Exchange the Experience: A TG Mixed Tape

Exchange the Experience

A TG Mixed Tape

Edited by PersnicketyBitch

A sellsword who has kidnapped a princess gets more than he bargained for when he delivers her to his employer. A crossdresser deals with the death of a loved one. A young man prepares to confront a sinister something lucking in the woods. A mysterious clown performs a life altering magic trick. Hit play on this collection of 11 stories by 11 different voices in TG fiction, but be careful, it might just change your life.

And if I only could,

I'd make a deal with God,

And I'd get him to swap our places,

Be running up that road,

Be running up that hill,

Be running up that building,

Say, if I only could, oh...

Kate Bush


The shop slotted in easy. Someone had been using the space right before me which tends to lessen the resistance a lot. Even so manifesting is always a bumpy process. I hear talk that with the next model that if you don’t know what to look for you won’t notice a thing. Until I see it with my own four eyes I’m calling bullshit.

I checked the merchandise to see if anything had been damaged by the rattling around. A couple of cheaper fragile items that I hadn’t thought worth boxing up for the trip had fallen from their perches. No great loss. I vacuumed up the pieces and chalked out a couple of runes to mitigate the residual magic.

I was running low on Wanda’s™ Temporary Dust. I figured that there’d be enough to do the whole shop. I figured wrong, ran out half way through the job and had to grind up some dust of my own (not hard, but time consuming and tedious). If it were up to me I wouldn’t have bothered dusting the shop at all, but it’s written down in the Franchise Rules and the Powers that Be are sticklers for that sort of thing and, idiot that I am, I didn’t read the document all the way through and signed in blood instead of ink.

Anyway, once that was done I lit the incense candles, cast a Glamour to change my appearance (no sense in scaring the customers) and turned the sign hanging from the door to “Open”.

My Grand Viz’s™ All-Seeing Crystal Orb said my first patron would be Byron White. A guy desperately in need of a break. Partner passed on. Taken for granted at work. Overlooked for promotion. The Naughty-nice-o’meter (my official Morality Reader still hadn’t come through so in the meantime I was stuck with this POS from an even shittier North Pole Surplus store) put him in a bit of a grey area. But I’m a softy. A simple good luck charm should make things better for him. So I was surprised when a young couple walked in through the door. I gave my ASCO thump. That didn’t do the trick. I was going to have to readjust it later.

“I’m telling you this isn’t the place,” said the man.

“Well it wasn’t here yesterday,” the woman snapped. “How many disappearing, reappearing jumble shops can there be? Hey. You. Beardy.” She reached into her satchel, took out a cassette and waved it in my face. It was labeled A TG Mixed Tape.

“I really, really, don’t think this is it,” the man mumbled. “It’s smaller. There’s different stuff. S’not the same old dude.”

“Well, gee, I dunno. Maybe it changed. It is a magic shop after all. And you.” She sprayed me with spit as she spoke. “You will reverse whatever the hell this Thing, the hell YOU did to us.” She returned the cassette to her satchel and withdrew an impressive looking hand cannon. “Right. Now.”

Exchange the Experience

A TG Mixed Tape

Liner Notes

Lone Wolf

By ACDC Metal Fan

Slugs and Snails

By Christina H

Good Deeds

By Daniela A. Wolfe


By PersnicketyBitch

Birthday Girl

By Lyodor Tolstoyevski

What The?!

By Maggie Finson


By Meka Soulstorm

Future Ghosts

By Nicki Benson

All in the Cracker

By Person 42


By Toxis

The Bargain

By Zapper

Edited by PersnicketyBitch

Lone Wolf

By ACDC Metal Fan

I quickly ran toward my hunting rifle. I loaded it up and stuffed a handful of spare ammo into my pocket.

“Someone there?” I shouted aiming my gun at the source of the sounds. Yeah, as if a raccoon, or whatever it was, would be up for a game of Marco Polo.

“Anyone?” I stepped off the porch and began to walk slowly towards the rustling bushes. “Hello?”

