A Fortunate Change of Events
by Katelynne Perry

I hear my doorbell ring as 'CSI:Miami' is about to end. As I get up and out of my chair to answer the door, things seem a bit different all about my apartment. My light-beige walls now seem brighter and glow in a pinkish hue I am certain isn't of my own intent. About the room are mementos of a feminine nature I have never seen before.

My Daughter, Myself

By Heather St. Claire

Prologue: The Proposal

It’s a gorgeous late spring day in the Pacific Northwest. A young couple is enjoying a picnic lunch together under a shade tree at a city park. They’ve spread out a blanket underneath a shade tree and have brought with them a basket full of sandwiches, fresh fruit, cold soda, and assorted other goodies.

I'm a small kid. I couldn't help it, it was how I was born! On top of that, I was 11 and hadn't hit puberty yet. I hated to admit it, but I really looked like a girl. In fact, you could probably call me a girl. I only had long blond hair about 2 inches down my shoulders, I only had one friend, who was a girl, and I had only girl family. My father died in a car crash while my mom was pregnant with me. In his honor, I was named after him. Salem. But that's beside the point. I need to get to the story.

I'm Sorry
For Many things
but mainly
Because I can not be,
I can not be the boy that you want

Anonymous

Anonymous

They were staring. And I hated it.

But you have no idea what I’m talking about, right? Right.

 ­Prologue:

 

*This is a fanfic set loosely in the Whateley Academy series. That series is great. I'll edit this to add the real disclaimer that's supposed to be here when my internet is faster. This is going to move slowly and there is cursing. You have been warned.*

Chapter 1: The more you ask, the more I say
I woke up to darkness. It was Saturday. Through the night I'd felt as though there was something going wrong but I couldn't place it, quite. My head felt funny, like it had expanded. The soft glow of my computer's monitor could still be seen over my immobile feet from my vantage point at the head of the bed. It was a Saturday. I was sleeping in: it was around ten o'clock, though I normally woke up much later, closer to 12 or 1. I wish I remembered more ... it's really a blur what happened next. I have a tendency to block out my emotions. There was a knock at the door. I was crying and I couldn't understand why. The knock was soft and quailing. Through my sobs I couldn't hear the other person crying, but I knew they were, somehow. They entered the door. It was my aunt Lily, who lived four states away and was the most caring and least rational person I knew in my family, simultaneously. She believed in Wicca, though my own blasphemous atheist thoughts were tolerated nicely. Dabbing at her eyes she seemed almost like she couldn't talk, and choked before letting go with a single sentence:
"Rick and Gloria are dead."

Where to begin is often the most difficult thing to sort out, but sometimes the best way to begin. For as long as I could remember, and having my first thoughts of why I wasn't like the others was when I hit puberty, or around twelve years old. I seen girls and saw how pretty they were, with long hair and breasts and somehow I knew I was plain jane as it were and could not catch their attention. I wanted to look like them, to have a body like theirs and be pretty

3000 years into the future, Humanity is once again fighting for it's very survival. There of course are those heroes who make sacrifices for the sake of others. Some have to sacrifice more than most people will ever know. Thanks to the Praetorians, our lives can continue...

These are the diary notes of a young man whom after taking a summer job experiences changes beyond anyone’s wildest imagination. It also suggests that there may be magic out there, not in the form of dramatic hocus-pocus but a more subtle one.

And sometimes that magic can come from something as inconspicuous as a pair of — Red Shoes.

WARNING! This is a very explicit story. It contains non-consensual sex (rape) and subjects/language that may be offensive to some. The real acts prtrayed here are in no way condoned or encouraged as the reality of the events are too grusome and criminal to be tolerated. However responsible CONSENTING adults do have wants and needs that can in no way be considered improper. This story is NOT intended for immature audiences. FOR THOSE THAT CONTINUE: I hope you find it erotic and please let me know what you think, good or bad.

My Parents died when I was 2. I live with my 3 older sisters, and my foster mother Caitlin, and her two daughters. They don't have a dad either. I'm a happy, carefree boy. Until Today.

  
(Author’s note: This story was previously released but has been re-released here in total with a few very minor changes)

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Chapter One

"Hey, ya little faggot! What the fuck're you doing in the boys locker room?"
Bobby McKellogg found himself slammed up against the lockers, the boy who stood over him scowling, one fist cocked and ready to slam into Bobby's face if he said the wrong thing. He was used to it. Certain boys always treated him this way. Brian Nelson was the worst of them, though.

Rainy Days in Amsterdam by Allexcited69

THE STORY IS PURELY A FIGMENT OF MY IMAGINATION AND ANY RESEMBLANCE TO REAL LIFE OR REAL PEOPLE IS PURELY COINCIDENTAL. THE STORY DEALS WITH FEMDOM FANTASIES, CHASTITY AND LOVE AND IS MEANT FOR A MATURE AUDIENCE ONLY.

It was rainy November here in Amsterdam.

Years since I last published anything I wrote. So this is going to be a semi-new thing for me. Let's see if I can give justice to MELANIE EZELL'S BIG CLOSET ULTIMATE WRITER'S CHALLENGE, the first week challenge:

1. In the Blink of an Eye

idea: Write a story with an instantaneous transformation. Aliens, magic, weird nanobots, the method is up to you, but the change is instant. Explore how the change affects the character's views of social situations and day to day activities.