Slipskin

Tay was… well, heavenly. It wasn’t usually this good. Usually there was a distant part, a separation, a wall that observed and jotted down every detail. But Tay’s scent, sweat and dirt and lavender soap, made xem more real. Xir calloused hands, arthritic from a young age, were gentle if not agile, and unmistakable to the skin.

I had gotten an eyeful already, sketching xem over these past few weeks in Charles’ apartment. Tay looked soft and plump, but underneath the gentle layers of fat had muscles that made my heart hum. Not short, not tall. Xe had stubble all over, from xir shaved head to their shaved pubes. It was a treat, feeling xir scalp under my fingers.

Xe was smaller than me, at least the me that existed in Charles’ apartment. This me was fairly muscular, though, and if there was an imbalance… I’d done it before. The trick was body fat and hair. I once became a girl so petite I had to grow her breasts another cup size and her hair six feet long. It was harder the other way around.

I breathed in through my nose, holding Tay’s scent in my memory. I let my hands drift over xir body slowly, exploring. Xe did the same, moving in rhythm with the music from the apartment next door.

I love big cities like this. There are so many people, so many sights. I once spent hours sitting on a rock, in the sun, in a park, running my hands over every crevice, sketching out the little details until I had it. That night I sat and thought myself into the change. It took hours, a whole night of me sitting naked with my clothes folded up under my notebook, but it felt like I was stretching muscles that had gotten frozen. Kind of an ache, but good.

Mother told me it was painful for her, especially inanimate stuff, but I think that’s because she didn’t pay attention. She didn’t have the artist’s eye for detail. She really is more of a broad strokes sort of woman.

My sibling was working as a model these days. Several, actually. A good living, even if it made Mother click her tongue about the impossible standards for beauty.

I don’t think either of them ever had the hunger that I do. I don’t change because it gets me something. I change because it feels amazing, like slipping into a new cotton shirt after taking a shower, or plunging into a bubbling hot springs in the middle of winter. And when my selves die, or are bulldozed over, or break, I still have them. I can remember them all.

In all honestly, I don’t remember which me I started out with. Mother can always tell who it is when a stranger visits, but I haven’t seen her for almost fifty years. She may have forgotten. She was a tree in Central Park for a few years, and I think getting leafy for that long makes her a bit dozy after. She likes being plants, especially when she gets tired of farming. She never becomes a man, though. I think she’s a bit old-fashioned that way.

Tay sighed deeply. I smiled and kissed xem on xir nose. “Not so bad, right?” I said.

“Mm. No, not bad at all,” xe smiled. “Is that really all you need to do?”

I grinned and changed. I took it slow -I’d rehearsed xir face, but knowing xem inside and out meant I could change from the tips of my fingers down to my toes. Tay watched in fascination as my features slowly shifted, the high cheekbones moving downwards, soft chin sharpening, my weight redistributing itself.

I could feel my organs shifting and gurgling. Most of the time I didn’t even notice, but with Tay… There was something wrong on the inside.

Xe must have noticed my discomfort, because xe reached out to touch my face. Brave thing, I thought. It wasn’t exactly pleasant to watch the change, much less touch me while I did it.

“Don’t worry,” I said. “Pretty sure it’s just the cancer.”

Xe raised xir eyebrows. “Just?””

A wave of nausea hit me. I clenched my teeth. “Yup. Just some good old-fashioned leukemia.” Xe felt awful.

I held it as long as I could before I let my organs snap back to another self. I kept my outer shell Tay-shaped; I wanted to share this with xem, but I didn’t want to vomit on the carpet. I looked into xir eyes, trembling.

“Weird, very weird,” Tay murmured. “You’ve been doing this how long?”

“My entire life!” Tay smiled back at Tay. “So, like, a century, more or less.”

“Weird,” xe repeated.

We sat, naked and silent, for some time. Tay broke the silence first.

“It’s… I know I’m going to die, eventually, right? But I’m hoping it’s not this round. But I’m going to change. All the… all the fast-growing parts of me are going to change. And die. I’m not going to look like this for long.”

I nodded.

“Just…” xe hesitated. “Visit me, as me? Not as I will be but as I am, as I feel like I should be.”

I nodded again. I’d seen it happen lots of times. They shrink into themselves, they wither. Sometimes, like perennials in Mothers’ garden, they grow back. Sometimes not. I have to make sure I don’t use their face for a while after that.

I smile Tay’s warm smile back at xem and squeeze their hand. “I promise.” Maybe seeing themselves, as they could be, maybe it’ll help.