The woman I was interviewing for a job at first gave me a very good impression. In person she confirmed her CV. Competent, decisive, with a no-nonsense getting things done attitude. Perhaps a bit aggressive but for the position in question that was not necessarily a problem. In fact everything went well until she noticed that I was wearing a bra. I should have known better. Never wear a colored bra under a white shirt, even if it’s the most exquisite turquoise.

Hi! I'm Your Future Boyfriend

“Hi! I’m Jack. I’m your future boyfriend.”

I was suddenly disturbed while sitting in the bleachers drawing the cheerleaders/potential cheerleaders training. Very pretty ones too. James Knox Polk High School took cheerleading very seriously. Cheerleading and football. The training season started well before the academic year. If you wanted a place on one of the teams you participated in training weeks before. In both cases the people of Mediumville had high hopes of winning state championship. Especially in football with their prodigy Quarterback who had almost brought the team to play-offs despite taking over as QB only after Christmas. Luckily he had only been a junior. So this year …

You could say that I was a bit surprised when said QB was standing looking down on me with a tooth-paste-commercial smile. The quintessential Alpha Jock without any doubt of his excellence and entitlement. I had only moved to Mediumville in the middle of summer and didn’t really know the (small) city yet. However, I had pegged it as a rather socially conservative place so I was surprised that the star QB was openly gay.

“Hi! I’m Gene. Nice to meet you but I’m not interested.”

“Jean! That’s a pretty name for a pretty girl.”

Where did I go wrong?

My husband and I are blessed with five children evenly spaced out with two years in between them. They really are good kids but sometimes I wish that the two oldest girls would have a bit less of drama in their relationships. Well, the oldest one, 19, left for college a few weeks ago and I was spending a “girls’ Friday night” with Cheryl, my 17 year old daughter since my husband was away on business as usual. The other kids were in their rooms, I thought. Cheryl and I had been watching romantic comedies and chatting until well past midnight when I heard a car drive away which was strange since our neighborhood is very calm at night. Soon afterwards the front door was slowly and carefully opened and Mike, 15, tiptoed in. Well, in those shoes that really was the only angle his feet could be in. In the few seconds before he noticed us I could see from his satisfied face that he had had a very good evening. The smeared lipstick on his otherwise immaculately made up face confirmed this. I had not had the least suspicion of his leanings! Where did I go wrong?

Be Careful What You Wish For!

I’m innocent; it’s all BarbieLee’s fault! I blame her, she forced me, she twisted my arm. Well, not really but she dangled a twisted idea in front of my nose so of course I just had to grab it and add a twist or two. There was no way I could avoid it, could I? You believe me, don’t you?

Friday evening. I hear the door open and my son enter.

”DAD! It’s getting cold so I need warmer tights now. Could we get some tomorrow?” he shouts before quickly going upstairs. He is always quick to get out of his school uniform blazer and skirt. He keeps complaining about the skirt every day. I sympathize with him but he really has himself to blame. No matter, he’s a good boy, or so I thought until yesterday!

Interrupt normality?

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Some of you think I interrupt normality. I'm not so sure in view of the following quote from

"One boy told Devon Live he had been told on Wednesday the skirt was too short and his legs too hairy."

Don't worry, I'll keep trying to interrupt normality even when faced by hard competition :)


It was the evening before the Halloween weekend.

Children were trickling into the big hall for Rutherford B. Hayes Middle School’s traditional fancy dress ball. There were male and female pirates, princesses with reluctant princes, cowboys and cowgirls, ballerinas (one with a VERY reluctant and embarrassed partner), zombies, ghosts … all hoping to win the prestigious price for the best disguise.

I AM telling the truth!

”I AM telling the truth.” Phil, my oldest son, repeated.

Between us on the table lay the very pretty and obviously very expensive silk dress that I had found in his closet and my 18 year old daughter said he had stolen from her closet.

Who do you think you are?


For the third time that day I was pushed into the wall. Sigh, here we go again.

”Who do think you are? We don’t like trannys here! We told you to dress properly or else..!” followed by two expertly placed punches in my midriff and, when I had slipped to the floor, by a couple of kicks.

