I parked the van in a clearing just off the forest service road, having navigated my way over to Phil's network, a complex maze of trails that dug through the Deschutes National Forest. There was a wide range of options here, allowing me to build confidence with the new bike - and the new body - before I tangled with anything more challenging.
I slipped into the back of the van, changing out my leggings for reinforced riding pants, tossing on a compression top over my sports bra, then strapping on the elbow, knee, and chest protectors. The new chest protector fit really well, Greg's got a great eye for boobs, it was sized perfectly. Thanks, Greg. Maybe you did deserve that boner-inducing hug after all.
I pulled the new GoPro out of my pocket and set it on a stump, turning it on as I began my usual pre-ride ritual. "Hey chat, it's me, Tiffany." Shit, I barely had to think about the name that time. I'm not forgetting who am I, right? "Anyway, let's get ready to ride through some of Phil's network out here in the Deschutes National Forest! New bike, let's fucking GOO!"
If my usual videos were bland, this was probably the opposite. I'm not a thesaurus, don't at me, I don't know the word, but wow was I bouncy and excited during that video. I waved to a few other people in the parking lot and climbed on the bike, clipping my feet into the pedals and heading off down the trail.
For the next hour, I took my way, easing into the trails, learning my body and my bike all over again. With my old body, the bike was an extension of my body, but it was like a luxury yacht. I could turn, but I carved trails. I planned ahead, navigating my way through the trails, but also stable at high speed - I could absorb teeth-rattling impacts at high speed with minimal trouble.
Now? This body, this bike, it was like a fucking jet-ski. I was sitting so much lower to the ground, my center of gravity made this thing almost twitchy, if that makes sense. I had to dial back the aggression so I didn't lose control. And on the uphills, having my boobs helped keep the front wheel planted, a little extra help, but downhills turned into a problem where my usual "lean back" strategy almost backfired, almost popping a wheelie on the downhill.
It's almost like dancing with Gwendolyn, I realize, as I hop over a downed log, smiling as I go onto a wooden boardwalk, a banking turn that deposits me in a deep forest. I've got a grin from ear to ear and am loving every minute of this, finally what I needed. I pause, pulling the bike off the trail just in case of other riders, and take a sip from my hydration bladder. Whew, I'm working up a real sweat here, and this isn't even the intermediate trails.
"Hello there," I hear a cheerful female voice ring out, and I glance around, startled. I hadn't seen anyone else nearby. A young woman strode from between the trees, waving at me. I did a double-take, the woman both familiar and not. She was perhaps a medium height, somewhere between myself and Gwendolyn in height, with long black hair containing a pink streak that ran from roots to tips. She was young, perhaps in her early 20s, and busty - maybe even bigger than me. She wore hot pink yoga shorts and a thin white cropped tank-top, dark nipples visible against the fabric.
She strode over, giving me a quick hug. "Nice to meet you. I'm Fiona, who are you?"
I stared at her, my jaw hanging open. What? I coughed, suddenly unsure of how to reply, "T- T- Tiffany," I finally managed. "But you..."
She winked at me, "It's Tiffany now? I'm glad to meet you, Tiff. How's it going so far?"
"You - I - but - I." Very eloquent of me. I talk pretty. "How?," I finally managed.
Fiona laughed, "Tiff. Take a breath. How's it going so far? Are you well? You look a little pent-up."
I unbuckled my helmet and hung it from a handlebar, blowing a stray lock of blonde hair off my face. "I mean, yeah. Gwendolyn hasn't let me cum for almost three days, so yeah, I'm a little pent up. But aside from that, I'm doing well, I think? But seriously, what's going on? None of this is possible. I watched the video. I fell of the side of a mountain and died."
Fiona leaned against a nearby tree, crossing her arms under her breasts, which only further emphasized their ludicrous size. Seriously, they had to be at least three cup sizes bigger than me. "Psh, possible. Who cares about what's possible. Is it fun? What's the verdict?"
Thinking for a moment, I nodded cautiously, "Better than the alternative." That's not saying much, the alternative literally had my brain spattered across the rocks at the bottom of a cliff. "I'm not completely sold, though. I'm still struggling to think of myself as Tiffany. At least half the time, I'm Tim cosplaying as a chick. I'm also terrified that at some point someone's going to ask to see my ID, or I'm going to have to pay taxes, or whatever."
She giggled at me, "Taxes? You're such a nerd." She stepped over, patting my cheek, "The more you embrace it, the more you'll enjoy it. I promise. I'll see what I can do about an ID, though. Have fun biking!" She turned and strode off, quickly disappearing from view behind a nearby tree.
"Hey, wait! I have more questions!" I hopped off the bike and chased, but she'd vanished into thin air. Literally. She walked behind a tree and the moment she was out of my field of view, she was gone. I didn't even see footsteps on the forest floor that indicated someone had walked there. I circled the tree three times like a confused golden retriever. Just the echo of her laugh and the smell of her lip gloss floating in the forest breeze. "Fucking magic," I muttered under my breath. Somewhere in the distance, I can hear her laughter and know that she's having fun at my expense.
Well, that created more questions than answers, but it was still good to see the mysterious woman again. Even if I couldn't explain how she was younger this time around, so I couldn't make my cougar joke as a second time. That's probably fine, nobody likes being told the same joke twice. With a sigh, I walked back to the bike, strapping my helmet back on and pedaling off down the trail.
As I continued down the trails of Phil's network, a thought popped into my head. I should get an apartment here. I almost swerved into a tree, the thought was so unexpected, but luckily recovered. No need to crash a second bike - or body - this month. An apartment, huh? That might be nice, I allowed. I mean, there was nothing wrong with van life, I'd been doing it for about five years now, but if I wanted to bring Gwendolyn back to my place, having a real bed, a real toilet and shower, might be nice.
And I'd have more room for clothes than the van had, I considered with a grin. I do not have a shopping problem. Shut up. More importantly, I could probably set up a more permanent workstation to do my coding, and then if I could find a place with easy access to trails, it would let me be more productive by maximizing my coding-to-biking ratio, right? Translation: I totally want a walk-in closet big enough for Gwendolyn to pin me against and a shower with enough water pressure so she can make me scream without neighbors calling the cops. See? Practical reasons like that.
By the time I made it back to my van, I'd made up my mind. I was going to go apartment shopping as soon as possible, with the goal of finding an awesome place to settle down. I was not making significant financial decisions based off a week-old relationship built on lies about my true identity, okay? I'd been wanting to get out of the van life world for a while now. Liar. I dismounted the bike and walked back toward my parking spot, helmet in one hand, dignity in the other.
Well, while we're on the subject of lying to ourselves, let me be perfectly clear and say that no part of me felt remotely stimulated by jamming my crotch into a mountain bike seat for hours as I bumped around on trails while celibate for the last three days. And if you believe that, I've got a lake to sell you. Spoiler alert: it's in my panties.