A Blank Page
Chapter 20
By Flummox

As a result of dressing as a girl for my French class project, I was spending more and more time as a girl. While Sandy had been enthusiastic about my cross-dressing at the start, she seemed less and less in favor of it as time progressed and I spent more time en femme. She wanted a boyfriend.

My Father just didn’t like it. He was reluctant to discuss my cross-dressing; he left it to my Mother to tell me of his concerns. “Your Father had hoped that your cross-dressing was a phase and that you would grow out of it.” she said, “Now he thinks that you might be turning into a girl. He thinks that you are more girl than boy, and he wants you to go to counseling.”

Sandy shared my Dad’s concerns. Therefore, I agreed to go to counseling.

The girls stop to put up the top on the Mustang and get some refreshment, unwittingly putting on a show for the locals.

"Great! Looking great, Grandma."

Following on from the story of my Great Granddaughter, Frances, I was learning some new lessons of my own. Helping her learn to be a teenage girl had strange and unusual side-effects on MY life. [See : https://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/fiction/53268/boy-girl-my-gre...

Work was out of the question as the hypersensitivity was getting worse. I had woke up the next morning to a screaming orgasm. It took several minutes to figure it was me that screamed at least I thought it was a few minutes cause I think I passed out as well. Taking a shower turned into an experience that I couldn't stand as I literally couldn't stand it was so intense. A bath was only slightly arousing. I was so glad that Max, Jackie, and even Megan had to work as if even one of them came over I would have raped them.

In the living room
Underneath the beautiful tree
In the pale glow of the late Christmas afternoon turned night
My brother is wearing a tutu

He squeals and leaps
As he stretches at the barre we got him
The joy from the morning pasted on his face
Fourteen years old
But a little girl still

His beauty is pure
His excitement over his gifts true
His wig, a shield from those who would intrude
His Sephora gift card, a weapon
No goddess ever better armed

Sara takes care of a few things and then goes shopping. Afterwards her friends visit. Megan makes her move, however Sara is protected yet still open. Faced with hypersensitive nerves doesn't make it easy to keep under control. Will Sara fall to Megan's spell anyway? Did her friends figure out that she is girl?

This is where the story is going to differ from the original. In this chapter i changed the ending to give a different take and direct the story down a different path. If you want to read the original go to Fictionmania.

Day three Meeting the Publisher.

Sean wakes not knowing how Jewel wound up in his bed. The time right after the second kiss became a mystery to him. As hints are given and Jewel wanting to be with Sara only. Sean finally remembers everything. He battles with what he discovers.

Chapter Two Read Day Zero First

Sean has a problem to get his book published the owner only publishes stories from women. Sean continues as Sara. Teasing Max as the day goes on. Falling head first into his role as Sara things get complicated. Will they be able to handle what comes next?

Chapter 1 - It All Started in the Bathroom.

My name is Eugene, ‘Gene’ for short. I have three sisters who, when it all started, were 19 and 17, and 13. I was 15. I am the only boy. Mom and Dad must have had some kind of routine, since all of our birthdays are in August. I always view the Thanksgiving turkey with some suspicion - you do the math; how many months from Thanksgiving to August.

There are never enough bathrooms or hot water in a house occupied by three teenaged girls. Accordingly, I plan my bathroom visits with care around their expected bathroom use. Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn’t.

A Change Of Pace – Part 2
By Barbara Lynn Terry

Chapter 1 – And so it begins.

My name is Donald Edward Johnston. I am nineteen years old. I graduated from high school last year. I was still looking for work. So far, I have not found one place that would hire an inexperienced young man like me.

The only real option I have is working for a fast food place. I do have a driver’s license, maybe I could deliver pizza. I do need to find a job. Next semester, I will be going to college. But, in the meantime, I need a job. The problem is, where am I going to find work?

The woman I was interviewing for a job at first gave me a very good impression. In person she confirmed her CV. Competent, decisive, with a no-nonsense getting things done attitude. Perhaps a bit aggressive but for the position in question that was not necessarily a problem. In fact everything went well until she noticed that I was wearing a bra. I should have known better. Never wear a colored bra under a white shirt, even if it’s the most exquisite turquoise.

I walk down the street and get to the apartment building. I walk upstairs to the room numbered 227. I hear moans coming from the other side. I lean right next to the door and wait. A few minutes later the moaning stop and a man in thug attire comes out.

He looks at me for a second and boasts, “Ya motha is a gud fuck, cracka boi.” I held my rising anger in my fist as I just nod. The thug swaggers away.

The Imitation Game
By Vilastis

“STOP IT!” Cassie yelled at her infuriating younger brother Caleb.

“STOP IT!” he yelled back.

She really hated when he did this kind of thing. And her parents didn’t fucking care. Even though he was fourteen now they still saw him as a cute little kid.

“Seriously, stop it!” She clenched her fist.

“Seriously, stop it!” He clenched his fist.

At an all boys school, boys often have to play girl parts in the plays, but jockish 13 year old Trevor is left shocked and nervous when he is cast as the leading lady and love interest to his best friend, in the winter play.

Other people wear dresses too !!!!!

There’s some surprises in life that you don’t expect. And other surprises that you really don’t want. I thought I was alone. No – I knew I was alone, I knew that there was nobody else exactly like me. Nobody who thought like I did or did what I did. Nobody. How could there be?

Here’s a nicer story. Less harsh, less uncomfortable than ‘Hate, Hell, Hope’. That had some good ideas but quite reasonably vote-wise readers don’t like nasty pieces (or, it seems, multi-parts).

'Hopeluiah’ – there can be hope

In this third segment, I was aiming at something better than the spreading of hate and nastiness. Maybe I am naïve but I do believe that people can be kind and generous. Well, some people, if not actually many,

Wouldn’t it be fantastic if some good came like Hope out of Pandora’s box. If out of the spew of unkindness that is so often and so willingly sent our way – that now and again there was unexpected decency and support - even niceness.

Second of a four-part series

The first one up was Lacey - or so she thought. “LACEY!” was the exuberant yell from Rhonda, who bearhugged her cousin. Both fell to the ground in fits of laughter.

“How you been, cuz?”

“Good, good! You?”

“I’m living the dream, and oh my God.” Rhonda stopped and looked over her cousin. “You look absolutely incredible!”

“Stop.” Lacey was modest but secretly relished Rhonda’s compliment.

'Helleluiah’ was their prayer

A second piece about being ‘different’ and how you might get treated by ‘Them’.

There comes a time when there is nothing to look forward to. When the past is filled with hurt and terror and shame and no expectation of improvement.

And, for some, there will be a turning point.