I couldn’t help myself admiring the shapely bare legs that delivered the kicks. No, it wasn’t a footballer or wrestler that delivered my usual afternoon beating. Here bare legs meant a girl. All the boys wore trousers. All the girls, and I mean absolutely all the girls, wore skirts or dresses. While there was no formal dress code the group pressure was enormous. And since my fellow student and teachers had decided that I didn’t comply … The sad thing was that I really was dressing as who I am. No crossdressing. No amount of paperwork brought from Norway could persuade them otherwise.

Beastly Beauty

OK I said I'd look silly stealing a twisted idea proposed by Daphne Xu in a comment to a recent blog. With her permission I did it anyway. Of course I added an extra twist of my own.

Belle leaned forward to kiss the ”Beast”. He raised a paw and gently stopped her. In his strong and yet soft manly voice he said:

”I have to warn you. When I was cursed ten years ago the witch told me I had to find love in my heart and be loved back before my 21th birthday, which is tomorrow, otherwise I would stay a beast. A beast I truly was then. The witch made me look like I was inside, in every way. If I found love I would revert to my previous physical form. It may not be what you expect”



When I saw that my latest story had 1547 reads I was reminded of the year 1547 when for a few days a truly formidable (positively or negatively) set of monarchs ruled in various countries in Europe at the same time:

Seven Little Bullies

This story references some violence, actually quite a lot of it. No sex though so it should be safe for the US market.

The Monday it all started I sat alone on the bus to school as usual. This was OK since I could spend the time to forge a letter from my parents recusing me from the upcoming school camping trip. Yes, I was not really the most popular kid in school. The fact that I didn’t conform to the usual stereotypes didn’t really help. Petite, long hair, artistic, dancing ballet and sometimes wearing a skirt made people peg me as gay, which I’m not, I prefer to think about myself as ”equal opportunity”. On the other hand my black belt in karate confused people as did the fact I was the school’s star pitcher. However, all this wasn’t really the direct reason why everyone kept their distance from me. I was also the favorite target of the group of bullies that styled themselves ”The Magnificent Seven”. They even had an ongoing ranking list of who was the worst bully.

Not a Bad Day at All

John got back from school and as usual he went straight to the kitchen and his milk and cookies. Well, he really was a high school freshman but he looked like an eleven-year old, people treated him like an eleven-year old so why couldn’t he act like an eleven-year old at times? He liked milk and cookies. As he was slurping his milk and stuffing his mouth with cookies his mother asked him how school had been. John, who was somewhat absentminded or if you want to be nice ”sometimes” got lost in his thoughts, started thinking back and to his surprise he realized it had actually been a very good day. John’s school-days quite seldom were very good.

Returning Home for Christmas

I was amazed. The house looked exactly like it had done twenty years ago. Now when I finally had got this far I suddenly hesitated. Was I really prepared to meet my father? Could we put all everything behind us and start anew? Could all the prejudice be overcome?

Getting Sam Ready

It’s not easy for a single mother to raise a son but I think that Sam and I have done OK for the last ten years. Of course a job with a good salary helped. Sam and I have grown quite close so it came as complete surprise when I came home to find Sam at my vanity, wearing only a set of sexy lingerie, including garter belt and stockings, crying over the complete mess of an unskilled attempt to apply make-up.

I hadn’t really associated Sam with anything feminine. Never a trace of make-up, no skirts, no dresses. Talking about dresses; the apparently brand new dress, still with the tag on it, hanging next to the dresser was completely inappropriate for a first date. The stress was definitely on the L in LBD. Way too skimpy!

The Vicissitudes of Vicki the Vigilante Virgin: Phil

While this story is a sequel to “The Addict” it can be read separately (though I strongly recommend reading “The Addict” first).

Declaration: No puns were harmed in writing this story. Actually this story is no phun at all, sorry should have been has no puns at all. There is a risk that some people might consider it fun though I think there is more of a story than usual.


It was a lovely end-of-summer day. The Friday of the first week of my second year in High School. I was waiting for the school bus. The sun shone, the birds were singing, no classes in the afternoon due to try-out for the school teams. Then I turned around.

