Morning light finds him asleep in his clothes, barely rested. He packs both devices into his messenger bag and heads for the closest repair shop.

The bell jingles as he enters. A technician glances up from behind the counter — early twenties, a name tag reading ETHAN. His eyes skim past Caden's shoulders, landing somewhere around chin level. "Help you, ma'am?"

Caden's breath hitches. He sets the laptop and phone on the counter.

"Sir," he says, his pitch higher than expected, higher than a man's should be. He coughs, tries again. "Biometric lockout."

Chapter Four

When they arrived back at the house, there was immediately a complication.

A car that Sam didn’t recognize had taken their spot in the driveway, and someone else had parked on the curb. He wasn’t ready for anyone to see him like this! Wasn’t all the wedding stuff supposed to be the following day? He hadn’t considered that Fiona might end up having company that wasn’t on the itinerary, since the bridesmaids were all friends and relatives of hers.

A week later. The alarm blares and Caden slams a palm down on it, the sharp sting of impact radiating up his wrist. He stares at the ceiling. Podcast day — out of town, he and Hale are both guests on the show. Keynote finalized. Twenty-eight days since the first flannel seam had scraped his neck raw.

A TURN OF THE MOON
Day Nine
by
Jessica Drew

I lay in bed with my hands behind my head, staring up at the skylight. The room was starting to grow lighter and the birds had begun to twitter and chirp in the trees outside. I felt like I’d barely slept all night.

In this part our "victim" agrees to transition and is surprised by what is possible.

I couldn't sleep when I got back. It was the first time I had experienced actual pleasure since this all started. I just couldn't reconcile feeling pleasure having sex as a woman.

I was a guy. sex with men was shear humiliation most of the time. At best is was a chore. A chore that I learned to mentally block out.

"Ohh, yes baby. Do me, You're so big" etc. All this to encourage them to finish so I could leave. At worse, it was mental torture. When they would say things like.

Cruel Love
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

I have always considered myself as a driven person – some might say obsessive. Whatever you call it, it has bought me success and the admiration of my peers, but I wonder whether it is also what led me into a cruel love affair.

“You know this isn’t about fashion, right?”

Pete's Vagina
83. Pads
by Erin Halfelven

"Four weeks," Caden mutters as the gravel crunches under his tires, the cabin's wooden sign swinging slightly in the wind. He parks, kills the engine, sits for a moment staring at the pine trees crowding the driveway. The tour contract is signed, the advance spent. A short drive from Denver, no distractions. Just the work.

Part 41

He definitely wasn’t ready.

As soon as the silicone toy passed through his lips, Chris got a true sense of how big it was. Turns out, the width was arguably more daunting than the width. There was a reason Julia had told him to open wider, as evidenced by how much space the dildo took up, depressing his tongue and making it so breathing through his nose was really the only option.

Barreled
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

“Barreled - verb - drive or move in a way that is so fast as to almost be out of control.”

Photo by Olga Solodilova on Unsplash

I blame it all on AI. So OK, everybody blames everything on AI these days, but in this instance it is the complete, unvarnished truth.

I just want to play football.

Pete's Vagina
82. Off the Bench
by Erin Halfelven

“You think we’d plan to dress like each other?”