Diva Dismayed: Chapter 6 – Exploration

The next morning, my wife woke up before me, full of energy. She got up, turned around and climbed on me, while I was still asleep. She gave be a hug, body touching body, her head on my shoulder.

I could smell her hair and feel her softness and warmth, like a blanket on a very cold morning.

"Mmmm", I woke up and yawned, hugging her back, tightly. I placed kisses along the side of her neck, stroking her hair with one hand.

Chapter Five – Hook, Line, and Sinker

Victoria, Madeline and Susan hatch a daring, dangerous plan to take over Durden City and hold Pope Durden and his evil Commission to account. The final chapter.

It was the weekend after our agreed on week was over. Every day of the next seven days and more, the cage on on me.

It was easy to clean, while still on. It wasn't visible from my trousers. It helped me tuck and get a smooth front. Best of all, it wasn't uncomfortable or painful during normal wear. It actually felt very secure.

But, every morning, it felt like my dick was in a very tight tube. I never could sleep in with the cage on. Every morning, I took a cold shower.

I was woken the next day, by the most excruciating erection I ever had. Or tried to have. I was still locked in the damn cage.

I looked around the room for the key. I searched the flat, but I couldn't find the key.

Finally, I went to wake my wife, to find her woken up, due to all the noise I may or may not have made. She smiled and it looked like she knew exactly what was going on with me.

She came to me and gave me a slow kiss, which made me curl my toes, "Frustrated much?"

Not Lonely and Single
A Vignette
By Maryanne Peters

Sometimes it worries me that Eddie can be so stupid, but he is just so strong and good looking, and he loves me to bits, so it really does not matter to me. How a guy could believe that hypnosis could change me into a girl seems so dumb, but I am so glad that he does.

"How does it feel to be a woman?"

It was a beautiful morning and we were sitting in the balcony, taking in the view with a cup of coffee.

She had been unusually quite. She's not a chatterbox, but she usually has something to say. If nothing else, she will drop a teasing remark or two.

So to bring her out of the flunk, I asked her, "How does it feel to be a woman?"

She seemed to register that I was talking and looked at me, "Hmmm, what was that?"

"Honey, how does it feel to be a woman? Or rather what's the difference between me and you?"

"Did you like it last night?", she smilingly asked over a cup of coffee the next morning.

My face got red and I avoided catching her eye.

"Looks like your face liked it. You are so adorable with your face all flushed like that"

I lightly swatted her head and sneaked a quick kiss on her lips, "You snore"

"What's the use of your PP if you want to be penetrated?"

It was the next day, we were having breakfast prepared by me, poached eggs, hollandaise sauce and store brought muffins. It was delicious, I had prepared it with a focus that allowed me distractions from last night.

The silent treatment continued for two more weeks. During that time, I woke up on the couch, prepared and ate food alone, and went to work. She never saw me at mornings, never had food at home, came home after me and went straight to sleep. I kept expecting an intervention, possible divorce, career and home loss.

"Honey, I need to talk to you", I said to her with some trepidation. I did not know how she would react, but I needed to tell her the truth after these few years of our marriage.

This story is about an Indian couples' struggle as their marriage is tested and they try to navigate their way through the entirely new expectations and experiences of the husband's suppressed auto-gynephilia and trauma from abuse sexual/otherwise, against a backdrop of traditional patriarchal Indian society and an intensely segregated LGBT community.

Ambiguous
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

My name is Tracy. It was before and it is now. When I was young I never really thought of it as being an ambiguous name – like, for either a boy or a girl. Maybe it was just because we had no female Tracys at middle school. I mean, you think of Tracy McGrady and maybe Tracy Morgan, or the guy I was named after – Tracy Lawrence – some country singer that my Dad still loves to listen to. Then in high school somebody said – “Tracy is a girl’s name”. Suddenly the world seemed full of women called Tracy.

Life and Love are far more complicated than we can possibly understand. For one young cop, a journey of self-discovery will teach them that true strength was inside them all along.

“Unf,” I grunt as I’m woken from a dreamless slumber by my phone, though it isn’t my alarm that wakes me, but rather an incoming call. I try to smile as I click the ‘answer’ button- normally I'd be happy to see the identity of the caller on my phone's screen, but it's much too early- and much too cold- for that right now.

“Good morning, Ian!” Grandma says with a cheerful tone. “Or rather, happy birth-eve!”

“Thanks, grandma,” I say quietly as I prop myself up in bed and huddle my sheets around my shivering form. “Is everything okay in Cardiff?”

Taller
A Vignette
By Maryanne Peters

Sometimes I wish I was shorter than him, but he says that he loves me the way I am. I am wearing heels in this shot, so he looks shorter than he is. But he says that he likes me to wear heels – they make my legs look even better.

“What the hell, Babe. Even without heels you are taller than me, so what do I care? Just be as beautiful as you can be.” That’s him. That’s my man.

Cheong Sam
A Vignette
By Maryanne Peters

My grandfather fought in Vietnam. He was the same age as I am, when he was drafted. He said that he had long hair just like mine when he was called up. They ran the clippers over his head and left him with a quarter inch all over.