There was an answering snarl and then a large beast lunged out at me! I glimpsed shaggy fur, and a half human, half wolf shape. I fired and fired again and hit it in the head both times, but I might as well have been shooting at it with a water pistol for all the damage I did. The creature bared its teeth and lashed out with a clawed hand and knocked the rifle out of my grip. As I turned to run it backhanded me and knocked me to the ground.

Then it was on top of me, shredding my flesh with claws and teeth. I passed out.

When I came to I found myself in an unfamiliar clearing. The creature was nowhere to be seen, but I could hear a howling in the distance. I looked up at the full moon above me. It was so beautiful. So shiny. So…

I howled in agony. A burning sensation began to rip my body in half. I felt huge bolts of pain coming from my legs and arms. I felt my fingers and arms stretch and heard the sound of cracking bones. My toes grew longer and larger and busted out of my old sneakers. I felt a painful shock coming from my knees, like if they were being cut in half.

I felt my hair being pulled, not only from my head, from my entire body! Even parts that didn’t have hair in the first place. My stomach began to rumble. There was an agonizing pain in the groin, like my balls were being kicked to the insides of my body. It passed to my spine, which felt like if someone was pulling out the end of it. I felt something pulling me down from my chest. A burning sensation came from my nipples.

The buttons of my shirt popped out. Two large and furry mounds began to form. My shredded pants fell away. And at last, I felt my chin, nose and forehead grow out of their proportions, my teeth like they were being pulled out, and my ears moving to the top of my head.

And then I stood in a way I never thought it was possible. Like standing on my tip-toes, but still being able to jump and run normally. My hands and arms were longer, with fur all over them. My fingers ended in claws that looked like they were able to cut through anything.

And what a better way to prove it. I could smell deer nearby…

Ever since she was little Susy has been interested in these types of stories. Other stories by her include: "Sympathy for the Girl" and "Black Bloodstains". She is the co-author of the story "K177Y Serum". You can find all of her stories at TG Storytime.

Slugs and Snails

By Christina H

Andy shouted down to his best pal, “Going to the party later?” Andy was half way up a large tree that overhung the pond, he was after the football he had accidently kicked into it.

Marty squinted up answering, “Sure Mum’s making me, we’re going to have to get going soon to get changed.” He watched as Andy edged closer to the elusive football, wondering to himself if cute little Angela would be there, she sure was cute with her big blue eyes, long wavy blonde hair and just the trace of bumps where her boobs were growing.

He felt uncomfortable thinking this as boys of his age usually tormented pretty little girls like Angela, but WOW did she look good in her pink girly clothes!

“Got it,” he heard Andy grunt then came the ominous crack as the thin branch Andy was sprawled out on snapped, sending Andy, Ball and branch into the pond.

“You OK?” Marty shouted seeing his best friend surface, covered in pond slime but still holding the football!

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Andy yelled back, “But there sure is a load of frog spawn in here, we should get some and chase the girls with it, I bet we make that Angela scream and run.”

Andy waded to the shore, laughing and telling Marty, “We’d better get home and get changed we can get the frogspawn later.”

Marty looked at Andy and thoughtfully said, “Maybe it’s not such a good idea chasing girls like Angela – she’s nice.”

Andy’s eyes lit up and he started chanting, “Marty fancies Angela; Marty fancies Angela,” as they ran home to get changed.

The arrived at Andy’s home first and Marty got his revenge as Andy’s mum gave him a telling off for coming home in such a state. Marty trotted to his own house, two doors down shouting back, “See ya at the Party”


A voice awoke me from the depth of my slumbers, “Angela Honey, Angela, you fell asleep while I was doing your hair, come on honey, let’s make you pretty for the party.

I woke up and looked at myself, my long blonde hair fell in gently waves across my slender shoulders, I was dressed in a pale pink satiny bra with matching panties, my heart shaped face with cupid bow lips, cute little button nose and big blue eyes framed with long lashes screamed girly girl.

Mum held the party dress I was going to wear, a glittery mini dress in deep pink, with a thin gold belt to nip in my blossoming waist, I had gold gladiator sandals with a 2” heel and a matching purse completed my outfit.

Tears escaped my big blue eyes as I realized it had all been a dream!

Why can’t people see the real me? Why can’t people see what I know I should be?

It should have been the real me falling in the pond, me Andy, not false me Angela.

