AgraRipe by Limerick

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Final Destination by TGFictionStv

This is actually....good....I...I don't know what to say, other than ENJOY!

"You have two minutes left and you have to score seven; three isn't
going to cut it.  You understand?" the coach shouted at his players.

"Loud and clear coach," Jesse, the star quarterback of the team said.

"This is for the championship.  We win this game; it will be part of
school history," the coach reminded them all.

"We'll get that touchdown for sure," Michael, the leading running back
said with a determined expression.

"Remember, once you get the ball you run to the outside and stop the
clock.  No one gets tackled on the field.  If you need to, throw an
incomplete pass to stop the clock," the coach continued.

"Got it coach," Steve, the leading receiver replied.

"Offensive line, protect your man," the coach added.

"We'll give him the time he needs," Frank said.  His fellow offensive
lineman and friend Will pounded his fist.

"Alright, these could be the last plays you have before you graduate.
Make them count!" the couch told them all.

"Break!" the players said and then came onto the field.

The Eagles were a High school football team in a championship game.
Many of the players were depending on this game for their college
futures.  Others hoped they would make a good play and get noticed.
Their opponents, the Wolves were similarly a tough team.

The two teams came to the line of scrimmage and got ready.  Jesse
considered the formation of the other team and thought about the play
he was supposed to play.  "Hike," he shouted.

The center placed the ball in his hand and immediately he looked for a
receiver.  He saw Steve being trailed by a corner to his left.  He
launched the ball back and threw it hard towards Steve.  Jesse waited
in tense anticipation as the ball went through the air. Steve and the
corner looked up as the ball came closer to them.  The ball was
suddenly caught, but it was....the corner.

Steve grabbed the corner but fell to the ground in a failed tackle.
Jesse gave a wide-eyed look as his pass was intercepted.  The corner
ran back along the sides for a potential touchdown the other way.
Frank and Will rushed the corner but were blocked by defensive players.
Frank hit the ground hard and Will slid on the ground and fell upon
being hit.  Michael ran after the corner but tripped and fell to the
ground.  Jesse broke his frozen stare and took action.  He ran after
the corner and dodged a block from a defensive player.  He was faster
than the corner and was nearly on him.  The corner saw Jesse and ran
faster towards the end.  Jesse gained ground and hit the corner.  The
corner went down to his knees but suddenly threw the ball behind him.
Jesse tackled the corner down to the ground but to his horror saw the
defensive player behind them with the ball.  The slow-moving defensive
player took the ball into the Endzone.

The defensive team's school exploded in applause and cheers as the
defensive player showed them the football.  Jesse simply stared in
shock.  Only a minute was left on the clock and they were now down by
twelve.  The only way they could win now is with two touchdowns.  It
would be impossible!  They would lose!

"You okay?" Michael whispered.

Revenge: A Story of Pleasure Island

  

By Christopher Leeson

Version date 01-03-15

Dean Fontain was too wild for his sedate parents to control. But their neighbors, the Boelkes, recognized what their friends were going through and told them about the secret that had changed their lives: the secret of Pleasure Island. What the Fontains learned that night astonished them and they couldn't help but think that their neighbors were playing a bad joke. They were actually saying that their pretty and well-behaved daughter Carla used to be a very bad boy, Carl.

"That's ridiculous," said Mrs. Fontain. "I remember when you brought that precious little girl home from the hospital eighteen years ago."

Mrs. Boelke shook her head and almost smiled. "There's magic involved. The first time you saw Carl as a girl, the enchantment he brought from Pleasure Island put false memories into your mind. We remember what really happened because the island people give parents a protective charm, but everyone else sees no change when a boy comes back different. Because of the spell you can't remember how badly Carl behaved, and even that you complained that he was tempting your Dean into so much trouble.”

“No,” replied Mr. Fontain curtly, “we certainly don't remember anything like that.”

"It's all true," said Mr. Boelke. The neighbors then offered to let the Fontains wear their charms overnight, telling them that the enchanted metal would take away all their false memories. Dean’s parents thought the idea was silly, but still something made them both go along with the joke. But by morning they knew that it was no joke. The charms had worked like, well, like a charm. They had awakened up knowing everything about Carl Boelke. The pair immediately went over to their friends’ home.

