. . . Why aren’t you sleeping with him?” he asked as we shared coffee one morning. It’s quite clear he’s got a huge crush on you. Guys like me wouldn’t even be here, if you just got in bed with him.”

“I’m not gay,” I responded evenly, . . .and I’m married and hope to stay that way.”

“You mean you got yourself a woman who wants you to be a woman too?”

“Well, not exactly.”

. . . Were you two really in the changing room together?"

Their voices became too soft to hear, until I heard Courtney say, "No, not yet. But I bet they will be soon though."

All 10-year-old Michael wanted to do was to wear the prettiest dress he ever saw; he knew he’d look so lovely in it, but he was frightened that it was wrong and maybe even a sin.

"How do you know I was born on Christmas Day my little warrior? It’s a secret," he asked with a grin.

Without looking back, I was squirting WD40 down inside my cable covers, I said, "Hi Des." I continued bent over my bike.

"The view from here is terrific."

"Ha bloody ha. Does my bum look big in this then?" I jibed back, still playing with my gear and brake cables.

"No it looks absolutely perfect."

          Gentles all:   The following story contains reference to a form of Japanese street fashion, the adherents to which refer to as Elegant Gothic Lolita. Note, that the term “Lolita” refers to this style of clothing. This, with Gabi's kind help, is a revised and illustrated version of the story that originally appeared on Crystal’s Storysite.

Hansel and Gretel: A Fairytale. Act 3. By Sarah Lynn Morgan

"Hmmm? What do you mean honey?"

"Well, sometimes two or three of you go off to your office to talk. Other times, you suddenly stop talking when I come into the room. I mean, it's not like it's my birthday or anything coming up."

"No, it's not. I guess Ruth was right though."

CAUTION!! This chapter may require tissues.

. . . Look,” she said, patting the seat next to her so I would move over there. “We always thought you were a little, errr, different. You were always a little effeminate, you loved art, I don’t know. You just weren’t terribly manly.”

. . . What kind of a wife lets her husband turn himself into a woman? Couldn’t you satisfy him?

. . . But it still makes me really uptight to see you kissing a man,” she mumbled.

We chatted some more, he told me stories about when he was at school with Simon and Stella, she was a bit later and they didn't have much contact, but she nearly got herself expelled when she was found out to have put glue in the gymshoes of her PE teacher, with whom she'd had an argument. The poor woman couldn't get them off for a week.

Easy As Falling Off A Bike.
by Angharad,
part:194

6:30 AM. The alarm buzzed. I slammed down the sleep button, with every intent of going back to sleep. Five minutes later, I had to go to the bathroom and got up to go. I turned on the light. I looked in the mirror. My wife looked back. I screamed.

“What’s wrong, Dan?” I heard myself say, from the bed.

"You ready to climb up and hook the ladder." I whispered to Karen.

She nodded, and stepped into my hands as I lifted her to waist level. Two quick taps on her leg then a quick hop had her standing on my shoulders. Two more taps, and I stood back up. She squeezed her toes to my chin so I knew she could reach the sill. I stood very still, bracing my hands against the brick wall.

"No, I'm an ordinary woman who came to womanhood by a more tortuous path than you, but my world is as boring and mundane as yours. I'm not into any secret worlds except that of The Mammal Society and Portsmouth university cycling club." It was a slight fib, but I felt my cowardice wouldn't allow her to tar me with any brush, except that of normality.

I really began to think where my life went wrong. As I looked at my life for those 15 years I spent living in that hell on earth as I now refered to it years later. I realized I had a few choices really, 1. kill myself , I really came close several times over that 15 years I spent with my undeserving parents and brother. 2. leave and never look back. I chose option 2.

"On January 1, 2008, a new new agency was born. The mission of this agency? To repair the personality flaws that

have long kept the human race from achieving harmony with each other.

They are led by a tough, no nonsense, director named Rebecca Snow. She went to work assembling the best team of agents, the Universe had to offer.

Agency: The Bureau Of Karmic Retribution

. . . Then, looking down at my own chest, I realized what they were really looking at. My nipples, the nipples which Rebecca had insisted I glue to my breast forms, now jutted aggressively through my sports bra. They were calling to the men like the Sirens called to the lost sailors in the Odyssey.

. . . He had never turned his personality on like this when I was a man. Now, he was totally engaging: a force of nature, nearly. I knew that if I continued to look into his eyes, he'd melt me, and all I'd want to do was caress his face with my hand, and then pull him down into another kiss. But I just couldn't let that happen. . .

. . . And as long as I was rebelling, I decided to leave my toes, figuring that no one would see them anyway, and I could wait until they chipped to clean them up. At least that's what I told Rebecca. I really thought that once they needed to be redone, I could just switch to another color, and no one would see that either.

I was in the kitchen making some tea, I badly needed a cup of its life giving waters. I took us out a tray of tea. We sat in the lounge, Tom and Stella jabbering away and me trying to calm down after the afternoon's trauma. I closed my eyes and what seemed like minutes later opened them, it was dark

Easy As Falling Off A Bike
by Angharad,
part:190

"Dad, just wanted to let you know I got a call today from some organization. They were asking about my interest in Dr. Pfister's papers."

"You're kidding aren't you?"