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Chapter 13
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After a rough night of sleep, Judy told her mom over breakfast that she had more work to do with the heroes she’d joined. Her mother offered her a lift to the nearest blue pillar. Judy negotiated for part of the way so that she could change into her costume somewhere out of sight.

This time, the base required a code, which she entered before being beamed into the underground base. Thankfully Walter had sent the code to her with an email.

Hi there. Sorry to have been absent for a few months, but every time I had the time to sit down and post something, real life swerved drunkenly from the darkness beyond and slammed into me. Looks like I have a free moment now though, so please enjoy.

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chapter 12
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At first, Pixeletta thought that her abilities would be enough to get her anywhere in the city, or almost anywhere in the world, as long as there was an internet connection or some sort of smart phone, as few as those were in the autumn of 2008.

They came from outer space!
They wanted our women!
Well, almost…

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Chapter 11
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Captain Patriot flew twice overhead that afternoon that Judy could see. The first time was during lunch, and the second was on the way home while she was in Denise’s family’s car. Denise's mom squeed when she saw the iconic hero in the sky.

Bishop Henri Residence, Brooklyn, New York:
“What are we looking for, Hatter?” Shade looks over towards Aylin as they sneaked around inside Bishop’s Henri’s place.

Carla, himself and Aylin were sent by Anika to Bishop’s Henri’s place. He couldn’t believe they were searching a holy man’s place.

“Concealed vaults, ledgers, anything that ties Bishop Henri to the Hunter organization.” Carla was helping.

“We already know he is the one that ordered the hit against Mrs. Bounty’s family and associates.” Hatter tossed a bible she had flipped through.

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Chapter 10
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Judy drifted, constantly aware of the time. Forty-six minutes passed, and she could not sleep. Judy was someone who could usually fall asleep in under five minutes.

Yet, here, inside the computer that she shared with her mom, Judy had no such luck.

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Chapter 9
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September 27? Dear Diary?

OK, I’m bad at this. I guess I’ll come up with something soon.

My name is Judy Tanimoto. I’m 14 years old, and it has been five days since my body changed for the better. I have decided, for now, to write a new entry every other Saturday unless something big happens that cannot wait to be shared.

Denise’s family, Mom, and I are eating out together tonight. It seemed like a fun idea at the time. I’m writing this now while my mom and I wait for them.

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Chapter 8
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Over the next few days, Judy narrowly avoided walking into the boys’ locker room out of habit, and entered the girls’ one with some timidity. She remained calm when she realized that no one was looking Judy’s way because every girl was too busy changing clothes or chatting out of sight.

Exploring around the barn, Myra discovers a cache of old letters which casts a new, and very disconcerting, light upon the old days when she was Myron and living with her parents. But just when she least wants to be distracted by visitors, a couple of Eerie residents arrive at her door.

I hadn't intended on making a sequel. But the characters had more to say.

"Marvin Vining, please report to the school office."

The sycophant and his friends snickered. A few people, those who have been tutored by Marvin, looked sympathetic. Most didn't seem to care one way or the other.

Marvin stopped by his locker and stashed his backpack. He took his phone out of the locker, sent a text, and slipped it into his pocket.

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Chapter 6
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When classes resumed on Monday, it was almost like nothing had happened, except Jude could tell that that was a lie. Everyone still felt the impact of what had happened on Friday, and then on Saturday. No one wanted to talk about it, as far as Jude could tell, but at least everyone was trying to move on with life.

It was the day of the week when a couple of the P.E. coaches had their students either jog or walk around the track ring for a couple laps before sitting down in the bleachers and warm sunlight.

“Okay, then,” I say to myself, before taking a deep breath and walking through the front door of the large, imposing building. For the first time in two years, I’m entering a place of education that’s based in London- only unlike that last time, I’m doing so on my own terms.

This is a Trust Machines story. If you're not familiar with them, you aren't likely to understand this one. It is a short-short, so there is no development of the background.

There is a discussion of the Trust Machines universe in the parent organizer of this story. (Click [up] at the bottom of this story.)

The Trust Machine universe is discussed here: https://www.deviantart.com/trust-machines

Nobody would likely note the three high school boys that were walking down the sidewalk. The boy on the left was rather large, well over six feet and quite stocky. He was walking with a cocky swagger, and had a cruel smile on his face.

What do you do when you look 7 years old, but you're actually a college student in your late teens? For Kathleen's entire life, she had fought against people treating her much younger than her actual age. Feeling obligated to grow up fast to show people she wasn't the age of her size, Kathleen never let her inner child out. Tired of fighting against the world, she explores the adult submissive world. What she finds, however, is an enjoyment of regression. Had she made a mistake? Would life be better if she just let people treat her how she looks, 7 years old?

I’m really scratching my head to remember the details on this one. It was another life, another time, and I was reminded of it by something someone said the other day. It’s not that I’d rather forget, it’s just the details have been blurred by the passage of time. Let’s start with now and then cast back.

I’m Victoria Garcia, and I’m sixty-seven, a grandmother many times over and still married to Jesus. I’m Scottish whilst Jesus as you may have guessed is Spanish. We adopted and reared six children because I’m trans. Though me being trans has only a small bearing on what I am going to tell you about. I transitioned and had SRS somewhere in my early thirties I think. I’m not going to look it up because this story happened when I was I think sixteen in 1969 long before then and it’s besides the point.

Stan had tears in his eyes as he laughed and said, “Sasha has a seven pound splitting axe just inside the door that he uses for firewood on his yard, and is there anyone here who doesn’t believe he’d use it?”

“I counted my arms and legs first, then my fingers. I was amazed they were all there. We turned round and the plaster lath ceilings had turned into dust and kindling and the entire wall was down. It was just a pile of cobbles and broken lime plaster on the floor.