Don’t Make Me Wild like You: A TG Mixed Tape

An unconventional prison. A world where clandestine services operators have access to body swapping technology. A super-selling record that "effects" all the men who listen to it. Hit play on the sexiest Mixed Tape Collection yet for these stories, an interview with Maggie Finson co-creator of the the Whateley Universe, AND MORE!

While I scrambled to come up with a way to break free of this intolerably perky social appendage, Ani proceeded to show me every square inch of wine country and beyond.

I thought finally back to Monterey and a chance to lounge around for a dozen days before setting off for yet another hemisphere.... but apparently a starlet's work is never done.

“Change of plans!” Dennis beamed, putting away his phone as we walked to the Jet Ranger for the hop to Monterey.

“You're not the boss of me!” I yelled at him as I stopped dead in my tracks and folded my arms in a petulant pose.

Turning 16

Preface

Hi, let me introduce myself, my name is Belle Pride. I am writing this story for Jenny, my daughter, on her 16th birthday. It also happens to be my 32nd birthday. It was 16 years ago to the day that she came into my life (seems like a life time ago). It is time for me (at last) to keep a promise I made on that day so long ago. This is to tell her how she came into this world and how she has changed my life before and after she was born. I know this will not be easy, but the tale must be told. It all started a few months into my fifteenth year.

The European tour was nearly finished, but after I filled Dennis in on Matt's discovery, he collaborated with me to feign a severe case of what seemed to be norovirus, and Katherine – and her entourage – were excused from the last 10 days of the press tour, to take the gulfstream back home and recuperate. ...also sparing the rest of the company from coming in contact with this possibly highly contagious digestive scourge.

Jessie's ride

Chapter 1

Jessie

We had to curtail our fox and hound games for the European leg of the press tour. The studio spared no expense. We flew private across Europe as if we were some diplomatic entourage or a ceremonial royal family of some sort... and in a way we were. Right or wrong, in the minds of a lot of the general public, celebrity is the new royalty, only without any deference. Everyone was waiting for us to trip-up.

Our merry band of travelers, reassembled for this leg, was quite impressed at the chartered plane, though I knew it was in large part to spare me from airport scanners.

It didn't take a private detective to find Matt Cutler. Want to find a guy on the UCLA track team? ….Hang out at the UCLA track.

I was dressed down in sweats and a hoodie with logo and school colors, courtesy of the campus shop. I looked like any other student ...maybe a little too student like with all the branded apparel. Still, no one seemed to notice.

This gave me a wicked, wicked idea. I mentioned it to Eoin and he was all for it. But getting it by Dez was a trickier manouver.

Leading on the lurkers ....or.... Playing with the paparazzi.

It seemed I had the rest of the day free. I wandered into Katherine's 'office'. I guess it was a tax thing or somesuch, but this was the room with all the Katherine Keller memorabilia.... her framed first Vogue cover.... a number of other framed glossy magazines and photos, including one with a very perplexed looking Dalai Lama which made me smile. There was her Golden Globe, her people's choice award, a number of teen spirit awards going back to the time she first started modeling. I hadn't realized how long she had been doing this. How long since she had been a part of the 'real world'.

Chapter 9

The moon lit up the boar tracks pretty well on the trail through the woods.

"This wild boar is a pretty big fellow, maybe the biggest I've ever tracked," Artemis whispered.

"How do you know?" Lysander asked.

Artemis knelt to the ground and pointed.

"Look how large they are, and how deep, my little one," the goddess replied.

Lysander asked why she called him little one, when in mortal size, she wasn't that much taller.

Chapter 7

"How did I get myself into this mess?," Lydia thought as she struggled to get loose from the chains that bound her to a pillar.

Meanwhile, she was being circled by a hulking figure claiming to be a king named Aron. He laughed and told the young girl she would someday be his bride.

"Tall and creepy is not my type," Lydia replied, not showing the her enemy her fear.

He slapped her. It hurt.

It hit home the words her mother told her. There would be times when Lydia would find an opponent who would be her equal in strength.

Chris is late for his appointment and tries to figure out what it is he really wants.

Chris is your average twenty year old. He has goals. He has dreams. He has secrets. But his secrets are slowly killing him from the inside.

Happily Seduced into Girlhood

by Jennifer Sue

This IS a work of fiction from my sometimes all too vivid imagination. It’s also more than a bit racy. It may not be for everyone and I most certainly do not condone the activity depicted. But sometimes it’s nice to dream that I had been Ash.

ps: I had back surgery on Nov 20 and the medications allowed me to lower my normally G ratings.

The White Squaw
By Anon Allsop

A young settler is captured by Indians while wearing women's clothing. To keep from being killed, the boy is forced to assume the role of the white female he is pretending to be. Donovan becomes friends with a white female who has been living with the Indians for many years, however, his ruse only worsens as he desperately tries to ward off the amorous advances of his Tehya's step-brother.

From my research on this story, the Osage were as far north as Independence Missouri in 1825. The youth was captured along the Platt River in 1851 by a lone Indian and then taken south for Several days. He had no real idea where he was...he only knew that Indian was in control, and he would die... The Osage Indians at the time of my story, were mostly living in Southern Kansas and Northern Oklahoma, however, It would not be beyond the realm of possibility for a single Indian to venture as far north as the Platt River.

When the hunter becomes the hunted, they are often the last to know.