A friendly place to read, write and discuss Transgender Fiction.
Home of 3000+ chapters of Easy as Falling off a Bike by Angharad and many other stories.
When we left Billie and Kateri, they were the victims of a home invasion. The
story picks up from there.
I am going to put this particular story on hold for a little while, but Billie and Kateri
will be back fairly soon. Thank you, again for your support! ~Clara.
Against his better judgement, a man gives his wife a very feminine piece
of lingerie for their anniversary. She does not appreciate the gesture and makes
an offer that he takes her up on.
With everyone watching, I stepped to the table, filled a goblet, and downed it in one go.
Ugh. Whatever vintage Horatio had brought out this time, it wasn’t Asmodian. Nor I’d bet of the wines Vance had spoken highly about a long time ago, those crafted by the elves of Nidavellir. I’d forgotten how bitter were most of the offerings in Hell - heck, I’d even have preferred that Chardonnay from the dragon soiree I’d attended with Isaiah.
Dangit. Isaiah.
What was I going to tell my friend? That his greater spirit would eventually decide whether I should be allowed to exist? And if decided against, Azrael would be forced to destroy me.
Would that mean Isaiah would have to try to kill me too?
When Ozzie finally stopped to catch his breath,
Avery summed up the case in a single sentence:
"The problem is that you ordered a French Maid Costume,
and now that you're wearing it, you can't take it off."
"That's right," he said. "You make it sound simple,
but it's a nightmare, I'm telling you!"
After a relatively light lunch, Tom asked to take Mima to feed the ducks. I agreed on the condition he wrap her up warmly, it was really cold, a raw penetrating cold. As he left I told him I was going to be busy for an hour or so, and winked at him. His face broke into a broad grin. Stella appeared, lagged to the gills, and went with them, carrying the remains of a stale loaf.
"Wow Jessie, you were such a brave girl! Your earrings look incredible too!"
"Thanks Ashley and I'm sorry for being such a cry baby."
"It's quite alright. First piercings are always rough. You were a brave girl!"
As Ashley paid for the earrings Jessie wandered out of the store in deep thought. Something wasn't right, but he just couldn't place his finger on it. What could it be? He was picking his brain trying to figure out where this deep rooted uncomfortableness came from, when suddenly... WHACK!
Jessie looked at the bra he was given to try out. He liked the color for sure. I mean who doesn't like light pink? He also liked the intricate detail on it...the tiny lace stitching, the flowers sewn into the center, the delicate straps.
He took off his top, then unloosed his bra, leaving his breasts dangling.
"Whoah! You have been eating your Wheaties, haven't you?" Ashley joked as she sat there open-jawed. On Jessie's chest hung two well formed breasts swaying gently as he moved. He must have grown a full cup size since she had seen them last!
Jessie quickly put the bra back on, feeling embarrassed.
I looked at my watch; it was three in the morning. Lying back against the pillows, I wondered what Michelle would think of me. Did she think that my migraine was just an excuse? Had I drunk too much?
As his mother’s ambivalence continues, Jarod remains a boy even as Jane’s modeling career takes on mythic proportions,
forcing this lovely teenager to live a double life with all its complications.
In Jessie's clouded head, he assumed that all these men who were looking him up and down were trying to size him up to kick his ass, since he was with such a pretty girl - a pretty girl they wanted for themselves.
"What are you talking about? I just want to chat with you a bit, if that's cool," the boy explained.
"Really? Yeah, that's cool. I'm surprised you aren't like the rest of the guys in here. They keep looking me up and down like they want to kick my ass or something," Jessie expressed.
"Well, I'm sure they want to do something to you, but you can rest assured that it's not kicking your ass. I apologize for my gender...men can be dogs a lot of the time. I'm Scott by the way."
I lie down
on the double bed that I have been sitting on throughout our long chat. I feel
convinced that I am about to do the right thing. People are depending on me. I
want to see if I can pull this off.
"Okay Mom.
Call in the Wizards. I'll do it." I manage to get out before fading into a
comfortable sleep.
