A beautiful transgendered adolescent takes a job in an up market nightclub; discovers that parading her lingerie is an experience as arousing as it is embarrassing. Set in the fictional town of Chamberlain.

A beautiful transgendered adolescent takes a job in an up market nightclub; discovers that parading her lingerie is an experience as arousing as it is embarrassing. Set in the fictional town of Chamberlain.

In the three months since she'd entered the Program, Verity had been exposed to indignities without number: probes and penetrations; medical procedures which invariably left her shaken and tearful. The invasions never seemed to end. They'd explored her most intimate recesses with a barrage of wicked-looking instruments, delving and touching and pricking and poking until she'd begged them to stop, wailing like a child as each new device was inserted. Still, there was something worse than all the violations she'd suffered over the past ninety days...

Struggling to survive the lethal poverty of a post-apocalyptic world, young Verity Sherman has volunteered for "genetic reconfiguration;" a long and torturous medical procedure which effectively transforms biological males into fertile young women. If successful, Verity will be granted wealth, comfort and privilege beyond her wildest dreams - but only if she can survive the horrors of reconditioning. A dark, dystopian vision of a future where gender is a fluid medium and sexual slavery is the only alternative to the slow, creeping death haunting the slums of the Red Zone.

In the three months since she'd entered the Program, Verity had been exposed to indignities without number: probes and penetrations; medical procedures which invariably left her shaken and tearful. The invasions never seemed to end. They'd explored her most intimate recesses with a barrage of wicked-looking instruments, delving and touching and pricking and poking until she'd begged them to stop, wailing like a child as each new device was inserted. Still, there was something worse than all the violations she'd suffered over the past ninety days...

Struggling to survive the lethal poverty of a post-apocalyptic world, young Verity Sherman has volunteered for "genetic reconfiguration;" a long and torturous medical procedure which effectively transforms biological males into fertile young women. If successful, Verity will be granted wealth, comfort and privilege beyond her wildest dreams - but only if she can survive the horrors of reconditioning. A dark, dystopian vision of a future where gender is a fluid medium and sexual slavery is the only alternative to the slow, creeping death haunting the slums of the Red Zone.

I’m retired, single, in my mid 60’s, quarantined and I’m bored. I’ve been cross-dressing since I was 5 and would use crayons and colored pencils to ‘paint’ my nails. Cherry Popsicles were my lipstick. Over the years the qualities of my cosmetics and panties have improved vastly.

When the quarantine began over two months ago I vowed to dress 100% of the time as my alter ego feminine self. On the first day of sheltering in place I shaved my legs, shaped and painted all my nails. Since I wasn’t going anywhere it seemed like the perfect opportunity.

My eyes widened in surprise. There was someone standing at the door of the rumpus room. Someone I'd never seen before. A boy around my age, maybe a year older. Tall; taller than me, and much wider across the shoulders. He was wearing a bright red varsity jacket and holding something in his right hand, although neither fact registered with me at the time. He was staring at me slack-jawed and speechless, astonishment stamped all over his face in capital letters...

I suppose it must have come as something of a shock for The Boy Next Door. He and his family had moved in only a few weeks before, and when his mother sent him over to borrow a cup of sugar, the last thing he expected to see was a pair of firm, young bottom-cheeks staring him dead in the face.

Yeah, I know that sounds crazy, but I've always thought the cancan was an extremely sexy dance; the idea of whirling across a stage with my skirt raised to my chin made my heart race every time it crossed my mind...