Typical me, always getting into arguments.

My name is Tim. I'm a senior in high school. This is the story about the time I took things too far.

I was on the basketball team at my high school. Recently, we had lost a game because of miscommunication. This was largely because of the cheerleaders. They were at fault because we couldn't hear over them. I chose to bring this up to Rachel, the head cheerleader.

"It wasn't our fault." She claimed.

"Yea it was. We couldn't hear each other over your stupid cheers," I rebutted.

Mississauga, Ontario,
August 1st, 2007

Rachael and I played some pool in the teen drop in center. We weren't boyfriend and girlfriend, she wasn't comfortable being in that type of relationship while I was still looking for Master, but that didn't keep us from being best friends. Since most of Sam's old friends were out of town for the summer, or in the case of Bobby, Frank and a few others, pissed that I had beaten up Bobby, we had explored the city some more finding new places to hang out and meeting new people.

This part pushes things a little near the end, all I ask is that you read to the end the final part is very satisfying and should change some of the opinions people have messaged me about Glitch.

Cyberspace,
Nighttime, July 9th, 2007

Warning. This chapter and following chapters in its "thread" will contain some sexual situations, BDSM and other "kink". Nothing that outrageous, but there will be some.

***

He found it while exploring the woods one day.

He thought he heard voices. Between that and the twinges he was getting from his bondage he decided it was best to get off the trail.

He'd decided to try getting closer to the foot of the cliff. He couldn't be sure through the trees, but it looked like there wasn't a talus slope here.

It was odd, he'd have sworn there wasn't a place like that around here. He'd been digging through the local woods for years and surely he'd have noticed?

To his amazement, he suddenly stepped into a cleared area. Just some moss on the ground, then a bunch of waist high stones in a arc from the cliff. It was odd. Not only wasn't there a talus slope, but the stones weren't the basalt that all the local rock was.

He was just noticing the stones inside the arc and the large opening in the cliff when he heard the voices again.

"I'm sure I saw someone! And they were naked!"

Toronto Sick Children's Hospital,
June 5, 2007

A groan ripped through my throat. A drum beat incessantly within me. Something rushed through my body, surging and pulsing, roaring in my ears. Bugs and pins covered my body poking me, making me itch and my skin crawl. Every breath brought pain into the core of my being. Even with my eyes closed the bright lights made them water and burn. My body growled, I felt hollow and something in me twisted itself into a knot. A door opened, the creaking of the hinge was like nails on a chalkboard.

This story is told more from the mothers perspective then the MtF teenager. Enjoy.

Disclaimer:
"This is fan fiction for the Whateley Academy series. It may or may not match the timeline, characters, and continuity, but it's fan fiction so I hope it's forgivable.

November, 2007

It’s dark and I can barely see where I am. I try to stand.

I feel like I just ran a marathon and my legs are like jelly.

My legs slowly regain strength as I will them to move and I go from sitting to standing.
A new weight puts pressure on my chest and I see that I am indeed sporting two C cup, omega shaped breasts.

As the sun is setting Brad and I link up with Donaldo and Sgt. Aaron Doyle and we catch a bus to the hotel strip. It takes about 30 minutes but the wait only makes anticipation better. We get dropped off downtown and take in the sights. Neon lights, signs for miles. Japanese tourists dominate the foot traffic. I see a few familiar faces walk past us.

Prologue:

We all know what had happened to Anya from her story 'The Temptation of Anya' and the outcome of what Oksana's revenge had done to her.

But what of the effects on others who come to the park? What effects could have been caused intentionally or unintentionally? Here is one such story or several. A story of hopes and dreams. Of love and friendships.

OUTED IN THE OFFICE
Fiction by Cynthia V. Hart

The white #10 business envelope had no printing on it, just my name handwritten on the front. I found it sitting in my chair Monday morning when I arrived at work and came to my cubicle. I wondered who it was from; if it were official company communication, it would have been in one of our letterhead envelopes. I sat down, opened it and found a folded letter-size sheet of paper. On it was a printed photo, obviously taken by a smartphone’s camera…and my eyes widened in shock.

It was a photo of Andrea, no question. The dress, the face, the wig, the décor of the club…they were unmistakable. Someone had snapped a photo of me in my “other life” and left it here waiting for me in this envelope. I had thought nobody in the office knew I was a crossdresser, but here in my hands was proof that I was wrong. My heart was in my mouth and I started shaking with sheer terror.

Under the photo was printing from Microsoft Word or some other word-processing software, in that annoyingly overused Comic Sans font. It read:

“Dear Andrew: Is this you?

“Your friend always, Wendy.”

