The Velvet Trap by: Rachel Ann Cooper © 1999 All rights reserved
It was the dawn of Aquarius, actually, the turn of the century, the 21st one that is. Mind you, I didn’t do this sort of thing very often, but while surfing, I found a rather interesting site called ‘Fictionmania’ after typing a keyword into my search engine and running through a very large list of hits. What an unusual place! I’d never seen anything like it before. It was positively HUGE archive and had the most unusual stories on it. I must admit that I’d never read a transformation story before, at least not where guys became girls, and a few minutes later, or so it seemed, I had been on the site for over two hours. What’s that they say, ‘time flies when you’re having fun?’ I chose a category called, ‘Chemical or drug induced change’ and got stuck. Then I found a link at the bottom of the page called ‘The Hidden Woman’ and decided to go exploring. Surely this type of thing wasn’t possible! I mean, how could you take an average looking GUY and turn him into a good looking girl in the real world?
And then I thought back to a recent interview I’d seen on a morning program with ...what do they call them...a transsexual?
Well, if that girl was EVER a guy, she sure could have fooled ME! That was a FOX!
Just then I heard my Mom calling, "Gary, what in the world are you doing? It’s dinner time honey." "OK Mom. Be right there."
"What were you so involved in Gary?" "Oh, nothing special Mom. Just doing a little research."
"Well, I called you three times and the first two didn’t count. It must have been really interesting research."<grin> "I suppose so" was all I could think of to reply. I think I must have blushed. It surely felt like it. I hoped I was getting to be a little better liar, but at 16, Mom had pretty much seen through me every time so far.
************
My dad had died in an industrial accident three years ago and Mom worked from our little colonial bungalow and once in a while she would use my computer to do a search while she was working on something else. I came home from high school and logged on to that interesting site again. Darned if it wasn’t a bit addictive. I went to that section on ‘Femdom, authoritarian’ stories. Geeze, I wonder what it would be like to be stuck in a situation like that, to actually be forced to become a girl. How RUDE and yet, fascinating. *Easy there little fella* I thought. *Surely you wouldn’t succumb to anything like that without the fight of your life. Naw, of course not. Besides, who would do it to me? I don’t know anyone who’s that much of a control freak, not even Mom or Amy and CERTAINLY not Tommy. He’s a wuss.*
Just by chance, and don’t ask me why, I clicked the down arrow on my URL bar. Now, I really wasn’t that hip to all the ins and outs of computers but there in plain sight was evidence that someone ELSE had been to this site too. There wasn’t a time track on it but it had to be today. That someone had to be my Mom. Oh, please, I hoped I was wrong but it sure looked like it. *I’ve just got to find a way to erase this trail* I thought. *If she really did see this, why didn’t she mention it?* I figured that she’d really be ticked if she thought I had been to site with any "X" rated material on it but she hadn’t said a word. *How odd!*
I clicked on it. Well, at least she hadn’t gone beyond the original page. Whew!
That little incident scared me off the site for about a week but it drew me back against my will, or so it felt. And about two days later, there was evidence again that she had been there. This time, ‘there’ was to a page with all sorts of creams and capsules on it that were supposed to Feminize a guy. There was a picture there of an average looking man that morphed into a neat looking chick. WOW! *Boy, you’d have to be nuts to try any of that stuff* I thought. *What if it actually WORKED? A guy like me, just average decent looking and only 5'7" tall with long hair could be in a LOT of trouble. Imagine all that sexy fat accumulating on your body! Oh, MY! An intriguing thought.* Well, that was never going to happen to ME anyway. No chance! I’d read some of those stories, just the ‘G’ rated ones of course, but I’D never get caught in THAT trap, wanting to be a beautiful GIRL in sexy clothes and spike heels, no WAY. I admit I liked to LOOK at girls though, all jiggly and wiggly and prancing around in their heels but....
At this point someone may think, ‘well, why didn’t you just password the machine’ and that would ordinarily be a sensible thought. However, Mom not only had forbidden me to do that but she had a program that could, in time, decrypt just about anything so I figured it was useless. One way or another, I’d end up grounded. Why, after she had been to the site twice I wasn’t ALREADY grounded, I hadn’t a clue. I was surprised she hadn’t at least taken my car keys away. Well, ‘don’t look a gift horse in the mouth’ they used to say.
