This story is dedicated to my father, who never understood my need to be Kelly. Despite our problems, I know he loved me even though he didn't tell me the way I wanted him to. I miss you dad. Thank you for caring for me when I didn't care about myself. (With tears in my eyes)

This story dedicated to The Professor, whose Ovid stories and support inspired me to write the Andersonville series. Helping a fellow writer is what makes our community so strong.

This story dedicated to Beverly, who owns and maintains Beverly's Balcony. Her creative insight and hard work has made her web page a favorite of mine. Thank you for allowing us a place to post our stories, Beverly.

This story dedicated to Crystal, for her unselfish and generous devotion in providing a place (Crystals Story site) for writers like myself to share their stories with others.

Lizzie Jane, still thinking that the strange man was giving her a ride to Tuscaloosa, was unknowingly flown to a small airport outside Miami. Still unsuspecting the true motive of the strange man, she was placed in a room with two other girls “to wait for just a little while”.

It was when she was given a pair of short-shorts and a short top that revealed her belly button that questions seem to pop up. Puzzled, she asked, “What are these for?’

“Because that is the way our clients like for our young girls to be dressed,” came the reply.

”Clients?” questioned Lizzie Jane.

“Shut up and put them on,” was the response, followed by a sharp slap on the face.

Surprised and being overcome with fear, she complied. The two other girls looked on at the spectacle.

After the door was closed, one of the girls spoke, “Didn’t you realize that you have been kidnapped and to be sold to someone of another country? We are all in the same boat.”

Lizzie Jane was speechless. The girl noticed Lizzie Jane’s confusion, so she continued, “We tried to resist and were beaten for our efforts. We have talked about escape, but there isn’t any chance."

Easy As Falling Off A Bike.
by Angharad
part 73.

“Good afternoon Columbine girls.” A friendly voice sang from the door to the cabin. In stepped a young woman with copper hair, twisted up and clipped to the back of her head. Her fair skin was dotted with freckles and her green eyes were warm and sparkling with merriment. She was wearing shorts, flip-flops and a lavender Camp Kumoniwanalaya T-shirt that clashed with her warm coloring and orange hair.

“Is everyone here?” She asked looking around taking a head count. She nodded to herself and plopped down on the bed next to the door. “My name is Phoenix and I’ll be your counselor for the next two months.”

The girls all greeted her with smiles and a murmur.

“I hope you like this cabin, I had to fight to get it, it’s further away from the boys, and close enough to the showers that we don’t have to hike to them, yet far enough that we won’t hear them every morning and night.” Phoenix smiled. “As my name is Phoenix, I like to give my cabin-mates the opportunity to ‘burn’ their past and be ‘re-born’. So shed who you were before you got on that bus this morning. Toss it aside and think of the next few weeks as a time of change so that you can emerge a new person."

In more ways than one... Erika thought to herself.

Dave makes his first work trip to Germany for Apollinaris...

More emotional trauma for our heroine.....read on, I dare you!

Easy As Falling Off A Bike
by Angharad & Bonzi (the bored)Cat.
part 72 (that's like six dozen!).

“Tell us, Mr. Bond, have you any children?”

“No! Wait! This is all just a mistake!” he shouts as he is taken through the door.

This was too good to be true, thought Lizzie Jane, but she was so excited that she did not stop and think that the man may not be telling the truth. Also, he appeared to be a gentleman. What harm could come from that?

She decided to take him up on his offer.

The police was back at Reverend Walker’s home. “We may have some bad news,” one of the officers reported.

“When the Mobile police got to the address she called from, she was gone. They questioned some boys who last saw her and they said that she got in a car with a unknown male. The Mobile police department has been watching that address very carefully and have planted a plainclothes woman in the area to investigate the suspicion that white slave traders work out of that section of town. From the description given by the boys, the male who has her in his car may be the suspected ringleader of the group.”

“You mean---“ began the shocked Reverend.

“Yes, she may never be heard from again,” replied the officer. “She may be shipped to another country and sold as a slave — if the male is indeed the person the Mobile police think he is.

Life around Casa Bond tries to return to normal...but just what does THAT mean???

A poem and a statement all wrapped up in one tidy package. I wrote it this morning after a conversation with a friend... that really led to places that it shouldn't have but was a fun and entertaining conversation, anyway!

In this chapter, Madam Martinique is called away to deal with an emergency, leaving Billie and Tod alone with whomever might be running the commissary. There we learn about Billies connection with his sister, how it leads (indirectly) to him being caught shoplifting, and see the beginnings of what may turn out to be his first crush.

