Transplanted Life
Friday, August 15, 2003
Oh. My. God. I needed that.

I've been sort of cranky all week, above and beyond "I'm in the wrong body and there's nothing I can do about it". It couldn't be PMS, since it was just after Michelle's body had its period. Everything just seemed to irritate me. Even stuff that had absolutely nothing to do with this whole girl thing.

I almost blew Kate and Jen off, but what was I going to do here at Michelle's house? So we head out to Coolidge Corner and on up to that upstairs theater.

Now, I've got to be honest - Swimming Pool is only an okay movie. The first half is kind of neat, in terms of the relationship between Sarah and Julie, but in the latter part, it just gets silly. Then it pulls the surprise ending - most of what you just saw is just a book that Sarah's writing! - which is no surprise, because in the last act, everyone was acting stilted and artificial. But, Ludivine Sagnier spends a good chunk of the movie naked, and let's just say she pulls it off. The sexy accent doesn't hurt, either. Here's the thing - it wasn't just the skin that did it. It was the character's (and actress's) compelte comfort with her body, and the very French, you're-opinion-doesn't-mean-shit-to-me attitude. Just like, yeah, I've got a killer body, and I'm going to enjoy it. By the end of the movie, I was fidgeting in the seat, Michelle's nipples were pretty hard, and I could have sworn the Coolidge guys had turned off the AC. By the time I got back to Michelle's apartment, I needed a cold shower.

Never made it. I had chosen a sort-of-clingy dress out of Michelle's closet this morning, and getting it off seemed to mean touching every erogenous zone on Michelle's body. Once it was on the floor, I took a good look in the mirror, and there was Michelle, hair all sweaty, breasts trying to jump off her chest, mouth half open... I hadn't taken her shoes off, and when I took a step toward that mirror, everything swayed so nicely. Better than Mademoiselle Sagnier, if I say so myself. I gave the breasts a little squeeze, and it felt so good I dropped to the floor. By the time I was really thinking clearly again, well, I'd made it to third base with Michelle. Several times. I lead the league in triples, if I do say so myself.

And, boy, do I feel better. I suppose you could look at it as "giving in" in a way, but it also was a victory over the tension. I'd been living in Michelle's body, but I'd been spending every moment fighting it. But after I was done, I felt calm for the first time since waking up in Michelle's body. Even good, physically. I laid down on the floor and the weight of Michelle's breasts felt kind of nice; her whole body was tingling, and it felt nice. Sleek, and aerodynamic.

I fondled Michelle a little, then stood up and looked in the mirror. Michelle's body didn't look much different, except that I was smiling at it. I'll probably feel different about it tomorrow morning, but right now, Michelle's body doesn't quite feel like a prison. Right now, it's kind of like when your parents drag you out for vacation, and you hate it, but there are fun parts.

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