"So, when did you first know that you were, well, 'Paige'?" Jessica asked her date, who simply smiled a shy smile in response.

"Since I was about ten," the Scottish girl responded. "I'd go to school and all I could think about were the girls in their uniforms, and about wearing them. Then I went to secondary school and literally EVERY girl there wore tiny pleated skirts and black tights that just seemed to make their legs shine. I've been obsessed with black nylons ever since."

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?

We were walking back to my place and when we reached the park I stopped and asked angela why people were staring at me, she turned and looked at me smiling
"probably the woman are looking at you thinking you are a slag and all the guys are probably thinking nice tits" she then points to my braless chest and my nipples stretching out the front of my shirt
"oh shit why didn't you tell me!" I said angrily

Chapter 85

Faye couldn’t believe his luck.  Here he was, one gorgeous blonde riding his cock like the mechanical bull at the Mule Lip, while yet another was thrusting her throbbing moist pussy into his face…

…After getting the mother of all blowjobs. Not the evening I had planned, but not complaining. Bobbie was gonna be angry, but she’d get over it. Besides, it’s not like she didn’t owe her a little karma.

By Zapper

Synopsis: Megan and Jason are young and in love, but could life be better? They encounter the Wizard and their wishes are granted, SRU style.

Note: I've been working on two longer projects and needed a break. This story idea came to me and I want to dedicate it to SL.

The day is sweltering, and I'm taking a break and having a drink in the parking lot of some no-name rest stop. Business meeting was out in the middle of nowhere, not even within hours of an airport, so I'm stuck driving. Barely even worth the gas.

Psychic Sister

by MonicaS

This story was first posted in 1998 on Fictionmania. This version is edited in details only.

"Sorry that I disturbed your sleep, but I couldn't wait," my sister said when she came into my apartment. "I had a vision."

"About me?" I asked a little worried and she nodded.

SIX WEEKS LATER

I blink my eyes awake and roll over in bed, only to be stopped by an unexpected face full of blonde hair that isn’t my own. Turning my head to the other side, another long mop of blonde hair- again, not my own- blocks my view. Once I’ve blinked the early morning tiredness- and a moderate hangover- out of my eyes, the previous night’s events return to my memory.

“Krys,” I whisper, gently nudging the sleeping woman on my left-hand side. “Han, wake up!” I whisper to the slumbering figure on my right.

"Tighter," I order, eliciting a cry of exasperation from the person behind me.

"It's already closed at the back, it won't go any tighter!" Charlotte sighs in desperation.

"Are you sure?" I ask, gripping my dresser for support as I gasp for air.

"Positive," Charlotte replies. "If it went any tighter you'd probably faint mid-meal! Of course, if that's what you're going for..."

"This is date number three," I explain as Charlotte ties off the laces on my tightest under bust corset. "You KNOW what that means..."

With the rest of the group learning of Akira's secret. Akira lays it all out on the table, in the hopes savaging his friendships with the others. While also telling them about Hanna's plans for revenge.

And later, Natsuru and Ranma will have some unexpected, but important decisions to make, that will effect their lives.

Introduction: They arrive at St. George and everything seems to be going quite well; at least it does for the first couple of days.

The story is not mine. It is based on a very old tale that might have been part of English/Irish lore, it might be French or German. It might even be Persian in origin. I’ll leave it to you to try to figure out what tale it is. If you think you know, PM me. Don’t spoil it for others.

Although there are characters from other stories who make brief appearances, this is a stand-alone story.

"God, this should not be this hard," I complain as I sit in front of my dresser, staring at my anxious (but impeccably made-up) reflection.

"You've taken bigger steps that this before, much bigger steps," Sarah reminds me, wrapping her arms around my shaking body. And she's right- I have.

I brush my shoulder-length hair out of my eyes and tuck it behind my ears as I listen to the middle-aged woman talk as she makes notes on the whiteboard. I fidget a little in my seat- I've been wearing my school uniform all day and even though three months from now I'll have worn it for the very last time, I'd pay anything to go home and slip into something more comfortable... Like a cute skirt and a pair of warm tights, as opposed to my itchy cotton shorts and polyester trousers.

"Beautiful, Jamie," the photographer calls to me as I turn my head and look off into the middle distance, giving the photographer a perfect view of the necklace and earrings I'm wearing- not to mention the exquisite white wedding dress! The dress is strapless, but doesn't show off too much cleavage, and hugs my curves beautifully. I have incredibly long fake nails- extending over an inch from my fingertip- attached to each digit and my make-up is applied flawlessly.

Light filtered in through the expensive curtain to hit me in the face. ‘Why is it that I’m always being woken up by some kind of annoyance,’ I wondered. I sat up and looked around the hotel room. My head hurt and my mouth felt like it was full of cotton. I wondered how much I’d drank last night, it was all a blur. I got up and padded softly to the window and pushed back the curtain.

I was sleeping on my left side and rolled over toward the edge of the bed and away from the wall as my cell phone alarm went off. I felt the shifting of extra flesh on my chest and paused, flat on my back to take stock. My head was pounding and my mouth tasted terrible.

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

For Friends and Family. Andy is looking for a new challenge, his current girlfriends sister has suffered a nervous break down, Andy is very similar in both size and looks, agrees to be changed into a Nichola look alike.
This is a dream for Andy who has a secret desire to live and work as a woman.

For Friends and Family. Andy is looking for a new challenge, his current girlfriends sister has suffered a nervous break down, Andy is very similar in both size and looks, agrees to be changed into a Nichola look alike.
This is a dream for Andy who has a secret desire to live and work as a woman.

For Friends and Family. Andy is looking for a new challenge, his current girlfriends sister has suffered a nervous break down, Andy is very similar in both size and looks, agrees to be changed into a Nichola look alike.
This is a dream for Andy who has a secret desire to live and work as a woman.

Author notes:

This is kind of a long story, so I'll cut to the chase: The existing version of TOTY is dead in the water. Why? Several reasons, largely around continuity and the dark themes I was trying to deal with. But at the end of the day, it was just turning into a story that I wasn't really enjoying writing. And that's what's really important to me at the end of the day.

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.