Christina H is a lifelong trans-woman. Her stories include “A Friend in Need”, “A New Start in Life”, “For Friends and Family” and “The Making of Heather”. She hopes that her stories please you and make you happy and wants you to remember to never regret anything you do as long as no one is hurt by your actions.

Good Deeds

(A Tale from Meridian)

By Daniela A. Wolfe

Sometimes it's hard staying humble, but it was a virtue so I had to at least try. Still, I had to admit I did good work even when I seldom got credit for it. My current venture was only just wrapping up.

She was in a restaurant, a ritzy one from the looks of it. Funny, how changing just one little detail had such a ripple effect. Before I got to her, she was holding a gun to her head, ready to blow her brains out. Judging from the way she was looking around she didn't understand where she was, or how she'd gotten there nor did she seem to have noticed her new body.

I was beginning to wonder if she'd ever wise up, but then she finally glanced down at her chest. She let out a high pitched squeal and lurched onto her feet. I followed her into the bathroom and when she caught that reflection in the mirror she started to teeter on her feet. That's when dark beads of mascara stained her cheeks, and I rolled my eyes as she started to sob. Why were mortals always so emotional? Wait, that last one didn't sound like a sob, in fact it sounded more like a giggle, which was followed by a second and third.

I couldn't blame her for laughing, I would be too if I found myself living in the right body after a lifetime spent in the wrong one. I doubted that she'd be posing in any magazines any time soon, she was far from ugly. She was pretty in a girl next door sort of way, which I think suited her pretty well.

"Hey, are you Ellie?"

"I, uh, well," was all she said to newcomer who'd just stepped inside the restroom.

"Well whatever, there's some guy out there looking for an Ellie."

She moved to leave, but the other woman stopped her. "You know you may want to clean yourself up. Unless you want him to know you've been crying."

She bit her lip, then grabbed a paper towel, dampened it and washed the mascara from her face. She didn't spend any time applying new makeup, but I don't think she knew how.

"There you are." A tall dark-haired man approached her a moment after she exited the bathroom.

She looked nervous, but I really don't think she should have. The two of them had grown up together in Meridian. In her old reality she'd never had the courage to tell him how she really felt and their relationship had never been a romantic one, but... well things had changed.

"Thank you, whoever or whatever did this," she whispered to the open air.

She couldn't see me, but I couldn't help but smile, sometimes I did get credit for my good deeds. "You're welcome."

"Something wrong?" Jeff asked.

"No," she bit her lip then looked around a final time before turning back to him. "Everything is just fine."

Daniela A. Wolfe is a fan of science-fiction and fantasy who brings her love of the genres to TG fiction. She is the author of “Facades” (the first Meridian story) and the "Ragnarok Rising Trilogy" (“Incompatible: Birth of a Spellbinder”, “Transfigured: Ascension of a Spellbinder” and “Destiny: Legacy of a Spellbinder”). She has contributed to several shared universes including Enemyoffun's DarkRealms Universe (“Hunger Pangs”) and Morpheus' Twisted Universe (“Virtually Twisted”).


(A Gender Virus Story)

By PersnicketyBitch

When Scott began taking the photographs I would, as he set everything up, blush and stroke my cock to coax it to hang a little longer. As I did this I would ask myself “is it…” but it was a while before I worked up the courage to ask my friend. It doesn’t change, at least not visibly, during the first second of footage. Nor during the second; though it was sometime around day 38 or 39 that I found myself incapable of getting a hard on.

For the umpteenth time I am watching the last nine months of my existence unfold in 11.25 seconds. Next to me Leah is editing a sequence that’ll go on the DVD as an extra. It’s about our love life during that period. There’s a bit where we go shopping for male strap-ons. It’s funny, but forced too. We’d never have done it if there hadn’t been a camera in our faces. She (Leah) keeps glancing at the clock. She’ll be calling it a day soon. She has a date tonight. She’s been apologetic to me about it since she asked him. I’ve told her I don’t mind (and I really don’t) but I don’t think she believes me.

