The Pinky Confessions 1

There is a debate about transgender children. Should a Child be allowed to change gender? Some parents even allow their children to be drag kids! Should we allow this so the child is happy? Or is this just a form of child abuse?
You may know me as Pinky and read a lot about me. This is my story in my words.
A story of who I was, who I wanted to be, who others wanted me to be and who people thought I was

Ruth took Rachel down to her foster home building, called Pretty And Pink Foster Care. Rachel had heard of the place before, but she'd never seen it in person. It was a lot bigger than she expected-four stories high. "This is your foster home?" Rachel asked.

"Well, it's not really 'my' foster home," said Ruth. "Pretty And Pink Foster Care has establishments in Virginia and Pennsylvania, too. The company is owned by Angelina Aguilar-our founder. But our Nashville location is the one that I'm in charge of managing."

All eyes were on me when we walked into the cafeteria and took our regular table. Looking down at my tight dress, and overly exposed assets, I wondered how I'd been talked into this. Sitting down, carefully so I didn't show off my underwear by accident, I put my elbows on the table and clasped my hands together under my chin trying to cover my breasts.

"It's Saturday, Mom!" I Shouted.

Stacy had a problem, a BIG problem: her son. When she and her late husband, Chad (God rest his soul), found out that the baby rapidly growing in her ever-expanding belly was a boy, they had both been filled with such hope. What a handsome, strong man he would inevitably grow up to be, they thought! And virile too, though neither would dare say that part aloud (that would just be crude, of course).

This story contains forced fem and sex

The next time I woke it was in response to a catheter being pulled out of me. My throat was dry and the horror of what had happened returned.

"What are you doing now?"

"Aww. Don't worry. You had that in so you didn't wet the bed. I just need to fit this on you." Carol said.

I looked down as I felt her fiddling with my penis. It was dragged between my empty ball sack, then I felt a tug and heard a click.

My cock stayed between my legs.

"What have you done to me?" I croaked.

Living and Loving in Dystopia
A Vignette
By Maryanne Peters

Nobody thought that it could get any worse for gay Russians with the fall of Vladimir Putin, but his successor seemed all the more keen to crack down on deviant behavior. The fact is that he had an ally in President Pence. It seems like both our countries are now controlled by the ignorant provincial conservatives who regard anything out of their normal as a religious crime. The “Heartland” of Russia is pretty much the same as the Heartland of America – hostile to gay people.

Most jocks being meatheads...

It was to be a time for celebrations, but also for shocks and disappointments for Jane, her family, and her friends.

Unlucky Day
A Vignette
By Maryanne Peters

Darlene who manned the public counter knocked on the glass door that separated Sheriff Abner Holding’s office from the space where he two deputies sat, when they were not out on patrol as they were. He could see that there was somebody beside her.

Her called for her to open the door.

Calci and I were working on our anti-mind control potion again. Like the other day the first half of the class had been a lecture on various alchemicals and how they interact with each other. Professor Pyrotechny was still smoking from adding dragons bile to cockatrice venom. The clockwork teacher been demonstrating why reading the instructions was extremely important, and how two seemingly harmless ingredients could have a very volatile reaction.

After a successful first 'girl practice', Annie summons Jamie back to her house for round two. But can he handle being 'Juliette' in public?

There had been that moment back in the motel...

One too Many
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

Even with the curtains drawn in a vain attempt to help me cope, it seemed that the room was in direct sunlight, or that I was in a Nazi interrogation room facing a searchlight I kept my eyes open as only slits, or was it the one ton block sitting on my head that was keeping them mainly closed?

“Everyone it's now time to test your shield spell,” Mage Malacoda said.

We'd spent most of magic class learning the finer details of shielding, which according to our instructor was one of the most important spells we could know. Something I wholeheartedly agreed with. I'd written down everything he'd said, double checked it with Calci and Garth, asked questions to make sure I knew all the little details, and watched Calci and Garth cast their own shields.

Kassidy leans back in the worn passenger seat inside the van. She looks over toward Jerry as he drives the van. She glances toward the back of the van and notices the rest of their band drunk or stoned out of their minds.

“Tonight was a total mess, Jerry.” Kassidy couldn’t believe how terrible the group sounded.

“I know, and I wish I had an explanation for what happened, but I don’t.” Jerry was pissed that the band did so badly tonight.