Marla looked at the photo again. It wasn’t her grandmother; she knew that right away. Yet the pain and loss she sensed in her Grandfather’s expression were foreign to her understanding of him. Softly, she asked, “Who is she?”

John looked in the mirror and sighed heavily. “It’s never perfect,” he said to himself. He has lost nearly 20 pounds in the last five months, but it looked like everything came from his waist – which was great. Everyone wants a trim waist, right? The thing is, none of the weight loss seemed to come from his chest and he was a little flabbier than he would have liked. As he looked into the mirror, two perky nipples looked back, supported by two soft mounds that were clearly visible under his T-shirt.

Surprise Acceptance

By Joan Knight

PROLOGUE

Introducing:
John / Joan Knight, late 50s, 5’10”, 175 pounds, short-cropped brown hair.
Andrea Knight, late 50s, 5'5”, 120 (?) pounds, short brown/grey hair, 38-D breasts, 34-inch waist, 36-inch hips.

Author's Note: There is sex in this story. Some of it is explicitly described. I've seen folks post in the comments of other stories they were surprised or unhappy with this. Be forewarned.

This is an alternate take on Dawning... Or How I Survived a Plane Crash, Sort Of which is the same up to the kiss. If you have just read that story, you can skip down three or four pages (to “kiss a boy”) and pick up how this version goes.

The darkness never changes, but sometimes it smells different. After 400 years, whether my eyes are open or closed matters because it’s how I communicate. One if by land, two if I see….

James had spent years admiring women's fashion from afar, intrigued by the elegance and expression that seemed exclusive to women. He grew up in a small town where gender norms were strict, but always found moments to secretly explore his fascination, scouring the internet for makeup tips and clothing styles.

"What are you doing? Are you... wearing my mini-skirt?"

Karen's voice echoed in the room, but Sofia wasn't scared. She knew her sister wouldn't judge her. Karen had always been her biggest supporter, her confidante, and her role model.

"It's just... I like how it looks," Sofia replied, blushing a little. "I feel... like Sofia when I wear it."

Karen smiled and approached her sister. She took her hand and turned her gently so she could see herself in the mirror.

"You look beautiful, Sofia," she said sweetly. "That skirt looks perfect on you."

This is a little story I wrote, before I started on a two-story set of serials. It introduces the reader to a place that appears in the following posts.
Marianne

The Flip Side

I didn’t get caught up in cross dressing until I was in my late teens. It was a slow, but inexorable process. I suppose it came about from my choice of work. I wasn’t good enough for university, so left school when I was sixteen.

We had to be trained to care. Tricked. They made themselves look adorable, or maternal, or sexy.

Of course, we taught them that. We did it first.

She, he, whoever, was looking at me, too, and looking just as confused as I felt. He spoke first, sounding like Chelsea’s manner of speaking but in my actual voice.

“Kevin, are you in my body?!”

I replied, “I must be, because I see my face over there. So I’m Chelsea now?”

An entry in Erin's February Short Story Month Story Challenge

Notice: This story follows Lover of Cars and Poker.

Richie’s House:
Sarina pulls all the money she just won towards her with her right arm. A big smile was plastered on her face.

“You would think she would be losing with her left arm in a cast.” Richie looks at Sarina as she pulls her winning towards her.

“Hey, my arm is the only thing broken, not my brain.” Sarina hurt her arm at work while pulling a front end off a Honda Accord.

“...and that thing people say about being able to leave if your professor is 15 minutes late? Nicole, I’m telling you it is not true. I learned that the hard way.” Adam paused to look down at his burger in a mocked expression of shame. I had only been half-listening to the story, but at least knew that I needed to jump in at this point to make it look like I was paying attention.

I mean who knew? I had friends that were gay. I hung out most
weekends with a coworker who I found out was gay. We drank and ate and
watched movies.

Three Ingenues
A Vignette
By Maryanne Peters

Ingenue definition: 1. a young woman who has little experience and is very trusting

I suppose that most people think of transgirls as being tough – the very opposite of an ingenue. I think that we were, but fragility and sensitivity are so much a part of being feminine – don’t you think?

Caution: This story is involves explicit violence, cruelty, torture, blood and suicide. I originaly quit writing it because it was too much. Time and the times have revived it but if those things are triggering for you do not read this.

I could feel my stomach flip-flop. “No! Jacob, Why Me? Why does it have to be me?” I ask knowing that I would be disappointed in his answer. His plans always end up with the same result. He gets the girl and I get something broken. I’ve known the guy for 10 years. I was six when he and his family moved in next door. We both started out as average kids. He grew up handsome. I just grew… Kind-of.

Sam extracts herself from the group of men she went to bed with last night. Her anal opening was hurting and there was cum dripping out of it. She couldn’t believe she allowed three men to uses her like she did. Not that she regrets what she did last night. She enjoyed every moment of it.

She gathers her clothes up and gets dressed as quietly as she could. She looks at the time and notices she had an hour to get home and get ready for work. She calls an Uber and have it meet her outside. She takes all the money she made last night and stuff it in her bra.

The Headmaster sat at his desk in the dark of his bedroom, brooding over his New Year's Resolution. How was he ever going to do this?