The changes start becoming more noticeable about three and a half seconds in – three months real time. The beginning of spring seemed to trigger something in me. I lost two inches in a week. The weight fluctuations hit me especially bad; I ballooned in an out. My every movement was accompanied by the cracking of joints. I decked my physiotherapist with the best punch I’ve ever thrown after a session where she’d made me put my jelly legs through what felt like hell. I wasn’t one of the lucky ones who stabilised early.

At the halfway point of the video the backdrop changes from the wall of my apartment to a series of motel rooms and bedrooms belonging to new acquaintances, many soon to be friends. Nathan (I remember her dressed up as a sexy Freddie Kruger and the way the others at the club had looked past the burns) and her boyfriend Terri (who’d gone as Frankenstein’s Monster to hide in plain sight the scars that he’d gotten on the day that they’d met, when people calling themselves Christians attacked the clinic they were in). Joshua (who’d just been diagnosed and couldn’t wait). Irene and Lawrence and their children Ross and Amber (who’d all started their transformations at the same time). Father (now Sister) Jason. Judith. Gary. Nala. Dominic. And so, so many others.

The last five seconds of the video unfold in herky jerky, live action stop motion. My mosquito bites become gravity bangers. My cock and balls withdraw into my body but the encasing skin remains until almost the very end. When I began to menstruate my empty scrotum would become bloated with blood.

Then 11.25 seconds have passed, leaving me as I am now.

I believe I am better for them.

PersnicketyBitch is the creator of the Mixed Tape Anthologies. She is Australian, but don't hold that against her. If you do she will sic her pet Drop Bear on you.

Birthday Girl

By Lyodor Tolstoyevski

The clock ticked the minutes away as I shifted higher in my seat and tried to see whose file the receptionist had just opened. There's no going back after this, I told myself, even though my decision had been made long before.

"We got here early, remember?" My mom squeezed my hand as she spoke. "You've got plenty of time."

She's been so supportive of me throughout this whole thing. More than I think most parents would be. More than dad's been. But as comforting as her familiar grip and her familiar voice are, they aren't quite enough.

She takes my other hand and pulls me gently towards her. "Remember your tenth birthday?"

"The clown?" A smidgen of a smirk forced its way past my anxiety, and my mom just nodded. She'd hired a clown on my tenth birthday.

"You remember his magic act?"

The smirk rose up higher and almost pushed itself into a smile. "Yes, I think I remember his magic act."

"You had no idea where he pulled that rabbit from."

Granted that I was a ten year-old boy, but a whole live rabbit is still impressive

"And Uncle Thomas couldn't for the life of him figure out how Cousin Erin was hanging in mid-air like that." She said.

He'd been allowed to inspect her from every angle, and he never found a wire or anything.

"We'd been expecting foam balls and sleight of hand, but every trick was just more and more incredible. He had lights that came from nowhere, smoke that came from nowhere, and this projection of a giant owl looked so realistic, I swear I felt wind when it flew by me."

I had felt wind, too.

"It's so weird that his last trick was a dud, though. You remember that one?"

She prodded me, urging me to speak. So I did, reluctantly. "He covered me in a giant sheet and said 'now I will turn our birthday boy into a birthday girl.'"

"I think everyone was expecting him to pull up the blanket and reveal one of your friends, or you in a dress, or something. But nothing happened. It was just you."

I faked a dramatic sigh. "It was just me."

"But today Dr. Euling is going to do what the clown couldn't."

I looked back at the receptionist, still looking at the same file. Probably someone else's prep info for sexual reassignment surgery. But mine would come up eventually.

Mom's little story did its trick, but not quite how she'd expected. Because there's another part of the story I never told her. Never told anyone. I guess I thought it was silly, I guess I was a little embarrassed. But in twenty years, I've never told a single person that after the clown said he'd turn me into a birthday girl, he leaned down close and added five words through the sheet into my ear:

"But only on the inside."

Lyodor Tolstoyevski is man of honor. Lyodor writes many short stories, and sometimes long stories too. Short pieces of Lyodor's include "Take Me Home," "Breadwinner," and "The Witch of Wallonia." Long pieces include "Allegra" and upcoming ebook for which all should keep eye out at Amazon Marketplace: "The Ukrainian Maid." Do not be hesitating to read all works of Lyodor Tolstoyevski!