A couple weeks and two dozen trips to that site later, I found Mom had added three new vitamins to my daily regimen. "Geeze Mom. I’m already taking seven. Now three more?" "Don’t complain honey. These will do virtual wonders for you, honestly, guaranteed" she said with a warm smile. "It may take a while to reap the benefits but you’ll notice a wonderful new change." "OK Mom, whatever." So I began taking the new ones too. Got to keep her happy after all.
We did have a good relationship and I didn’t want to blow it. I wanted to go to college and she had promised that if I kept my grades up, I could go. My little part-time job sure wasn’t going to pay my way there for SURE! It wasn’t hard to keep my grades up, even with taking out time for the weekly meeting of the camera club. I was an avid photographer. They even published some of my sports pictures in the school paper. There wasn’t too much I couldn’t do with darkroom equipment and it had gotten me a second place in a national Scholastic photo competition last year.
"Gary, would you do me a favor?" "Sure, Mom. What?" "It’s that hair. Would you mind taking a little better care of it? You need to keep it clean and get a hair cut once in a while so the split ends don’t stunt it’s growth." "Oh? I didn’t know that about split ends. So, what do you mean, ‘take a little better care of it?" "
"Like, would it hurt you to wash and condition it a couple times a week?" "Aw, Mom, that’s for girls! Condition it? That takes time, doesn’t it?" "Only a few minutes dear." "Oh, alright." And so, knowing she meant, ‘do it NOW Gary,’ I went to the bathroom and washed and conditioned my hair with her stuff. *Gee, that sure makes it smell nice* I thought. My next thought was, *yes, maybe a little TOO nice Gary, like a girl’s hair. Soft, fluffy and shiny though. Huh! Sort of looks like one of those wigs on that site when it’s clean like this. Now, that IS scary!*
And so, when I had it all dry and floating freely, Mom said, "Oh, that’s much better honey. It can only get better. Keep it up." "Yes ma’am."
So, life went on as usual, school, work, camera club, eat, sleep, the same routine as always. Except for when I heard, "Gary, I think it’s time for another haircut. I’m making you an appointment for Saturday morning." Mind you, this was oh, maybe six months and three haircuts AFTER I’d found her on what had become my favorite web site. Need I mention the name? So, I went in that Saturday and Gwen sat me down and gave me a trim but with a twist.
"What are you doing Gwen?" "Just sit still Gary. Your Mom is paying and we’ll do this her way, OK?" "Yeah, OK." Boy, I sure didn’t want to tick Gwen off. She could ruin this beautiful head of hair. With the care I was forced to and now USED to giving it, my hair did look very nice, a little TOO nice! She put some kind of smelly lotion on it after she cut it and rolled it up. She put it in rollers last time too. Said it was to give it body. Well, it had body alright, TOO much body. After she’d taken the rollers out when it was dry and combed it out, she gave me my first look.
"Holy cow Gwen! You’ve ruined it." "Don’t be silly Gary. We just shortened it a little. It’s still below your shoulders." "Yes, and you curled it and look at the color!" "Don’t you like the color? I think that’s a beautiful light auburn." "Well, of course it is but on ME? C’mon. What are the guys in the camera club going to say?" "Probably that you have very pretty hair Gary." <GROAN> "EXACTLY!" "Well Gary, this is what your mother wanted so try to enjoy it, OK?" "What else can I do now?" I reflected in some disgust.
I gave her the usual tip, paid and left to wonder around the mall a while. As mad as I was at Mom for doing this to me, I didn’t want to go home right now. *Maybe I’ll catch a matinee before I have to go to work* I thought. As I strolled past shop windows, I couldn’t help noticing my reflection. *Oh, gawd! If I’m not careful, I’m going to end up looking just like one of those ‘new girls’ on that website like in the stories with images. Darn it. I actually think I like the hair though. It IS a cute style. You just referred to yourself as having a ‘cute’ hairstyle Gary. I know! When did I start thinking like this anyway?*
When I got home after work at 9:30, Mom just gushed. I mean, it was embarrassing! "Gary, your hair looks just beau----grand. How do you like it?" "I didn’t much at first Mom but I guess it’s OK. I’ll get used to it." "I’m glad honey. You’ll have to take even better care of it now and I got you some new shampoo for color treated hair. It’s very gentle. Wash and condition it every other day now, alright?" <sigh>
"Yes Mother."
