LGBT Stories

Diane had spent much of her time hunting down antique shops since we had arrived in England. In the four years I’ve known my wife, she has always collected strange bits and pieces from all over the place. She wasn’t about to stop simply because we were on vacation. “So what did you get this time?” I asked her.

“Have a look,” she said with a smile.

I opened her bag and took out several small metal animal figures and an odd-looking bracelet. I picked up the bracelet and tried to make sense of the carvings on the side of it. “What is it?”

She shrugged. “I don’t have a clue. It got me so intrigued, I had to buy it.”

The bracelet was two half-circles of what looked like brass, hinged at one end. There was no catch to hold the bracelet in place, and there was no indication that there had ever been one. “How’s it supposed to stay on?”

Diane leaned over and took the bracelet. “Don’t know. When we get back home I’m really going to have a fun time finding out all about it’s history.” She placed the bracelet around her wrist and held it closed.

I’ll always remember what happened next. The bracelet began to glow a bright blue. Diane jerked her hand back in surprise, but the bracelet stayed on her wrist. She turned to me. “David! What’s happening?”

(more…)

Alan Carter could tell that Carl Yates had entered the room by the way his chest expanded into two large, female breasts.

He sighed and pulled the labcoat closed over his now ruined shirt. His nipples, now large and extra-sensitive, reacted to the fabric rubbing on them and stiffened.

He looked down as he tried to control his anger. He had learnt that showing anger to Yates could be extremely dangerous.

“Good evening, Alan.” Yates said with an obvious smirk in his voice.

An image flashed through Alan’s head of him punching Yates to the ground. Instead he turned and meekly said, “Good evening, sir.”

Alan wished he had listened to his gut feelings when he had first come to work for Yates. Something had felt very wrong from the start. Yates’ offer of a huge salary had blown away any worries he should have had.

Even more importantly, Yates was willing to fund the research Alan had been working on.

Nanomachines had been an increasing part of everyone’s life for the past decade. They had made huge advances in the fight against cancer and old age. Alan’s research had been even more radical. He foresaw a time when Nanomechs could radically restructure entire body parts or even re-grow missing limbs.

(more…)

Michal began to awaken. Sunlight flooded through the drawn curtains, filling her bedroom with the warmth of morning. She stretched, spreading out across the smooth, cool sheets of her bed. She remembered the night before, a night of lovemaking and deep passion. Michal smiled; in mere days, she would soon have a new name.

Mrs. Cody Boyd. Michal liked the sound of those words.

She realized that she was alone. Cody was gone, and she could not hear him elsewhere in the apartment. She called out, hoping he had not left.

“Cody?” There was no response, but she heard a sound of movement coming from behind the closed bathroom door. Michal rose from bed, wrapped herself in her robe, and crossed over to the door. “Cody? You okay?”

There was no answer. She tried the doorknob, only to find it locked from inside. She began to worry. “Cody…” she began, a little more insistently, “What’s wrong? Are you sick?”

There was a muffled reply. “Uh uh.”

(more…)

“I tell you, Arnie, something’s going on in there.” Jeremy spoke as he and his friend looked upon the university’s Institute for Human Sexual Studies. “I know Jerry went in there, and never came out.”

“Maybe he just quit school and went home to Nebraska, like they said,” Arnie suggested. “What could possibly be in there that would cause someone to disappear?”

“I don’t know. Some kind of foul play’s going on… maybe one of the professors is a serial killer, or something like that. I gotta get in there. I’m getting to the bottom of this.”

“Why don’t you call the police if you really think something’s going on in there. It could be dangerous.”

Jeremy got out of the car and faced the huge, gothic redstone building. “I can’t afford to arouse suspicion. If I’m not out of there in thirty minutes, come in for me.” He walked away from Arnie, who watched fearfully as his friend disappeared into the old structure.

It was the dinner hour and the halls were empty. Jeremy had just begun to snoop around when a beautiful woman in a lab coat approached him. “Looking for someone?” she asked.

