From the way the journal is written, the author seemed to believe that succubi were real. Obviously, they sounded plainly mythological. No matter. He�...�d have to read up on it more later. Now he had to concentrate on the next section of his dissertation. Several hours later, he could barely keep his eyes open, so he went to bed, being sure to take the journal to bed with him. He checked the clock: 12:45. Fifteen minutes, he thought. Fifteen minutes with my new book, and then sleep. That would. I liked myself better,felt better and realised that Tony was a poor under achieving substitutecompared to what I was now. I was happier being Toni. It wasn't just theclothes, although that helped a lot. It was the fact that I was more atpeace with myself. I know that I had been through hell on my journey toTonihood, the pickle incident in McDonalds being a prime example, but Iliked the clothes I liked the way people looked at me. Not as a scrawnyboy, but as a young woman with a future, not here. More

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