Madam Martinique's Finishing School - Part 3
Copyright 2007 by Heather Rose Brown
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

After reading the story “The boy who wasn’t seen, and the Girl who couldn’t speak” by Rankan, I got to thinking about that storyline and decided to try out my own ideas. I hope that is okay.
 
“Why?” he looked into her incredible brown eyes. “Why are you doing this… Going to a summer camp with a guy from school who is considered the plague?”

“Because I owe you so much, Eric. You have been such a friend to me and helped me in so many ways.”

Now Eric was really confused. It must have been written all over his face, because Samantha continued.

“Do you remember my sister, Summer.”

Of course he did. Summer and he were in art class together and shared an interest in comic art. Summer committed suicide a year and a half ago. The whole school had to go through group counseling. Eric nodded.

“After Summer left us, I went through her stuff.” Samantha explained. “I found her diary and sketch pad. She wrote a lot about you and how talented you are. How you made her bad days a little bit better. How your drawings and your sense of humor helped her make it through each day. After I got closer to Summer through her stuff, I found you on line. I started reading your comics, and admiring your art. That is when I started to email you. I wanted to get to know you better. To see everything my sister saw in you. I just couldn’t do it at school, I’m not strong enough to deal with all the cliques and pressures. Anyway, I thought by spending the summer with you, I could get to know you better, like my sister did. Maybe through you, I can understand her better. Besides, it sounded like you needed a friend, and I felt it was the least I could do to help you out.”

This story dedicated to Gwendolyn Ann Smith for her, "Remembering our dead" web page at http://www.gender.org/remember. It's a place dedicated to our TG brothers and sisters who were murdered at the hands of others due to hate and intolerance. On the average, one (1) TG person is murdered each month. Would you take a moment to visit the site, bow your head, say a prayer for our fallen brothers and sisters, and remember what we are fighting for - the right to be treated as any other human being. Also, if you have a moment, would you please drop Gwendolyn a note and tell her how much you appreciate her maintaining this site. Thank you.

This story dedicated to all the writers of TG Fiction.

This story is dedicated to all the TG writers out there, who make the days easier to deal with by posting new stories to read each day.

This story is dedicated to the volunteers and workers of AA (Alcoholics Anonymous) and other related, drug rehab programs.

This story dedicated to Mathew Shepherd, who lives in the hearts of all open-mind people.

A story of a teenage boy with desires to become feminine. He gets busted wearing his best friend’s, sister’s cheerleading uniform. And she always wanted a sister...

A boy in a girl’s cheerleader outfit was staring back at me. My hair was long, but just not, well, styled like a girl. I opened her drawers and found some tie-backs and barrettes. I had no clue of what to do with them. Just then, I heard a soft knock on the door.

“Brian, is that you in there?” It was Britney!

“I’ll be right out,” I whispered.

“Brian, you have been in there for a half hour! What is going on?”

I had to think fast. I told her that I was sick. She did not believe me. I heard her try the door. Then I heard her use a tool to unlock the door. It was opening! I threw my body against the door and pushed.

“Please don’t come in Britney!” I pleaded. It was too late. She was part of the way in pushing back on the door when she saw my reflection in the mirror. Her eyes got big.

Dave and Jenny decide to surprise Gaby by secretly traveling with the Appollinaris team to the States when she rides with her American friends in Atlanta.

I peeked at myself in the mirror. Stephanie finished applying the foundation, and was now putting blush on my cheeks. The skin on my face looked flawless. There was no trace of anything that could be mistaken for a shadow from facial hair. It was really working. I was enjoying this very much, and decided to put my fears to rest for the final time. I closed my eyes and drifted off into a daydream. I pictured myself in my wedding gown on the arm of a handsome man in a black tuxedo. He was much taller than I with deep blue eyes and a square jaw. He was looking at me as if I was the love of his life. Why was I feeling this way? It really felt as if the closer I came to being feminized, the more I wanted to be in the arms of a man. My daydream was interrupted by Stephanie’s voice.

“All done! Oh my! You are ravishing!”

My hair was still wet, and flat, but the makeup was like something out of a magazine! I was amazed, and entranced by my reflection. I looked up at the girls and stammered,“You were right. I want it all. I want to be a girl in the worst way. I will do anything for you. Teach me the ways of becoming a woman, PLEASE!!?”