N
The lock makes a low clicking sound as I turn the key and pull the handle one last time to make sure it won’t open. Neither of my parents is home, but it’s better to be safe. I already closed the curtains earlier, and turned the light on. Usually, I don’t use the overhead light if I can avoid it as the light it gives off is kind of cold, but it’s the brightest source of light I have available, and I need to see for this.
Turning away from the door, I release a breath I didn’t realise I’d held, and step in front of the tall mirror by the wall.
I look just the way I remember. Just like Chloe. Blonde hair cascading down my shoulders, flawless skin, slightly snubby nose, naturally dark lips—
My eyes wander down, following my throat, pausing momentarily on the shadow of my collarbone, then wandering on. I’m still wearing a T-shirt, but even underneath that, the form of my breasts is clearly visible. Mechanically, my right hand reaches up and cups my left breast. The feeling is not actually sexy—it’s just a part of me. Even so, I used to feel them all the time for the first few days. Absent-mindedly as I was doing homework, at night when I was lying in bed—just to reassure myself of their continued presence and of the fact that I was still in the body of a girl.
My eyes move on, to the gentle curve of my waist, my hips. I’ve never looked at myself naked before, not if I could at all avoid it. I know, C said it was fine, and I did see myself in glances, but I never really looked.
My fingers are hesitant as they grip the hem of my T-shirt. Once I do this, there’s no going back. Even once we swap back, the memory of Chloe’s naked body will stay with me.
I take a deep breath as I close my eyes briefly, centring myself. It’s fine. C does the same in my body, she said as much. It’s fine.
With a quick motion, I pull the T-shirt over my head, then unhook my bra, sliding it down my arms, still keeping my eyes away from the mirror. Only once I’ve stripped off my jeans and underpants I finally look up and take the time to properly inspect myself.
It’s not a glorious moment. It doesn’t even feel particularly intimate, to my own surprise. I’ve seen flashes of my naked body before, after all. My breasts are still small and round, a slight curve on the underside forming a water droplet shape. Below them, to the sides, the outline of my ribs is barely visible against my skin.
This body is clearly that of somebody who exercises regularly. My abs form two clearly defined lines at the centre of my stomach and in the right light, I can even see the individual muscles. My legs are toned, though somewhat thin. Nothing about it is extraordinarily large. Neither my breasts, nor my butt are out of proportion. It’s simply perfect.
I turn, inspecting my shoulders and back. Even those are perfect. Toned with perfect skin, my body lithe, not gaunt.
Finally, my eyes stop at the cross-section of my legs and my torso, where curly, dark-blonde hair covers my vulva. Hesitantly, my hand rises, first to the height of my belly button, then lowers until the tips feel the coarse hair. They stop there, briefly, before moving past it and finally touching skin. It’s like a tiny ripple runs through me, from my centre up through my core.
I release another breath. I’m not supposed to watch myself as I’m doing it. I may have committed to doing this now, but watching is a step beyond.
So I turn off the ceiling light, leaving on the fairylights to create a warmer atmosphere before lying down on a towel on my bed. I haven’t really done any research, but better safe than sorry, right?
As I close my eyes, my fingers begin to explore. First simple touches, then strokes, side to side, up and down. I know that the clitoris is supposed to be the most sensitive spot and it’s not hard to find, but for now I stay away from it. I vary the pressure and speed of my movements, trying around for a while before settling on a slow circular movement that starts soft, gets more firm and then softer again as it comes back around. I feel my whole body warm, a low heat radiating from my pelvis up to my chest and down my thighs, my fingers growing slick with moisture.
But they’re not my own, are they? I’m not alone in this room. There’s another person, a man kneeling over me, kissing me, his left hand touching me, playing me like an instrument as soft moans begin to build at the back of my throat. I can see him, even through my closed eyes; everything but his face. He has broad shoulders and a body packed with muscles. The kind of person you look at, wondering how easily they could lift or even throw you, wondering what it would feel like to be gently held by their arms, told by their deep, calm voice that everything is going to be alright, that you are beautiful, that they love you.
It’s a person I feel safe with. A person I feel seen by.
A single finger slips inside of me. Only the tip first, but then all the way. The movement in itself doesn’t do a lot, but then he curls his finger, and pleasure radiates up my core. His other hand reaches up to my throat, caressing it, stroking his thumb along my jaw as his lips breathe soft kisses against my collar bone. Then they wander down, and his mouth finds my left breast, enclosing my nipple, his tongue flicking against it as his fingers move faster inside of me, his thumb finally rubbing my clitoris.