What The?!

By Maggie Finson

Daniel gasped, fingered his skirt and petticoat then noticed the obvious bulge of breasts as he looked down his body. “What the Hell?!!”

“You have no idea what it's like”, Anna grinned while fingering her tie, jacket, and what was in the pants she was wearing. “Being a woman in this 'enlightened' time of 1962. Girls and women are expected to be pretty, and dress in confining, and/or fluffy things just to keep the MEN happy.

“I always felt wrong.” Anna shook her head. “My body just wasn't what my brain said it should be and I found that going the 'accepted' way for females was intolerable. Everything was wrong, I should have been playing football, baseball, and flirting with girls!”

“But that wasn't how things were.” She went on. “I had to be pretty, learn how to keep house, and be waiting for some MAN to decide I should be his wife and then spend the rest of my life happily keeping the house clean and being a mommy to the kids he would get on me in an act so disgusting to me that I couldn't bear to really think about it. I was a male in a female body and everything was wrong.”

“I'm sorry you had to go through that.” Daniel twitched his skirt again with a sigh.

“Sorry?!” Anna shot back. “You have NO idea of what kind of pain that kind of thing can cause!”

“So you did what?” Daniel asked as if he was in daze. “Why am I in your body and you're in mine?”

“I found a spell.” Anna gave him, in her body a smug look. “That would let me switch bodies with someone. I couldn't think of better person to do that with than my overbearing, masculine brother

“So sure, so entitled, so secure in the primacy of your manhood.” She gave him and evil grin and went on. “Now you can be the one expected to be pretty and looking for a husband, while I can go out in the world and really do things for a change. I hope you hate every second of your life now, Anna.”

“You could have asked.” Daniel told her.

“And you would have agreed. Sure!”

“I would have, Daniel.” The new Anna smiled. “You got what you wanted, so did I.”

“I hope you enjoy being a man with all the pressures that involves. I'm content to be Anna.”

“What the....” The new Daniel got out.

Maggie Finson has been posting TG fiction for years. Her stories include “Heaven and Hell” and “Maiden by Decree”. She is one of the creators of the Whateley universe.


By Meka Soulstorm

“It’s happening” he called from the bedroom. I dropped the sponge and plate I was busy washing in the sink and ran back there, my hands dripping wet, to see my husband, standing in his underwear, looking at himself in the mirror. His skin was rippling and swirling around, his hair almost glowing.

The empty vial and syringe lay on our dresser. After he’d injected the formula and nothing had happened, we both thought it was a dud. I returned to the kitchen to finish cleaning up after dinner. It had been a special dinner, it was going to be the last meal we shared together as man and wife, of course. But then, after we’d made love one last time, nothing had happened. All his excitement vanished in an instant.

I had silently breathed a sigh of relief as I cleaned; I was supportive, of course. That’s what wives are for, but still...losing my husband forever wasn’t my idea of a fun evening together. He’d saved up the money and bought the stuff himself, though, and I didn’t have much choice in the matter.

My relief faded, but was replaced with excitement as I watched his body shift and ripple, weight redistributing itself. I cringed as his bones cracked and reshaped themselves, his pelvis and hips expanding as his waist tucked in. He was in shape before, but making a change like this meant that there was going to be a lot of waste to dispose of.

His penis fell off first, followed by globs of fat, skin, and muscle sludge, a disgusting beige goop. I thanked God that we’d put a plastic sheet down. What couldn’t be dropped collected in his...well, now her gut, and I could see her stomach distend nearly as much as her breasts had. I was no board myself, but my husband’s breasts were magnificent to behold! Nearly-perfect round orbs of girl flesh where hard pecs had once been.

She was coming along beautifully, blonde hair cascading down her back as her facial features settled into a vaguely European visage. He’d ordered the Swedish Model formula, and the beauty that now stood before me confirmed how worth it his purchase had been.

“ worked. Look at me...I’m a total hottie!” he exclaimed, his new higher register sounding sweet and feminine.

“That you are, how does it feel though?” I asked calmly.

“It’s...amazing. It hurt during the transformation, oh man, especially with the bones...but it’s great. I feel completely natural, like...this is the body I should have always had.”

