A half an hour, 45 minutes outside town, the hills begin to lift, and
if you know just where to look, you see the first blue line of
mountains reaching towards the sky. That's where he left the highway,
dipped and swooped through steepening hills, past trees that seemed to
grow taller, deeper green as we climbed. A gravel road following the

It's not as simple as desire, not just a layer, or even two. It's art.

Perhaps it was when I lifted my foot, to untie my shoe, and pants rose
just enough to show the smallest band of smooth and newly-shaven skin,
that we decided on a painting, not a sketch. I saw my secret exposed. I
saw him look. I looked up at his face, tried a small smile.

You always worry, can they see? Is there something, maybe the way
you've let your hand relax or your wrist bend, despite all the times
you've caught yourself and clenched your fingers, straightened the
curve. Something -- the way you hold a hand to your mouth? Or tilt your
head? Why do you hook your knees together when you sit: ankle on

Sometimes, despite a breath of breeze across the inky river, the night air seemed almost liquid with the lingering heat ....

Eventually she let me loose long enough to get a good look at my face. “You certainly make a pretty girl, even under all those tears. Come on. Let’s get both of you cleaned up.” To Wendy she asked, “How bad have things gotten?”

The top brass at Spellcrafters Inc. have it in for the Spells R Us wizard. They've brought in hired muscle from overseas to do their dirty work- a powerful magical mercenary named Necromancer Sato. Can Wizzie survive their deadly scheme? And will our "somewhat ridiculous heroine" Wendy manage to avoid getting caught in the crossfire? This is a wicked little story about an extremely nasty bunch of people. In the words of William Burroughs, "Hold back the edges of your gowns, Ladies. We are entering Hell..."
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An Assessment of the G.I.R.L Program

By Seaweed Smells

Craig has become increasing depressed because of his
desire to become a woman and the inability to do so. However, after a
design flaw is discovered, the opportunity finally presents itself.

All 10-year-old Michael wanted to do was to wear the prettiest dress he ever saw; he knew he’d look so lovely in it, but he was frightened that it was wrong and maybe even a sin.

6:30 AM. The alarm buzzed. I slammed down the sleep button, with every intent of going back to sleep. Five minutes later, I had to go to the bathroom and got up to go. I turned on the light. I looked in the mirror. My wife looked back. I screamed.

“What’s wrong, Dan?” I heard myself say, from the bed.