I didn't used to be a girl with a bright future.
I used to be a "loser" at West High.
I used to be a boy named Martin Rawlings.
This is my story.

I see my vision grow brighter and brighter as a white void surrounds us. Out of nowhere a bed and hanging linen comes to view out of the corner of my eye. White silk sheets and cashmere cover the huge bed. I’m not sure if we moved, or everything around us did, but I feel like we are nowhere near the pond. We both fall into the bed brought before us. It’s cushion is silent, but it caresses us like nothing mortal.

Twenty seven days later.

The past month or so has been pretty uneventful, a short stop in India, a lot of boring days at sea. Oh, a lot of the guys heard of my night of escapades and give me looks of disbelief about that. We are now almost near the Middle East, getting ready to sail through the Strait of Hormuz in a few days.

Ever since that night, I’ve found myself day dreaming of such wonderful sex, God I hope to see soon.

I didn't used to be a girl with a bright future.
I used to be a "loser".
I used to be a boy named Martin Rawlings.
This is my story.

“Happy birthday!” Everybody in the packed ballroom yells at the top of their lungs. I can’t help but giggle at some of the bizarre costumes being worn by some of the party attendees, myself included- there are very few places you could get away with wearing a skin-tight green thong leotard, a pair of brown booty shorts and combat boots, but a videogame-themed birthday party is one of those occasions.

“Hey Miss Croft,” Sarah giggles as she gives me a tight cuddle. “Want to go and ‘raid’ me a drink?” I smile as Sarah adjusts her own tight white top and loose over shirt.

As the sun is setting Brad and I link up with Donaldo and Sgt. Aaron Doyle and we catch a bus to the hotel strip. It takes about 30 minutes but the wait only makes anticipation better. We get dropped off downtown and take in the sights. Neon lights, signs for miles. Japanese tourists dominate the foot traffic. I see a few familiar faces walk past us.

Prologue:

“I shall see you on Tuesday!” Hannah giggles as she drops me off outside my former college. “Give my love to the rest of the ‘Teen Angels’. Oh- and enjoy your long, loooong weekend!”

“Will do!” I laugh, straightening my short skirt and opaque black tights as I step out of the car and stride into the dining hall of the large building. I breathe a sigh of relief that my work is over for another week- not that I don’t still enjoy it, of course, but it IS hard work, and I’m REALLY looking forward to three free days to spend with my friends… Especially Sarah.

Inside Seeker Headquarters A meeting is being held.

Head Seeker "We have to find the winged kids before they can find the truth! The Pact is in danger. Bring me those kids."

Author’s Note: The following stories were originally published in the “TG Mixed Tape” flash fiction anthologies. As readers of those collections know, many of my contributions detail incidents in the life of Nina, a young trans woman. If you haven’t read these stories, enjoy. If you have, I hope that you take the time to revisit and find re-reading them back-to-back a different, richer experience.

I straighten my short black pencil skirt and my clingy, translucent tights as I jump in the back of the pink London cab. I slip my stiletto heels off and stretch my tired toes, satisfied that a hard day’s work is complete.

“Don’t let those toes get too comfortable,” Viks teases as she gets in the driver’s seat. “Aren’t they going to be supporting your entire bodyweight later tonight?”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” I mock-groan. “I mean, it’s not that I DON’T like ballet, it’s just- haven’t I worked hard enough today?”

“Ugh,” I moan as my alarm clock wakes me at 7am for what feels like the millionth consecutive day.

“Morning babe,” Sarah tiredly moans, wrapping her arms around my naked body and giving me a slow, soft kiss on my neck.

“Hey,” I reply, blinking the tiredness out of my eyes. “Looking forward to today?”

“Been looking forward to it since I left in June,” Sarah giggles. “Just wish you were coming with me…”

“I know,” I sigh. “Kinda wish I was coming too…”

“No you don’t,” Sarah says, giving me a playful push. “You know EVERYONE would kill to have your job!”

“Seventeen!” The assembled guests yell. “Sixteen! Fifteen! Fourteen!” I stare over at Sarah, who is smiling happily, much to my relief.

“Thirteen!” The guests continue. “Twelve! Eleven! Ten!” I look to my left at Katie and Lauren, who are both excitedly bouncing up and down in chairs.

“Nine!” The crowd yells, working itself into a near frenzy. “Eight! Seven! Six! Five! Four! Three! Two! One!” Dannii- the most excited person of any in the packed restaurant- takes a deep breath and, in one go, blows out the seventeen candles on the rich chocolate cake placed in front of her.

