“Maybe he did as the servant said, maybe not. Either way, I fear he did meet with some misfortune, for the last I heard his family had not heard from him either. But wine can't be pressed into grapes. I met Itsulanu when I was angry and sad, and he comforted me. Now in less than three days he is to be my husband, and that makes me happier than I can say. I wish my sometime lover may be happy wherever he is; I forgive him.”

“Love is a thing holy to Kalotse, and...” Just then she heard a wailing, which got momentarily louder; one of the servants came in holding a fussy, just-woken Miretsi. “A thing with unexpected consequences,” she concluded.

Launuru said little in the carriage on the way back to the wizard's house. She was thinking about her reaction when Kazmina had suggested that she change back into the man she'd been when she hired the room. It had been as appalling to her just now as the idea of becoming a woman had been when Kazmina suggested it two days ago. If that were so, how could she ask Tsavila to marry her, promising to become a man again soon?

Justice?

This one has some strong themes including forced femininization Please read with care, and comments, as always, are appreciated.

The detective came into the interview room, and placed a tape recorder on the table. A pretty young woman followed him, and took the seat he indicated.

“Kazmina,” she said, gently shaking the wizard, “you've got to change me back now... Or tell me what's going on.”

Kazmina wasn't fully awake. “What's wrong?” she mumbled, propping up on her left arm.

“This doesn't feel wrong, that's what's wrong! I'm forgetting what I'm supposed to be, just like when we were geese. By the time we go to see Psavian, I'm afraid I'll have forgotten why I came back to find Tsavila!”

Wine Can't be Pressed into Grapes

by Trismegistus Shandy

Part 1 of 22

The man had evidently been traveling on foot for a long time. His clothes were rags that barely covered his nakedness, and his cheekbones, ribs, and hips stood out against flesh from which all the fat and too much of the muscle had been burned off some time ago.

Tears rolled unchecked down her cheeks. Looking him deep into his eyes, she whispered to Rall. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t save you.” Then she finally broke down into heartwrenching sobs, completely devoid of hope.

PREVIOUSLY ON FAT STEVE:

Erica looked up to Ian's face, “When we get to Rome, will we be safe?”

“Yes, I promise that once we get to Rome, we'll be safe”

Can Ian keep his promise? Let's find out....

The plot thickens, and things are starting to get a lot darker.
Surely there is more to this than Eric, now Erica, owing Fat Steve  £500?

Wow. It's been a while since i've written anything for you all.
Ok, without giving too much away about this story; it's got some mafia stuff in, some conspiracy stuff, and a boy on the run. Enjoy!

“I’m still finding it really hard to believe that it actually worked.” Kacy Prescott answered honestly. Having watched his mom’s car pull out of the driveway where she’d just dropped him off at his best friend’s house for the weekend.

“You should’ve had a little more faith in me. Your mom is going to busy with her new job to check up on us and besides by this time tomorrow we’ll be in Las Vegas.” Matt replied confidently smiled back at his friend, toying with what appeared to Kacy to be an oversized metal brief case.

Slurping back the tea Rall stared at the sword. “We need to talk I think.”

Smiling at him she offered her elegant hand as if to pull him up from the water. “Come,” she said, “Dance with me on the waters and lie with me on the sand.”

“When the fae come out to play the mortals dance and swing and sway..."

Xabriar gripped the copper bowl full of dark water, his knuckles white around its edge, and forcibly restrained himself. The tools of his trade were becoming more valuable to him by the day, and this one let him see more of the distant goings on than most. He left it on the bench and stalked across the room, muttering to himself.

Cale’s waiting paid off an hour after dusk. The lights on the third floor flicker out in the adjacent inn. Soon the two girls would be fast asleep; a few drops of crushed night weed and the two would never awaken. A painless death, it was the least he could do.

“Unsheath the sword, would you lad? Can’t be too careful you see, and you have held the sword already.” Rall did as he was asked, laying the naked blade back down on the bench. Were his eyes deceiving him, or was it a bit more polished now?

"There's something you need to know about Emily..."

In the year 2404, America is no more. In a land ruled by the oppressive theocracy known as the Dominion of Divinity, being gay is a capital offense, adultery is punished with the lash, women are forbidden to work, and forced marriages are common.

Fifteen-year-old Emily La Rouche faces an impossible choice. On her sixteenth birthday, she will be forced to marry Jonathan Marsh, the son of her landlord. If she refuses, her family will lose everything. If she takes his hand, it is certain that her life will end by a hangman's noose in front of an angry mob. All because Emily has been hiding an enormous secret for years-she was born a boy. As the wedding approaches, Emily's parents realize the only way that she will be safe is if she is to escape the Dominion.

With her brother Aaron at her side, Emily flees across post-apocalyptic America in search for a new home. With vile bounty hunters on her trail, only time will tell if Emily will ever find a place where she can live and breathe free as the person she was always meant to be.

Arron stared at her for a moment as he contemplated her suggestion. “So you wish to sneak by the Academy guard, break into your own lab and not be noticed?”