That Might Work

Sunday was quiet. I spent much of it dismantling my old twin bed and hiding it in the closet next to my useless Harry clothes. I got a piece of plywood to expand the surface of my old school desk, set up my computer stuff and went out to buy a decent chair. That old wooden thing I used as a kid just didn't cut it any more, even if I'd padded my bottom.

Asked to join a sorority, life will not let Morgan just be. And What girl can resist her first romance?

Scarlett was shooting pool down at Big T’s pool hall. She has been coming to Big T’s since she was capable of walking. Her father uses to hustle people for money, while she watched. When the former owner of Big T’s decided to retire, she bought the place.

She used the money she saved up from hustling people like her father. Everyone that came into the pool hall always underestimated her. There were only a few times that she lost, but she won more than she lost.

The Conference Call

I got Mom settled in front of the TV and went out into the back yard. I knew that my sisters were two time zones away, so it was evening for them.

"Hi Pam, It's Harry. I have some news."

As a paranormal researcher, I sometimes stumble upon a story that just moves me in ways that I did not expect to be moved. This story is one that hit very close to home for personal reasons I'm really not going to go into detail about here. The following story has all the hallmarks of a classic ghost story, the main character dies a horrible death, in fact he is murdered outright by a gang of thugs, on Halloween night of all nights, and his vengeful spirit returns to the claim the life of his attackers.

Chapter 2 “All At Sea”

Jean looked at her information sheet. “Actually, there’s a note here that tells us that the first day out is ‘come as you are’. This allows those not fully into the role to take it slowly. I expect that we’ll see a few sights in the dining room tonight but these will become less as the cruise continues."

This is a short story about a would be sissy housewife. I wrote it on the request of a reader on another site. This is not a trans story.
It is a story about a "sissy". I have several that email me frequently, and prefer being know by what I think of as a derogatory term.

The alarm went off. It was 6AM. Greg stretched and yawned. I looked down to see that the thin cover had a tent pole lifting it up. I had noticed
that over the last few days. He always woke up with a full erection.

He turned to me and smiled.

"Time to do your wifely duty Sarah."

Serena’s broadside at me had hit home hard. I tried hard but failed to stop myself from bursting into tears. I screwed my eyes shut. I could not face seeing her face with the inevitable ‘I told you so smirk’ on it.

Something, or Someone, must have really wanted me to hear the sermon today.