I nodded along, sighing quietly to myself. I excused myself to the bathroom while he continued admiring his nude form. I opened the medicine cabinet when I noticed a gift-wrapped package. And a note. ‘You think I’d leave you hanging?’ I looked inside. A vial and syringe, labeled ‘Lesbian Lover - M”. A mental formula.

I smiled as the liquid finally reached my brain. I wouldn’t be losing him after all.

Meka has been offering her own unique perspective on speculative TG fiction for several years. Other works include “Rachel Graham’s Precious Little Life” and “Rachel Graham’s Infinite Wisdom”, available on Amazon and other fine booksellers. Her other work is available on Fictionmania under the name Mekalicious.

Future Ghosts

By Nicki Benson

Three minutes to reach the by-pass. Right at the second roundabout. Mirror, signal, manoeuvre. Past the shopping parade. Left, then left again.

“Is that you, son?”

His voice had sounded different. Almost pleading.

Should I change into…?

A shirt and jeans.

What about…?

A shirt and jeans.

Ease into the kerb. Turn off the engine. Run a comb through my hair.

“I’ve had an accident. Can you come round, change the sheets before your mother gets back from the town?”

Bowel cancer. Inoperable. Accidents will happen.

Along the path. Open the front door. Hesitate before climbing the staircase.

Future ghosts in the living room. Talking in whispers. Dressed in black.

One of them stands apart from the rest. She wears my face.

Tread and riser. Tread and riser. Tread and riser…

Brace myself for the stench. Maybe it won’t be so bad.

Who am I kidding? He doesn’t want me here. I’m a necessary evil.

“I hate yer! Understand? I hate yer!”

He didn’t say that this afternoon. He didn’t have to.

Pause once again on the landing. Take one tentative step towards the front bedroom. The air smells faintly of…

Stale coffee.

That’s all.

Just coffee.

“Sorry to drag you out. I didn’t want your mum coming back and finding the bed all—“

“I know.”

Pull the covers off. Beneath the striped pyjamas, a shell of a man.

Frail. Helpless. Grown old in a matter of weeks.

So many things he’ll never do again.

Clean linen. Plump pillows. The offer of a pot of tea, refused.

A real daughter would sit with him, hold his hand, melt the glacial approach of death with comforting words and tender smiles.

If I did all that, would I become truly female? Could it be that the rest might follow naturally?

“Dad, I want to—“

“I’ll be fine.”

He’s ashamed. Humiliated.

If I stay, I’ll only make it worse.

“Okay,” I sigh. “Bye, then.”

“Bye, love.”

Carry the stained bedding downstairs to the kitchen. Stuff it into the washing machine.


That single word.

Doing what he can. Looking after me to the very end.

The ghosts watch me leave. Some of them are grinning. They heard it too.

Nicki Benson, who has also written under the pseudonym ‘Touch The Light’, is the author of a novel-length story cycle that begins with “The Transmigration Of Richard Brookbank”. When not mired in self-indulgent fetishism or descending into conspiracy theory hell it attempts to examine the relationship between memory and identity. The unfinished “Goodbye Master Stokes” has a more realistic premise. Another sidelined project, “Oblivion’s Curtain”, is currently being resurrected as “The Muses Of Strathgorrie”.

All in the Cracker

By Person 42

"Sir, could I offer you a cracker?" The old man asks Robert.

"What? Why would I want a cracker?" Robert responds, raising one eyebrow.

"Well, this, my dear friend, is the most delicious cracker in the world! Secret family recipe, ya see?"

"Hm. Well... if you're just giving them out... I guess I can take one." Robert says, acting cautiously. In fact, he doesn't trust the old man at all. He tucks his wallet just a little bit further into his pocket.

“Here you are, sir! Please, tell me if you like it!"

Robert tentatively takes a bit of the cracker, instantly spitting it out.

"Ugh! This is the grossest thing I've ever tasted! It tastes like... like..."

Robert licks his lips. He closes his bright green eyes in bliss and moans in a feminine voice through closed lips. When he opens his eyes, they are baby blue.

"Like, the best ever!" Robby finishes. He lets out a feminine giggle.