Carla was there with them, finishing the breakfast dishes. She was a pretty, upbeat teen who usually dressed in a way that would catch the attention of the neighborhood boys. It was hard for the Fontains not to stare, now remembering what a sour loudmouth Carl Boelke had been.

To get some privacy for her visitors, Carla's mother gave the girl some money to spend at the ice cream shop. A minute later, Carla had gone out the door and the four adults were left free to confer.

"How did you find out about Pleasure Island?" Mrs. Fontain asked.

"A friend at the hospital told me," replied her neighbor. "She had a boy who was hooked up with drug dealers and she had found out about Pleasure Island just in time to save him. Now he's a cheerleader who's doing well in school."

Mr. Fontain reached into his pocket and handed back the charms. "These things took the wool away from our eyes. We'd give almost anything if Dean were just as well behaved as your Carla is, even if it means that we have to exchange a son for a daughter. But can't the Island people fix a boy's bad personality without changing his sex, too?"

"All I'm sure of is that there's a good reason why they don’t want to do it that way. A sexual reversal gives off an energy that they call mana and they're able to capture and store it for use later. A gender change is actually not what they're after; it’s just a by-product of the mana-harvesting."

Mr. Fontain frowned. "What exactly is mana?"

Mr. Boelke looked at him very seriously. "All we know is what we've been told. Mana is what magic is made of, and it's also the energy that makes some babies develop into males in the womb. Developing infants who don't have the mana-absorbing gene are born female. Have you see films about how a boy and girl fetus look exactly the same until after a period of development? They develop into different sexes because the baby with the mana-gene is drawing in mana that enables its development into a male. 

"Remove that energy from a male, even when he is fully grown, and he will go to the human default form, female. Younger males have the most potent mana, so the wizards do all they can to recruit mana donors at a young age. But not at too young an age, because exploiting children is against another one of their rules. With parental consent, they can take the mana from an older child, because Pleasure Island has a law that says that a child is not a legal adult until twenty-one. If on Pleasure Island, a contract with the parents or legal guardian is makes donation without the boy's consent legal to to that age of maturity. They are not very much interested in taking mana from males over twenty-one for some reason."

"Hiring wizards must be expensive," Mr. Fontain suggested.

“Not very,” said Mr. Boelke.

This surprised the other couple. “Are you saying that they don’t care about money because because what they are really after is the mana?" asked Mrs. Fontain.

“It seems so. In fact, I've heard that they can make gold out of lead; money means little to them. They want mana."

"You're lucky that Carla turned out to be so pretty," Mrs. Fontain said. "I felt so sorry for the homely girls at my old school. They always seemed either angry or sad. A lot of the angry ones became feminists."

 

Happy Valentine's Day!

After a somewhat rocky go of it the last couple of months, I'm pleased to see that Christopher Leeson has been posting new work here and it has made me feel good about the intent of this site.

It's still somewhat difficult to find TG work that is not CD/TV oriented.  What there is, is rather small but I present a couple of quick works I've found as a present to you all.

Knight of the Succubus by Cluedog!

Emergence, Part 6: Under the Hood

Dianne left in the early afternoon and Meghan’s parents were still a few hours away from getting of work. I sat in young Miss Cafferty’s bedroom, laptop flipped open upon her desk, staring at an email in her ‘Drafts’ folder with the subject line: ‘Hey Garner—Read This’. It was undoubtedly another of her cute but confusing missives meant to ease me further into our own private ‘trading places’ reality show.

I was still bikinied, but now had a large beach towel wrapped about me from chest to thighs. Encased in its fluffy moist bulk, I felt like an enormous multi-colored segmented grub. The baby was quite active at the moment, fretting in my belly. It managed to somersault onto its head and now its butt was high and to the left, just under my ribcage. I could plainly feel it’s posterior and lower back jutting toward that side, while the upper right side of my belly was now much less hard.

One never gets used to this sort of thing. Especially when one is not supposed to have a womb in the first place, let alone a womb as full as Meghan’s.

Didn't Your Mother Ever Tell You...? by Frontios

Frontios likes his pregnant chicks;)

Don't blame him, really.


