"Come on, Steve!" My mum yells, waking me from a fitful sleep. "You don't want to be late on your first day at your new job, do you?"

“Mr. Henry, You can’t!” I yell at the young man opposite me as he brandishes his gun.

“This man betrayed my family, left us for dead,” the man says. “He deserves no better than to die like the dog he is.”

“But he’s my father!” I plead.

“Then you are the daughter of a traitor,” the young man coldly says, pulling the trigger. A loud ‘pop’ and a flash of light fills the room, and the man standing next to me falls to the floor, clutching his chest.

“No! Father!” I yell, spreading my long, elaborate dress beneath me as I kneel down beside the stricken man.

Growing Up Kitty
By Paul Calhoun

A teenage boy in a dystopian future has had some bodily development frozen at a younger age due to a medical mixup, and when he sees his similarly affected cousin he's crushed on for years has left her swimsuit in the changing room he goes in to touch it and finds a lot more.

I personally do like ageplay, but also understand that though I consider it only a vehicle for a form of transgression that is difficult to replicate anywhere other than underage that underage is also a big issue these days. I think that the setting I put it in and the method I used to make him SEEM younger actually improves the narrative because there's the transgressive element of being somewhere people would chase him away from as well as the element that he really ought to be able to go and usually can't because of his appearance.

Request for :iconmeioubunny:

Tim tolerates his job as a car salesman to support his girlfriend Anne in her career ambitions but at some point things must change for both of them.

(Originally posted to Fictionmania on 11/05/2014, I decided to bring it over here with some minor edits. It could benefit from a rewrite but at some point stories have to be allowed to stand as they are.)

First Night at the Brilliant Basilisk
By Paul Calhoun

From my story queue.

A man who dresses as a sexy lady to get free drinks at a club sees his best friend and roommate come in. Since he's always told his friend to let him know before he tried the club, the drink vamp decides to make sure he has an unforgettable night by playing to the desires he knows he has.

As the classical music reaches its crescendo, I lower myself from pointe and dip into a perfect ballerina’s curtsey, spreading my voluminous tutu beneath me as the crowd roars with rapturous applause.

“Three cheers for the birthday girl!” Stuart yells from the audience, making me blush as I stand back up.

“Hip hip!” Stuart yells.

“Hooray!” The crowd enthusiastically responds.

Today at CosmiCon Justin will have the chance to fulfill his fantasy of cosplaying Duchess Immensia of 'Tachyon Dynasty' fame with his wife Sarah accompanying him as her loyal sidekick Nanoboy. How will the daring duo fare against the convention crowds?

“Godddd…” I moan as I prop myself up on my elbows on a towel on the floor of the converted London taxi. “Why does it have to take this long?”

“It’ll take as long as it takes,” Hannah replies from the driver’s seat of the taxi.

OUTED IN THE OFFICE
Fiction by Cynthia V. Hart

The white #10 business envelope had no printing on it, just my name handwritten on the front. I found it sitting in my chair Monday morning when I arrived at work and came to my cubicle. I wondered who it was from; if it were official company communication, it would have been in one of our letterhead envelopes. I sat down, opened it and found a folded letter-size sheet of paper. On it was a printed photo, obviously taken by a smartphone’s camera…and my eyes widened in shock.

It was a photo of Andrea, no question. The dress, the face, the wig, the décor of the club…they were unmistakable. Someone had snapped a photo of me in my “other life” and left it here waiting for me in this envelope. I had thought nobody in the office knew I was a crossdresser, but here in my hands was proof that I was wrong. My heart was in my mouth and I started shaking with sheer terror.

Under the photo was printing from Microsoft Word or some other word-processing software, in that annoyingly overused Comic Sans font. It read:

“Dear Andrew: Is this you?

“Your friend always, Wendy.”

I gaped at the signature. Was this the gorgeous young lady I had spent two years or more working alongside, who sat just down the row of cubicles from me? Young, pale-skinned and freckled, busty and red-haired, blue-eyed and very cute, Wendy Parsons had always seemed a bit friendlier to me than most of the people there…but I had put it down to the rapport I often had with women, with whom I had always gotten along much better than those of my own gender. She strongly resembled a younger version of the actress who plays Joan on Mad Men -- Christina Hendricks, I think her name is -- right down to the epic prow. I had always loved the way her wavy crimson mane cascaded down from her head back over her shoulders, and the way her ample breasts filled out the front of her businesslike blouses and dresses. Sometimes I liked to imagine she wore something cut a bit lower than usual or left one extra button unbuttoned just for me to enjoy…but of course, that was mere fantasy.

I sat there for what must have been close to an hour, not even getting any work done, just trying to cope with the news that at least one of my co-workers was on to me and deciding what to do. Was it really from Wendy, or one of my other co-workers who’d spotted me and was trying to trap me?

Jessie's Ride

Chapter 4

After the Storm

(Sorry this chapter is so short )