Dinner Party - Part 7



I couldn’t ignore the fact that I would be stuck in this body for a while, and if that were the case, why not make the most of it?

I continued my hike, my mind racing with the possibilities of living as Marion. As I walked, I found myself daydreaming about how I would act around Peter and Aiden.

I imagined myself being a loving wife, cooking dinner for them and cuddling on the couch while we watched TV. Peter would come home from work, tired but happy to see me, and I would greet him with a kiss and a warm smile.

Aiden would tell me about his day at school and I would listen attentively, showing genuine interest in his stories. We would bake cookies together, our laughter filling the kitchen as we made a mess with flour and chocolate chips.

I wondered if I could bring myself to have sex with Peter as Marion again. The thought sent a shiver down my spine, a mix of thrill and confusion. I had just done something so intimate with him, but could I do it again?

In my fantasy, I was the perfect wife and mother. The thought both excited and scared me. Excited because it was a chance to experience something completely new and different from my own life. Scared because I didn't know if I could keep up the charade for long.

As I turned around on the trail, I figured I should learn to lean into the flamboyant nature of Marion’s personality. I would have to train myself to act like her and talk like her.

As I walked, I started to practice my posture, letting my shoulders roll back and my hips sway slightly with each step. I imagined the way Marion carried herself—confident, poised, and undeniably feminine.

"Okay, Jacob," I muttered under my breath, "You can do this. Be Marion." 

With that mantra in mind, I began rehearsing small phrases in my head—things Marion might say when she greeted Aiden or how she might respond to Peter's playful flirtations. 

“Hey, sweetheart!” My voice echoed softly in the quiet forest as I pretended to call out to an imaginary Peter, “How was work today?”

I twirled a lock of hair around my finger.

As I continued my walk, I tried to let go of my inhibitions and fully embrace the persona of Marion. I could feel myself becoming more confident in my movements, swaying my hips and tossing my hair with exaggerated flair.

I tried to push the idea that I was actually Jacob out of my mind. Instead, I focused on embodying Marion in every way possible.

I imagined myself as if I had always been Marion; In my mind, I transformed into Marion, a confident and graceful woman whom I had been since birth.

“I’m a woman,” I whispered to myself, reveling in the strange power of the thought, “I’m Marion.”

"Marion," I repeated, savoring the name that now felt like my own.

I twirled the wedding band on my finger, feeling its cool metal against my skin. It was a reminder of the life I was stepping into: as the only woman in a household of boys. The only one with boobs and a vagina.

As the sole female in a household filled with boys, I would be acutely aware of my differences —my delicate curves and soft skin setting me apart from the rough and tumble nature of my male counterparts.

The thought both excited and scared me. Excited because it was a chance to experience something completely new and different from my own life. Scared because I didn't know if I could keep up the charade for long.

As Marion, I couldn't help but wonder: could I really pretend to be in love with Peter?

I imagined myself as Marion completely infatuated with him —blushing at his compliments, giggling at his jokes, and longing for his touch. It was strange to think that just a few hours ago I had been Jacob, completely uninterested in men.

"I never knew what true love felt like until I met you," I said dreamily under my breath as if responding to one of Peter's compliments.

“That felt incredible, honey,” I said to myself, imagining how Marion might respond to Peter after a romantic evening, “I can’t believe how lucky I am to have you.”

“I loved being pregnant with Aiden,” I whispered, imagining how Marion would reminisce about her experiences, “Those late-night cravings and the tiny kicks—oh, what a joy!”

The more I practiced, the easier it became to slip into this fantasy world where I was Marion and Peter was my loving partner. The words came more naturally and the gestures felt more genuine.

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