Sigh! I had implored him, begged him to be sensible but there I could see him coming dressed in a shortish denim skirt.

My Last Conversation with Father

I usually write basically nice stories that could be labeled as comedy. Every now and then something very dark comes into my head. I usually don’t publish those stories.

Please note the WARNING.

Another Dress Code

The principal of Millard Fillmore High School sighed as freshman James Johnson entered his office. Not that James wasn’t dressed very nicely. The white shirt was clean and neatly pressed. The shoes were new and a discrete black. The black pleated skirt was also clean and neatly pressed and only about two inches above the knees.

The Dinner Party

Coming to the restaurant that Friday evening I couldn’t have been more pleased with life. That morning I had been appointed executive vice-president of the company. While my wife couldn’t join me this evening she was recuperating very well from her heart attack. My oldest son had started a promising Wall Street career and my younger son achieved excellent results at law school. Not that I ever really had had that much contact with my sons but they were both coming home for the week-end to celebrate. While I was huffed by my promotion I hoped that the dinner wouldn’t end too late.

Out of the Closet

I feel very awkward but I finally have to talk with my son about his cross-dressing. We have known for a couple of months that he goes out partying dressed as girl together with his friends whenever my husband and I are away on week-ends but we haven't said anything. We wanted it to be his choice when/if he wants to bring it up with us.

No Son of Mine is Going Out Dressed Like That!

Just for once I had managed to get away from the steel mill at 4. It was Friday after all. Coming home tired after a very bad day and opening the door I surprised my 16 year old son getting ready to go out. I was appalled! He was wearing a calf-length dress, pumps with a 2 inch heel, a necklace and ear-rings that had belonged to my departed and sorely missed wife, red lipstick and a little rouge. Where did I go wrong? I had tried to be a good parent but it hadn’t been easy since my wife passed away four years ago.

Final Act

The Producer sighed as he looked at the cast. He just as well should send them home from the theatre. What a situation! It could have been a producer’s dream: The leading lady stabbed at dress rehearsal. What could be better publicity for a detective play? The only problem was that the leading lady had been taken to hospital and wasn’t expected to recover for months while her understudy had been taken by the police.

What's in a name?

Back to comedy.
I dedicate this story to Licorice who inspired it

It was Monday morning the second week of Fall term. We had almost finished changing for gym when a naked boy stumbled into the girls’ changing room. Well, actually he was pushed into it. In his hand he had a pink leotard and a towel. He immediately tried to exit but someone outside made sure he couldn’t open the door. Failing to open the door the poor naked boy turned around and gave us a frightened look.


This is NOT a funny story.

James and Martin were slowly walking away from the funeral of their classmate Stephen… no… of their classmate Susan, her parents at last, and too late, recognizing her true gender. As they had expected they had been the only ones from their school there. Susan’s parents deliberately had scheduled the funeral at noon on the Wednesday of end-of-term exam week and made it very clear that they didn’t want anyone from school to come.


Instead of waking up in our small flat next to the university campus I wake up in my old boy’s room as it looked when I was 16. I check my alarm clock. The date is the day after my 16th birthday. Something else feels wrong too. Instead of my usual buzz-cut my hair goes down to my shoulders. Looking down on my chest I see two mounds through the neckline of my PJs. Two smallish but pert breasts, exactly the kind I like; on girls! Panicking my hands go down to my crotch. IT isn’t there any longer! Just an extra slit!


Fraternal Twins

Bru: So you are afraid that your son may be transgendered? So what, your child will still be the same person, only happier if you accept and support her.

Friend: Are you sure?

Bru: Sure, nearly 20 years ago some other friends of mine had twins. Fraternal twins, a girl and a boy. According to gender stereotyping the boy should be a great athlete like the father and the other artistic, sensitive and dance ballet and so on like their mother. Well, it sort of turned out that way.

Observations from writing "Difference"

I recently finished a short series ”Difference”. I realized that I disappointed some people since I didn’t write a grand narrative, like many others on this site do very well, and that I didn’t let my protagonist grow up into a happy girl.