“Uh… yeah. A friend of mine.”

(more…)

It all began innocently enough.

I answered the phone to find Jessica on the other end. It was the big weekend — she and my best friend were getting married on Sunday, the next day. She was having doubts, she said, and needed a guy to talk to about it. I said ’sure,’ I’d be more th an happy to help.

As I entered her house, I was a bit surprised by the quiet. I had expected her family to be there, a buzz of pre-wedding activity all around. Instead, I found a house where only Jessica was home. Her mother, grandmother, aunts, and all the assorted nieces were over at the church already, she said.

Jessica was gorgeous. She always had been. I really envied Stephen, for he was about to marry the most beautiful young lady I had ever seen. She was nineteen, same as me. Her figure was female perfection, generously so. It didn’t matter what she wore — blazer and skirt, evening gown, party dress, bikini, sweats, canvas bag or nothing at all, she was stunningly attractive. Her brown eyes always sparkled. Her makeup was always immaculate, as were her long, perfect nails. She took her womanhood very seriously, as if any day, in some cosmic beauty pageant, she would have to be the sole representative of the human female. Her shiny hair, a deep honey brown with glints of auburn red, was shoulder length with bangs, and gently curled in around her face and under at the ends.

(more…)

At breakfast his mother said, “Dennis, I think it’s time to get your hair cut.”

“Mom, I got my hair cut last week.”

“It couldn’t have been last week, honey. It’s already over your ears.”

“No way, Mom. I just got it cut.”

“No arguing at the breakfast table,” his father said from behind a paper.

Dennis stomped out. In Geometry his voice cracked in the middle of an answer which broke up the whole class including the teacher. Dennis blushed but he recovered quickly.

Nothing happened the next day but on Wednesday as he stepped out of the shower in the locker room, his chest felt sore. And seemed swollen. He could actually feel loose flesh around his nipples. He put it out of his mind but the next morning, alone in the bathroom, he examined himself in the mirror. Not only was his chest swollen but the nipples were larger. They looked like small pegs. The circles around them had turned a deep, reddish brown and were enlarged as well.

(more…)

Steve and I had been friends for years. We saw good times and bad times, and were always there for each other through thick and thin. I was there for him when his marriage failed, and he was there for me when my business did.

When our fishing boat went down, hundreds of miles out to sea, only two of us survived. For three days Steve and I clinged to the same, tiny life preserver. Several times, the we nearly chose to die - but our will to carry on kicked in and kept us go ing. Finally, when all seemed lost, we floated close enough to a small, uninhabited island that we could swim for it.

We washed ashore. Steve and I found ourselves isolated and alone, with little or no chance of rescue. Surviving on native fruits, we slowly recovered from our days at sea and set out to explore our new island home. * * *

The cave was cool and moist, and very dark. Steve headed in, followed closely by me.

“I’m not so sure I like this,” I said apprehensively. “No telling what’s in here.”

“Look up there,” Steve said pointing ahead. “Some kind of light…maybe another entrance.”

We continued on and quickly came to a rough-hewn chamber. Its walls were of rough, brown stone, but the room’s main feature was the object at its center. There stood a pedestal, atop which was a strange, glowing blue crystal. Some form of writing spr ead across one wall of the chamber.

(more…)

I hadn’t heard from Uncle Pete in almost two years. Mom was the one to bring the bad news to me. Uncle Pete had died whiledriving home from work. A tractor trailer truck driver had fallen asleep while driving and he ran over uncle Pete’s car on the highway. Not the way he wanted to go, but a least the end came quickly.

We went to uncle Pete’s funeral two days later. I wish I could say that I missed him, but since I went off to college, we had grown apart. The last time I had spoken with uncle Pete, I was a sophomore at State College and he was going to go on “the adventure of a lifetime.” We had talked about life and how my schooling was going. The next day, my family gathered in Uncle Pete’s lawyers office for the reading of the will. Uncle Pete’s property was to be sold and all the money split equally between his brothers, sisters, and me. The only item to not be sold was an old box which was to be delivered to me. Everyone seemed happy over the will and dismissed the box as a sign of Pete’s failing metal capacity. I gave the lawyers my address as he handed me the check for my share of the loot, $5,000.

