Author's note:
This is the last story in this series, but not necessarily Belle's last story.

Chapter 17

Marta was astonished. “Brian? I-I-I don’t understand. Where’s Belle? What’s going on?”

“Who’s Belle?” Brian searched the room as if trying to make sense of his situation “I don’t know how I got here. Did I get away from the people who kidnapped me?”

Tears began trickling down Marta’s face. “Brian? Is that really you?”

The Princess of the Desert

By Melodie Thomas

Edited by Holly Hart

Chapter 9

Saturday, May 2, 2009
My mind was totally scrambled by the time we left the crime scene, only fifteen minutes after we arrived. Smith led me back out to the waiting SUV, and we were off to the airport again. The Lear Jet took off only minutes after we boarded, heading to Washington D.C.

The seats in the Lear were arranged with four seats around a fixed table. There were four of these table/chair sets on the jet.

Bobby Green was a hell raisin head banging heavy rocker, he was 5’10 168 lbs dark brown hair and hazel eyes.

He wears baggie faded jeans with a t-shirt with one of his favorite bands and a leather jacket with metal studs .

A chapter where Daphne and Briony's relationship deepens and Briony is introduced to the 'Other side' of Daphne's life.

The Welsh Mountain Ram 16

Briony Betrayed wife and mother.
Sion Her eight-year-old son.
Ellairy Her nine-month--old daughter.
Arfon Brionys’ unfaithful husband.
Dave Cadwalloder Welsh bachelor hill-farmer.
Jenny and Lassie Daves’ sheepdog bitches.
Laddie. Daves’ sheepdog.
Jessica and Pansy Daves’ sows.
Angel Daves’ mare.
Gabriella (Gabby) Angels’ foal (Gift to Sion.)
Daphne Daves’ ‘girlfriend’

Chapter 5

I rubbed my chin and looked at her, "That's some story!"

She scowled, "It's no story! It really did happen!" Standing, she moved to the table.

I shrugged, "Okay then, what happened with the bear? Did someone frighten it off?"

She sat down on a tall, straight-backed chair and held the sheet to cover her intimate parts. "There's more to it if you're interested."

"It's Sunday; I've already missed church. Please continue with your tale." I moved over to the table. Sam sat, she was scowling at me as I took a seat.

"I'm not making this up, it really did happen!" Her eyes looked as though I had hurt her, and I felt like such a heel.

"A guy suddenly changing into a girl is just too hard to believe, Sam! You've got to realize that much! You are asking me to believe that a stupid necklace caused all of that to happen to you?" I pointed at the feminine shape hidden under the sheet.

"It happened," she frowned. "Do you want to hear the rest of it or not?" she asked as she pulled the sheet tighter and folded her arms.

"Go on," I said softly, shrugging my shoulders.

A Chapter where both Briony and Sion get to see more of the magic that so sucessfully transforms Dave into Daphne. briony accepts Dave's invitation to accompany him to the Birmingham Gay village for the New Year.

The Welsh Mountain Ram 15

Briony Betrayed wife and mother.
Sion Her eight-year-old son.
Ellairy Her nine-month--old daughter.
Arfon Brionys’ unfaithful husband.
Dave Cadwalloder Welsh bachelor hill-farmer.
Jenny and Lassie Daves’ sheepdog bitches.
Laddie. Daves’ sheepdog.
Jessica and Pansy Daves’ sows.
Angel Daves’ mare.

Chapter 14

The girls met Kevin and Bob at a TGI Fridays. Bob and Kevin had gotten there early and had already gotten a table.

Part 2 -Calm before calamity

My Super Secret Life-20

Chapter 20

I was more than ready for the shower after my time in the gym with Terry it had helped actually helping her and helping out Shane with her friend Kyle. Shane gives me something to really think able other that my break up with Matt.

CHAPTER 12
That term continued, and my friends became closer. The late Summer soon gave way to gales up the Manche, and the leaves span off the trees and into piles of awkward mulch on the footpaths. Serge had disappeared into a past that felt to me sometimes as if I was watching some elderly motion picture, sepia and silent. Sophie, she was here and now, and in laughing colour. My breasts, no longer ‘teats’ but true breasts, were slowly emerging from their lair in my chest. I do not mean to say that I suddenly developed attributes to match my age, but that it was no longer a case of a sensitive pair of nipples but of a true cushion forming behind them. If only one thing could withdraw from view as others appeared.