My name is Sherri-Dawn Milstone(pronounced millstun)or at least that is how I always thought of myself. I was mistakenly given the name of Thomas Donald Milstone when I was born by some blind doctors.

I spent most of my childhood somewhat happy, not really happy as I was not wearing the pretty dresses I craved so much. I would play with my sister with her dolls or my older brother with his legos as the mood hit me. Playing tea with my cousins or dress up was a regular occurrence for me.

"Look, you. These," as she points to her chest, "are not a political statement, or an economic statement or even just a sexual statement, the fantasies of men notwithstanding. What they are is a pain, quite literally. So explain to me why you would want a pair of your own?"

This is a different tale that sprang up while I was cooking dinner. It is a single short story. This story may hurt you. Reader beware.

Michelle was confused. People kept asking or calling for someone named Mikey. She would sit day after day in the living room playing with her older sister and her barbies or tea.

The best stories start at the beginning so I guess that is where I have to start.

When I was little I knew something was wrong from an early age. Things didn't make sense but since I have that thing, that outie, that pe... I can't even spell it. Well you get the general idea. It's between my legs and has two bumps on either side. Anyways because of that I was supposed to be a boy. At least that was what I was told from an early age.

The small plastic yellow container with its childproof white top sailed through the air. It was a pill bottle and if you looked hard enough you could make out premarin 1.25mg with the dosage label stating take one pill 3 times daily.

The pill bottle hit the lilac colored wall of the kitchen followed soon after by two more small bottles in a wide pattern no where near the trash container. The person that threw them having never been a athletic person had a really bad aim.

Back Home
Spared From Evil

The beach picnic was almost surreal. Even as it was happening, I knew it was one of those events that would be lodged in my mind for decades to come.

Author's Note: To celebrate Big Busts' tenth year, I have decided to republish all my Big Busts' stories which are not already on Big Closet, which I'll do at intervals throughout the year. I have decided to also include this one, although it does not actually incorporate Big Busts products. Still, it was written in a similar vein.

It's worth saying that this, like most other of my stories, is meant to be fun (and I don't think there's enough of it on this site) often combined with sex and mayhem. Whether you're a new reader of my stories, or you have read them before, I hope you sit back and enjoy, without becoming too serious about it all.

Dear Diary,

Being a girl is a beautiful thing.

by Beyogi - 2012

Christmas Eve Day and there were still a lot of people doing their Christmas shopping or picking up thing that they had forgotten. The shopping centre was busy just as it was on normal day, except that is for one one small corner were a Santa`s Grotto was situated. The girls dressed as elves and a rather large man dressed as Santa Claus. The queues were long and noisy and the parents were in line with their youngsters after paying whatever the amount was to see Santa.