The Plan

Just in case you hadn’t noticed – this is an “Advanced Bru reader” story

My mother had always wanted to have a daughter that she could do all those girly things with. Unfortunately for me I only had two brothers and no sister and since I was the “pretty” one I was IT.

I just hated it when she brought home dresses, skirts, hose … and insisted that I wear it. And all those long hours when she taught me how to apply make-up, make the best of my hair and so on. I cringed every time she brought me to the Salon. It was so embarrassing!

The Only Boy in School

Some time ago Barbie Lee sort of challenged me in one of her blogs (
At the time I was not really in a shape to do anything about it and didn’t get a silly enough idea. Let’s see if this is silly enough. As for those who think I write too short stories: This is the longest I have posted here. It's also more narrative than most of them.

12 years from now.

My fiancée Mary and I were spending a quiet day in my flat when the door-bell rang. When I opened the door I found Tom, well really Thomasine, my fiancées tomboy younger sister there in tears and carrying among other things the ruins of her prom dress. As it turned out not only her dress had been destroyed. Andrea, their bratty freshman brother, had totally flipped out and hadn’t stopped at the dress but also destroyed Tom’s jewelry and even got in a cut or two with a pair of scissors in Tom’s hair. She looked a mess. All she had left were her shoes and panties and the prom was only a few hours away. Disaster!

There was only one thing to do. I went into my bedroom and got out MY old prom dress.

Mary (rather upset): Peter, why do you have that dress?

I was rather surprised. I thought she knew. This could be awkward. Well, we’ll take care of that problem later. Now we had more important things to take care of. As I started to check if my dress could fit Tom I absentmindedly answered:

- It’s my old prom dress. I graduated from West Peak.

Mary (with a gasp): The infamous West Peak Academy for Young Ladies?

Well, some may call it infamous. I prefer famous. A fame that I’m proud to be partially responsible for. You see, I’m the only boy ever to graduate from that high school/boarding school.

A Brother's Love

Two teens entered a shop specialised in “slightly” provocative clothing for girls. The rather skinny girl was very pretty in a girl-next-door way. The boy looked very much like the girl. They obviously were siblings. The boy more or less dragged the blushing girl into the shop.

The boy addressed the gorgeous and very seductively made up girl (whose dress had required minimal material) working in the shop.


I’m not a girl but I like girly clothes. Dresses and skirts swishing, the soft materials … So much better than the usual boy stuff. However, even as a twelve year old I should have known better than come to school in a dress. My classmates were rather dense and just couldn’t appreciate how pretty and comfortable it was. That was the beginning of a rather unpleasant time in school. I had hoped that things would be better when I started high school but my old classmates went to the same high school and one day the first semester I forgot that we had PE and wore my prettiest panties…

My big break came when my family moved away to a new city. A new beginning and a clean slate! I’d make sure to be a macho, macho boy.

Jail Bait

Lately I had actually enjoyed going to school. It had started when a group of documentary filmers had chosen our school to do a documentary about every-day high school life. This would be their fifth week here. The first week everyone tried to get their attention. They strongly discouraged that. Their goal was to be as unnoticeable as possible. Blending in into the background while filming with their carefully disguised cameras, as well as some fixed cameras. By the fourth week they had succeeded quite well. The students didn’t take more notice of them than they did of the poster for the Chess club’s next game in the state championships. Quite a pity, I had spent quite a lot of time making that poster.

So given that the film team wasn’t interested in any drama queens why did my best friend Phil come to school dressed as a girl?

You Can't Hide Your Secret Forever

During lunch break high school freshman Tom was sitting on a bench outside, reading a sports magazine (but with the edge of a Penthouse sticking up), alone as usual. Well, as usual as it could be the fifth day of term. Tom was not a popular boy. Small, ”dainty” and with golden locks that was rather longish. There really was nothing wrong with Tom except that he was terribly shy and new in town. He had lost his parents and the only relative was a cousin of his mother's. Matthew and Martha were considerably older than Tom’s parents but they considered taking care of Tom as their duty. Tom had all the material support he could wish for. However, they didn’t really care for him and since they never had had any children of their own they didn’t understand him at all. So the less he bothered them the happier they were.

