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.
Life has some certainties, birth and death of course, but the rest is a mix of Minestrone and Spaghetti, some of which we have no direct influence over. We can however decide whether we want Parmesan or other seasoning, we can give Gnochi a try, doesn't mean we'll like it but at least we'll know. Gaby has reached just such a point in her life, she knows she likes Pizza, she's not averse to Spaghetti or Lasagne but is Gnochi for her? The Gnochi in this case is doing the singing with BlauHase on a more serious level, as a 'hobby' its fine but could this be a change of career? Well you don't find out without trying so that's just what our heroine is about to find out in this, the 27th book of the Gaby saga.
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.
The next story I'm going to share with you was told to me by Junior Scoutmaster Emma Jeanette Pierce. I'm also going to confess I went a little overboard with the name of the story. I don't apologize for it at all though, mostly because it conjures up perfectly the vibe I want to capture with these stories.
The Ghostly Dancer at the Annual Cotillion Ball
Told By
Emma Jeanette Pierce
While I've written a couple of stories that dealt with suicide, I've never had the nerve to describe my own experience. Until now. Please ... please be careful, before reading this story, and make sure it's something you feel you can handle. Knowing other people are okay is a lot more important to me than knowing this story is read.
Rob honestly didn't care that 'Nessa was a tranzie; she was his daughter in every sense of the word that mattered. Their relationship might have been very different had she looked and acted like a boy, but the point was moot. 'Nessa wasn't a boy, she was a pretty teenaged girl who'd come to love him as her Father – again, in every sense of the word that mattered.
“look Richie ya shudden get too close to ma” Steph said sadly.
“lemme be the judge of that Steph, I'd call ya a friend and friends dun let friends suffer”
That caused her to look more closely at Richard and the haunted look softened. She let out a shuddering sigh and moved round to face him.
“I'm kinda special Richie, ya see I was called Stephen, but I kinda don't feel like a him”
This is a story I traded to Sourpaw (on FurAffinity) redone to be gay. It’s a * second-person* story that features you (as a guy) getting lost on the backroads and finding your way to a seemingly normal town with a broken-down library. But little do you know that those who come to the town of Nitif often find themselves fitting in, in ways they never expected~
Thirteen year old "Katrina" is forced to dress up as a little girl prior to a mercilessly long tickling by her cousin Karla. This unexpected humiliation seems to go on forever: when the torment is finally complete, "Trina" realizes she will never be the same again.
After a particularly nasty break-up, a young man’s life is changed when his ex-girlfriend gets her hands on a special voodoo doll. (Done as a request for a fan over on DeviantArt)
Back at home, I sat in the garden with a bottle of wine, thinking about what Jeanette and Kelvin had said about me still dressing as a woman, As I had said to Jeanette, it was just becoming automatic for me. Obviously with the breast forms still fixed in place, putting on a bra just seemed the right thing to do, and everything else just followed on from that. I still felt that my guiding spirit, whether it was something buried in my genes and sub-conscious, or whether it was a ghostly influence on me, still had work for me to do as Lexie. I was comfortable and enjoying life, and seemed to be accepted by everyone I met as a young woman.
We’d got it down to a fine art by then, even though it had to involve the Youth Hostel Association and two of their nicest buildings. Once Keith had finished work on the Friday, the Little Kat was loaded with tank bag and throwovers and once I had managed to settle my bum onto what passed for a pillion on a Suzuki GS550 Katana, I could let the shoulder straps out on the frame rucksack I was wearing, so that it sat on the tailpiece of the bike and I could actually straighten out my neck.
I always said that I needed violence. I said it then: There is nothing like another man’s blood on your knuckles to make you feel like a man. Or that moment when you know a stand-off is going to turn to blows. The adrenalin is surging in your blood as you imagine the sound of his face being crushed. Yours or theirs, it makes no difference. It’s the buzz I needed.
And I know why I needed it. Because I knew that deep down inside me, I was a girl. I fought that every day of my fucking life.
Arya wipes the sweat away from his forehead as he picks up litter around the community pool area. He would love to go swimming. He admires the girls in their swimsuits. He loved how the swimsuits looked on them and wish he could wear one. He has always loved women's clothing, especially some of the more revealing and sexy lingerie women had available to them. He hated being a male.
On
arrival at the city of Yod misunderstandings have caused a brawl and
a confrontation. Eriana faces up to Marlin of Brikant, who is in
charge of the port troops, and who does not believe her story! It is
up to Ursula and Tyra to find a way out of the impasse - in a city
where anyone can be an enemy.
This is a dark story. At least, it feels dark to me. Maybe it feels darker than it actually is, because it's something that happened to me. Still ... if reading about bad things happening to people might hurt or harm you in any way, then please don't read this story. This is something I'm writing for my own sanity. It would break my heart if anything I wrote hurt someone. So, if you're not sure you should read this story, then please don't.
The next morning we all went to the beach, the others to swim and me just to walk. I had enough of water to last me a lifetime. I told them I would meet for lunch and we pinpointed a meeting place on the promenade and I went off to explore.
This is the second and final part of a story I wrote a few days back. I have added a second part as I was contacted by several people asking me to.
One also said it was unbelievable that someone would make a choice like that, so quickly. I have addressed that here.
I know my spelling and grammar can be a bit taxing. I have asked someone to review this for me. I will edit it when they have checked it.
On some sites I have had people criticise my spelling when I use words like Colour , Criticise, Feminise, and realise. In British English these are correct spellings.
[Authors Note]
The events described in this part take place after Maxine’s trip to Devon. She had been there on a Spa retreat with her friend Delphine and Delphine’s step-daughter Gabrielle. This is all described in part 24 of 'Sixty is not that Old'. https://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/fiction/89023/sixty-is-not-th...
Pat, Sam, and Barbara form a highly malleable triangle. Fate steps in, and a small, not very happy boy becomes a pioneer. Will Pat even recognize himself when his destiny is complete?
A tale about deception in the 1950's advertising jungle. Imagine that!
Adrenaline surged...daring every sensory organ in my body to absorb the tiniest nuances of my first day out in public dressed as a woman. I touched the velvety skin on my wife's arm. "I'm so lucky!"
"Lucky?" Nicole shook her head in obvious bewilderment. "You've always wanted to be a woman," she had accurately said nearly eight months ago.
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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
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