Gary had never been hotter in his life.
Hey, that’s Africa for you, he thought to himself. It’s not like anyone ever said it wouldn’t be anything other than sweat-your-fucking-balls-off hot. And boy is it! If anything, they might have been underselling it!

For Saturday, August 5, I brought Aries back with a specific idea in mind. After breakfast, and after asking Aries to put on one of her bikinis, I called my parents and set up another video call.

As soon as Aries came into the frame, before I even had a chance to introduce her to my parents, Mom exclaimed, “What the hell is that!”

“I can explain, Mom,” I said.

But Dad interrupted with, “Told you so.”

“Told me what?” I asked.

In the dream, within her dreamworld, I tried to see how far into Victoria’s past I see. And it was what wasn’t there that stood out. There were memories, and more memories of Victoria’s than I could ever remember exploring before. I could actually follow my Victoria back a bit further now in her mind, before I could remember ever having dreamed of being Victoria, though not all the way back to when I first invented Nancy before we had even started school. But this Victoria, the one who I grew up being in dreams, was not, no way, no how, the same as alt-Victoria that I brought into the world the other day. Even if she had some of the same personality traits, it was clear that she followed a different path.

I awoke, in bed, on Thursday, July 27, as Victoria, beside and intimate with what I expected would be Jody’s body. But when I tried to get Jody up, I couldn’t feel him at all in my mind. There was only Victoria. When I looked at the body in the bed beside me, I saw he was blond. Who was he? I roused my bedmate and got a better look at him.

The portal people had come up with a different solution to the sewage problem. Rather than a system of pipes and waste processing plants and controversy over where those let out, they had genetically engineered their bodies so that they did not need any of that, or even toilets.

In the dream, I was there with Mona, and I went straight to the point.

“What I’d like, if you can do it, is a portal between my home in Alaska and my dream-home in the world Nancy lives in. My home is two doors down from hers. Um, no, I shouldn’t call it a portal because of the Portal People. Let’s say a doorway.”

Monday, July 17, my bed-mate was just the doll again. I spent the day back out at well 2 again, but we resolved the problem that day and so they had me take Tuesday off. Since I felt like I had been neglecting her, I focused on dreaming about Victoria that night. Being Victoria had been awkward when I was working, and I’d had other priorities the last two weekends, so this was the first day that was convenient to bring her back since I’d figured out I had some control.

Nancy revealed the surprising fact that she remembered her time at home alone the days she wasn’t here the last week, though she didn’t remember any such time before that. Specifically, she remembered starting her period on Monday. Until now, she hadn’t remembered any specific event from any time I wasn’t dreaming about her, though it seemed like she implicitly knew some things that she should have known if she grew up at the same time as and down the street from me, even if her house was at an imaginary address on my street.

Caden wakes to the alarm's shrill beep, his hand slapping at the nightstand like it is a betrayal. The garment bags lie in a dark heap by the door.

He hesitates at the underwear drawer. The boxer briefs are folded neatly. He pulls them on, then dressed mechanically: the navy pencil skirt next, the wool cool against his thighs. Then the cream silk blouse, buttons fumbling under his fingers. The blazer comes last, shoulder seams settling perfectly without adjustment.

When teenage superhero Prodigious Girl accompanies her mentor to a mysterious tropical resort for superheroes and supervillains, her best friend Caleb gets transformed into the pigtailed heroine Hissyfit—and what starts as a chaotic island getaway turns into a romantic, reality-bending identity crisis. (A tale of Faraday City. It's a superhero adventure/comedy sequel to my story Identity Crisis, but it's accessible to new readers if you want to jump right in!)

The character in my dreams was not as common as Nancy or Victoria, but I was still quite familiar with her. Mona was a witch, a sorceress, whatever. A woman who did magic using a magic wand.

When I awoke, Victoria was there in the place of the doll. Remember when I said her story was for another time? I guess it’s “another time” now.

[Note - this section contains an alcohol-induced gap in Caden's memory with ambiguity around what happens during that gap, referenced later in the story. In case this is upsetting to some readers I'm giving warning here.]

---

The intercom buzzes twice before Hale's voice crackles through — "Who is it?" — the same baritone Caden had heard on a hundred conference calls, smooth as poured bourbon.

"Caden Voss." His voice comes out softer than he intended, vowels rounding at the edges.

A pause. The static hisses.

"Sorry?"

Morning light finds him asleep in his clothes, barely rested. He packs both devices into his messenger bag and heads for the closest repair shop.

The bell jingles as he enters. A technician glances up from behind the counter — early twenties, a name tag reading ETHAN. His eyes skim past Caden's shoulders, landing somewhere around chin level. "Help you, ma'am?"

Caden's breath hitches. He sets the laptop and phone on the counter.

"Sir," he says, his pitch higher than expected, higher than a man's should be. He coughs, tries again. "Biometric lockout."

A week later. The alarm blares and Caden slams a palm down on it, the sharp sting of impact radiating up his wrist. He stares at the ceiling. Podcast day — out of town, he and Hale are both guests on the show. Keynote finalized. Twenty-eight days since the first flannel seam had scraped his neck raw.

Torn from his own world and stuffed into the body of a villainess, facing the end of a doomed route he himself wrote, "Amelia" must navigate a world she really should know - too bad she was never great at worldbuilding.

Stuck in a world she (maybe) created, Amelia quickly finds that reality has filled in the details she failed to describe. The characters who were so flat when she wrote them now have nuance, and motives. The kingdom she wrote into existence is experiencing internal strife she never even thought about. And let's not even get into the complexities of the magic system, or the demon that forced her into this situation to begin with...

Oh, and then there's the fact that she's about to be arrested and executed... but surely she can come up with a way to write herself out of that, right?

...Right?

This is the start of a (currently) 3 part story, dealing with the world’s biggest sissy, the world’s biggest she stud, the greatest hookup ever written and (eventually) all that follows! If you want to read the rest of the night and stay informed of all the nights beyond, subscribe to my patreon:

https://www.patreon.com/c/SissyGirlSammi

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