Laurenina
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

Dolores collapsed in a heap on the sofa in the dressing room.

“I don’t know how much more of this I can handle,” she moaned. “This show is killing me. I don’t know how much longer my voice can take this.”

The Bedsit
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

“I have good news”, he said. “There is still no room at my place, but you can at a bedsit just down the hall from us. And better still the rent is minimal.” Harry seemed pleased with himself.

“What’s the catch?” I asked. London was a hard place to find anything, let alone in his location.

Sporus
A Short Story
Based on fact as recorded in the Annals of Ancient Rome
By Maryanne Peters

Transwife
A Diatribe
By Maryanne Peters

This is not a happy story. I like a happy stories, but this is not one of those.

It started happily enough, from a point. Transgirl wrestles with her problem, transgirl comes out, transgirl cause family commotion, transgirl becomes accepted by family (all except one), transgirl transitions, transgirl becomes accepted at work (all except one), transgirl saves money, transgirl gets her dream anatomy, transgirl meets guy, transgirl falls in love, transgirl marries her man …

Searching
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

It barely rang twice. She was waiting for his call. He was always happy to hear her voice, whatever the circumstances. She asked: “Honey where are you?”

“I’m still in the Quarter,” he said. “I haven’t found him yet, but I have some news. It’s been very … unsettling.”

“Oh,” she said. She sounded very worried, so he felt that he needed to reassure her.

Gran’s Tale
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

Well, if you want to talk about gangs, and that kind of life, you might be surprised to know that both your grandfather and I, were involved in gangs when we were younger.

I will tell you the story if you like, but do not interrupt me. I should tell you first that the story contains sex, violence and bad language, but nothing much more than what is on TV these days. I am sure that your parents will forgive me.

Sikh
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

Sheba recognized Anjit immediately and pulled him inside.

“Quickly,” she said. “Into the storeroom. You need to stay out of sight.”

“They are searching the houses,” Anjit said, the fear dripping from his voice. “They are looking for blood. Nothing I say can stop them. They are crazed. They have killed my parents. Just because they think they look like terrorists.”

Sprung
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

“It’s time”, he said.

I had only just laid down on the sliding bed that was to pass me into the MRI machine. Minutes before the two prison guards with me had been told that no weapons or anything metallic was allowed in the room while the MRI was operating. The Hispanic one had handed his belt and weapon to the other and gone inside with me, his charge. He now lay unconscious on the floor nearby. The man standing over me spoke again:

“This is it. You’re sprung. Come with me and keep it quiet.”

Virtuality
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

“I call her Pandora,” said Felix. “Get used to her. This is why I need you. This kind of interaction has to be a two-person thing.”

Jake was used to virtual reality. It was his thing after all. But here he was in their apartment. The only thing different was that he was in another body. When he held his hand up he could see that it was not his hand at all, it was a slender feminine hand, with manicured nails.

The Slit
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

“Please sit down, Mr McGann.” Senior consulting urologist, Dr. Lambert Pitt did not lift his eyes from the patient file in front of him. “I am just checking my notes. Now let me see … you came to see me, two months ago, regarding concern that your genitals might be shrinking.”

“That’s right, you told me that there was nothing wrong.”

The Surgeon
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

I know that I have an affliction. I am, after all, a man of science. A physician. A surgeon, and a good one. I know that my urges are abnormal, even aberrant. But urges, by their very nature, do not allow for control by logic.

The Statue
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

The development team had thought they were getting nowhere with Terry Adler. He had signed the non-circumvention agreement like all potential angel investors, and he had received the initial Information Memorandum, but he appeared disinterested at first. He still seemed like the best fit – savvy in software of this type, his own team of developers, past history of punting on good ideas and more money than anybody could dream of.

Levirate Bride
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

“I am not telling you to do anything,” said Parviz. “I am just telling you what our traditions are. These traditions are designed to keep the family together.”

“I want that too, but I am not going to submit myself to mutilation.” I was upset, not just because the love of my life was barely a day buried, but because I faced trying to care for our son and daughter without him. And now this.

Mangina
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

I remember the last time I made love to my wife. She let me go on top. It had been that way more often than not, in the last few months. She lay beneath me and I took the full length of her strap-on deep into my vagina. I bounced around on her so that I could imagine that I was thrusting into her, as I had done when I had a penis. Before she took it away.

Adwomen
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

Siobhan and I had gone through a similar education for a career in advertising. We shared a modest apartment in the city. We were both young and ambitious, and short of money. The only real differences were that she was a woman, and I wasn’t; and I had talent, and she didn’t.

Devotee
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

My son JJ had always had a spiritual side.

I came from a religiously family and reacted against it. I would not call myself an atheist. I guess that I have always felt that I had a personal god – somebody to talk to in moments of crisis, to ask the question ‘why?’, or to shout at in moments of frustration. My wife too, came from a devout home. They were Catholics and when she married me and moved away from her family she chose not to connect with the local church. So, both our boys were raised without religion.

New Contract
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

I used to believe that the two most valuable things that I had were my custom-made CZ 75B and my penis. Now I have only one of those. My CZ 75B is my tool of trade, after all.

In addition to a good weapon, the other two ingredients for a success career in my chosen profession are a total disregard for human life and total anonymity. You lose either of those and you are no use. In fact, as far as my handler would be concerned, you are worse than useless - you are a liability.

Births Deaths and Marriages
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

Allan Bingley was not the sort of man who you might think of as a criminal.

He has a small open and honest looking face on a small non-descript body, slightly flabby. He had very little hair on his head. Alopecia rather than pattern baldness, had robbed him of his hair when he was not yet thirty. His mother assured him that it would grow back. It never did. And now she was dead.

Hungover
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

I was hungover big time. I filled the sink with cold water and plunged my whole head in. The only comfort was that I knew that the night before had been the craziest of my life. It was a night that we would be sure to talk about for the rest of our lives. Except maybe not Greg. He might want to forget all about it.

Cobra’s Moll
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

In Mother’s Place
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

My mother was a beautiful woman but seemed to us to have always been sad. I was just 17 and still in high school when she finally put an end to her life.

Losses
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

I lost my balls at 17. It was a motorcycle accident. I was wearing my helmet and had good shoes on, but otherwise just shorts and a tee-shirt. I lost control and hit the kerb dead in front. The bike rode up but I went forward, over the fuel tank. The fuel cap tore open my scrotum and tore into my penis as well. I flew over the sidewalk and landed in the bushes. Other than the mutilation of my genitals I had only light injuries.