Anyway Tom was sitting there ostentatiously reading a sports magazine featuring baseball. Tom was quite a good baseball player and had great hopes to get onto one of the junior teams. However, if you looked closer you could see the edge of a Penthouse sticking up behind the magazine. Not that Tom was interested in the pictures. Actually he found the sports magazine much more interesting and if he wanted to look at naked girls internet had an abundant supply and Matthew and Martha had no clue how to restrict his access. No, Tom had arranged the Penthouse very carefully to throw off any suspicions about what he had hidden behind the Penthouse. His real secret was much worse, something that absolutely NO ONE must know. Tom was totally absorbed by the latest “Thumping ❤❤, Broken ❤❤, ❤❤United” book, according to some the soppiest, most braindead romantic drivel ever written. Tom just couldn’t get enough of it.

Special Favor

Mike and I had been friends since we were toddlers. We lived next door, went to the same schools, though Mike in a year above me. We both made the basketball team in High School. Mike even became captain of the team and the school star athlete. As I said we were the best of friends. I loved Mike and Mike was in love with me. Unfortunately I wasn’t gay. He was a good sport about it but when his Prom approached he talked me into being his date.

The Dragon and the Girl

This story is completely different from my usual stories. This time I’ve written a sweet romantic fairy tale. I hope some of those who don’t like my usual stories will like this one and that those who like my usual stories don’t get too disappointed.

Once upon a time in a place beyond our world and time there was a village. The village had had a quiet existence for centuries. The inhabitants were quite happy with that. They only knew all too well that living in interesting times was not something that ordinary peasants enjoyed.

Of course life was not perfect. Sometimes harvests were bad. Three rich farmers had managed to get control of the village. Human weaknesses such as envy, greed, lack of courage, intolerance … were no strangers to the people in the village. However, in general life was good in the village. Then things got interesting!

It’s Not MY Fault!

FYI: This is NOT a sequel to the story I posted earlier today.

In the dress shop two weeks before Prom.

Mother: It’s a lovely dress and you just look fabulous in it but it’s really expensive, James.

James: Mom! It’s not MY fault we’re here!

Cheerleader Material?

The first day in my new High School started off well. The buildings were new, teachers actually interesting, the school turned out to have a great football team. I just love football. Not that I’ll ever play for the school being rather a ”petite” boy but you can always watch. I never missed a game at my old High School except that one time we gymnasts had an away competition at the same time. I had spent part of the lunch break looking at the football trophies and pictures of the team.

So everything was great until I had to go to the bathroom.

“Thumping Hearts, Broken Hearts, Hearts United"

Having your best friend die is rather unsettling, especially if it quite literally is in your arms.

Mary and I had been talking in the office when she suddenly had a massive heart attack, uttered a few confused words about me and heart and then collapsed. I caught her but before I, or anyone else, could do anything it was too late.

She was a great loss not only to me personally and for her family, her husband Pablo, sixteen year old José Maria and fourteen year old Cory. The publishing company we worked for, “Descartes Publications”, was just as badly hit. Mary had been the “handler” for one of our most profitable authors and she had kept the contacts with the anonymous author very close to her chest. As it turned out she was the only one in the company that knew the true identity of “Corazón Tenderheart” (or as on the books Corazón Tender❤), bestselling author of “Thumping ❤❤, Broken ❤❤, ❤❤United” series of books. In my opinion the soppiest, most braindead romantic drivel ever written, or at least published.

Staycation Story Contest Woes

The Scribbler’s favourite way to spend those sweltering summer vacation weeks is to get into a nice hot airless class-room far away from home immersing oneself in irregular verbs, different cases (dative, genitive, instrumental, locative, vocative ....), where to place the verb, making sure that the female plural pronoun didn’t appear together with a male singular adjective, whether to use words like ”the”, ”a” or instead use suffixes or totally ignore any difference between determined of non-determined and so on … and on… and on.

Well this year The Scribbler, for various reasons couldn’t go away to have fun. Forced to stay at home The Scribbler had a look at the July contest at BCTS. That was not the original plan but it was worth having a look though.

Grazie dieci mila

I'd like to extend a heartfelt Thank You to all of you for pushing the total Kudos count for my stories beyond 10 000!

That makes it more than a thousand per year since I posted my first story here in December 2008. My writing was a bit sporadic in the beginning. Actually you could divide my stories into three periods: two stories in December 2008, a number of extremely short stories in 2010 and the present bunch from October 2014 and on.

Where did I go Wrong - Again!

The encounter with Carl Delaforge in "Commutation" was a bit depressing so let’s cheer up and revisit the family from “Where did I go wrong?”, only two years later. If you haven’t read that story this will contain spoilers.

