Becoming a Gill
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

Mother

Melanie Gill had been so proud of her garden, but now it was a mess. The illness and death of her youngest and favorite daughter Helen had destroyed her will to do anything but weep. But now she looked out at what had been her pride and joy, with determination rather than despair. Maybe, if she got busy, her mind might be distracted from her grief. Even for a moment, that would be a relief.

Chapter One - It’s Not Right Uncle John, For All Sorts of Reasons

Michael Tanner's alter ego Michelle performs as the drag artist Crystal Palace at the The Horseshoe Club in London. It's a secret that she keeps close to herself, shared only with her sister and her mother. But when her supervisor watches her perform one night, and not knowing who she is, becomes infatuated with her, Michelle finds herself in an unenviable situation.

It was early morning at the Hazel house when I had a broom and dustpan in my hand going everywhere with hardwood and sweeping any and everything I could. Next, I vacuumed everywhere with carpet and dust cleaned anywhere and everywhere: the walls, ceiling fans, shelves, etcetera. Then I wiped off the counters in both bathrooms and kitchen. Finally, I was washing plates and making breakfast when Mr. Hazel walked in.

“Hey, Rome, mighty early.” He sniffed, “Mmm, that smells good, wha cha making?”

I smiled, “I’m just making muffins, I found some in the cabinet.”

Nancy bewitches a stranger.

Wee David patched his phone into the stage deck. This was a privilege reserved for the last two weeks before opening, and then only show tunes were allowed. (Anomalous among every Techie I have ever met, I’ve always hated show tunes.) Wee David put on a classic (or what Zoomers think of as a classic anyway). V is for Vagina by Puscifer.

We started to clean, with the music pumped in to every part of the stage.

There was a lot of screaming on the car ride back. Usually, this would bring me to a bad mood, but I felt powerful and in control this time. I felt like whatever my dad keeps yelling and threatening me with didn’t matter. It can’t matter. My smile kept and even turned into my wild grin a few times throughout the ride. I realized that he’s not really yelling at me or even cares about actually punishing me. He only cares about how indignant I was to him. How disobedient. He would not ever punish me because that’d take energy and time. He doesn’t really wanna put in the effort.

Nancy helps a friend and tries a new persona.

The past is the past was one of the worst platitudes ever uttered by a fool trying to sound like a sage. Even if this overused cliche was not worn out, the advice in it was useless. People would use this saying to try to push an issue under the rug. Not treating the past with respect was just ignoring your life to move on. In fact, following those so-called words of wisdom had a high probability of damaging someone. An insightful person would know the best way to follow the path of Confucius was to study the past if they wanted to divine the future.

“D-Do you re-really wan-wanna do this, Roman?” My pudgy, little brother, Naples stuttered to me. He was only nine, timid, and terrified of anything and everything. One time he got scared of a snail. Yes, a snail, those cute little buggers. Mom had to hold him real tight to get him to stop screaming. Probably doesn’t help that he’s baby’d by our Mom. Fortunately for me, I got a free snail to add to my collection. Named her Shelly along with Dr. Slugger and Slimy.

Autumn stroked the inside of my thigh all the way back to the school. I found myself idly wondering what her dick would look like. If it would fill me up the way I was hoping Regular Dave would.

Our two car caravan pulled into the space under the school at...a time. Susan was waiting for us, casually chucking a roach under the dumpster, and pretending it was a cigarette. We pretended with her, as we piled out of the cars and apologized for being late.

“You’re not late, it’s the time it always is when you show up,” She said.

Nancy's education in many areas continues.

I wondered absurdly, what would it feel like to kiss someone with that kind of—scruffiness?

 
Butterscotch

24. Decision

by Erin Halfelven

Colorful tents lined the plaza. The shops and restaurants had closed, and in their place stood stands of vendors selling candied fruit and various meats on sticks. A day of cold drink, hot food, and stories punctuated by laughter. Amid the celebrations, three small figures squeezed their way through the crowded streets, hurrying toward the palace. “We’re late,” whispered the one in the lead. “We’re late, we’re late, we’re late! We’re so very late.”

Wednesday morning I awoke without a penis again. I was ready to call the whole thing a hoax (note: I almost called it “fake news” but stopped before I did something I’d hate myself for). Only it had appeared just yesterday and also showed up in the shower.

I spent some time, water washing down my back looking at it. It sprang straight out of my mons, had no testes, and was otherwise exactly like my old penis. It seemed to only appear when it was erect, and my arousal didn’t trigger an erection every time. This looked to just be a case of system checks.

I'd been called queer practically ever since I started school, but I didn't really find out what it meant until seventh grade. This was back when gay still meant happy to most people, and queer was an insult.

Nancy encounters Gotham