I feel the orgasm build. I feel myself tense in anticipation as the pleasure rises. It’s like I’m climbing a mountain, and I know there’s a steep drop on the other side, and it’s a little scary, but I head for it anyway, because that’s what flying is, isn’t it? I feel myself climb higher and higher until suddenly, I’m in free fall. Rhythmic contractions shake my pelvis and core as a low groan escapes my throat, the fingers of my left hand still against my most sensitive spot.
The man is gone.
***
I don’t tell C about it when she gives me a video call. Not what I did and not what I imagined.
It’s unfamiliar in an exciting way, having these thoughts. I used to have crushes, back before I realised I was trans, but they were always girls. And now I just got… myself off to the thought of a man. Not even a specific one, just a man. The implications make my head spin.
Could I like guys?
I never really thought about it. If dating is categorically out of the question for you, why bother dreaming? I had bigger problems. But now…
“Still tired?” C asks, snapping me from my thoughts.
I flinch slightly, then shrug. “Been a long day.”
C is smiling gently when I glance down at the phone. “Well, I was saying that I think the little peacock feather earrings would go well with this dress. But if you’re tired you could just tell Vivi. She won’t be mad.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Is that something you ever did?”
The corners of her mouth quirk. “Do as I say, not as I do.”
The dress I’m wearing is black and low cut, with off-the-shoulder sleeves and a short skirt.. It hugs my figure tightly to the point where I can’t help feeling a little naked in the thin fabric. But there’s no denying that it looks great. I tied back most of my hair in a loose up-do and curled the few strands I left out, which is wildly impractical, I can already tell as much, but also looks absolutely gorgeous. In spite of Chloe’s perfect skin, I spent ages on the makeup, applying both eye shadow and mascara along with a discreet lipstick.
C claps her hands. “Vivi’s gonna be there soon. Put in the earrings and do a final outfit check.”
Hurriedly, I put my phone down to head over to the vanity and put in the earrings she recommended. They’re made of metal, gold with dark blue-and-green detailing that matches not only the dress perfectly, but also the eyeshadow C told me to put on. Almost like she planned this.
Finally, I pick up the phone again and take a picture of myself in the tall mirror by the door, recalling all too vividly the way I looked at myself earlier in the very same spot.
“Perfection!” C shouts excitedly when I send her the picture. “Exactly what I was going for. The makeup looks great!” She hesitates. “Do you like it?”
“Are you kidding?” I can’t tear my eyes away from the photograph on my display. I knew Chloe was gorgeous, but this is a different level. I’ve never seen her dressed up, and this is probably not even the prettiest dress she has. While I was getting this one out of the closet, I came across a long, silky white dress that is probably too fancy for the occasion, but I’ll have to try it on some time. The thought alone makes my stomach tingle.
“I love it!”
“I’m glad,” C giggles. “I’m so happy I could, like, be there for this, even if it’s only via video call. We’ll definitely have to repeat this in person some time. There are so many cool outfit combos I wanna show you, although I’m sure you’ll manage great on your own.”
“I’d like that,” I say, glancing in the direction of the closet. “Of course it’s fun to experiment, but it’s always nice to have something to fall back on where I don’t have to wonder? I feel like I haven’t even laid eyes on half the clothes you own.”
“Half the clothes you own, Chloe,” she corrects me.
I freeze, staring at her thoughtfully. It’s not the first time she’s called me that, of course, but we only rarely use each other’s names when it’s just the two of us. I don’t think I’ve ever called her Noel or Chloe, actually, and the fact that she calls me by her name now, when nobody’s listening—
“Do you always call me that now, even in your head?” I ask hesitantly.
She gives a short nod. “I mean, I try to? It’s your name, after all.”
I don’t know how to reply to that.
“I mean, that’s the goal of this, isn’t it? That I become you, basically, and you become me. What would be the point in only going halfway with this?”
Finally, I regain control over myself and shrug. “I suppose? I mean… I haven’t been doing it, but you’re right?” I shake my head. “It’s wild, you’re so much better at this than me.”
When I look at her again, she doesn’t have the usual look of embarrassed discomfort on her face she gets when I say things like this. Instead, her brow is slightly furrowed, her mouth drawn to the side in thought.
“I think you’re doing great, honestly,” she says then. “It’s not like I have that much to do, right? Meanwhile you’re out there spontaneously taking on the lead role of a play and being all social.”
I want to reply, but right then my phone vibrates, a message popping up that there’s an incoming call from Vivi. I quickly say goodbye before running downstairs to grab my coat, and put on some shoes that will at least protect my feet from getting frostbite on the short way out to the car.