*You know, this hair thing isn’t the only change in my appearance. I think I’m getting FAT!* I stripped down to my bikini shorts and took a good look in my bedroom mirror. The mirror was too small so I went to Mom’s room to look. Well, that DID it. I WAS getting fat. No wonder my jeans were getting tight on me. It was weird though because my waistline didn’t have a bit of a roll to it. It was in the hips that they were getting tight. I went back to my room and put on my light terry robe and went in to the living room.
"Mom, would you get me a full length mirror? I think I’m getting FAT!" "Honey, you look just fine but I’ll get you the mirror. You couldn’t weigh over 130 pounds." "What’s that got to do with it? My jeans are all tight and so are my shirts. It’s embarrassing!" "Well dear, our eating habits haven’t changed. It must just be your puberty coming on. You haven’t even started shaving yet. There’s bound to be even more interesting changes dear, so you might as well resign yourself. Growing up is a process that takes time."
"OK. But will you just get me some clothes that fit please?" "Of course dear. I’ll take care of it this week." "Thank you." "Just to be safe, I’d better measure you. Let me get my tape."
So she measured. I have no idea what the numbers were but was sure she’d know what to get me. The only problem was, two days later I had new clothes but they still seemed to fit a little snug. She had gotten me that mirror I asked for and I’d installed it on the inside of my bedroom door, which gave me a good long shot of myself. *Darn Gary. Cute butt! GARY! Well? A guy can have a cute butt too, can’t he* I asked myself? *Well SURE but you’re ogling yourself. What’s with THAT? Get a grip Gary. The clothes fit nice. I wish the shirts were a little looser though. It almost looks like I’ve got little breasts. No way! Yeah, way, and with that pretty hair... Oh, please. Just sit down and go to Fictionmania and relax.*
So I logged on to the site and went to the ‘chemical or drug induced’ page again, noting the three new stories there and started reading the latest one. Boy, that was a neat story. How sneaky that mom was. Well, I had homework so I closed down my online fun library and did it. After I was done however, I went back to the site. Out of the blue, I had an urge, a very powerful one. Some of those stories began their transformation journey with a nightie and I wondered, based on those descriptions, how one would feel. With heart racing, I entered my mother’s room and went to the bottom of her night clothes and came up with one she didn’t wear any more since dad died. It was a little on the sexy side and came just below the knee.
I went back to my room as quickly as my terrified legs would carry me and stripped. With my body signaling excitement all over, I let it slide over my head. Now, I know this only took a few seconds but the sensations certainly lasted WAY longer than that. They were right. It was wonderful feeling. Oh, man, here I was in a slinky nylon nightie reading transformation stories.
Could I be in deep quacha? A resounding MAYBE to that one for sure~!
Now, my friend Amy’s reaction to my new clothing was instantaneous the next school day. She had LOVED the new hair and now she just gushed all over me. "Gary, you look DARLING. You actually have a waistline. Who would have thought" she jibed! "You don’t think the jeans are too tight?" "No, just right. Nice tush! What size are they?" "To tell the truth, I never even thought to look Amy. What difference does it make as long as they fit?" "Oh, none I guess. Just wondering. <sly grin> Amy was in camera club with me. She was a cute little blonde, about 5'4 or 5 inches but she didn’t date much. She was a serious student. Nobody else said much about my appearance, so I just passed off Amy’s comments as those of a friend who wanted to make me feel better.
"Gary, you’re starting to have a skin problem" said Mom. "Did you notice?" "Yeah, why?" "Well, I got you this cream that’s suppose to help your skin. Use it on your face and then just rub the rest into your hands, OK?" "If you think it will help, sure." I took the jar which, for some reason had no label on it, and put it in the bathroom cabinet. I began using it right away. I surely didn’t want any acne scars to ruin this face. I’d gotten rather fond of it like it was, only lately, I was looking ‘different’. Just growing up I guess. Still, I liked what I saw, even if it did look a little feminine lately, what with the hair and all. I’d kept up the tinting. The style and color grew on me and besides, Mom was footing the bill. I suppose I didn’t mind looking nicer than the other guys at school.