"Why don't you finish it, then?" The old man asks.

"Oh! Like, of course!" Robby giggles and shoves the whole cracker into his mouth.

Robby's body begins to tingle. As the cracker melts in his mouth, parts of his body melt away, revealing smooth and hairless skin, three shades lighter than it had been previously. He closes his eyes, and his hair elongates, going to the small of his back and turning blonde.

Robby's hips widen with a sickening crack, but since he's too busy savoring the taste of heaven he calls a cracker, he doesn't notice.

Robbi's stomach rumbles. The old man smiles, knowing that her new organs are forming.

Rambi's face feminizes, and she shrinks. Makeup applies itself to her face. A perfume mist materializes and hangs around her. Rambi's brain feels fuzzy for a moment, so she giggles.

Thinking is, like, so HARD! She thinks, her brain hurting in the process. Visions of the old man start to fill her head as her outfit becomes a very revealing dress.

"Bambi? Are you coming, dear?" The old man asks.

Bambi's eyes shoot open at the sound of her name. "Oh, like, of course, master! Do you have, like, another cracker?"

"I've got plenty for you to give to all of your friends."

Bambi smiles, hopping and clapping her hands before saying, "Yay!" Her eyes, her vacant blue eyes, show absolute devotion to her new master.

Person42 is an author who posts mainly on TG Storytime. The author is responsible for short works such as "Christmas Wish" and "The problems with gambling" posted on TG Storytime. Other things Person42 has posted include a number of longer stories such as "That stupid disease" and "The unusual story of Dave." Works written by Person42 are varied, as are the likes and dislikes of the author.


By Toxis

Alone upstairs, Belinda adjusted her veil. The quiet noise of family and friends drifted up the steps. She needed to do something about her eyes, all that crying. Emily was gone truly and forever and Belinda didn’t know what to do with herself. Have some dignity, she told herself. Emily would admire that and a sense of humor too. Everyone else will be so depressed. If Belinda fell apart, the rest would too. Emily should be here. She always did know how to handle the most awful moments, and of course there was that one amazing time too.

“Can you tell me what you are doing in my clothes?” Emily had said as she stood in the doorway. Jason looked back in shock. What was she doing here? Emily was to have been away until Saturday, and it was Friday. He tried to run but she was standing in the only way out. He was trapped in the room, in her clothes. He couldn’t breathe or speak or even move. Emily calmly walked across the room and took his hands in both of hers. “You look like a deer in the headlights. Why don’t you sit down with me and tell me what’s going on?”

Jason began a rambling lie about Halloween parties and costumes, babbling, stammering, lost, bereft of anything to say. Nothing could fix this. Everything was over. Emily would leave him and his life would be ruined. “Let’s try again, dear, and this time, let’s just tell the truth.”

Slowly, Jason confessed that he was a cross-dresser, at least that’s what they called it then. He had a small wardrobe of his own but enjoyed trying on Emily’s things for variety. Naturally slim and the same height as her, Jason could fit into Emily’s clothes quite well. Emily had been impressed at how well Jason carried off his impersonation. And had promptly handed him a purse and walked him out the door. Sitting in a restaurant a few minutes later, Emily insisted that Jason get something to eat and chat with her. Under her prodding, he admitted that he liked being called Belinda and had always wanted to go out but had been too afraid. “We’ll make a regular thing of it, just you and me. No one else need know. Something we will share.” That was Emily, facing reality and finding the good in it. And then making things better.

Belinda fussed at the mirror. Emily had made Belinda promise to. It was time; the car from the funeral home had just pulled up and Belinda had to go down. Time to leave. She took off Jason’s watch and put on the one Emily wore. One step in front of the other. People would stare but what did that matter. One last time, Emily and Belinda went out.

Toxis writes stories about transformation, how events change people, make them something they weren't and leave them as something else. If you like this story, you might also like “Bianca Paragon” and “Spellbound” on Fictionmania, “Race Queen” at, and “Everything's Good” at Bdsmlibrary

The Bargain

By Zapper

Cassius glanced over his unencumbered shoulder at the guard flanking him. Even through his armor the lush wriggling form of the bound and gagged princess was a distraction.