Introduction: The year is 2076, not that is extremely important. The story takes place at the same time as Five Love Stories en Brochette; much of it at the same time as the last chapter of that story. It has been almost six years since that story was published here. In that story, Scott Adams is briefly mentioned in a couple of sentences near the beginning, and once again in the epilogue. Wren Phoenix thought it might be nice to know a bit more about Scotty Adams. I’m sorry Wren that it took so damn long to get around to it.

Phil and Joe Esterházy take charge. More and more evidence points to Elaine’s murder; however, the police are reluctant to do anything due to the evidence being only circumstantial. Then, Joe takes Scott to the school nurse.

“All good things must come to an end.” I guess that’s a cliché, but it fit my situation. Summer vacation was soon to be ending. With that, I assumed that my life as a girl was also drawing to a close. The happy days and cozy nights became almost overshadowed by the dread of what was to follow at home.

One morning, Amie was up early and waiting for me. “Jamie, I have something to tell you.”

OUTED IN THE OFFICE
Fiction by Cynthia V. Hart

The white #10 business envelope had no printing on it, just my name handwritten on the front. I found it sitting in my chair Monday morning when I arrived at work and came to my cubicle. I wondered who it was from; if it were official company communication, it would have been in one of our letterhead envelopes. I sat down, opened it and found a folded letter-size sheet of paper. On it was a printed photo, obviously taken by a smartphone’s camera…and my eyes widened in shock.

It was a photo of Andrea, no question. The dress, the face, the wig, the décor of the club…they were unmistakable. Someone had snapped a photo of me in my “other life” and left it here waiting for me in this envelope. I had thought nobody in the office knew I was a crossdresser, but here in my hands was proof that I was wrong. My heart was in my mouth and I started shaking with sheer terror.

Under the photo was printing from Microsoft Word or some other word-processing software, in that annoyingly overused Comic Sans font. It read:

“Dear Andrew: Is this you?

“Your friend always, Wendy.”

I gaped at the signature. Was this the gorgeous young lady I had spent two years or more working alongside, who sat just down the row of cubicles from me? Young, pale-skinned and freckled, busty and red-haired, blue-eyed and very cute, Wendy Parsons had always seemed a bit friendlier to me than most of the people there…but I had put it down to the rapport I often had with women, with whom I had always gotten along much better than those of my own gender. She strongly resembled a younger version of the actress who plays Joan on Mad Men -- Christina Hendricks, I think her name is -- right down to the epic prow. I had always loved the way her wavy crimson mane cascaded down from her head back over her shoulders, and the way her ample breasts filled out the front of her businesslike blouses and dresses. Sometimes I liked to imagine she wore something cut a bit lower than usual or left one extra button unbuttoned just for me to enjoy…but of course, that was mere fantasy.

I sat there for what must have been close to an hour, not even getting any work done, just trying to cope with the news that at least one of my co-workers was on to me and deciding what to do. Was it really from Wendy, or one of my other co-workers who’d spotted me and was trying to trap me?

THREE MONTHS LATER

“Stop being so nervous!” Dad admonishes me as I nearly hyperventilate on the back seat of his car. “This is something you want to do, it’s something you know you’ll be good at, so the sooner you relax and start enjoying it, the better.”

“I know, I know,” I breathe, fanning myself with my hands. “It’s just- it’s just all so new!”

“Well get used to it, because that’s life for you,” dad states bluntly.

Josh Peterson has just scored the job of a lifetime - or at least the best job he can hope for without leaning on his parents for references - as a janitor at The Magic Kingdom, but when fate intervenes and he finds himself alone with the costume of his favorite Pixie Hollow character, his life takes a whole new turn.

I brush my shoulder-length hair out of my eyes and tuck it behind my ears as I listen to the middle-aged woman talk as she makes notes on the whiteboard. I fidget a little in my seat- I've been wearing my school uniform all day and even though three months from now I'll have worn it for the very last time, I'd pay anything to go home and slip into something more comfortable... Like a cute skirt and a pair of warm tights, as opposed to my itchy cotton shorts and polyester trousers.

You Don’t Have To…

My name is Shane and I actually don’t mind my name at all it’s just the rest of me that has extraordinarily been off kilter. I guess it sort of started when I was little but that’s actually kind of hazy and repressed stuff. By repressed I mean there’s stuff that just sometimes that kind of just pops into my head that comes up when I see something that would have been like normal and stuff.