It had been, oh, 8 months or so since I’d found that web site and I have to admit that I had come to enjoy those stories and all the devious ways boys became girls. Once in a while I even read an "R" rated one. They were racy enough for me. Some of them actually got me excited. I mean, what exactly WAS it that I was excited about? Was it how it was done to them or the inevitability of the changes or was I at some point, putting myself in the hero/heroine’s place?
Too scary to dwell on. Besides, other than reading the stories, I was fine except for some occasional sexual excitement and that couldn’t be all bad. Nothing wrong in my universe except this darn fat which, if it kept up, was going to have me into new jeans again and underwear too along with some of the things those poor guys got into, like a BRA! Man, I was getting a flabby chest lately but at least my skin was in great shape and I was grateful Mom had gotten me that cream, whatever it was. I was on my 3rd jar now. It even looked like my pores were finer now but even though I’d be 17 soon, still no beard.
I hid Mom’s nightie as best I could. Certainly didn’t want to risk taking it back and getting caught in the act. However, less than a week later, I found myself raiding her panty drawer. I just HAD to try panties. The gown just screamed at me for wearing men’s shorts underneath it. You understand, don’t you? I knew Mom loved pretty lingerie and she surely had enough of it so I was reasonably certain she wouldn’t miss the two pairs I borrowed. They were a little loose on me but the feeling was great, just like the gown and, almost like I had no control over the situation, I started sleeping in the gown and panties. I was VERY nervous and excited at first and had to relieve myself several times over the ensuing week, but then I calmed down to the point of just enjoying the lingerie. I was indeed beginning to feel like one of those poor souls in those stores and yet, the way I felt, discovering my liking for lingerie seemed more like a blessing than a curse.
"Hey Mom?" "Yes dear." "I think maybe that cream you gave me is softening my finger nails as well as my hands. I’m having a horrible time with bending. Is there anything I can do about that?" "Oh, sure honey," said my mother. "Just use some of this on them." She handed me a nail treatment. "I’d advise two coats followed by this other clear to seal them. You want to file them nicely first though to get rid of the rough edges." "Oh, well, if that’s what it takes. Give it here and let me get to work."
To appreciate this last exchange, you’d have to have known me a while. I NEVER took care of my nails but now, well, it just seemed the logical thing to do. Besides, I had nice looking hair and clothes that fit me all to well now. The fat had continued to accumulate everywhere it shouldn’t. Why NOT nice nails? My hands had gotten quite soft. So I filed. I mean I sort of was influenced by that darn favorite site of mine, but I filed them. They ended up with no snags, well ROUNDED, a little longer than usual and with those three coats of whatever on them. *Well darn, they look pretty nice if I do say so.* I admired them the way I had seen Amy and mom do it. OK. I can live with this I guess but it’s another time consumer. I’ve got to use my face cream and do my hair and now my nails. I’m becoming high maintenance!* I complained seriously to Amy about it. She got a little vocal on me. Must have been a ‘bad hair day’ for her or something.
"Gary, if you think just taking a little care of your hair and nails is time consuming, I just wish you had to go through everything I do to look pretty. I’ve got to pluck eyebrows, do nails and hair, toenails, shave pits and pubes in the summer and do legs all year long. On top of that I have to wear a bra and hose and heels and do makeup. You have NO idea how easy you have it." "Whoa lady! I admit I’m not shaving ANYwhere yet or doing my toes or wearing all that look pretty stuff but other than that, I’m doing it too OK?" I fired back. "And actually, I DO know, but I’d rather not go there if you don’t mind." "Whatever do you mean?" "Just don’t go there, OK?"
"Alright, maybe, but while we’re on the subject, how about letting me do your nails?" "Silly girl. I just did them. Can’t you see?" "Yes, and they look very nice but I meant the OTHER set." "A pedicure? ME?"
"Sure. Why not?" "I’m a guy is why not." "Oh? And how many guys do YOU know who have gorgeous hair like yours and sculptured fingernails and flawless skin and no beard and a 25 inch waist and hips and cute TITS. HUH, GARY?" <GULP> "Please Amy, I asked you not to go there." "Oh yes sweet cakes. We’re GOING there." Just then she came up to me and grabbed a double handful of boobies. "Well, missy. That’s a nice set you’re hiding there. But the dead giveaway is those large, protruding nipples."
