This is part of a story which will feature forced femme, subliminal messaging as a form of mind control and some physical/emotional abuse.

The tags I've marked are relevant to the story as a whole. The not safe caution is for the whole story, the violence caution is for this chapter.

Anyone in the story, unless specifically stated otherwise, is a fictional character. Places in the story are real.

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1. Monday, January 6, 2014, 1:35 PM Anchor Vans, Bath Rd., Padworth, Reading

"Do I look OK?". We were going to my parents for Rosh Hashanah.  I was wearing a blue v neck three quarter sleeve top with a black wool skirt that fell 2” above the knee and white Tory Burch espadrilles with a black toe. I was wearing a blue quartz necklace.  I was down another 3 pounds.  “Should I have worn the blue dress?”

“You are so adorable.”

"I’m serious. They haven't seen me like this."

The next morning broke cold and damp. It was an unusual day for late
June but its coolness would prove to be a godsend for the operation.
There was nothing worse than a difficult operation in the sweltering
heat. I arrived for breakfast to find the others picking lightly at
their food. It was no good taking a huge meal and then being 'caught
short' during the operation. Jenny looked on hungrily as we picked at
our meal.

"Everybody ready then?" she asked bravely.

Mare's Tales 17

Eventually we awoke again. Veronica still lay beside me with her torso
in my arms but she seemed to be whinnying softly in her sleep. I tried
to move my ear closer to her lips but my efforts awoke her. She stirred
and I gently stroked her long blond hair as I murmured to her.

"Was that Juno whinnying whilst you were asleep?"

"Hold on. I'll ask he,." smiled Vee sleepily.

There was a short pause and then Veronica pressed herself against me
again.

This is a true story of how my Mom feminized me as a teenager. She had caught me wearing her pantyhose the summer before seventh grade. I got the surprise of my life the first Sunday of junior high, when she started encouraging me to wear them, and then it was all downhill from there. -- Tracy

By Joannebarbarella

The Remains Of The Day. The Rest of D-Day

First hurdle cleared.

I went into my office breathing a sigh of relief and feeling twenty pounds lighter. Margaret had accepted me without blinking an eye. I called her my receptionist but in truth she was much more than that. She was my gate-keeper and the one with whom I shared “post-mortem” appreciations of new and unknown clients. A second opinion of a client is always very valuable, and she was very perceptive….as indeed she had just shown.

I'm either insane, or the next closest thing to it. I'm going to try to follow in Angharad's footsteps by doing a serial story.

I will likely post a piece for it every two or three days, as I do have other stories on the go at the moment.

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Playing her way 2 - Chapter 3

© D.L.

Marilyn put the last of the shopping bags into the boot of the car. Shutting the hatchback, she pushed the trolley over to the trolley park before unlocking the car doors and getting into the driver's seat.

Yeah my first post! A really fun little story I wrote back in September I had so much fun writing this but it's not your typical story and thought perhaps I had stumbled upon a unique idea as I have read so many stories over the years but have never come across one like this. I hope everyone enjoys the surprise and the fun word play!

Karma's a Bitch! - by Kris K

You would think that the moment ones family comes home would be the happiest time of the day.

John got back from school and as usual he went straight to the kitchen and his milk and cookies. Well, he really was a high school freshman but he looked like an eleven-year old, people treated him like an eleven-year old so why couldn’t he act like an eleven-year old at times? He liked milk and cookies. As he was slurping his milk and stuffing his mouth with cookies his mother asked him how school had been. John, who was somewhat absentminded or if you want to be nice ”sometimes” got lost in his thoughts, started thinking back and to his surprise he realized it had actually been a very good day. John’s school-days quite seldom were very good.

“Randy?” my big sister said when she answered the phone.

“Hey, sis! I need to talk to you.” I said with a quivering voice.

“What’s wrong, babe?” she asked sounding concerned. She always calls me babe which I loved.

“Well, dad and I had a fight and I….I started getting angry and upset and I….I…”, I tried to say but then I started crying a lot again.