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.
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!"
Donnie is taken aback when his friend Mitch asks him to accompany him to Hawaii
and act as his girlfriend. Donnie, of course, says 'no,' but Mitch makes him an
offer he can't refuse.
I kind of rushed right into this new series. I truly hope that you like this!
Summoned: An Accidental Adventure –
Chapter 05
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~Chris~
Things came slowly into focus as Chris swam up from the realms of unconsciousness. It seemed dark beyond his closed eyelids. Strangely he also felt heavy. Not an exhausted heavy, but rather the difference of being behind the wheel of an economy car versus slamming the gas of a high end Dodge Challenger.
Sometimes I hate being the only boy in the girls’ locker room. Usually that coincides with my fellow cheerleaders deciding to tease me. Not verbally, visually, in the showers. That can be quite annoying. Not that I get any help from the girls’ coach either. She just smiles and say that I have no one but myself to blame.
This is just the beginning of a new story. But, it comes with a warning. I've crossed a line here by writing an adult-themed story that is intended for a mature reader.
Quick note: it's been a long time since I posted on here. Even though my stories were well-received, I haven't had a whole lot of ideas for new ones. But one of my first stories was "New Home," which revolved around the protagonist Oliver/Olivia being turned into a girl and going to an all-girls foster home, only to find out that the foster mom isn't quite what she seems. For a while now, I've been wanting to revisit that idea and maybe create an improved version of that story. And now the day has arrived.
Parker looks at her reflection in the full-length mirror on the back of her closet door. She couldn’t believe her parents had accepted that she had wanted to be a girl since she was little. True, she has to see a counselor about how she feels. But she didn’t mind.
The counselor she has been seeing wants to see how she looked as a girl today. Her friend Tony was coming to pick her up to take her. He stood by her when she came to him about how she was.
“Parker, Tony is here to pick you up.” Mary sticks her head into her daughter’s bedroom.
A woman researcher finds the plans for a regression and mind control device and uses it to benefit mankind. No, wait, this is trans-fiction, as her ex-boyfriend, her woman boss, a random guy she picks up at a bar and a husband about to divorce his wife find out.
Ursula
goes to the market to find more suitable attire for the two Yodans
and later begins to teach them the Garian numbers, revealing an
unexpected talent. Meanwhile Lars attempts to find something suitable
for the men to drink and takes a side trip to a brewery. There he
overhears a casual conversation.
Chaos filled the common room of the girls dormitory.
Apparently having more than one dorm key was a good thing, and the tougher girls were stealing as many as they could from anyone who couldn't or wouldn't defend themselves. I could only watch as a crystal covered girl came towards me, flames erupting from her nostrils with every breath. Looking around for help, or maybe a distraction, things didn't look good.
This is just the beginning of a new story. If you want to read more, please let me know. And just to remind you, I have a new novel on Amazon called Being Invisible. Take a look. There are lots of chapters to read for free.
Don’t Worry
Leslie Moore
“Honey, it’s okay. I’m sure when you get your strength back, everything will be fine.”
Summer vacation had been ongoing for a week and I was already bored. The thrifty lifestyle I'd been living for the last eight months meant that my purse was bursting at the seams. The old wooden treasure chest was overflowing with coins and bills, you see I'd yet gone ahead and opened a checking account with our local bank as my best friend Madeline and older sister Lily had been strongly suggesting for the last few months.
“Nice day for it,” I muse as I enter the park where the rest of the cricket team is assembled.
“Yep,” Stuart concurs. “Pity there’s no ‘it’ for it to be a nice day for, heh.”
“Well- yep, can’t argue with THAT,” I sigh as I gaze around at the other guys, all of whom- myself included- are keeping a distance of at least two metres away from each other.
A couple in their forties went in the machine just as we got in line,
and they came out again a few minutes later; the woman was younger and
prettier, wearing a much more expensive-looking outfit, a dark blue dress
that Meredith said looked like silk. The man was a wolf or wolfhound;
the woman put a collar and leash on him and led him out toward the parking
lot, probably to avoid trouble with the mall cops, police and animal
control until they got home.
At the end of Sierra’s neighborhood lay a large, long field. It was flat, full of crops and extended for as far as the eye could see. It almost looked like a farmer’s field, and maybe it was. Sierra couldn’t exactly tell.
Sierra had seen the field many times throughout her life and had oddly fond memories of it. She had never actually been in the field, but it seemed the simple sight of it was enough to remind her of familiarity, comfort, and home.
At the shop I found that my bolt ends had been delivered so I stored them in the ‘special’ room. Everything seemed to be ticking over nicely and I chatted with everyone for a while until Roberta commented, “You’re happy today. I would think that you may have got a good seeing to last night. Was it Jim or have you found another stud?”
I laughed. “About as far from a stud as it’s possible to get but I was satisfied and so was she.”
“Darling!” came a call from downstairs.
“Your agent is on the phone.”
I sighed. Despite me telling my agent more than once to use my mobile, she continued to use the landline.
“Ok. I’m coming.”
The morning as with many mornings recently, had not been that productive in terms of writing my next novel. I was sure that my agent, Agatha Smythe-Hall was calling to check on progress. I knew what I wanted to write but it would just not come out in any sort of even semi-readable text.
The News
A Short Story Contribution
By Maryanne Peters
I suppose that I had not much idea about the issues of intersex or transgenderism before Toxically Induced Sexual Morphosis (TISM) hit Ridgewick. Then it became not just the big news in town, but the only news. And the news is my business.
“Dorothy was a child, and she missed her home. Her Aunty Em. I left home when I was 21, and I don’t think I’ll ever go back even to visit. It’s not home anymore. And I’ll be honest: I’ve always thought Dorothy was an idiot for going back.”
She cocked an eyebrow in question and I said, “Have you been to Kansas?”
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...
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