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.
I am so, so, so happy that Hunter touched so many hearts. Thank you all for reading
and for so many comments and emails. I really enjoyed these characters and I'm so
happy that you did, too. Please stay well! See you all next time!
Stevie finds himself exploring more and more of his feminine side as he settles into
his sister's home and begins caring for her family. Thank you to everyone who
commented on the first installment. I do love knowing that you are all well and
hearing from you. I appreciate your support. A word or warning, though - I do try
to explore the feelings, emotions and motivations of my characters and that
requires using words.
The drive home was quiet, the tension in the car palpable. David leaned against the window, watching the familiar streets roll by, but his thoughts were far from comforting. The doctor’s words echoed in his mind, and though his parents tried to keep the conversation light, the weight of the unknown loomed over them.
All the warnings! I always wanted to write a horror story. This is the one and I don't want it to be tame. It certainly isn't for everyone. There will be fucked up scenes. Check the warning tags, if there are any you'd rather avoid, please go read one of my other stories instead.
Constance listens to the music as she dances across the room. She loved old disco music and music from the seventies. Sure, she had her favorites of today’s modern-day music, but she also liked the old-style music. She dances in time to the music as it plays.
When the current selection of music stops playing, she stops and wipes her face. She takes a sip from her water bottle and replays the recording of her dancing. She watches herself as she dances to the music. A smile appears as she edits it and posts it to her YouTube channel.
“At your age how do you avoid the social services and the schools people?”
“Mostly by hanging with adults, like you. If they see me with a grown up they go to bother someone else. That woman over there is one of them. That’s why I decided to talk to you.”
“How did you know I was safe? I could have been a child molester or anything.”
“Naw. I’m good at weighing people up. You’re a veteran with PTSD. I’ve met hundreds like you on the streets. Nice men who gave everything they had to the government and then got threwn away on the garbage heap.”
The following is a short story I wrote at the end of last year. I hummed and hawed on whether I wanted to publish it, since it's so short, and I wasn't sure if I had finished it or should continue with the story. Anyway, please don't be too hard on me. lol
Remember back in middle school, when you had to take English? Maybe you don't, having mercifully forgotten the torture of middle school. Even though middle school was not something I really wanted to enshrine in my book of memories, I do remember Mrs Gore's English Class. A very appropriate name, Gore, as most of us felt we had been slashed to bloody ribbons by the end of the class.
This is not a contest entry.
I possibly could have worked in a New Year resolution but there is NO way I could fluff up this fluff to 2500 words. (Let’s see if I can make that stick THIS time.)
Last week I met my old friend Larry. He was in love. I suppressed an inner sigh. Larry often fell in love and then out again just as quickly. Always very chaste. He really was a 40-year-old virgin. He had very fixed ideas about the object of his love(s). One was that he never wanted to see them nude. And then he had this tendency to fall for the wrong ones.
"I can't believe we struck out again" Ezra said while keeping his eyes on the road.
"Speak for yourself dude, I wasn't searching" I replied before turning to look out the window.
It was dark out now so I couldn't see very far but there was nothing to see anyway. It would just be more empty fields on either side of the road. It had been empty fields for the past 20 minutes and so it would remain for the next half hour.
The holidays are stressful for any family, but it’s more so when family has become strangers. An emergency takes the Roberts clan home for the holidays, where long held secrets will change their relationship forever.
The new year comes with new resolutions. For Kenny, he wants to confess to his longtime crush, Jason. Of course, that's easier said than done. Kenny decides to clear his head with a night on the town crossdressing, but when he does, he meets an interesting girl who is more than meets the eyes.
If I don’t look happy about it, it’s because I wasn’t. I had tampered with my sister’s shampoo so she ended up with purple hair the day before the big dance, so my mother agreed upon the punishment.
“You need to understand what hair means to a girl, Mason, so you will spend a month with girl hair.”
Dorothy Philpot. Landlady of The Harbour Light pub
Sam Philpot. Drag-queen.
Billy Parkins Doorkeeper.
Jessica Merlot The town’ and county archaeologist.
Josephine MacDonald The town and county archivist
Richard Drummond Town planning inspector
Robert Vincent. Junior planning inspector.
Georgina. (Georgie) Homeless Transgender girl.
“There you are kiddo, fill yer boots.” Sam suggested as she placed a laden plate in front of the girl.
I promised her this year would be different from all the others. That this year would be the year she could finally come out from hiding in the shadows, up till now she had only been allowed to come out. This year I've finally worked up the courage to allow her to spread her wings and soar high into the heavens. To walk the freshly tilled earth, to feel the gentle breath of spring, the warm of summer sunshine, the cool crispy of autumn air and to feel the sting of winter's breath upon her rosy cheeks.
Right, this story carries all kinds of warning flags. I’m not joking. If you have even the faintest trace of triggers don’t read this story. Otherwise it's rather sweet.
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The town where I grew up was not exactly a multicultural metropolis like New York. On the other hand, it was not a redneck backwater either. While most of us were white we had our share of other ethnicities as well. Mostly native Americans and blacks. Still, none of those blacks were as black as the new student in my high school class. She was really ebony black, not the various hues of brownish black of the “native” blacks. Native in the sense that they, and their forefathers had been in this country for at least fourscore and seven years. Rasa on the other hand was pure African. Pitch black, tall, muscular and moved like a large feline. No wonder she soon was tagged with the name “The Black Panther”.
My Hero A first (short) story by Suzi Auchentiber - I made it my New Year Resolution to try to join the ranks of writers and not just be an avid reader . . .just hope I can cut the mustard!
Constant in All Other Things 2 Interlude II
by
Fakeminsk ([email protected])
“Friendship is constant in all other things
Save in the office and affairs of love:
Therefore all hearts in love use their own tongues;
Let every eye negotiate for itself
And trust no agent.” Much Ado About Nothing
Melanie Brown brings us one of her sexy sci-fi romps in Valor, the story of a hapless lieutenant who keeps saving the day by being turned into a bimbo by the enemy.
Dorothy Philpot. Landlady of The Harbour Light pub
Sam Philpot. Drag-queen.
Billy Parkins Doorkeeper.
Jessica Merlot The town’ and county archaeologist.
Josephine MacDonald The town and county archivist
Richard Drummond Town planning inspector
Robert Vincent. Junior planning inspector.
John's life was in turmoil, his job was in jeopardy, he was miserable and unpopular. his sister Natalie convinced him that he needed to drastically alter the way he treated people.
"Granny, Granny, please tell us a story! Pretty please, Granny!" said nine year old Linda as she sat on the floor with her twin sister Julia.
They had on matching sky blue blouses and navy blue skorts which each had embroidered a red rose with green stem and leaves as well as the first initial of their name. They both looked precious in their white knee socks and black Mary Jane's. Each of them looked intently at me with their deep blue eyes, resisting the temptation to twirl their long blonde hair in their fingers, since they loved my stories.
Before I could answer, Julia burst out, "Tell us a new one, Granny! Pretty, please!"
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my life's love, my friend"
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