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Emergence, Part Three: Meet the Parents

((That's all for now, folks. No real questions this week, just eager to hear your thoughts if you'd like to chime in!

Love,
Charlotte)) 

Outside the bathroom I found a hallway with a banister, beyond which was an open air space and flight of stairs leading down. To the left the hallway fed several rooms with closed doors. The hardwood floors gleamed.

I’m not sure what I expected to find but it had not been this. 

Not only had I become somebody else, literally some other body, but the place I now found myself was also radically different than my old home. I’d gone from a small modestly furnished apartment in a large urban high-rise to what, some single family residence? If just one or two things could be familiar, I thought to myself bitterly, that’d be really great.

When I stepped out into the hallway I was startled to find a severe looking woman in her mid 40s standing in the doorway of a large bedroom off to the right. One look at her face and I instantly knew this woman was my mother. Yes, she was taller and thinner than I was, and gray peppered her hair, but the resemblance was overpowering.

“I didn’t expect to see you up so early, young lady,” she said, folding her arms. They looked brittle and cold, like the bare branches of a tree in winter.

“Mom…” I answered, having no idea what I should say. 

“You were out very late last night, not that you seem to care much for my wishes these days,” my mother said softly. Her body language may have been frigid but her eyes burned into my skin.

I could somehow recall being out late last night. My mother was correct, but the specifics of the evening eluded me. Like the plot of a novel one has read decades earlier, I couldn’t remember any details, only that I had taken pleasure in disobeying my parents. I kept quiet, knowing that my mother was in the position of power and that saying anything would only make things worse. Finally she spoke again,

“Your father is downstairs making breakfast. We’ll be leaving around 11am for the wedding. I shouldn’t need to remind you that this is Waverly’s day so don’t wear anything too tight or revealing. All eyes should be on your cousin, not you.” Her own eyes fell to my belly, or my shorts, it was hard to tell which from several yards away. 

I automatically ‘sucked in’ my belly, which was a comically useless act. All it did was kind of make my belly rise up and flatten a few inches—at least until the effort to keep it this way was too much, whereupon it fell and fattened, overcorrecting wider by an inch or two before rebounding back to its natural shape.

I mumbled a meek “OK,” and went down the stairs with my mother watching intently the whole time. I tried to will my large breasts from bobbing up and down but they were by this point a force of nature. No matter what I did they radiated my sexuality, something I’d rather keep from broadcasting to the world. I could have crossed my arms but I needed to keep one hand on the railing as my balance was understandably messed up. 

Downstairs I wandered into a large sunny kitchen. 

“Dad?” I asked.

Emergence, Part Two: In the Looking Glass

((Now, readers, a big choice is up to you! Is the strange man a concerned father and the narrator an 18 year-old high school senior? Is the man a boyfriend to a college aged live-in roommate? Or are they recent high school graduates who just tied the knot after learning of the pregnancy? Or something else? You make the call!

Love,

Charlotte))

Wherever I was, I was not alone. I scrambled up onto my feet and rushed to close the bathroom door. With my heart thudding in my chest I poked and twisted the knob trying desperately to activate a lock. My fingers were smaller and a bit more dexterous but the absolute terror in my gut made even the simplest motion hard to pull off.

At some point I remember thinking, “Why am I locking the door? Whoever is out there won’t just come barging in on me no matter what their relation to me.” But this rational line of thinking was soon overwhelmed by fear. I needed to know myself better before I could interact with others.

Finally there was a satisfying click, I was safe. I turned around and put my back to the door allowing my head to rest against it. My breath came in ragged gasps and I was even sweatier now than before. Lord it was hot in here.

“Honey, everything alright?” the strange man said, his voice sounded through the door just inches from the top of my head.

I leapt away from the door. The way his voice had come from above made me realize that I was probably shorter than I used to be. There was no way of guessing how much so as the fixtures and cabinets of the bathroom were unfamiliar to me. Despite some notable additions, on the whole I felt much smaller.

I hazarded a response. “I’m fine,” I said, feeling the way the air of my lungs passed up and out of my altered throat. It filled the air with an unfamiliar tone. It was lighter, crisper, beautiful and entirely feminine. I wasn’t sure why it surprised me so much, after all the rest of me was so feminine now too.

