Chapter Five – Can I Get A Passport?

Wendy's transformation continues and Mrs Cashmore takes her shopping to acquire an extensive wardrobe. Now determined to transition, Wendy asks for a passport so she can travel overseas to get breast implants. Acquiring a passport reflective of Wendy's female persona is not too difficult but it does require her pay 'a little extra'.

Hope is a luxury not everyone can afford.
 

Beauty Boy
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

Why can’t a guy be a beautician? It is a trade, right?

Nancy has a new opportunity

Twister
A Short Story inspired by a Captioned Image
By Maryanne Peters

I put it down to good policework. My policework. Checking the scenes thoroughly. Interviewing the witnesses. Understanding the clues. Good policework. Dedication.

My father was a policeman. I respected him and I respected the work that he did, but he did not achieve great heights. He said that it was about the satisfaction of doing good. That is the measure of achievement that a policeman should be aware of, not their rank or salary bracket.

This is a collection of Whateley Academy vignettes which focuses on various background and supporting characters, giving a brief glimpse into each of their lives.

http://whateleyacademy.net/index.php

Kissy's dress is a knockout, or maybe it's the girl inside.

Sometimes you need to backtrack in order to go forward.

That’s what I decided when I ran back to the building and the balcony where I’d left Miss Ponytail’s mechanical avatar for dead.

At sight of her broken body lying on the wrecked balcony, I briefly dropped to my knees and almost cried tears of joy mingled with relief.

Then I bounced back onto my feet, and I hurriedly pulled her body into the apartment.

Domination
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

The slap bought me back to consciousness with a stinging pain on my cheek.

“Wake up, Doctor Daly.”

My eyes had real trouble focusing as my surroundings seemed so unreal. In front of me was a attractive middle aged woman dressed in traditional dominatrix style, a sort of vinyl outfit with fishnet stockings and heels, her dark hair pulled back from her snarling face.

“What is this? What is going on? Who are you?” I gasped in disbelief.

This next story is a bit personal for me. It's one I'm still having trouble coming to terms with. One one hand, it could have been a trick of the mind. I was on some pretty powerful painkillers at the time. My life too it seemed had fallen apart, like a piece of priceless china that had been dropped on the floor. The tiny porcelain shards scattered to the four winds. I guess I should start at the beginning of the story.

A new case for Rowntee & Terry and the Odd Squad, dealing with the local aristocracy, expensive cars, witness protection, and changing lives, all with their usual whimsical humour.