The box arrived at my apartment the next day. It was more of a trunk than a box. Three feet long, two feet wide and two feet deep. The main material of the box seemed to be a worn brown leather wrapped over stiff cardboard. It had two darker leather straps that went from the front of the box, under the bottom, over the top, and back to the front. The ends of the strap where joined by a worn brass clasp. Here was the one object uncle Pete said in his will that he cherished more than life itself. I wanted to open it immediately, but I had my final exams coming up and three term papers due. So the box sat at the base of my bed for three weeks.

(more…)

Streaking through the darkness of night, the meteor headed for its rendezvous with the Earth. It had traveled many light years before being drawn by the gravitational forces of the sun. A few scientists on Earth noticed it as it passed Saturn and, using the latest in computer technology, they realized that it would be striking the Earth. Since the meteorite wasn’t very big to begin with, and most of it would burn up in the atmosphere, they decided that it wouldn’t cause any damage unless it landed on someone or their property. They issued a statement to the North Carolina Governor’s office and released a news briefing to let the press know where it would land. The estimate was somewhere between the cities of Raleigh and Durham. Since most of the land between these two cities is not very developed, except for the Research Triangle Park, the press didn’t give the story much coverage. In fact, the newspapers in both Raleigh and Durham didn’t even print the story. The only coverage was by one of the local college papers.

Tim was eager to cover the story. He had started working for the paper only two weeks earlier and felt that this was his big break. Little did he know that the editors didn’t expect him to actually find where the meteorite would land. The editors considered this a snipe hunt for the new boy. Every reporter had gone on a wild goose chase for their first story and Tim would be no different. With the scientists predicting that the meteorite would be about 6 inches long when it landed, no one felt that it would be found. So, at 2:00 a.m., Tim climbed into his 82 Toyota Celica and drove down I-40 towards the airport.

(more…)

Leon Walters had always wondered about the strange tales on campus. Hell, anyone who heard them would. But to him, they meant nothing. He avoided the fraternities, sports, and any other school activities. To him, the location of his next paycheck was more important. Three years at the university, straight A’s the whole time, and he couldn’t get any scholarships to finish. It seems that his parents make too much money, but not enough to afford sending him to college. His only solution was to work while attending classes. Unfortunately, he couldn’t keep a job for more than three months. It always seemed that something would happen and he would have to move on. His past jobs had been enough to pay for the first three years, as long as he was careful about how often he ate. Now after losing the last job and failing to get another one he was down to his last $100. Fall semester was paid for, but the fees and books for the spring semester would be coming soon and the prospects of making cash had run out.

(more…)

Walt and I had been best friends since middle school. We were both awkward geeks that found friendship and sympathy in our shared rejection by the rest of our more beautiful or athletic peers. We even went to the same college, and now we worked for the same computer company. Walt had always been a bit more successful in life than had I. Heck, I was still a virgin while he had been laid several times. Neither one of us, however, had any serious relationships. My life, however, had taken a particularly bad turn for the worse: I’d been “downsized” and was without a job.

Walt agreed to let me move in with him. “Better to have two bachelor geeks sharing one house than to have one become homeless,” he joked. I was grateful for his kindness and generosity; he took what ever rent I could afford and bought the food and groceries for both of us. I thought it only fair that I pay him back by keeping the house he had bought clean, doing the laundry, and cooking most of the meals. We soon fell into a fairly regular domestic routine with me looking for a new job, working the occasional contract job, and basically being Walt’s housewife, though we called me his “houseperson.”

(more…)

Josh had always been a shy, quiet boy. His father had left his mother when he was quite young, and he often kept to himself. His mother Rachel had often wondered if she had done the right things for him, had provided the right kinds of guidance and role models, but she had been so busy trying to support herself and her son that she barely noticed how young Josh had been growing up.