“It’s just that I thought I heard you crying…” the man pressed.

“I’m fine,” I repeated with a bit more firmness. I was far from fine but I wanted some time to myself. “I just… need a moment.”

Blue Milk by Bad Irving

Another oldie but goodie...

Even a fairly happy ending, too!

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Blue Milk

DO NOT READ THIS STORY IF UNDER 18!  It contains graphic sex and is for adults only.

by Bad Irving

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Blue Milk, everybody had to have it. The first true aphrodisiac. One sip or mixed in another drink and the recipient was taken over by uncontrollable lust. Yea, right. But it was the latest craze sweeping the nation and my paper wanted a story. Kind of the latest fad of the month fluff piece.

Before getting too far into the story I decided I had to try the product out to see if there was any substance to the claim. So, I went out and bought some. At $30 an ounce that was the most expensive milk I had ever bought. It was in a blue cartoon with hearts all around it. The Name Blue Milk emblazoned on all sides but other than that it looked like your ordinary small cream carton. Under Blue Milk it read "the herbal milk". Then lower on the carton it said "Ingredients, Milk, herbal extract of Chinese roots, fortified with ginseng". Oh right ginseng that old western aphrodisiac that the Chinese only had ever claim promoted good health but some P.T. Barnum type in the west declared it an aphrodisiac as a marketing ploy, and hence a legend is born. It also had an expiration date of about 2 weeks from now on the bottom of the carton. Well, you wouldn't want your aphrodisiac to go bad do you? The box also held the address for the manufacturing plant on it. Hey, at least some part of this story is going to be easy after all!

Emergence, Part One: Through the Rabbit-Hole

((So what happens next, readers? 

Here’s where you have a chance to shape the way the story proceeds. Does the as-yet unnamed narrator scramble up and lock the bathroom door? Does she reply to the stranger? Does she pretend everything is alright? Or does she just lose it and fall to pieces, sobbing on the bathroom floor? Use the comments to help direct where the story will move from here. I look forward to crafting this ‘against my will’ as it were. Let me know what *you* want in the comments. 

Love, 

Charlotte))

I was happy to be back in my apartment after a long day at the office. With the front door shut and locked I was already looking forward to cracking open a beer and taking a seat on the sofa. I went to set my keys down upon a small table in the hall when they fell clattering to the floor. I looked down in time to watch something impossible happen. My keys hit the hardwood, bounced and then passed straight through the wall as if it were perfectly insubstantial.

Here's Hoping: A Werewoman Tale by Reprobate/Kim Ott

A popular category, this is the first werewoman tale I've put up here....

And it has the usual Charlotte twist;)

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Made Madeleine by Kim Ott/Reprobate

Another fantastic story from my friend, Kimmy!  Or Charlotte.... you know, I should really establish just what on Earth I'll call her.  I think Charlotte because that's what she's listed as here...

Anyway... enjoy another sexy little mommy-to-be from Kimmy Charlotte Reprobate (full name).

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Made Madeleine

A terrible storm, refuge in an unfamiliar house. Some doors just aren't
meant to be opened, some paths never tread. Every new space has its
consequences...

It had been almost cliché when the great double doors of the mansion yawned
open after I rang the doorbell, lightning flashing ominously. True, from
the outside it didn't look like anyone who lived here was at home, but I at
least expected to be greeted by a snobby butler or a portly maid. When I
was ushered in by absolutely nothing at all I paused a moment unsure if I
should even enter.

A peal of thunder convinced me that the storm outside was going nowhere
quickly. It had already caused me to forget to stop for gas (the gas-tank
suddenly seems much less significant when you can barely see the asphalt in
front of you during those split second swipes of the windshield wipers).
Now I was lost, stuck in the middle of nowhere, soaked to the skin standing
on the threshold of an unfamiliar, apparently uninhabited yet gigantic
lavish home. Of course I walked in.

Goobers by VI

This is another oldie but goodie... (1999 is now 13 freakin' years ago....blimey). 

One of the first I had read that dealt with aliens and impregnation and slow changes and.... yeaaaaaaaaaaaah, hit a bunch of my kinks that I didn't even know were kinks back then!

Unfortunately, I have no way to get a hold of VI as far as I'm aware...ah well, still, enjoy!