Difference - Final episodes, with complete series text

Here are the last two episodes of "Difference".
I've also included the earlier episodes so this posting can be read as a standalone. Faithful readers can go directly to chapter 4 about halfway down.

Difference 3

As Tom walks from his last class of the day he contemplates what a terrible day it has been.

What had been worst?

The laughter and jeering when he arrived a bit late in the gym wearing his leotard? Yes, his leotard! To add insult to injury he’d had to buy it!

"Comed" Out

This story is completely different from my story “Coming Out” and not in any way connected.
I usually write stories that basicly are nice. This isn't.
It all began so well. I was coming back very satisfied from camp on a Sunday. I had made camp hell for no less than eight twelve-year-olds. One had even left before the end of camp! My personal record! Tears sweet tears. You’d think I would have been in trouble. Oh, no! I’m good! I know how to bully kids and other weak victims without exposing myself.

Dress Code

Principal’s office the morning of the first day officially declared ”Summer” by the school.

A tomboyish girl in black shorts and a red shirt tussled hair and scabs on her knees sits in one chair and in another we have a thin delicate boy with longish blond hair dressed in a red shirt and very nice long black trousers.


Unfortunately I'm rated as the worst lawyer at our law office so I get the cases no one else wants. So when a distinguished gentleman and what must be his very cute daughter are shown into my office I wonder what the catch is. Oh, a discrimination case. Well, that explains it. Not what we usually deal with at Cook, Brewster & Yorke.

I Never Promised You a Rose Garden

Washington DC, December 30, 2024.

The President of the United States of America stands looking out through a window in the Oval Office. She’s thinking about the events since her announcement the day after the election in November. She is still amazed and appalled how fast things moved since then. The pace has been unprecedented. How could so many so-called friends and allies, many of them in congress only through her support, turn against her like that? She had been a very successful president for 8 years and now this!

How Dare He

I’m sitting at our usual table at lunch. We boys are tired. Coach really put us through the wringer today. The girls had it easy today. I really like our group. We have kept together since middle school even though we have developed quite differently. Now we have almost become a high school parody; Peter the Jock, Annie the Cheerleader, Bill the Drug User, Doris the Geekette, Sammy the Nerd (me) and so on.

Coming towards us is Mr Popular, our sole newcomer. Mark transferred to our high school a month ago. Smart, rich, good-looking (cute according to the girls) this Senior prefers to join us lowly Juniors because, as he puts it with his broad smile, we are just that little bit less narrow-minded than the rest.

We Can Neither Confirm Nor Deny

One Friday a rumor flew around school: One of the students was going to come out as transgendered. The rumor came from reliable source. Someone had heard the principal say it to his secretary.

Most people immediately suspected Andy Lawrence; a small nerdy (straight A) boy with a somewhat feminine behavior. In public opinion his only redeeming feature was that he was rather good at baseball. Not that he was a good batter or a good pitcher but his fielding had earned him a place in the school team.


Headmaster’s office

In front of the desk sits Peter, a rather cute, “petite” boy. The rumor in school is that he’s gay. At present he’s dressed in a loose cream blouse, mid-thigh black skirt and black tights. To his left stands a much bigger, muscular boy; Hank, the school bully. It’s not exactly the first time Hank is in the Headmaster’s office due to some act of bullying. This time he has forced Peter to come to school dressed as a girl. He’s not in the least sorry. In fact he keeps making lewd comments to Peter.

Harry & Danielle

The locker room had just become empty when the school Quarterback and the head cheerleader entered. The Quarterback bent down and kissed the cute but short cheerleader. A rather commonplace situation in many high schools. The only difference here was that officially they both were boys.


It was a little bit strange that no one noticed the boy standing leaning on a pillar at the mall. Not that there was anything special about him. Five foot seven inches tall, not really thin but definitely not fat, nice blond hair that he had let grow almost to the shoulders. His clothes were average, neat and clean but nothing special. The family did not have that much money since Andrew’s father died. No, the reason someone might have noticed him was that for the last 20 minutes he had been standing there staring longingly at a gown in a shop window.


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