“Guard the door.”

“Yes, sir. The lads have set up a defensive position in the pass. King Deric won’t get through anytime soon. Will that be enough to pay your debt?”

“I owe Darkor three favors. Counting the kidnapping and stopping Deric’s rescue attempt, I still owe him one task.” Cassius said, striking the oak door.


Cassius pushed his way in. The room was poorly lit and filled with arcane objects. The smell of brimstone was strong enough to make a lesser man gag. Cassius navigated his way through the bric-a-brac to the torch lit area where Darkor stood in his sorcerer’s robes and pointed hat.

“Chain her there.” Darkor pointed to a circle. Once done Cassius looked at the sorcerer.

“Go stand in the circle next to the Princess.”

Spotting the circle Cassius moved over to it. “What is my third task? Master.”

“Reconciling Princess Cordelia and her father.”

Cassius looked at Darkor in confusion, “Didn’t we just kidnap her? Sure, the inside help made it simple, but won’t you at least demand a ransom.”

“Of course not. After all Princess Cordelia was running away. You caught her and when I realized who she was I arranged her safe return to her father.”

“But what of our holding action in the pass?”

“Just an unfortunate misunderstanding.”

With that the Sorcerer lifted a hand and pointed it at Cassius freezing him in place. Then Darkor pointed at the now smiling Princess. A second later cramps wracked Cassius body. A low moan escaped his lips and then he felt his flesh shifting around. Long brown hair fell into his vision as his armor dissolved into diaphanous flowing silk garments. A ripple moved through his chest expanding the flesh and then flowed down his torso shifting his hips with a popping sound. A sharp pain in his groin left him panting in quick little breaths, and then it was over.

The transformed Cassius reached up, with manacled hands, to feel the globes on her chest.

“I’m free at last!” The masculine roar caused the horrified Cassius to look over at Princess Cordelia.

“Are you satisfied with our bargain Princess?” Darkor asked.

“Yes!” Cordelia shouted. “What does a Grimoires mean to me? I’m not a sorcerer, and now I’m not chattel! I’m a man, a warrior, and a mercenary Captain. I have my own Free Company. But what is to prevent her,” Cordelia pointed at Cassius, “from telling my father?”

Darkor laughed, “Would your father care? She is now of his blood and will produce sons for whoever the King marries her off too. You see, Cassius third task is to reconcile the King with his daughter through filial obedience. The magic of the bargain will ensure compliance.” Darkor grinned evilly at the horrified Cassius, “Won’t it Princess Cordelia?”

Involuntarily, Cassius felt herself nod.

Zapper started writing in December 2011 and has contributed a number of short and long stories to various websites. A few of his TG urban fantasy stories include: The Security Consultant Trilogy (“The Security Consultant,” “The Consultant and the Mask,” and “The Consultant and the Hounds of Heaven”) the Bounty Hunters Trilogy (“Bounty Hunters,” Bounty Hunters II: “Family Reunion,” Bounty Hunters III: “Silas Revenge”).


I hope you enjoyed reading this collection as much as I and my fellow contributors enjoyed putting it together, and that you take the time leave a comment (I’m sure you don’t need to be told how much us authors benefit from feedback). Tell us, what was your favourite story and why?

I’d like to extend a big thanks to all the authors who contributed; the newbies and the veterans of previous Mixed Tapes. I’m looking forward to working with some of you again on future collections.

Speaking of, I’ll be putting another collection together next month. If you want to be part of July’s Tape e-mail me at [email protected].

The guidelines are as before:

• Write a short piece no longer than 500 words. Apart from that limit, write whatever you want.

• Write a short “Also by this author” blurb.

• The finished anthology will be published on Big Closet, TG Storytime and Fictionmania. Make sure you have accounts set up on all three sites (all are free to join). I want to get as many authors credited on each site as possible.

Submissions are due by Sunday the 20th of July 2014. All contributors will be sent a copy of the collection before it's published. If you read it and decide that you do not want your work to be represented in it then you may withdraw your contribution. Publication will (hopefully) occur on the last Sunday of the month (the 27th).

Until then, or until I hear from you.


PersnicketyBitch (editor)

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