Imp pulse

I’m an Imp,

No, no. Not Her, and besides, she's not really one of us, but a mortal mutant.

And no, I’m not telling you my real name. I know an imp who ended up in a magic pen serving some dork who wanted to be a superhero thanks to his real name getting out,

Anyway, on with the story.

There arent many of us left, because humans dont believe in mischievous spirits anymore, which is one reason why I wanted this story written.

Chapter 4 Showtime

We all met for breakfast in our hotel before setting off, and the boys couldn’t believe how I had been transformed, they even said that they had been out with a lot worse lookers than me, and that they might have to provide a bit of muscle to protect me on our travels.

John, who was a couple of years older, drove us in his Triumph 2000, which was bit of a tight squeeze getting all our costumes and clothes and things in the boot, but as we were only away for a few days we didn’t need much personal stuff, at least the boys didn’t.

Serra is an experienced guide through the Warren and can handle anything it sends her way, but when she's hired to escort the crown prince of Kandria to the Capitol, what once seemed like a normal job takes on terrifying consequences.
 
 
"We'll need to burn Errod's body," the half-Fae said after a tense silence. "The wraith could still use it to attack us and I would rather limit its options. After we're done with that Your Highness, since you're so grateful, you're going to explain to me just what it is you did to earn the wrath of a wraith."

“Go on, Mate,” he said. “Give it a go over the weekend you might surprise yourself. Beats the hell out of viagra. It worked miracles for me.”

The other day I just happened to remark the sky seemed lower than usual. What I ask you was so funny about that that he had to get a whisky to recover?

Rejuvenation

A story in the MORFS universe

The honky-tonk roadhouse was rocking when she rolled up on the vintage hog. She walked the motorcycle back towards the stairway that led down from the front door and porch. Taking the mirrored aviator shade off, she surveyed the area for people standing around and spotted only two. They were on either side of the entrance. Both were over six two and looked like they had played linemen on the local community college football team.

So. Bobbie was still at work. It was August 26 already - just a few minutes after midnight. Back home in the States, it would be just past noon of August 25. Great. Just enough time.

Bobbie had hurried to wrap her once-a-month Sunday morning videoconference with the company's higher-ups scheduled for the last Sunday of the month (so no employees would be around), but since Bobbie was on the other side of the world, that meant it was Monday evening for her, and since they usually extended these meetings to just before noon, for them that is, then...

Normally, she wouldn't have minded, and her wife of over six years was understanding and knew these once-a-month meetings get extended all the time, but this was a special Monday for Bobbie - it was her tenth-year anniversary as a member in her favorite site, BigCloset Topshelf, and she wanted to post something on the site to commemorate this "momentous" occasion (she giggled at her use of the word), but she hadn't written it yet. That was why she was antsy, and was waiting impatiently for the meeting to end, so she could start writing it.

Dad was actually less embarrassing than I thought he would be. He told Michael, “I’ve heard good things about you, Michael. Just make sure you live up to them or I’ll turn my daughters loose. I seriously doubt you’d be able to better Lenska, but all of them? Not a chance, son.”

“What about your flat mate?”

“Daphne’s into girls and has friends of every description. I think she’d be disappointed if I were what she describes as bormal.”

The truth doesn’t matter any more, Mum, because nobody wanted to listen to me then, and it’s too late to make a difference now.

NOTE THE SECOND PARAGRAPH CONCERNING THE PAEDIATRICIAN IS A TRUE STORY AS CAN EASILY BE ASCERTAINED.
THE REST IS A PRODUCT OF MY IMAGINATION AND IS A WORK OF FICTION. IT IS POSTED AS A WORK OF FICTION AND ANY RESEMBLANCE TO ANY PERSON LIVING OR DEAD IS PURELY COINCIDENTAL AND UNKNOWN TO ME.
REGARDS,
EOLWAEN

Skater Grl

It started as a joke.

I’d always loved skating, and I soon was good enough that my coach partnered me with a girl named Kate and we began training as a pair, doing what’s called ice dancing.

Kate was also pretty good, and we clicked right away - at least on the ice.

Off the ice, Kare made it clear she thought of me as more of a brother than a potential romantic partner, and even though I was a bit disappointed, I was too happy with our progress as a team to kick too hard.

After an impromptu performance in his pink tutu, Hank's wife Cassie encourages him to figure out why he likes tutus.

Out of nowhere Josh asked me, “Jessica, would you do me the honour of wearing my posy at the harvest festival dance?” I was stunned. An invitation to go as a partner to the dance was one thing, but a request to wear a man’s posy at the dance was a proposal of marriage.

Ethan stretches like a cat as he wakes-up in bed. He was enjoying dressing like a girl all the time now. The silk nightgown he wore to bed rubs against his smooth skin and sends goosebumps up and down his body.

He looks down towards his chest and he was slowly developing his own breasts. He decided after high school that he wanted his own breasts. He had been wearing fake ones all the time for his performances. So, he talked Dr. Wolfhart into increasing his estrogen levels, since his body produced so little testosterone.

The carrion crew aren’t the nicest of folk. They’re all vultures from the wrong side of the tracks and I’m not much better. I’m a bit brighter and can actually read, and I do, but that’s about the limit of our differences.

I usually keep a pet for six weeks before returning them to the wild, after that they start to lose muscle tone. Sex a dozen times a day does that to humans no matter how well you feed them.

Your mum is the archetypal Yiddishe Momme, poor, the only survivor of her family from the holocaust, genuinely caring and loving, incapable of guile, immensely respected by all who know her, Jew and gentile alike. She’s the epitome of an eastern European Jewess. She could have have come straight out of Fiddler on the Roof. When my mum and dad are at outs he accuses her of only marrying him because the obliteration of his family at Auschwitz makes her feel respectable, and he provokes her by saying she would eat a bacon sandwich if a Rabbi told her it were kosher.

Fair Trade

Please heed the cautions before reading. A non-TG story about a couple who take a back road shortcut and break down near a lonely abandoned gas station. Two passing bikers offer assistance but their services require a fair trade.

Most of my mates still can’t believe that I’d managed to pull a drop dead gorgeous, university educated girl from an upper middle class family who spoke with a veritable bag full of plums in her oh so entirely kissable mouth and she actually married me. I get on with her family though her parents don’t totally understand the way their daughter chooses to live, permanently pregnant and surrounded by kids, even if she is living in more affluence than they are. Hey don’t look at me. I just do what I’m told and earn the money.

Karen strips out of her clothes and drops her glamour as she enters the condo her and Lady Betty lived in. She misses being in her Neko form while she is at work. She wonders how long Betty is going to be at work today. Karen walks into the kitchen and grab a baby bottle from the refrigerator and warm it up. She prefers to drink milk directly from her wife’s breasts, but her wife kept baby bottles of her breasts milk in the refrigerator when she wasn’t around.

James and Hannah are learning to cope with their new strange experiences.