“I guess the bodysuit produces it like making hair and beard from our hair and skin cells. Or like your wetness during sex. But I don’t think one can get pregnant from it.”

“I very much hope I cannot,” I noted. We both laughed. “Though your stamina is amazing.”

“Bodysuit’s stamina. I am wiry for a girl, I hope, but no way to do that for so long without its help… What amazed me is that you got four orgasms. I have listened to a lot of sex – not by my choice – and I am yet to see a man get more than three in a row. Especially so strong ones, and only two days after having plenty of sex.”

“I guess their strength is due to the bodysuit. The first time I masturbated in it, the orgasm was just a bit stronger than otherwise, but since then it is stronger every time. I was afraid that the bodysuit somehow turns me into a real girl, but it looks like it tunes how it transmits the feelings, learning with the time how to achieve the most… And I also guess that this night it was your skill at sex too.”

“I can’t help but know what makes a girl feel good,” Carlo smiled. “And, before you ask, I felt great too. Way different than when I have sex as a girl, but as a whole even better…”

I was relieved when Larry and the head cheerleader drifted apart. I should have been concerned when Bob asked Larry for a date. The truth was that I was just too curious to see what would happen I just aided and abetted instead. Larry was even lovelier that night. They left and about a minute to midnight I heard Bob’s car drive up again. Of course I had prepared an unobtrusive view of the porch. Yes, there was a good-night kiss. Not a bad one. Really not a bad one.

Diva in Disguise Chapter 17

At the sound of those taunting words, I spun around incautiously to find Karen grinning at me. I had forgotten the tendency of the skirts I was wearing to fly outwards and upwards at the slightest provocation, and her grin broadened into a leer as I strove to calm my frothy layers and restore what little modesty remained to me.

Prince Taylor accepts who he is, but society thinks the institute is bad.

"Wait, wait!" I said. "Go back a second!
You said 'The Iodine Story'. What is that?"

"You don't know?" Hugh looked surprised.
"The Iodine Story," he repeated, as if saying it again somehow clarified it.

Part Eight

Chris did not, in fact, hop right to it.

When the bathroom door clicked closed behind his cousin, he awkwardly stood behind the shower curtain and weighed his options. Doing what Amy asked would be insane. The sight of his smooth legs was bad enough, but shaving the rest of his body? Unless he exclusively wore long sleeves for a few days, his hairless arms would probably go noticed by someone. And when Amy had told him to shave the rest of his body . . . She hadn’t meant his private area as well, had she? That would be too much.

So Larry was without girlfriend. While I had not expected him to be single for long (what a change from the beginning of the year!) I had NOT expected Bob (the baseball captain) to be the next one to ring the bell and ask for Larry.

Jan had put me firmly on the spot with her offer to make more stocks.

“We could do it all ourselves.”

I'm anxious. Today is my first real time away from home all alone. I'll be spending a week at a hotel in a small town on the off season, which hopefully means that nobody will be there. I'm transgender, and this will be my first time wearing a bikini, so I'm stressing out about that.

I check in, then drop my stuff off at my room. I rest on the bed for an hour or so, tired after two connecting flights and a taxi ride. I've been traveling basically all day. I stare at the ceiling, and hope that this week will be stress free, and not a huge headache like every day at home is.

“For a girl that often goes to work in good-looking skirt and heels, jeans and a simple blouse like this one would be a hint that you are a bit down. Do you want to convey that?”

“Oooohhhhh… women and their hints!”

Cory gets drawn deeper and deeper into his role as Carrie at the Hotspot club, not realising the effect it would have on his life.

A Grumpy Old Man’s Tale 58 The Heller of All Hellers

Daphne said, “Most women I know, including me, have an awful lot of clothes. Not Stephen, but that skirt suit is genuine Harris tweed and cost a small fortune. All his clothes are the same, he doesn’t have wardrobes and wardrobes of them but what he does have is all the ultimate in quality. He should have been a woman because his dress sense is far better than mine. However, he’s a hundred percent man. He just likes dressing up in what other people call women’s clothes, but he doesn’t see it that way. He says, ‘I’m a man. They’re my clothes, so by definition they’re a man’s clothes.’ I suppose he does have a point.”

By spring semester Bob’s paper was written and had got an A++. However, many boys still wore the lilac skirt to school. That had taken on a life of its own. Bob could easily have quashed it but saw no point in doing it (and it was his mother's shop that sold them). Besides a couple of his teammates had decided that they liked wearing the skirt. And it WAS the school colors, if they wore it with a black shirt.

I read somewhere that the ancient Goths used to debate any important question twice, once drunk, and once sober. I had gotten into the habit of doing something like that with jekyllase; I would think something over once as myself and once as Jennifer before coming to a decision.

“Wrong time for conceiving. If there was a risk for that, I would ask you to use a condom,” Carla smiled. “Could you please turn aside while I put some clothes on?”

I did, jokingly protesting:

“Hey, we even had sex! And I am a woman five days out of seven, I can look in the mirror as much as I want. What is the problem with seeing you naked?”

The next day the same three girls invaded the house once more. There was one addition this time. Peter, the geekiest geek imaginable and the closest thing to friend that Larry had had before, had joined them. Peter also wore the very short lilac pleated skirt. And I noticed he had shaved legs. Very recently, and not expertly, shaved legs by all signs.

Chapter 2

I woke early from an uneventful night. I peeked out of the window and Mo Man had gone. I expect that when I went back out, there would be someone else waiting to follow me. If that was the case, they could follow me back to the town house.

What idiot did come up with that title? I’m NOT a sissy. I’m NOT a girl. I’m a BOY, sort of. More specifically I’m a femboy. A proud, strong, self-confident femboy. I’m NOT a sissy. The word sissy has too many connotations of wimpishness. I’m NOT a wimp.

Still, many people call me a sissy. And – it’s true I’m changing with the football team. So there is some truth to the title even if I resent the wording - profoundly.