<reddening in the face> "Amy, I don’t understand any of this. I finally looked at the sizes Mom has been getting me and I’m into a nine jean and a medium shirt, top, whatever. Did you enjoy copping a feel?" "Actually, it WAS sort of fun. Why?" "It felt good" I said as I looked at my shoes, disgusted with the admission I had just made.
"Look Gary, why don’t you just let me give you a pedicure and we’ll take this one step at a time?" "What color?" "Oh, maybe a brownish red. Certainly nothing with blue in it. Your palette is warm not cool." WHAT are you talking about?" "The colors that will look good on you of course. Red heads can’t wear cool colors. Nothing really strong and nothing with blue tint. You really should learn these things." "Why, for heaven’s sake?" "Oh, I think you might need to know this stuff Gary. Maybe really soon." "Are you saying what I think you are saying?"
"I might be. If you are asking me if I think those should be in a pretty satin bra, absolutely baby. You have just gotten way too cute over the last year Gary, WAY too cute. You should be in home ec class with me and the other girls; maybe even in a dress and makeup."
"Damned Internet!" "What?" "Oh, never mind. It’s not important---probably. I’m just beginning to put two and two together, that’s all, and it’s adding up to my MOTHER." "What could your mother possibly have to do with that darling figure you’ve gotten?" "You would be very surprised Amy, but I think she may have had a LOT to do with it." "You mean you think something went wrong when she was making you?" "No, not at all. Much more recent than that. Could we just get on with the nails? Pretty hair, pretty feet, pretty hands, hairless body and curves. This is definitely going somewhere I NEVER expected to go Amy!"
So, I got my pedicure. Amy labored at least a half hour filing and polishing and then putting some kind of quick dry stuff on up in my room. "Well, how do you like them Gary?" "If I have to have painted toes, I guess they are alright." "After all my work, just alright?" "I’m sorry Amy. They look very nice. Now all I need is the bra, a dress and some high heeled sandals and I’m all set," I said sardonically. "Why Gary, you surprise me. Well, then again, maybe NOT. Would you let me measure you?"
"Like how and for what?" "Like with this tape to see what size bra and dress you should have."
"You ARE serious, aren’t you?" "Like a heart attack sugar. Please?" "Oh, Amy, what has happened to me? I’ve become just like those people I’ve been reading about. Like, I don’t seem to have any control over this situation at ALL. I was a normal kid a year ago. Now I look at my body and I know you are right. I’m even sleeping in a nightie and panties. Mom is going to have a cow if she sees me in a dress and heels. What does the tape say?" "The tape says you take a 34B bra and a size 8 regular dress." "I’m dead meat. I can’t even believe this is happening. It’s JUST like those stories!"
Just then, Mom called me. "Gary, would you come into the office and help me move this box?"
"I can’t at the moment Mom." <frantically whispering>---[What am I going to do Amy? My polish isn’t dry yet.] "the only thing you CAN do bro. Tough it out." "Oh, noooo!" "Gary, NOW please?" "Alright Mom, I’m coming." And so, I padded down the hall in my not so bare feet with their red/raisin almost dry nail polish. "Right over here son. This one." I lifted, shoved and moved with her help. Now, I would have thought I was strong enough to move that little thing myself but was I ever surprised. It took both of us. "Nice shade honey. Your finger nails look really nice too. "Thanks Mom." I left at once.
*What the ‘h-e double hockey sticks’ just happened there? Nice shade? Thanks Mom? Am I NUTS? Did that conversation just take place for real? Oh, yeah, it did! She didn’t blink an eye about her little swishy son. What the ...is going ON around here anyway?*
I went back to my room and Amy. "Well, what did she SAY?" "Nice shade!" "Nothing else?"
"Yes. She liked my long shiny finger nails too." "Well see? Honey, you ARE turning, HAVE been turning into a feminine creature for months. Don’t you realize that?" "I...heaven help me....yes...I guess so. I just didn’t want to admit it. A whole ‘B’ cup? Are you SURE?" "Absolutely." "Would you buy me a nice bra Amy? I couldn’t possibly do it by myself." "Sure, but I want you to come with me and get something you like, OK?" "Yes, OK."