Now that Josh was 18, and Rachel was 35, they were about to have financial security for the first time. A computer program that Rachel had developed had taken off, and she was able to quit her full time job and start her own company based on this first product. In celebration of their new found wealth, they decided to move to a quiet mountain village, buy a beautiful home, and do most of their work via phone lines. Now that Josh had graduated from High School, and didn’t seem particularly interested in college, he began to work as his mother’s secretary/assistant in her new business.

(more…)

“You’re insane!”

“I’m telling you, bro . . . it’s meant to happen. We both know what he wants. We have the means to provide it. Nobody else is available . . .”

“It will never work! Nobody’s going to believe I’m a woman. They sure as hell aren’t going to believe me as some kind of fashion model!”

I leaned back in my chair and grinned. “I think I can solve that little problem Josh.” *********

Everybody calls me “PJ”. Just what those initials stand for depends on the time of day, and the day of the week. After six PM and on most weekends it stands for “Peter James”. But from nine to five on weekdays it stands for “Pamela Jane”. This rather odd set of circumstances arose out of a desperation attempt to land a job as a graphic artist with my brother Josh’s advertising firm. At that time his firm (Whitman, North and Arjer or “W.N.&A.”) was only hiring women. Using a marvelous bit of technology called a “Nu-Gen Transgender Appliance, Model I2000S I was able to fool the powers that be down at “W. N. & A.” into believing I was a young, upcoming, female graphic artist and thereby land the job.

(more…)

Spring was warming gracefully into bright summer. I was rummaging in my storage closet and preparing for the advent of my favorite sporting season.

Fishing.

It’s my one athletic passion; (if fishing can be called athletics . . . I choose to think of it that way anyway.) It was my paternal grandfather who first cultivated the passion in me. Some of my happiest childhood memories are of spending lazy summer afternoons on some lake or the shore of some mountain stream, basking in his worldly wisdom, pitting my wits against the fish. I’ve never lost the passion. I even found time for quick weekend trips during my college years, though East Coast and West Coast fishing are two distinctly different propositions.

*********
(more…)

I was in love.

Helplessly, hopelessly, head-over-heels in love.

She was everything I’d ever wanted; sexy, classy . . . so drop dead gorgeous that men froze in their tracks and women sighed with envy.

She was Italian . . . passionate . . . eager . . . insatiable.

And best of all . . .

She was candy apple red!

*****

My name is PJ Wright. As you’ve probably heard by now; on weekends and after six on week days, the “PJ” stands for “Peter James”. During working hours it’s “Pamela Jane”. How this all came about is too long a story to relate here. Suffice it to say; with the aid of the folks at Nu-Gen Transgender Appliances, the fellow born as Peter makes his living as Pamela, the female graphic artist.

I love the work. As time passes I’m growing more comfortable with the fact that I spend most of my waking hours as a woman. That the Nu-Gen I2000S I use to transform myself creates the perfect illusion of a lovely, sexy, young woman . . . well . . . that’s just a little side benefit.

(more…)

Monday Morning

“Arrgh . . . you rotten pile of junk!”

The image on my desktop monitor mocked me with the accursed “Fatal Error detected in Module. . .” dialogue. “Dialogue”? A dialogue suggested meaningful give and take. In this case I could either press one icon and get more “Details” (as if the meaningless technobabble provided would some how do me good), or I could press “Terminate Application” in which case I’d loose my entire morning’s labor with my computer illustration program.

Some meaningful give and take!

My work just sat there behind the “error dialogue” . . . tantalizing . . . out of reach. It was gone. I’d been struggling with this accursed computer for four weeks now. I knew that once that “Fatal Error” window appeared I was in the same predicament as were the passengers of the Titanic when the lookout cried “Iceberg ahead!” I was about to sink below an onrushing “wave of the future”.

