It was the weekend after our agreed on week was over. Every day of the next seven days and more, the cage on on me.

It was easy to clean, while still on. It wasn't visible from my trousers. It helped me tuck and get a smooth front. Best of all, it wasn't uncomfortable or painful during normal wear. It actually felt very secure.

But, every morning, it felt like my dick was in a very tight tube. I never could sleep in with the cage on. Every morning, I took a cold shower.

.
The Sentinel’s appearance directly in front of us on the visual screen was so sudden that I screamed. “Zephyr!!!!”

I was woken the next day, by the most excruciating erection I ever had. Or tried to have. I was still locked in the damn cage.

I looked around the room for the key. I searched the flat, but I couldn't find the key.

Finally, I went to wake my wife, to find her woken up, due to all the noise I may or may not have made. She smiled and it looked like she knew exactly what was going on with me.

She came to me and gave me a slow kiss, which made me curl my toes, "Frustrated much?"

The next day she teased me relentlessly.

I did not dignify her teasing my a reply, but the memory of last night bought an unexpected feeling of acceptance. It felt like for the first time I was in my body.

"Look at you squirm. Your face is all red. Looks like your face enjoyed it more than you did!", she teased.

I kept my focus on the coffee cup. It was an interesting cup. Plain, but interesting.

"You looked really feminine in pigtails. They suit you. You should wear pigtails more often than that boring ponytail"

"Did you like it last night?", she smilingly asked over a cup of coffee the next morning.

My face got red and I avoided catching her eye.

"Looks like your face liked it. You are so adorable with your face all flushed like that"

I lightly swatted her head and sneaked a quick kiss on her lips, "You snore"

Next day was our weekly off.

After breakfast, we were getting ready to go shopping for weekly groceries.

Just as we got into the mall, she said, "Maybe you should have your ears pierced here at the shop, since we are here anyways"

I replied, "What's on your mind?"

"Like I said, I wouldn't mind if you wore earrings and had long hair. Come on, let's get it done already"

She grabbed me by my arm and led me to the piercing shop in the mall. The artist approached my wife, thinking she was the one who wanted the piercing.

"What does being transgender mean for you?". That was how we began our way through all of this.

I responded, "It means that I have a feminine side to me which feels more authentic than the male side I present to the world. It means there is a constant expectation from myself to express my feminity".

"Honey, I need to talk to you", I said to her with some trepidation. I did not know how she would react, but I needed to tell her the truth after these few years of our marriage.

This story is about an Indian couples' struggle as their marriage is tested and they try to navigate their way through the entirely new expectations and experiences of the husband's suppressed auto-gynephilia and trauma from abuse sexual/otherwise, against a backdrop of traditional patriarchal Indian society and an intensely segregated LGBT community.

The Witcher Series is copyright by Andrzej Sapkowski. This story is licensed under creative commons and derivative non-commercial fiction.

The trio moved through the deserted streets of Marabel with caution. Geralt's senses were heightened, his every step deliberate and calculated. His keen eyes scanned the surroundings, searching for any signs of life or the lurking presence he sensed. The air hung heavy with an unsettling silence, broken only by the soft whispers of the wind.

I made it home that night more by luck than judgement. Lucia’s parting gift to me was still there front and centre in my mind after the flight to London. My temporary delirium almost caused me to miss getting off on the Underground at Kings Cross.

Dad Bod
A Vignette
By Maryanne Peters

Dad was successful but unhappy. We all knew that he had the capacity to be happy, it was just that he was not. I suppose that we always thought it was because he worked too hard. He had a very successful business and seemed absorbed in that.

Mom was always telling him to sell the business and retire. We backed her up. All three of us had finished college, so it seemed that it was time for Dad to live for himself.

Part 2

I sat at my desk and pondered on what Cherry had found. Five deaths, spread over nearly forty years, was difficult to understand. The motive may be lost in time, maybe they weren’t linked at all. Maybe, the AI had just come up with gobbledegook. Maybe, no, certainly, this was going over my head this time.

Part 1

I started screaming as the strong arms held me so I couldn’t move. I kept screaming until my throat was rough and I had tears in my eyes. When I stopped, I was sniffling and hiccupping at the same time and the arms loosened.

“That’s the last time you’re going to get me on one of these things, “It’ll be fun”, you said. I thought I was going to die!”

Bill helped me get out of the Odyssey roller coaster car when it slowed to a stop.

Rona’s comment about me needing a housekeeper was like a punch in the gut. She hadn't passed even the slightest derogatory comment on the frankly tatty state of my home, but instead, she had suggested a solution. That’s what she was all about… Solutions to problems and sometimes the people on the receiving end didn’t know that they had a problem.

Handsome Stranger
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

He had decided that the only way to finish what he had started was to get away from all distractions. His city studio was comfortable, but the city itself was right outside his front door. It was not the noise nor the light; it was more the temptation. And because he had visitors there from time to time, he kept it tidy. He needed a place where he could throw some paint around.

. . . as much as I enjoy my life as it is, somehow, it’s never enough. I wanted something else. Something more. Hermes might be the one who could bring me there.

Daydreaming on Deck (Part 5)
By Sabrina G. Langton

***

Author's note... Here we are at the end of another story. I used to write very fast, I would be on another couple of romances even before I started spell-checking the one I was finishing. (Which could take a while) Now I am in some sort of cruise mode...

“Thank you, Rafe, but this is too extravagant. You really shouldn’t have…”

“Wear it to the Oscars when your screenplay is nominated.”