get to. Or I don't. Who cares, the point is I got a second shot at life and nothing's gonna take it away from me. __________________________________ A sharp gust tousled her hair, that ever present Manhattan wind that blew in off the river and down the skyscraper canyons. She held her hands up, trying to control it from getting too tangled, giving a girlish squeak while the man she was with could only chuckle. Insensitive maybe, but she was over it quickly, swatting at him affectionately while she took a hairbrush out of her purse and pulled it through her long, golden locks. Even in something as simple as a white t-shirt and pair of cutoffs, she would turn heads with her instagram-influencer beauty. Rail thin, she picked at the fruit plate in front of her, she probably wished she didn't have to watch her figure like her boyfriend with his stack of french toast. She leaned forward, exposing a flash of tight abs uncovered by her cropped top, and placed a gentle, lingering kiss on his lips. "-and I swear to god, Robbie has the biggest...Kim? Hey, Kim, you there?" Madison snapped her fingers, breaking her out of her daydream. "Yeah, Mads, sorry. So what about Robbie?" She took a sip of her mimosa, smiling at her friend, radiant as she was rimmed in summer sunlight, the two enjoying an open air brunch. Crossing her legs, the lace-edged skirt of Kim's puff-sleeve minidress rode up past mid thigh, giving a show of the full length of her tanned and toned legs. She folded her hands on the table in front of her, scratching with cantaloupe orange nails at the spot on her wrist where a gold tennis bracelet had slid down to. "So anyway, Robbie has the biggest spider I've ever seen. Like some sort of super tarantula, keeps it in a cage in his bedroom. Just, ew." She noticed the other woman's focus wane again. Madison turned in her chair to see where Kim's eyes were looking, her gaze immediately finding the hunky adonis a couple tables away. Muscles on muscles, his shirt must not have been able to contain his pecs since he had it unbuttoned nearly the whole way down his chest. Chiseled jaw, thick bulging arms, and god, those muscles between his shoulders and his neck were unbelievable. "Oooh, he's a snack. Too bad he's with that unfairly hot blonde," she edged closer, whispering conspiratorially. If she had been watching, Madison would've seen the slight flick of those muddy blue irises, shifting a couple millimeters over. "Can you blame me, that man is practically a walking fertility clinic." What Kim left unsaid, and was too afraid to say out loud, was that she hadn't been fantasizing about the guy with the superhero physique, unable to take her eyes off his pretty little girlfriend instead. She could try to convince herself that it was all part of an attempt to keep up on the latest street style, but that didn't explain the dull ache she felt in her loins while she had been eye fucking the girl. It wasn't that she couldn't appreciate another woman, there was something about the grace, temperament, and artistry of the fairer sex that was wholly their own, but she was never attracted to one sexually. Not before she died and not since she came back. The last year had been carefree, that didn't mean that she had fallen into some orgiastic pit of vice. The waitress came by and dropped off their check. Madison reached as if she didn't know how this part would play out, with Kim snatching up the leather book and fitting her weighty black AmEx into the sleeve without a word. Slow on the draw, she pouted, "One of these days I'll get to treat you." The offer was sincere, but it was a foregone conclusion that Kim wouldn't let her ever pick up a bill. "Mads, you set me free. This is only the start to me repaying you." Not for brunch, not for a spa day, not for a trip to St. Martin for three days aboard a chartered yacht. Coming out as trans wasn't easy. Pretending to be something you're not day in and day out, living a lie, unable to share your true self with friends and coworkers. At least, that's what Kim claimed in her deposition when she sued her old company for discrimination after they tried to block her from selling her options when she resigned. To say Kim had cashed in would be putting it lightly. For all of Noah's faults, that last presentation had netted the company a significant investment that made his share, now her share, the kind of equity that her grandchildren's grandchildren could still live comfortably from just the interest payments. Funny how they decided to settle so soon after a few pictures of her with their main investor found their way to a couple well chosen inboxes. They got off easy, as far as she was concerned. "I do like having a sugar momma," Madison laughed, "Still, you gotta stop treating me like a kept woman." The waitress came back with Kim's credit card, a hasty signature and generous tip scribbled onto the receipt. "I told you, I'm the one who owes you." She packed her wallet back into her purse, exchanging it for a mirror and lipstick, swabbing on a fresh coat. "It's a fabulous day, how about we walk back?" They took their time, a stroll down the length of the High Line, a couple minutes to soak in the afternoon sun, a couple more as Madison pointed out some of the cute guys who must've been on their way back from some athletic activity or another at Chelsea Piers. "What do you think? basketball, swimming?" She nudged Kim with her elbow. An exaggerated sigh, "I swear, you think I'm boy crazy. All you've done all day is talk about men." "Says the girl who I walked in on getting spit roasted last month...twice." Kim held up her hands in a defensive posture, "Hey, that was Vegas. And you know what they say about Vegas." She thought back to that weekend ? turns out that when you're a high roller, and for an extra couple bucks passed on the sly to the concierge, the hotel doesn't mind replacing the mint on the pillow with a little baggie of molly ? a blush spreading across her face, she looked away, self conscious. "I got carried away. I haven't done anything like that in a long time." A short time later, they had finished their journey and were giggling as they entered Kim's apartment. Madison flopped onto the couch, no sense of modesty as her flouncy, pleated skater