. . . I discovered this quote from Eleanor Roosevelt: "No one can make you feel inferior without your consent."

"Yeah, right," I had muttered.

. . . but I gave them a little finger wave, and then, tossing my head back in the direction I was headed, I swiveled my way out of the room, my hair flowing behind my head

I thought I heard one guy almost choke as I left.

. . . Even after I had described it to Rebecca in excruciating detail over some hot tea, I still wasn't sure what it all meant. I did know, however, that I really wanted to go out again with Phillip. . .

Alright folks, whether you think this is femdom or not, try to accept at least this chapter just as it appears. It is what it is, Sara's first date with a guy. I hope you enjoy it!

And if you haven't been reading my blog, you might want to check it out. I reveal my deepest, darkest secrets and have an interesting conversation with readers.

"That's putting it mildly. Uh oh."

"What dad? That doesn't sound good over there."

"What do I tell your mom? She'll flip."

There are some things we tell ourselves to get through the hard times. Some may be true and some may not, but in the final analysis, The Heart Knows.

Chapter 1

"It's that dormouse woman," said the same idiot we had seen last time.

"She ain't a woman though is she, she's one of those sexchangers."

"I don't care, I'd still shag her, she's prettier than my girlfriend."

"I'm prettier than your Janice," said wag number two.

Easy As Falling Off A Bike.
by Angharad
part 188.

The last part of this chapter is very religious, but I felt that it was necessary for the continuation of the story. Reference is made to a previous 'stand alone' story, but used only for explanation purposes. I do not intend for my stories to teach any certain kind of religious doctrine, although this chapter may seem to do that. The purpose is to supply hints about Lizzie Jane's future and what kind of husband she can expect, whoever he may be.

Since I'm still blocked on the two stories I'm currently writing, I'd like to re-post this old story of mine here. It was the first fiction story I tried to write. I've gone over it and corrected a lot of things and generally cleaned it up. I hope you'll enjoy it. It's a long one, but I didn't want to push other, newer stories down the page by posting it in parts.

"Marcie, what's with you?" Carla asked me. "You're so calm. It's kinda spooky. Are you on something?"

A remembrance of the summer before Jonathan, a tender, sweet boy who loved dolls, entered junior high school. He finds joy in being Julie among other girls who treat him as one of their own. He soon finds terrors that face little girls. An idyllic summer that ended too soon.

"My tattoo would give it away," I sighed.

"What tattoo?" gasped Simon.

"What, you have seen me starkers and didn't notice my tattoo?" I said pouting.

"No I haven't. What is it?"

"It isn't that I want you to be upset at what happened, but it doesn't seem that you understand the gravity of what's going on with you. You just skip happily from one bizarre cataclysm to the next, while all around you, parents, relatives, and friends clutch their hearts in terror."

The triumphant return of the adventures of College Girl! Find out What trouble Richard has gotten himself into now!

I had finished moving my things into my new room at the Sorority; rather Caitlin did as Richard was pretty well gone. One utterly failed attempt to change things later and I was now a she. I had not expected the House to accept me or to make certain changes at the National Level. So I was here until I quit because I refused to go back on my word. Besides, so much about this House sounded pretty cool.

. . . . I was just trying to figure out if I had enough clothes for a week. I may have to go shopping."

Rebecca laughed. "Sara, you have more clothes than I do!"

"I do not," I complained.

She pointed, “There’s a bag in the living room for you. I’ve ordered a taxi and it should be here in about five minutes, so go and get it.”

I walked out of the kitchen and into the lounge. A small clutch bag was on the couch. Opening it I saw a small mirror the lipstick and nail polish she had used, a couple of make up brushes, a powder compact and a purse which had around  £100 in it.

Returning I said “What’s all the money for?”

“Spending money. A girl can’t go shopping without enough cash,” she replied.

"Yes?"

"Hold onto your seat dad. He wrote some of those articles!"

"Who was that?" asked a male voice behind the glass panel.

"A nice lady, I mean a proper Lady, who offered to get me a choccie croissant."

"Slut, I wouldn't touch my foreskin for anyone."

"You idiot, it's forelock, you'd touch your foreskin at any opportunity."

Easy As Falling Over A Bonz.
by Angharad.
part 200-15.

A short poem from somewhere deep inside me. I dedicate this story to every "girl" out there that struggles to be the "she" whom she knows herself to be.
 

Flower Girls