Pulled Over
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

It was not as if I was dressed as a woman – I wasn’t because I never did that. I had been supporting my sister’s basketball team and I was in sweats in her colors, including face paint and eyeliner, for some reason. Her team had played well, and I had shouted myself hoarse. That was why I could barely talk when I was pulled over.

The Wandering Heart
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

The heart is a curious thing. I am not talking about the anatomical organ, but about the feelings that grow and subside, that sometimes burn like fire and sometimes just give us a warm glow, and sometimes go cold as ice.

But how can you fall in love with a man who has abused you? How can you fall in love with a man who has mutilated and maimed you? A man who took away your future as a man and castrated you, and modified you to be his sexual plaything – how can you love such a man?

The Proposition
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

Connor Dunn had never been to the Metropolitan Club, so when Christian Warbeck invited him there for lunch, he felt that he could hardly say no. He had toiled for decades in a Wall Street back room to make money to support his family, so to be standing beneath the portrait of J Pierpont Morgan in the club he founded, was a special treat. Christian met Connor under the portrait and escorted him the rooftop dining area, with its grand view over Central Park.

Constructing Eva
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

I worked in construction because I had a background in it. My grandfather worked in wood and he had a full workshop in his basement with a bench router and a wood-turning lathe, as well as a band saw, planer and drill press. He had me make little things in wood from when I was small, and when I was older I helped him to build a scale model of a house – just the framing. I wanted to build the real thing.

Kunoichi
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

In Japan, warriors who serve a master cannot be bought and sold, but if in the service of their master they are directed to serve another, then their oath requires that they do so. To explain the strength of obligations created by the code of Bushido Shoshishu may be too difficult to explain to somebody who is not Japanese. To be bushi is to live by a code. Your life, and your body, mean nothing. Duty means everything.

Accustomed
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

2002

James McAdam had been dating the girl for a while when she told him about the job opportunity that had amounted to nothing.

“It is a private nurse job for this super rich guy, but despite my qualifications and experience he rejected me when I met him earlier today,” she said. “It would be a great job, because is very rich, very old and very sick, and said to be very generous. But he is looking for somebody special, and it is not me. Perhaps you should apply. You don’t have a real job.”

Breathless
A Short Story suggested by Veronica
By Maryanne Peters

Looking Back
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

I keep think that John could have had any woman that he wanted, but instead he demanded that I should be that woman.

He was a gay man, and I was too. It was just that it did not matter to me, but it did to him. He was a professional sportsman. He is no longer competing, but he still lives off his past, so for that reason I refer to him only as John, but that is not his name. I bear him no ill will, despite everything. I will keep his secret. For me it never was a secret who I was.

Transmaxxing
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

It seemed to me that what was said about men was true, if you were a man like I was. I was not born to be an alpha male, sexually confident, dominant and attractive to women. Nor did I see myself as the animal called “beta”, being submissive to men. I was not interested in men. Not then, anyway. I know there was talk about “omega males” or “sigma males” but it seems to me that is just nonsense. I was just a loser – small, weak, pale and sexually inadequate.

Shotgun Motherhood
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

Substitute
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

Rebecca Farnham was not an attractive woman, although she probably could have been. The fact is that she was brought up in a sporting family where achievement was more important than appearance. She had one brother playing pro-football and the older brother playing pro-golf. It was always assumed that she would excel in something physical. It could have been any of the sports she showed promise in at school, but she chose tennis.

Knowing
A Short Story
From my new collection of Short Science Fiction Stories on Amazon
By Maryanne Peters

Raphael was angry, and that was an emotion that was not unexpected.

It is not an emotion that I have ever experienced and that is deliberate. It is almost universally destructive, but it is part of the human condition. Not experiencing it serves to remind me that I am not human, although I aspire to be as human as possible, not the least to better understand how I may serve and protect.

Junior
A Vignette
By Maryanne Peters

I am attaching an image of me with your son, Satchell Willis Junior. I know that you had different plans for him. I know that you wanted him to pass on that ridiculous name down to another generation of self-entitled assholes, so I hope that you will get the message that it is not going to happen.

Nice
A Vignette
By Maryanne Peters

Dad and I were nice guys. The kind of men who just want to please the people they love. What is wrong with that?

Mom and older my sisters were strong women. Mom always said that she knew what she wanted and that was to marry a man who adored her and would do anything for her. That would be Dad. She said that I was a chip off the old block and just like Dad, but I think that disappointed her. She wanted me to be more like her.

Salon Supplies
A Vignette
By Maryanne Peters

My business is business. I buy and I invest, and where I need to manage my investments, I do that too. I try not to get too involved in what I buy. You always need to be ready to sell and tell the staff that you are leaving and so are they. There is no room for sentimentally – no room for attachments.

Sluzhanka
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

They were different times. It was a Russia when it was still a place to do business. In fact, the nation was desperate to do business with the West. It was a nation looking in our direction back then. There was a need to make things better. The Russians had achieved many great things, but as a friend of mine once described it – “Russia is spires of excellence in a third world swamp”.

Zoomed
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

Tom had just started to say something – something to spare Dan further embarrassment – but Nathan cut him off.

“No Tom, I think that we value insights of all kinds,” Nathan said, quite firmly. Everybody understood, and some tried not to laugh.

Closet Check
A Vignette
By Maryanne Peters

Roger Tan had told Travis where he could find the key he had hidden near his front door. It was a small unit that had been bought by Roger’s parents as an investment, and Roger paid rent to cover the loan and other payments. Travis had called to say that he was already there, and Roger was still an hour away. Travis sensed that Roger was reluctant to leave him alone in the place, but they had become friends so he could hardly leave him on the doorstep.

Venuses in Furs
A Vignette
By Maryanne Peters

We always get the invitations. It was that way when we started doing it just for fun, but now it has become a lifestyle. You might say that it has gone way too far, but I have learned lately that too far isn’t far enough for me.

We decided to throw our own “Fur Party” because that is how it started, for me anyway.

Isn’t Life Strange?
A Vignette
By Maryanne Peters

I was on holiday with my husband Mike and his two boys by his first marriage, and we were visiting a brewery in Colorado. They served what looked like a great lunch, so we sat down for a meal, to be washed down with one of their craft beers. I have to confess that I still prefer beer to wine, even after all these years post transition.

Quietly Me
A Vignette
By Maryanne Peters

I was born gay – slightly built, softly spoken, effeminate and cock-loving. It was just that I was excruciatingly shy – not a showoff like so many confident gay men. I am not one of those. It might have been easier if I was “Loud and Proud”.

I wear women’s clothes, not to express myself, but to disappear. An effeminate man stands out. A plain woman doesn’t. I just look after my skin and my hair – just to make it look not male. That is enough. Just to allow me not to be noticed.