Easy As Hauling A Pike.
by: Her 'n her pussy
part: 301.

I sat in the car and looked at Simon. "I'll have to rent my house to them, won't I?"

"You don't have to, but it would be kind of you to do so. Plus it would generate a bit of income and keep squatters out."

"It's just the thought of someone else living in my parent's house, feels a bit strange."

"It's a secret," I blurted out, rather stupidly.

Uncle Mickey looked at me with mild disapproval. "Juliette, the first rule in keeping secrets is: never admit there's a secret. There is no secret. There never is any secret."

She rushed over with a gleam in her eye and what my uncle later described as a "murderous smile."

Uncle Mickey muttered, "Lord help us, we're in for it now!"

Fate wore a pony tail and a red dress. We were both attending a large group ballroom dancing lesson along with perhaps two hundred other kids our age, all of whom attended schools in town. Our mid-lesson break had just begun when the lovely girl headed my way.
Christina was a very pretty girl with pretty blue eyes and shoulder length, light brown hair. She wore a red, short-sleeve, cotton dress that hung just below her knees and had a sparse floral pattern on it. She wore suntan nylons, and black, leather flats — and she was headed my way.

This story was inspired by Kristina L S who mentioned it in passing in a PM. I took her literally and well, instead of writing the next chapter of The Sight that I know so many thousands, well hundreds . . . okay, both of you are waiting for, I decided to indulge myself and this is what happened . . .

This story was tweaked (slightly) and proofed by the most excellent Gabi. Sorry I forgot to put it in earlier

I looked around for torture equipment and looked warily at a tray on wheels that had a lot of shiny chrome implements on it. Somehow I had a sixth sense that some of that stuff was going to be used on me.

Mom paused and looked at me for a moment. "I don't understand why that girl can't talk to her own mother."

"I can't speak for Maisie," I protested.

"I guess I didn't think about it because there weren't any boys around."

"Oh, my," Maisie commented. "Aren't you a woman of the world!"

"Now," I said, "my parents want to keep a very close eye on me, and they think that Sister Honororia is just wonderful."

"Don't say her name too loud," Maisie cautioned. "She's behind you in the corner, and she's looking right at you."
 

I looked up at the second floor, and saw a girl's face in one of the windows. She looked directly into my eyes, but she didn't move or wave. I was so startled, at first I couldn't tell the others, but when I did, the girl was gone.

"Why are you staring at me?" she demanded.

"I'm sorry," I replied, "I didn't mean to be rude. I've never seen a nun up close before."

"You're going to lie low in a Catholic girls school?" Maisie grinned.

"I hope so."

"Oh, God, I hope not!" she cried. "Listen, next time you do something crazy, bring me along!"

"Marcie, I've seen pictures of you since you... changed, but seeing you in person is..." Dad looked at me for a few moments, then hugged me and pulled Mom into the hug. "... so much better!" he finished.
 

E.A.F.O.A.B. Point Of View: Spike's View-3

E.A.F.O.A.B. Point Of View: Spike And The Clock

E.A.F.O.A.B. Point Of View: Spike's View-1

Transgendered Fairy Tales
by Kaleigh Way

" I got us dates with four of the hottest pieces of ass at James Madison High School" Josh bragged.

" Who are they? asked Bill.

" Stacy Ross, Tracy Reynolds and their sisters Sarah and Jill" said Josh.

" I get Jill!" said Bill. " I saw her walk down the hall on Monday and I knew she has to be my next notch"

" I want Stacy" said Josh.

" I'll take Tracy" said Stan

"Oh, Marcie, Marcie, Marcie! What I am going to do without you? I'm going to have to go back to my boring old life! So many times I thought you were going to give me a heart attack, but I wouldn't have missed any of it."

The mothers of Kristie and Diana arrived together, and I found myself giving the most craven, self-abasing apologies I could muster. I was sure that both women would have been quite happy to claw me to bits and roast me over a barbecue, but the principal wisely kept me out of striking distance.

The girls returned to class, their mothers returned home, and I wondered whether their fathers owned any firearms. They certainly knew where I lived.

As I looked around at their sullen faces, I suddenly felt like Wendy from Peter Pan in the midst of the Lost Boys. "I could tell you a story," I wanted to say, but of course I didn't.