The worst part was the system forced me to click on that damned icon thus consigning my work to some electronic bottomless pit! It was like being forced to pull the rope that dropped the guillotine on your own neck!

(more…)

I was on my way back to the sofa and the Sci-Fi Network’s Japanese Anime festival after a quick trip to the fridge for a refill on my glass of diet Coke. That meant I was passing right by the extension phone sitting on the end table when it started ringing. Jean was up to her elbows in the sink, pre-washing the baking dish that I’d used to make tonight’s casserole. (We traded off each night; one of us cooked, the other one did the dishes.) So I knew that she’d have to dry her hands to answer the phone.

“I’ll get it, hon.”, I said as I lifted the receiver. “Wright residence.”

There was a short pause, then a male voice sounded in my ear. “Um . . . good evening. May I please speak to P.J.?”

It had been so long (almost six months now) that I didn’t even think to answer any other way than “This is he.”

There was another pause. “Uh . . . no. I’m looking for Pamela. Pamela Wright. Do I have a wrong number?”

(more…)

The rush was incredible. It was probably one of the most intense
orgasms I’ve ever had. My mind was drifting in what seemed like
another world as she still rolled the head of my penis in her mouth.
It seemed that she was intent on making me cum again, but I was
completely spent. “What the hell” I thought. “I might as well let
her try”. After all, I’ve slept with a lot of women, but this one,
Jenny, was near physical perfection. In about ten minutes, I found
my orgasm building again. I held her head firmly as I drove my
penis in and out of her mouth. I exploded for a second time as my
body began to shake. The next thing I knew, we were both sound
asleep.

(more…)

Chapter 1

The door creaked open, and suddenly, the harsh bright lights
flipped on. The figure entering the room dropped her suitcase to
the floor as her eyes met mine.
“Oh My God!! You guys make me absolutely sick!” the angry girl
in the doorway said.
“Carol!” I gasped in shock. “What are you doing here? I thought
you went home for the weekend!”
“I had a change of plans, and besides . . . what difference does it
make?! Damn it . . . this is my room too, and I’m sick and tired of
this disgusting garbage happening! What is this, the sixth or
seventh time I’ve caught you two in here? It’s gotten to the point
where I can’t even come into my own room anymore! I swear
Susan . . . you’re positively the worst roommate I’ve ever had.
You’re nothing but a low-class slut, and your pervert boyfriend
here isn’t even as close as a notch behind you on the evolutionary
scale!”
“Look Carol . . .” I tried to interrupt, but she would have nothing
of it.
“I’m reporting you to the Executive Council of the sorority first
thing Monday morning, and hopefully, they’ll expel you. You
never should have been allowed to pledge this house anyway. I
could tell the kind of girl you were from the beginning! And you . .
.” she turned her cold stare toward Mike. “You’ve got two minutes
to get the hell out of here before I call the police!” With that, she
wheeled around and slammed the door behind her.

(more…)

It was late one Friday night . . . and since my wife was out of town
on business for the weekend, I decided to do some `Net Surfing’ to
pass the time. I began to browse through some Newsgroups and
was stunned by the amount of Spam that was there.
“My God,” I thought. “I can hardly find anything other than this
shit!”
I couldn’t believe all of this `Porn Spam’. It was incredible . . .
every title trying to vie to catch your attention. As I scanned
though them, I couldn’t help but laugh at some of their names . . .
“Cum gargling cheerleaders”
“100% FREE naked PUSSY”
“Cum Shot of the Day”

I had had enough, and was about to sign off when one of the titles
caught my eye . . . “FREE PASSWORD for Killer Site”.
“Hmm,” I thought.
For whatever reason, maybe just my own curiosity . . . I clicked on
it. It read as follows:

“Hey,
I’ve got a password for this great erotic site. I used it last night,
and it’s really hot! Check it out!
When the fist page is done loading, enter 7T59PE247 at the
`Members Only’ prompt. Ignore all of the warnings and crap.
You won’t be sorry! I swear, your sex life will never be the same
again!”

(more…)