Chapter 3: Day 2

I awoke feeling awful the next morning. My mouth felt like an old pair of soiled gym socks, and my head was throbbing. I staggered, with my eyes only half open, to the toilet. I lifted the lid and reached for my penis. Grabbing only open air, I panicked before realizing that the body switch had not been a bad dream. I put the seat back down and sat to pee. God, how humiliating that I had been reduced to this. Me, Peter Alan Hotaling, star quarterback of my college team, the guy that had been on a one-man quest to win the heart, or at least the pussy, of every woman in New York City. Now I was one of them. A woman.

I finished peeing and stood to wash my hands and face, looking closely at the face that stared back at me from the mirror. This was only the second day. How was I going to last for another 363 more. I decided then and there that if I spent every day feeling sorry for myself, I would either go crazy, or commit suicide before the year was up. So I determined that I would accept my fate and move on. I brushed my teeth to get the awful taste from my mouth, and then I showered, and shampooed my hair. I saw that stubble was appearing on my legs, so I shaved them and my armpits. Feeling much better, I dressed, putting on the pair of comfortable looking jeans and a T-shirt. I brushed my hair and applied some basic makeup. When I was finished, I stood in front of the mirror and approved of what I saw. When I got back to New York City, I would join a health club and start getting this soft body into shape. Leaving the room, I stopped in the motel's office to inquire about local eating-places. I felt like I hadn't eaten in a week, and that probably wasn't too far from the truth.

Mr. Cleary, the manager and owner, suggested several good places to eat, and I went to see if Peter was up. I knocked on his door several times before he opened it. He looked terrible. He told me that he'd partied all night and needed some more sleep. Looking past him, I saw that he had company. I hoped that he was being careful with my body, but I didn't say anything. Apparently, he was 'off' sparkling water and fruit juice. At least the unfermented kind. I decided to walk to a nearby restaurant for breakfast by myself, so I got my purse and started off.

About halfway there, a car full of teenage boys pulled up next to me and they asked if I wanted a ride. I told them that I was just out for my morning walk, and no thank you. As I walked, they drove slowly along side me, getting more crude and vulgar as we progressed down the road. Finally I just stopped responding to them at all, ignored them and continued walking. This infuriated them, and one of them jumped out when the car stopped. Now I'll admit to being afraid of big, black bears, but an acne-faced teenager does not frighten me regardless of how big he is. When he put his hand on me, I spun on my heel and kicked him in his manhood with all my strength. He screamed and dropped to the ground. I quickly took several steps backward, dropped my purse, and assumed a self-defense position. The other teens piled out of the car and picked up their friend, but after looking at me they apparently decided to find easier pickings, got back into their car and sped off. Peter's years of karate classes had finally come in handy and I got to the restaurant without any further encounters. After a filling breakfast of flapjacks, with sausages, I leisurely returned to the motel, selected a lounge chair next to the pool, and sat down to enjoy the sun.

About an hour later, Peter came out of his room, with his guest. They climbed into the rented car and left. He was back, alone, in 15 minutes. Following him into his room, I asked him if he was ready to return to New York City. He said that he was, so I called the airline and booked two tickets. We packed, paid the motel bill, and drove to the airport. At the car rental agency, I smiled as Peter tried to explain what had happened to the car. Fortunately, I had bought ALL of the insurance options, and there was nothing that the poor clerk could do but verify that we had returned the car. On the plane, we discussed our situation. I would go to live as Kara, while she would live as Peter. I briefed Peter about my life, and he briefed me about his/hers. He would have the more difficult time since I couldn't begin to list my friends and acquaintances. We shared a cab to our homes from Kennedy Airport. Peter dropped me off in Brooklyn, then proceeded to my former residence in Manhattan.