Christen looked at his reflection as he tried to adjust the bra supporting his huge breasts. He was still pissed at what Eddie had done to him. He looked over towards his roommate Thomas as he fumbled around with the bra, he was wearing to support his huge breasts as well. The two of
them had been victims of bullies at their respected high schools.

The Manchester Early Summer Carnival
A “How I Spent My Summer Vacation: I became a Girl” Gaiden
By
Rebecca Coleman

-2-
Searching for the Perfect Bathing Suit

Chapter 15

With all the equipment through for out camp, we made a habit of keeping the main portal closed, but with the smaller one generated by the dagger open so we could maintain communications with home. I called for the main portal to be opened so I could evacuate non-combatants, only to discover it wouldn’t let us through.

The training team is back with some new challenges and a plot against them.

Author's note: Some plot elements of this story follow up on the events of my story Of Pranks and Finals, which is on the Whateley site but has not been posted on Big Closet. That story was co-written with other authors, so I did not feel it appropriate to post that one here myself.

http://whateleyacademy.net/index.php

The Little Brother
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

In all this transgender shit, nobody talks about people like me. Nobody talks about the little brother.

Imagine that you have an older brother that you always looked up to, a sportsman and a musician and a popular guy at school, somebody a little brother would want to be, and then he tells you he wants to be a girl. That is what Josh did. I could not believe it. None of us could. Our parents were in shock too.

I grew up in the Australian Outback. So, it wasn’t exactly beyond the Black stump and on second thought it wasn’t THAT far from the big city. So let’s say it was in the bush.

A Grumpy Old Man’s Tale 62 Hello Dad

Dave laughed and said, “Simmering on the Hobb‽ That’s over the border in Northumberland isn’t it? Small spot no more that six hundred folk live there.”

Tommy Dowerson said, “Nah. You got that one mixed up, Dave. That’s Gravy on the Hobb you’re going on about over in Northumberland. The Hobb river over there is nay mere than a beck. Simmering on the Hobb is on the outskirts of Ross on Wye away down country, Herefordshire way. Ross has about eleven thousand folk and t’other spot has maybe four. Just on the other side of Ross from Simmering is Custard on the Hobb where the custard boreholes are which strictly puts it into Wales. The Hobb is a big tributary, mostly in Wales, of the Wye which eventually runs into the Severn Estuary. There’re some odd town names down that way like Builth Wells and Symonds Yat. I only know because I did a postmasters’ course in Hereford a few years back.” There was just enough truth in Dave’s and Tommy’s ridiculous remarks to cause some confusion in the newer outsiders, but considerable hilarity amongst the locals and regular attenders from outside. Inventing silly, often profanely coarse, place names and equally ridiculous personal names vaguely connected to the satirical comedies of Monty Python, The Goons and Much Binding on the Marsh was an ongoing game they played often at each others’ expense. Their recently invented favourites were the villages of Shaver on the Motte, Hard on the Rod and Whacking on the Edge, the last of which came about as a result of a discussion concerning killing flies with a fly swatter. For some reason he wouldn’t explain Fluff in the Hinge was considered to be particularly amusing by Alf.

 
 
(This is my first published story, so please be gentle with your comments. I wish to thank Penny Lane for all her encouragement and her editing of this story. Any remaining errors or omissions are all mine. Thanks, Iona.)

“Beautiful,” I involuntarily whisper as I watch the image on my screen, grateful that my microphone is on mute and that none of the other teenagers — the other girls — on the call can hear me. And in fairness, the images I’m seeing ARE beautiful.

The 15-year-old girl looks effortlessly elegant as she glides across the floor in her pink tutu. Even her pink face mask doesn’t detract from the illusion that she is the perfect image of a ballerina — although the badge stuck to the tutu that says ’15 today’ does a little.

Chapter 14

There was a car outside and waiting for me at seven the next morning. Mum had come into my room and pulled my duvet off at six thirty, so I was up and breakfasted and about to reach for my phone when the doorbell rang.

I recognised him from the demonstration David and I had given – pang of hurt at the thought of David – but I didn’t remember a name or even if one had been offered.

“No Finn?” I asked more breezily than I felt.

“Er, commissioned officers don’t tend to pull driver duty, er, ma’am, er, miss. Sorry.”

Chapter 1: The Wish

The morning sunlight filtered into the small bedroom, casting a soft glow on Daniel’s face as he sat on the edge of his bed, staring at himself in the mirror. His hazel eyes looked tired, and his brown hair, always a bit unruly, stuck up in all directions. He sighed, pulling at the loose hem of his shirt.

Today was his fifteenth birthday, but he felt as invisible as ever.

Caelan grew up as an orphan in the shadow of Avaloria’s palace, scraping by on the streets and bound by the ruthless thieves’ guild that demanded his loyalty. He never felt right in his own skin, never found his purpose, only his friends kept him from despair: Eira, the beautiful thief he secretly loved and longed to be like; Thorne, the mercenary who pulled him out of crime; and Alric, a healer who gave hope to the hopeless.

When Caelan is wrongly accused of a crime and the palace guards begin hunting him and his friends, his world falls apart. With nowhere to turn, a mysterious stranger offers a way out; a dangerous mission to find the lost princess of Avaloria. With everything to gain and nothing left to lose, Caelan and his friends set off on a journey that will change them, and their kingdom, forever.

Author’s Note: This is a full-length novel of nearly 100,000 words. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I had writing it.

The School Bully
A Vignette
By Maryanne Peters

It was the home of Jason Davis – the school bully. Jason’s mother answered the doorbell. Chrissy was still wearing the ridiculously short skirt, but had changed her top to something that better displayed her burgeoning breasts.

“Hello Mrs. Davis,” said Chrissy. “I am here to see Jason.”

“My God. It’s Christopher isn’t it?”

“Not for over a year now, but yes, it’s Chrissy now.”

“Come inside, Sweetie,” she said. “What a brave child you are. It must have been so difficult for you.”

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