How can something be so wrong, when it feels so right?

That was the single most important thought that ran through Aisha’s mind as she fastened her padded bra behind her, before she took the pair of silky dark tights out of their packet and slowly stretched them one leg at a time over her hairless legs, until the control top held her abdomen and her backside tightly. As she took her plain white blouse and knee-length blue pencil skirt from its hanger, Aisha mused on how the clothes were a far cry from the hijabs and abaya her mother and sisters wore.

People are Complicated
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

I was an experienced transvestite. I had been closeted for years. I denied it to myself and did not tell my wife the full extent of my need to dress. She was open to “kinky sex”, but she drew the line at anything more than that. I decided that I would lie to her as well as myself.

Author’s Note

This story is part real life. It is partly based on an inspirational story from the British Press. The latter part of the story is entirely fiction. The names used are entirely fiction, including the scant details of the Weight Loss program used, although there are several programs available here in the UK that offer a similar service.

"Dancing bears, painted wings... things I almost remember

"Ha ha! You're always singing that song," she said, giggling.

Her brother looked up from the couch, still singing.

"It's my favorite song!"

"But you sing it every day... every... day!" she said, giggling.

"You know, you kinda look like her with your green eyes."

He blushed with a gentle smile and dreamy eyes.

Breaking out of his reverie, he threw a sock at her.

I was in my early twenties, a few weeks after I started my first semester in a visual arts college, burning the candle at both ends, working grueling night shifts while trying to keep up with my studies during the day. By the time morning arrived, my body was running on absolute fumes. Stepping onto the bus for my usual ride home felt like sinking into a heavy fog, and within minutes of finding a seat near the window, my eyes drifted shut and I fell fast asleep.

The door to a boy’s room opens and the mother enters.

“Peter, … Oh! Hello, Andrew. I see you boys are having fun.”

Andrew is lying on the bed not wearing any clothes. Peter is straddling him in what is called the cowgirl position. As opposed to Andrew Peter is not without clothes. In his case it’s a very becoming set of mauve bra, suspender belt and stockings.

He always woke at the gate.

Marcy at the Gate
by Suzan Donamas

The Marionette

Chris lifted the little wooden control bar.

The marionette rose from the bedroom floor.

She stretched her tiny arms toward the ceiling, then spun in a graceful circle. Her little skirt floated around her knees before settling again.

Chris smiled.

“There you are.”

The marionette curtsied.

“Good afternoon.”

“Good afternoon.”

The Sisters

By Jenny with a G

Chris was already at school when Lily arrived.

That was not unusual.

Chris was usually there before almost everyone, sitting on the wooden bench outside the library with a backpack tucked close beside one foot. Teachers passed with coffee cups and key rings. The custodian pushed a cart down the hallway. Students came in laughing, yawning, arguing, complaining about homework, and never wondered why Chris always seemed to be waiting before the day had even begun.

Lily noticed.

Lily noticed most things about Chris.

My Diary.

By Nikkie Silk

Dear Diary

Today was a busy day. This morning, I kissed Daddy goodbye at the front door, wearing my pink baby-doll nightie. The nightie rides up to show my matching knickers, which barely cover my little cockette in its cage. Daddy keeps the key close to his heart on a chain around his neck, which I think is supersweet of him. It is gestures like that which make me love him so much. Only he can use the key, as it should be, I hasten to add.

ROBYN AND MARION

1

What Should I Do
A Vignette
By Maryanne Peters

Can anybody love someone as much as my Pete loves me? Sometimes I feel that I am the luckiest girl in the world – or I would be, if I were a girl.

It all started one day at the start of the summer holidays; I was
the youngest of five children but the only boy. We lived on a farm
with no near neighbours. I was always teasing my sisters and I must
have gone too far. I was having my usual long bath that always
upset one or more of my sisters as they could not use the toilet.
This day I could here a lot of whispering and movement, but
nobody was knocking for me to hurry up. When I finally finished
my bath and went to my room I found out what everybody had been

The ceiling was only the ceiling.

To Boldly Go
by Suzan Donamas

It all started one day when I was complaining about work again,
my wife Sara said if I was unhappy at work then I should stay at home
as the housewife and she would go to work. I said it sounded a good
idea. Sara said she would start to look for a decent job, when she had
found one then I should give my notice. About a month later Sara had
found a job and she would start in a months time, so she said I should
give my weeks notice.

Waldorf Astoria Las Vegas, Felica Harding Hotel Room:
Felica snuggles closer to whoever is sleeping behind her. She could feel their strong, muscular arm resting on her hip and holding her against them. She was so sore from all the sex they had last night and felt worn out, which was unusual for her. That’s because her body recovered fast and hardly ever wore out.

Out of the Pan
A Vignette
By Maryanne Peters

The door closed and Janey was finally gone. She had been called into her office, even though it was a Saturday morning. She could only promise that she would be back before lunch. That left me alone with Tanya for the morning. The whole morning had seemed totally unreal.

“Looks like your neighbour got lucky last night.”

It was 5:30am and Jacinta was sitting at the dining table scrolling through last night’s video recordings from the CCTV, one of her daily jobs; she paused the video to take a look.

“Hmmm; and she’s hot.”

“Let me see.”

I fount this hard to believe.  Whereas Tom was a nice guy, and very bright, he was not exactly a babe magnet.  Shy and awkward around women, he rarely seemed to bring one back to his apartment.

“OK, but don’t start getting any ideas!”

“Nor you!”