"Now why don't the two of you hug and make-up?" Ashley added.
"No way! I'm not hugging a dude!" Jason adamantly refused.
"Jason, I think you are being silly...I said WHY DON"T YOU TWO HUG?" Ashley firmly asked her brother knowing that she had him under her thumb. She loved seeing him squirm as well.
Jason begrudgingly agreed along with Jessie. The two gave each other a quick hug and that was that. Jessie felt a strange tingle when Jason embraced him. He didn't realize how strong Jason was and found himself blushing a bit. Jason on the other hand could have sworn that his former best friend felt like he had breasts. He had hugged enough girls to cop a feel and was shocked to find that Jessie's body reminded him of a girl's.
This story is the story of how Madam Martinique, the head mistress of the finishing school that bore her name, had come to be in the care of the unforgettable Jane Thompson. It's based on Seasons of Change, copyright 1989 by Joel Larence, but more on the continuation of that original story into a series, copyright 1997 to 2008 by Tigger.
Suddenly a male model was called on the beach to do a take with one of the female models. Jessie's attention unknowingly switched focus from the girl on the beach to the male model. "Wow! That guy must have worked out tons to get that body!" he thought. As he watched the two partake in the photo session Jessie found himself observing an awful lot of the man. Look at those biceps and those abs…he felt himself getting a little flush. As Jessie continued to stare he found himself getting more and more aroused by the sight. His pretty painted hands found their way back to his chest and he began playing with his nipples. Whoa! Something about this felt very right indeed! He continued to caress his breasts as he stared down the male model. Look at how strong he is… amazing smile… what an ass!!!
"I think it's just cause your not used to wearing a nightgown and the pantyhose may be feeling different than the tights. How do you like your pantyhose anyway?" Amanda asked trying to change the subject.
"I was a little hesitant mom but I absolutely love them! It's almost like I'm not wearing anything. I like the feeling of the air flowing under my nightgown also. It feels cool especially when I do this."
Just then Jessie twirled around quickly several time as his nightgown ballooned up from the airflow.
"Wow, look at you. Maybe you should be taking up dancing," the ladies amused at his performance.
It's been a series of madcap adventures for Chrissie, starting in middle school when she posed as a Reluctant Girlfriend and on through her high school career as a cheerleader.
Now she's in college! Can you get a degree in crossdressing shenanigans?"
John was pissed that he died on the beach at Normandy.
It was June 6, 1944 and to say Private John Burton was unhappy would be an understatement. Even though he had heard General Eisenhower's speech on the radio, he really wanted to be elsewhere. Not that he wasn't a red-blooded American and not that he didn't grasp the importance of the mission. It's just that he was convinced there was a German bullet with his name on it. It was a feeling he just couldn't shake. All the trouble his parents went through to raise him, scolding him into good behavior, getting onto him to make good grades. And then all the money and effort Uncle Sam went through to prepare and train him for this exact moment, everything his life was moving towards would come to a wasted end on a beach in France he'd never heard of. He just knew it. And he was mightily annoyed about it.
Being annoyed couldn't describe how John felt when not even ten feet from the landing craft onto the sands of the beach before being cut down by German machine gun fire. Talk about being angry as he fell onto the sand...
And then even more angry when he woke up in another time and place as a naked teen girl...
The Leader narrowed its pupils, just a bit... the equivalent of a slight smile for its species. The most important of the group were already supporting the plan. The others would go along, eventually. It sat back and let them plot and scheme, only occasionally asking a question or making a suggestion. Yes, this would work well...
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Space 80
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USA
Note: $6000 is the operating, maintenance and upgrade budget. Amounts received in excess of the $6000 will be applied to long term debt accrued over the last 19 years.
Dedications:"For Emily"
For Stanman: "He was always there to offer a kind word and encouragement."
"In loving memory of
Robyn Lovelace
My life partner,
my life's love, my friend"
-- Karen J. Taylor
This site is dedicated to the
memory of lost friends
and particularly for
Jeanne Gerrib,
Rick Buhs, and
Bob Arnold.
-- Joyce Melton
by Tahiti
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