Reluctant Press

“You look smashing,” I said. “Like a model or something.” “Thank you,” he said, and he looked genuinely pleased. “You seem as though you like it.” He shrugged. “If I have to look like a girl, I’d rather be a pretty one than an ugly one!” He crossed his legs and it was impossible not to notice how smooth and sleek they looked. It was obvious that he had shaved them. “What are you wearing underneath?” He feigned shock. “Alan! You can’t ask a girl that! It’s impolite!” “Sorry,” I said, grinning...

Desi was right. I had used hypnosis as a theme in several of my stories. I liked the idea of a character being compelled to do things without really understanding why or having control. I liked writing the sex scenes too; imagining what might be going through the mind of someone acting under compulsion. Their mind would be saying that they shouldn’t be doing whatever, but their body would love the feeling and want more. The more out of control they got, the deeper their compulsions would...

Desi was right. I had used hypnosis as a theme in several of my stories. I liked the idea of a character being compelled to do things without really understanding why or having control. I liked writing the sex scenes too; imagining what might be going through the mind of someone acting under compulsion. Their mind would be saying that they shouldn’t be doing whatever, but their body would love the feeling and want more. The more out of control they got, the deeper their compulsions would...

“Yeah, some woman sure did a number on your head, didn’t she?” “Yes, Ms. Rachel,” I agreed. “I suppose. . .” “Was it your ex-wife?” I shook my head. “No, Ms. Rachel, she hated to see me wearing skirts!” “How about an ex-girlfriend?” I shook my head again. “No, not really. . .” “And what’s that supposed to mean?” she demanded. “Well, there is Carole Anne.” “Oh yeah, I’d like to meet her.” I curtsied again. “Yes, Ms. Rachel,” I whispered dejectedly. “But not her.” “Your Sister, then? She’d be...

“Yeah, some woman sure did a number on your head, didn’t she?” “Yes, Ms. Rachel,” I agreed. “I suppose. . .” “Was it your ex-wife?” I shook my head. “No, Ms. Rachel, she hated to see me wearing skirts!” “How about an ex-girlfriend?” I shook my head again. “No, not really. . .” “And what’s that supposed to mean?” she demanded. “Well, there is Carole Anne.” “Oh yeah, I’d like to meet her.” I curtsied again. “Yes, Ms. Rachel,” I whispered dejectedly. “But not her.” “Your Sister, then? She’d be...

Aunt Cindy’s Final Love Affair “See you later, ladies! Have a good weekend!” Cindy Bemis said to her co-workers—actually her subordinates, since Cindy was the chief records clerk in the office of the Clerk of the Pacificum Supreme Court and Court of Appeals. The other ladies said similar things and went out. Cindy closed up the office in the basement of the Pacificum State Capitol, walked to the exit, put on her hat and coat to face the chilly February weather, and went out to catch the...

Aunt Cindy’s Final Love Affair “See you later, ladies! Have a good weekend!” Cindy Bemis said to her co-workers—actually her subordinates, since Cindy was the chief records clerk in the office of the Clerk of the Pacificum Supreme Court and Court of Appeals. The other ladies said similar things and went out. Cindy closed up the office in the basement of the Pacificum State Capitol, walked to the exit, put on her hat and coat to face the chilly February weather, and went out to catch the...

Next morning I was Ruth. From the tips of my toes to the top of my head I was Ruth. They’d given me the opportunity and I was going to take it for all I was worth. I confess to overdoing it a little. Although it was morning, I was dressed and made up for the evening. I wanted to be over-the-top feminine just to show that I wasn’t overawed by the occasion, and it felt good. I was liberated. I paused before going down to meet the Colonel. I’d heard a car arrive about fifteen minutes before and I...

Next morning I was Ruth. From the tips of my toes to the top of my head I was Ruth. They’d given me the opportunity and I was going to take it for all I was worth. I confess to overdoing it a little. Although it was morning, I was dressed and made up for the evening. I wanted to be over-the-top feminine just to show that I wasn’t overawed by the occasion, and it felt good. I was liberated. I paused before going down to meet the Colonel. I’d heard a car arrive about fifteen minutes before and I...

“The only way you could ever hope to know what a hell it can be most of the time would be if you and I were somehow able to trade places,” she said evenly. She turned to face him, to watch his expression in the light of the oncoming cars. “Of course, since that could never happen, you’re pretty safe in your oh- so-superior ‘man’s’ world.” “Superior man’s world?” Tim asked, wondering if his wife had suddenly become a feminist. “And even if it could be done, changing places that is, you wouldn’t...

“The only way you could ever hope to know what a hell it can be most of the time would be if you and I were somehow able to trade places,” she said evenly. She turned to face him, to watch his expression in the light of the oncoming cars. “Of course, since that could never happen, you’re pretty safe in your oh- so-superior ‘man’s’ world.”“Superior man’s world?” Tim asked, wondering if his wife had suddenly become a feminist.“And even if it could be done, changing places that is, you wouldn’t...

“Tell me that you are going to wear this brassiere. Ask me nicely for it, and sound like you mean it!” “Please. . . Mom. . . uh, can I wear it?” “Oh, no! I told you to tell me that you want to wear your lovely brassiere. Tell me that you want to put it on. Promise me that you won’t take it off, either. I want to hear some enthusiasm here.” I squeezed out the terrible words. It was eerie hearing my own voice begging to be allowed to wear the ghastly thing and promising to do so. Mother was only...