I gaped at the signature. Was this the gorgeous young lady I had spent two years or more working alongside, who sat just down the row of cubicles from me? Young, pale-skinned and freckled, busty and red-haired, blue-eyed and very cute, Wendy Parsons had always seemed a bit friendlier to me than most of the people there…but I had put it down to the rapport I often had with women, with whom I had always gotten along much better than those of my own gender. She strongly resembled a younger version of the actress who plays Joan on Mad Men -- Christina Hendricks, I think her name is -- right down to the epic prow. I had always loved the way her wavy crimson mane cascaded down from her head back over her shoulders, and the way her ample breasts filled out the front of her businesslike blouses and dresses. Sometimes I liked to imagine she wore something cut a bit lower than usual or left one extra button unbuttoned just for me to enjoy…but of course, that was mere fantasy.

I sat there for what must have been close to an hour, not even getting any work done, just trying to cope with the news that at least one of my co-workers was on to me and deciding what to do. Was it really from Wendy, or one of my other co-workers who’d spotted me and was trying to trap me?

FIVE MONTHS LATER

“Oww…” Charlotte moans as I pull the laces of her corset ever tighter. “Whose stupid idea was this again?”

“Yours,” I laugh as I give the laces one final pull before tying them in a bow.

“I wish I had less imagination,” Charlotte laughs as she pulls on the remaining layers of her elaborate Victorian-style ball gown. “Is it at least closed at the back?”

“Of course,” I say with pride. “If your corset-maker is to be believed, we’re both now proud owners of 20 inch waists!”

Don’t Make Me Wild like You: A TG Mixed Tape

An unconventional prison. A world where clandestine services operators have access to body swapping technology. A super-selling record that "effects" all the men who listen to it. Hit play on the sexiest Mixed Tape Collection yet for these stories, an interview with Maggie Finson co-creator of the the Whateley Universe, AND MORE!

Rado Mitruczek was one of the 'old guard' of modern art in the former Eastern Bloc going back to the 1950s when he emigrated to Czechoslovakia before the 'Prague Spring'. His battles with authority over freedom of expression were the stuff of legend.

And it was mostly legend.

Rado's wrangles with censors were mostly theater... both the artist and the bureaucrats got a lot of mileage and cachet within their respective communities of supporters over the 'culture wars'.

My Life of Leotards, Lingerie, and More

By Pacific Chris

The following is a true story, true in every way, except the names have been changed and the conversations have been paraphrased.

Part 1 – My First Leotard

Chapter 79

Faye had a beer open and sitting on the table. Bobbie had looked at him crossways for that.

“What?” He asked, taking a swig.

“He had a problem.”

“So did you, don’t get all high and mighty now.”

Bobbie rolled her eyes. “I’m not. I just…”

“Fuck. Sorry, Faye.”

The vibrating phone threatened to resurrect the erection that had been running off and on all day. Being aroused all the time was one thing if your state wasn’t telegraphed so easily.

Don't You Remember?
by Stephanie Rose

Mark Jacobson was running late. He was meeting his best friend, Jake Schneider at their old hunting grounds, Blake's Tavern. They had barely seen each other in the four years since high school. Now, both of them college graduates, they were finally back home. It was time to re- connect.

Mark flashed his ID at the bouncer at the door. The burly man waved him through without a second look. Mark smiled. It was the first time he had gone in there without having to pull one of his tricks. Those days were behind him now.

On the ride to L.A. I reflected on how ...natural and comfortable I was being Jodie, ...or Olive ...or even Juanita. Many names, same girl..... same ….me. It was now Jody... or Joseph Junior... or Cadet O'Donnell that seemed like the fiction... or a biography I'd read. I remembered events from his life, but not viscerally. All the recollections were in my head... but none of them any longer lived in my heart.

This story is available on amazon here The New E.D. Treatment
for sale or a review if you can spare a few seconds.

Author's note: If ever there was an epic fail.

Chapter 65

Faye was home early from the bakery that night, with Bobbie and Nick nowhere to be found. She looked around at the empty place. The energy was so different now with all the tension between herself, Bobbie, and Nick.

She was cleaning up some dishes when Bobbie finally came in.

“Hey.” She said, sounding down. “I’m just gonna go to bed. Phone died.” There was a heavy sigh.

“Hmmm, goodnight.” Faye said, looking at Bobbie with a thinly veiled intensity.

Bobbie slowly walked down the hallway.

I've been told by some people that I should write a book, apparently these people believe that I have worthwhile experiences to share that might be of benefit to someone somewhere. I'm not too sure of that, I'm even less sure of that if I were to let those same people who prodded me onward know the exact light in which they would be portrayed that they would still insist I move forward.

All names and places have been changed to protect the innocent and guilty alike... Well okay perhaps not all of them, I really don't think I'm creative enough for that...