I was not feeling very well coming down into the living room that Saturday morning. What I saw there did NOT make me feel any better. The room was a mess! A ridiculously short, and expensive looking, sparkly blue dress on the floor. On the same floor some flimsy lace black thong panties featured prominently. Black 5 inch heel shoes thrown around, one on the floor, the other in an armchair. A bra, that matched the panties in material, color and sexiness, in the other armchair. Stockings, and garter belt draped across the back of the couch. A couch that by all evidence had been used to have wild, wanton sex on. Fortunately I couldn’t see any stains and the used condom had missed the carpet, Who could be responsible for this?

Cheryl? No, she’d never wear five inch heels. Wait, five inch heels? Michael!!!


Usually I write, to quote a Guest Reader, ”short, light and witty tales”. However, every now and then I post a dark story. This is a rather dark story. Actually I think it’s quite dark which is why I have flagged CAUTION above. Please note that there is a reason why.

I never liked driving into town. People acted strangely around me so I usually stayed on my property and put off going as long as I could. Now I really needed the petrol so this morning I went into town. ”Old” Tom at the petrol station wondered why I filled up three jerry cans of petrol. I told him that I was getting old and the new ride-on mower was a gas guzzler. The lawn between the Old House and the lake is huge. So is the Old House. My family built it some 200 years ago. Then we had already owned the land for over a century. Quite a lot of land. Most of it still untouched forests, lakes and mountains. Most people never realized where the border between the National Park and the Delaforge land was. We have always had a very strong bond - the Delaforges and the land.

Vox Populi

My second big mistake was going to school in a skirt the first day after coming back from hospital with a broken bone. It was stupid but it was so much easier a way to deal with the cast.

Of course my first big mistake was to break my leg. I’d have liked to say that I was a victim of unfortunate circumstances or I that I had done something heroic. The simple truth was that I had tried to do something really stupid. I failed. It hurt.

The Fairy

My name is Gwall Gramadegol. I’m a fairy. I’m proud to be a fairy!

I come from an ancient and proud family of faeries. No, no, not the degenerate Tinkerbell variety. Think Oberon and Morgan le Fay (yes, she was one of us). Powerful, proud and mean. Even evil if you prefer. As a matter of fact I’m the grandson of Oberon. Junior branch though.

Pretty in Purple

I finally had tricked my wife into a bet where as her forfeit she’d finally do something in the bedroom that she’d absolutely refused to do ever since that first crazy night of debauchery we’d spent together. There was no way I could lose the bet. I was really looking forward to collecting since there was no conceivable way I could lose. I could already smell the sweet smell of victory. The only thing I was worried about was that reality wouldn’t live up to memory.

I lost.

Suit Yourself

A little bit of fluff inspired by a recent story by one of my favorite authors on this site – me ;)

Walking about at the pool party with all the company top management and VIPs from our most important customers I remembered how hard I had worked to become a ”Suit”. My goal was Customer Relations. My great talent is that I speak several languages. I had not been very successful until my cousin James got promoted, basically for going to work dressed as a woman, and not very convincingly at that! Well, he complains, especially about the high heels. I don’t believe him for a minute. He must be thrilled by his promotion. If he could, so could I!

All for One Silly Joke!

Wednesday morning as I entered the office Veronica in reception greeted me

- Hi, James. Nice to see you dressed properly again.

I hated it. Just because I decided to joke the Friday before and come dressed in a skirt, a nice blouse that just barely showed the bra under it, pantyhose and shoes with a bit of a heel my life was utterly and completely destroyed. My girlfriend and I had thought it would be hilarious and she had helped me to put on some make-up. Nothing over the top. Just some nice make-up that actually made my 25 year old but unfortunately rather babyish face a bit more mature.

At first everything went according to plan. The other engineers got the joke and had fun comparing my outfit with the usual “dress code” at the design office, i.e. jeans, baggy college shirts and such. Actually I was the only one in a skirt. Not that there were many females among us but anyway. I also got compliments from other people that I met while going from one place another. In one morning I had become modestly famous in the company. Then things started to go wrong, terribly, horribly wrong.

Monday Morning at 08:01

The first day of sophomore year I walked down to the school bus stop. My best friend since we were toddlers, but who had spent summer somewhere else, was already standing there waiting.

- Hi, Sally! Love that dress!

Sally looked at me surprised. I don’t know why. That dress really was beautiful and it made her look gorgeous. The thin black pantyhose made the most of her stunning legs.

- Jake! You knew. You knew all the time!
- Yep. I probably knew before you did yourself

I answered my best friend who the last time I’d seen him had been known as Sal, short for Salomon. I was happy for her. It had taken her much longer time to come out of her shell than I had expected and hoped. I was looking forward to what new relationship we would have. I really was.


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.


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