Batgirl: The Twinflower
By:Kokopo618

"Excuse me, Linnea?" Bella says politely.

"OMG Bella hey," the girl replies, stranding up from her seat, giving Bella a girlish side hug. As Bella releases from the hug, she notices the large bandage across Linnea's nose. "My nose, I know, but I figured, new city, new nose."

“So, where are you going on vacation, Mouse?” Diana looks at her friend as she packs.

“New York, New York. My Uncle Jack has an apartment I can stay in while I’m there and my Aunt Anika is going to pick me up at the airport.” Mouse has never been on vacation by herself and she was surprised that the Chief of the Secret Intelligence Service was allowing her to go to America.

Sales Team
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

Eric and I were a top sales team. Eric Giles and Avery Thompson, platinum level sellers. ‘The Best in the West’; top performers for three years running.

The Death of Diana

A Short Story

By Maryanne Peters

The Translator
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

I was furious that the agency had made such a mistake, but somehow, I found it hard to express my anger to him. He seemed small and harmless, but he was still a man. I had been very precise in my instructions: We were a group of women speaking to female Muslim refugees about women’s’ issues – our interpreter had to be a woman.

What have we done?

Another perspective to the short story Lara Croft 2.0 and some further development.

by MonicaS

Chauffeuse
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

“Actually, I thought you were a woman when you first applied,” said Elspeth Mabey, as she sat in her drawing room sipping her tea. “You put your surname first, you see: Bonnie Keith. And here you are, Keith Bonnie.”

“I have been in Europe, Ma’am, where they write their names that way,” the newly recruited driver replied. “Were you looking for a woman?”

Twister
A Short Story inspired by a Captioned Image
By Maryanne Peters

I put it down to good policework. My policework. Checking the scenes thoroughly. Interviewing the witnesses. Understanding the clues. Good policework. Dedication.

My father was a policeman. I respected him and I respected the work that he did, but he did not achieve great heights. He said that it was about the satisfaction of doing good. That is the measure of achievement that a policeman should be aware of, not their rank or salary bracket.

Domination
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

The slap bought me back to consciousness with a stinging pain on my cheek.

“Wake up, Doctor Daly.”

My eyes had real trouble focusing as my surroundings seemed so unreal. In front of me was a attractive middle aged woman dressed in traditional dominatrix style, a sort of vinyl outfit with fishnet stockings and heels, her dark hair pulled back from her snarling face.

“What is this? What is going on? Who are you?” I gasped in disbelief.

“The parody is the last refuge of the frustrated writer. Parodies are what you write when you are associate editor of the Harvard Lampoon. The greater the work of literature, the easier the parody. The step up from writing parodies is writing on the wall above urinals.” - Ernest Hemmingway.

“Turnabout is fair play.” — Angela Rasch

The following parody has many references to Cary Grant and his movies. . .above and beyond the obvious. Should you get bored with this story, or if the story runs against your grain. . .use it as a puzzle. . .try to pick out all those references.

This story also contains several un-attributed quotes. We apologize for trying to be someone or something we’re not. We suspect the nature of the story supports this decision.

Christian Feminization

From a series of Captioned Images

Mother Love
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

I could never hate my son. How could a mother hate her own child? I remember the first moment that he was laid upon my chest – purple pink and wet from my womb – so small and fragile. How could he grow up to be just like his father?

Nancy is there at the beginning.

The Pageant Trap
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

You can probably guess how it began. It’s in the title. It was a beauty pageant, more than one in fact, but the first one had to be a “Womanless” Beauty Pageant.

My mother had been a beauty queen. She married my father who was an athlete and a pro ballplayer when they met. To his great satisfaction he had three sons. I was the youngest. We were all brought up to play sport as our father had. None of us had the slightest interest in domestic things. We wanted nothing more than to be like our dad.

Miracles
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

My uncle was a religious man. When I say religious, I mean that he claimed to be a Christian. He claimed to live his life by the principles preached by Christ and his church. He claimed to be good.

When I say my uncle, I mean that he was the husband of my aunt – my mother’s much younger sister. That meant that he was not my uncle by blood nor was he more than about 10 years older than me.

Cuckoo
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

I should explain right at the beginning why Daddy did the things that he did to me. You see, Daddy is not my real father. That is the whole problem, and the reason why things fell apart. He told me that he did not want to believe that I was not his, so he ignored the fact that I did not look anything like my two older brothers. He loved me, and now he loves me more.