My name is Brent ‘Badie’ Anderson, i’m a 18 year old high school dropout looking to make it. I live in a small house in Detroit with my mother, she always tells me i hang out with the wrong crowd and today more than ever i realized that.

Tom, Dick and I, Harry had been best friends since primary school. How we had been teased for our names over the years. We stuck together through middle and high school. We hung out together. Got into trouble together. Somehow Tom always managed to extricate himself and I managed to shield Dick from the worst consequences. In high school we usually triple dated. We also stood together against the bullies. We were unfortunate in that we were considered to be “cute” in a girly way. Unfortunately that also invited some unwanted attention from the gay community. We weren’t. Gay that is.

Of course it’d have to be on a “Take your daughter to work day” that we visit this factory. Of course, for me every day is “Take your daughter to work day.” I’m surrounded by small and big girls eager to ask me lots and lots of questions while my mother does what presidential candidates do. I hate having to participate in my mother’s campaigning but that’s Mother for you. Whatever can be useful not only can be used but MUST be used.

Homecoming. The most miserably cold and wet game yet. The sidelines churned to a sea of mud, and I had to go and slip.

Waving goodbye to the rest of the cheer squad, I snuck into the girls showers. I unpinned my muddy wig, and ran a hot shower.

Sudsing my sweaty, flattened hair, I heard a scream. Clearing my eyes, I saw that Brittany had come back, for some reason.

"I just ducked in here to grab a shower," I claimed, "I didn't think any girls were here."

Author: Sorry about the delay, had some computer problems.

“Are you ready for your detention?” Naomi asked, trying not to speak so loudly it would attract Coach Angel Slayers attention, but still be heard over the sound of wood and metal hitting each other.

Chapter Three – Pull Down Your Skirt, You Look Like a Slattern!

Having arrived in New York City it is not long before Yuri Godekin puts Valerie Sokolova to work springing her honey trap on a witless victim. Professor Mikhail Blavatsky is becoming more jealous of Valerie and bitter about the situation. Meanwhile the FBI are provided with some alarming intelligence by their MI6 counterparts.

Due to a mail order mishap orchestrated by his sister, the pair of glasses Leighton receives are not the pair he ordered. Looks like if he wants something different, he's going to have to get a new job to pay for them. What could possibly go wrong?

A redux of a very requested oldie of mine. It's basically the exact same story, but rebuilt from the ground up.

There once was a man who loved to swim. Whenever he could, he frolicked all day in the waves. When he was working, he pined for the siren song of the sea.

Luckily, the man had a lovely witch of a wife who could help him with his passion. She gave him a spell that granted him gills, with the warning that he must never use it for more than a sun's trek across the sky.

Lady Plague sat on the throne of mithril and emerald green spider silk, that filled one entire side of her office, staring down at Blood Wing, Micheal and myself with her pitch black eyes. The dragon skull on her golden sceptre seemed to be growling at us.

Sam looks up at the pink tinted machinery hovering from an extendable arm two foot above his face. He could clearly see the permanent makeup tattoo brushes and eyelash extensions poised to descend and change him forever probably into a girl with light makeup, long lashes, and rouge lips. He was semi relieved that he could not see the tell-tale injectors to plump his lips as well, but he supposed they could be there.

Leaving magic class, I was grateful that none of my classmates followed me to subterfuge. Having to face anyone who'd seen me naked so soon after it happened, would have been unbearable. There was one teeny tiny problem however, I had to walk the hallways by myself, and who knew what Micheal or his friend Victor would do.

The next morning, I was once again forced to sit still as my friends taught me how to put on makeup. “Why do I need to do this again? I don't look that bad,” I said.

I really did look good. I'd gotten a good nights sleep, and I was learning how to comb my hair so it wasn't tangled, or looked like I'd slept in it. And with my new, unwanted, assets, most people wouldn't be looking at my face.

“So... Petra, will you be keeping the new body?” Clarice asked, looking a tad envious.

Slumped in my seat, I was busy stuffing food into my face. Being killed and resurrected over twenty times had made me work up an appetite. The new proportions probably didn't help matters either. It felt like I was sitting on balloons, and I missed being able to see my feet.

I was only a little late getting to Potions class, but it was humiliating having everyone stare at me and my new body as I handed over the note and went to sit beside Calci. I'd gone from being a fairly normal boy, on the smaller side, to a small girl, and now I was a bouncy, buxom girl. If I saw a girl looking like me, I wouldn't have been able to take my eyes off of her.

Being attracted to my own reflection wasn't something I was used to.

When magic class finally ended, I headed off to subterfuge, the one class I actually wanted to attend. I didn't want to become a trained liar, but it had my favourite teacher Bob, and I wasn't likely to get burned or horribly maimed in it. That had never really been a concern of mine before coming to Doom Valley Prep, now it was at the top of my list.

High pitched shrieks and shouts shook the large cavern. It sounded like the entire goblin camp was stampeding up the slope towards me. Somehow, despite the loud roar, I heard Reginald running in his heavy armour.

“Petra, where are you? Has a goblin attacked you?” he shouted.

There is one huge problem with nightgowns.

While the boys went to the opposite side of the cafeteria to get their food, I went with my friends to our usual counter and glared at the cat woman. “Let's try this. Give me anything you have.”

“I'm not a mind reader kid, give me something a bit more specific,” she replied.

“Oh for the love of!” I screamed. “Give me a piece of bread!”

“All out.”

Chapter Four – Crystal’s Demise

Soviet spy Crystal Greystone is under pressure from her handler to get her hands on the documents in Professor Brett Beaumont's safe before her cover is blown by the FBI agent Liam Dresser who has become besotted with her and is closing in. This is the climax and final chapter.

Five o'clock finally rolled around.

I couldn't wait to get to my room, it would mean I could either take a nap or get ready for supper. Thanks to the time difference between my hometown and Doom Valley, my body insisted it was not only past my bedtime, but I'd missed supper by several long hours.

Olly

“Olivia?” the teacher inquired. “Oliver,” I corrected him. “Damn! Another one,” the teacher muttered.

Barber

“I want a buzz cut like my dad and brothers,” I said to the barber sitting down. “No,” he replied calmly.