skirt flipped up around her hips. Looking at the display, Kim bit her bottom lip, that earlier longing had risen up inside her again. She sat on the other end of the couch, trying her best to avert her eyes. "Um, Mads, you're kinda flashing the goods there." The supine beauty scoffed, "Come on, we're all girls here." "Not all of us," the thought drifted on the outskirts of Kim's perception. "What was that?" she asked out loud, not sure if her hearing was playing tricks on her. "I said you're being a real prude," Madison burst out into another fit of giggles. "Now as penance I want you to give me a foot rub," she wiggled her feet into Kim's lap. "Yeah, well, sometimes a little mystery is best." She began unbuckling the high heeled sandals that had been thrust in front of her, pausing to look down at her own shoes, canvas chucks that were miles more comfortable than what Madison had just walked twenty blocks in. Dropping the sandals to the floor, Kim dug a thumb in and began kneading the tender flesh. "Oh god, I forgot you've got those magic fingers," Madison moaned. She felt a twitch in her panties, an unnerving sensation, but she chalked it up to the squirming foot in her lap. She followed the whimpers as her hands played across toes and then ventured over calves. "Mmmm, that feels soooo good." Kim glanced towards the opposite end of the couch, Madison had never straightened her skirt, "I can make you feel better than this, babe," she purred, licking her lips. The only response was a long, contented sigh as Madison pointed her toes, pressing right into an increasingly sensitive groin, the rising stiffness going unnoticed. Hands slid up further, first a stroke to the back of the knee, next a quick circuit from ankles to lower thighs. A couple rounds of this with no resistance, Kim scooched closer, pulling Madison further to her. "Alright, I think that's good," Madison gave a little giggle, the massage not stopping as Kim had focused further on upper legs. "I said, I think that's good," an edge to her tone. She looked at Kim, a predatory glint in the woman's eye as a hand slipped up her skirt, roughly grabbing her ass. "What the fuck!" Madison jerked away, pulling back so forcefully she fell to the floor. She scrambled to her feet and put distance between herself and the person she didn't want to believe had just groped her. The outburst seemed to restore Kim's senses, "Mads, I don't know..." She shook her head, "I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me." She stood, trying to go over to her friend, her hurt expression struck like the lash of a whip. "Just stay away! You're acting like a...like...like the old you!" She edged closer to the door, collecting her shoes and bag as she did. As she bent to pick them up, keeping herself between the door and Kim, she got an even bigger surprise. The skirt of Kim's dress was tented out, the front raised up by an incongruous erection. "Oh, what. The. Fuck!" Looking down, Kim was immediately aware of the stiff interloper. "No! This isn't...I mean, this thing doesn't work anymore!" Yeah, well it sure seems to be working right now." a dozen steps backwards and Madison was at the door. "Look, Kim, I think we should probably not see each other for a little while," her speech was hurried, "Just some time apart, alright? Okay bye." the door slammed shut. Kim stood in the middle of the living room, stupefied. What had just happened? Madison was her friend, her best friend, and she had just tried to assault her. Not just that, Kim shook her head at the realization, she so badly wanted to fuck her. "But I don't like girls," she muttered to herself. And yet, the evidence to the contrary strained up and out from her own body. That shouldn't have been possible, a year plus' worth of naturally produced female hormones should've shriveled the thing to a useless nub. The only reason she hadn't gotten rid of it yet was that she had thought a breakthrough was coming soon and couldn't spare any flesh for the transformation. Filled with anger, she grabbed hold of the infernal rod. To crush it, to rip it off, she couldn't tell, but dainty fingers with long manicured nails grabbing the raging cock only confused her mind further. Tears welling up, she slumped to the floor, a deep, sonorous laugh building, enveloping her, enshrouding her as everything went dark. __________________________________ That fucking bitch! She thought she could discard me, just toss me aside and go on living her girly little life in my body? Fuck her. She turned me into some sort of swishy queer. Had me doubting who I really was. I see now, I see that all of that bullshit was because of her. Like hell I'd want to be a woman. I'm a man, I had everything, and she tricked me into throwing it all away. I bet she thinks she got rid of me, that I died or disappeared or whatever happened to her, but I'm still alive. I'm here, and she's going to pay. It would be one thing if it was just all about getting my body back, but for the last year I've been stuck, watching, as she used this body, my body, and subjected it to the most vile acts imaginable. The things she let those guys do to it, their throbbing cocks pounding both ends, the salty, musky taste of what collectively must've been a gallon of cum swallowed, the spine tingling, electric shocks when they would caress my nipples... Fuck! Look, I'm still trying to wash out her programming. This Is why I need to get back control as soon as possible. There's no way I want any of this. No. I want, I need, to be the one doing the pounding. My hard meat plowing into a sopping wet cunt. This was the first step. I pushed it too far, yeah, but I saw that desire in Madison's eyes. That's why the first thing I did was get my dick back to how it used to be. The way she had let it waste away, fucking bitch doesn't even know what a good thing is. But they all want it, want to ride it until I can make them see God. I know. I'm starting to understand what she was talking about, how I can adjust my body, tune it, bring it into alignment with me. Not her, me. And now that I'm fully awake, she's not going to be able to stop me. It's mine. I'm the one who made it what it is, and you damn well better believe I'm going to get it back over her dead body.