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Goobers
by VI

  During my navigators training they warned me about Goobers. But I 
was a cocky young man. I wouldn't listen. As far as I was concerned, they 
should look out for me. I was more concerned about making money, than 
avoiding alien life forms. In my first few years as a transport navigator my 
ambition knew no bounds. I was making deals with anyone I could, and 
making a very large profit for myself. Eventually I had enough credits to quit 
my job at the company and get finance on my own deep space transport. This 
was the life for me, trading between different planets across the whole 
universe, and keeping any of the profit for myself. Of course it wasn't easy, 
but I wouldn't take 'no' for an answer. Sure, it was a little lonely spending 
weeks at a time travelling between star systems with no communications, so I 
occasionally picked up attractive hitch hikers to help me pass the time. Suur 
was one of these. 

With Friends Like These.... by Reprobate/Kim Ott

Another sweet/sexy series from my lovely friend, Charlotte.  Or Kim....or Reprobate or....

Anyway, you may notice a bit of a theme with her stuff... she likes dem pregnant girls!

She always picks such sexy ones, though, I can hardly blame her! 

.......or thank her enough;)

Holly by Kim Ott

Did you know the lovely Charlotte AKA Kim can write stories, not JUST hot sexy captions?

Hmmm...

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Holly
A tiny experiment of story by Kim Ott.

I was woken up by the sound of the telephone. It rang tyrannically from
the stand next to my bed. I sat up and wiped the cobwebs from my eyes
and yawned.

'Who would be calling me at 2 in the morning?' I thought.

This had better be important. That warm shroud of heat one develops
while sleeping slowly leaving my shoulders. I picked up the phone and
tried not to sound groggy.

"Hello?" I managed, my voice mumbly from sleep.

"Holly, is that you?" The voice on the other end of the phone asked. He
sounded urgent.

"No, I think you have the wrong number... hey, what the..." I began to
say when I felt tiny locks of hair begin streaming down the sides of my
face. It was one or two at first, then an entire shower upon my ears,
neck, and shoulders. I was still half asleep and didn't understand what
was happening. I was dreaming, right?

Prisoners of Tiresias Part I by Christopher Leeson

Copyright 1996
Revised 05/00

PRISONERS OF TIRESIAS

by Christopher Leeson

Part 1

"We are the children of chaos and decay. At our society's root there is only corruption and decrepitude. Gone is purpose from our lives; all that is left is direction -- or, rather, misdirection -- and even that is imposed from above."
"Socialism for the 21st Century," Geoffrey Kroski, 2007,

Chapter 1
I could see the white-coated technicians working on the other side of the gold-tinted glass shielding, their expressions intense, their movements economical. I could sense their excitement, still palpable though they must have done this operation many times before. It -- the big It -- would happen soon.
Very soon.
My breath shaky, I glanced down at the grating -- the high-conductivity mesh that any second now would carry a modulated burst of electromagnetic energy throughout our bodies. That burst would re-calibrate the vibratory rate of our molecular building blocks and reintergrate us out of this world and into another. Though intellectually prepared, I nonetheless shuddered, ruing the chain of events which had gotten me involved in this ludicrous project. A mutter to one side caused me to glance toward my equally-nervous neighbors.
Most of them were locked in manacles and leg irons, as befitted convicts in transit -- mostly street-gang members convicted of serious crimes. These were the bad ones, the violent two-legged sharks, the vicious fatherless sons of urban America, the rabid predators of America's crime-blasted inner cities. They were the random marauders that would kill a fourteen-year-old for a pair of Nike shoes or a sharkskin jacket, the gang-warriors who fought bloody battles over drug territory. They were the hijackers and burglars and stickup men who killed without remorse, they were the murderous pimps who knifed their own girls or cut the faces of streetwalkers who worked for rival hustlers.

This is a still from a television documentary. It shows a group of convicts in the TiresiasTransfer Chamber just before being "sent over." This wasn't our group, of course. I wasn't in the mood to take pictures that day, since I didn't think that I'd want to remember any part of it!

The Vera Saga by Reprobate and Vengeance1701

A series of captions I did with the charming and wonderful Charlotte AKA Reprobate:)