Understand, in a way of thinking that had been, I suppose, creeping up on me for months, I was elated. That was the girl side of me. The boy side was now more terrified than ever because I had now admitted that there even WAS a girl side to me and she was becoming stronger.
We went to the mall. I did NOT get out of that store with just a bra however. Amy knew I had some money on me and she seemed determined to spend some, so we also got 6 pairs of lovely panties and a nightie of my own. It was SO pretty. I can’t believe I swooned over how pretty a nightie was. Size 5 panties were a little tight but considering I still had jewels to hide, better idea than 6 even though my bottom could probably stand a 6 and would, I’m sure, later. Turns out Amy was a pretty good judge of sizes and I only made a little bulge in them. When we got back to my place, we went to my room and I had to try on everything. Well, I must tell you, that was a little embarrassing and a revelation.
"I’ll go to the bathroom and get into this bra Amy." "Don’t be silly. Girls see each other all the time and you my sweet, are more girl than you can imagine. Just unleash them and try it on." Well, what could I do? I stripped. "Gary, that is pitiful." "Oh, THAT! Yes, I guess it is. It’s been really hard to find it lately so I’ve been sitting. And instead of getting hard like it’s supposed to, I just get all twitchy down there." "Why am I not surprised?" she grinned.
"How do I do this?" "Fasten in front and turn it around. You should be limber enough to get your arms through the straps by now." <grunting a little> "Yes, you are. See? That is perfect Jeri." "Did you just call me Gerry?" "Yes but I spelled it in my mind, ‘JERI’ like a girl. It’s as close as I could come to Gary." "Oh!" "Try on the nightie." I slipped it over my head like a long T shirt. It fell around my legs and sent shivers through me just like Mom’s did. I went to my mirror and looked at the girl I now saw. No doubts now. Even without makeup, this was a girl...long hair, nice bod, painted toes, claws, slender arms. Oh boy! Just then, Mom knocked and burst right in without further adieu.
"Oh honey. That is very pretty on you. I didn’t know you girls were having a fashion show <giggle>. Did you just get that when you two were out?" "Yes Mom. Why aren’t you upset with me? This is so strange. And you said GIRLS!" "Well honey, I have a little confession to make. I found your favorite site over a year ago." "I knew that mother." "I thought you might. Then I noticed how often you went back to it and so I checked it out. It IS the one that has the link to http://www.hiddenwoman.com/ at the bottom of the page?" "Yes, that’s the one." "And so you decided you liked the idea of boys becoming girls, right?" "Well, it did kind of get to me, yes."
"I knew it did honey. That’s why I got you something to ease you through the bumps <giggle>."
"Yes mother, bumps; BIG bumps!" "I’m sorry <giggle>. Couldn’t help it. Anyway, I got you some things from that site." "The extra VITAMINS? You mean I’ve been ...I’ve been ...what about that cream?" "Yes, that too." "Well, I hope you’re SATISFIED mother. You’ve turned me into a girl for sure now." "Yes, I think that is safe to say, along with everything you learned about how to be one on that site. You see, I logged on to it too on MY computer. Guess we did a pretty good job Amy. Now all we have to do is complete your transition and get you some nice clothes Jeri. It IS Jeri now, right?" "Amy, you were IN on this?"
"Yep! How’d you like my incredulous act? Never mind! Your mom called me and asked me about you, how you related to people and what you were like away from home. So, I told her. I’m afraid what I told her just confirmed what she had been seeing in you too for some time. Then she showed me that site. I can see where it might get a boy with girlish tendencies to fall over the edge. Are you terribly upset with us Jeri?"
"Am I going to keep changing?" "Of course. We’ll get you to my gynecologist and get you some full blown therapy now and you’ll mature into a lovely girl, I’m sure." "Then no, I’m not upset. I don’t think I’ll mind being a girl. I just want to get ON with it. May we go SHOPPING mother? Please? I’m dying to get some pretty dresses and heels and LINGERIE."
"Of course dear. The three of us will get you all the basics on Saturday and get your ears pierced along with a makeover. In the meantime, I’d better call your principal and let him know there’s been a little change in his student body <giggle>. Well, just ONE body! There IS only one of you isn’t there?" "Well, I DID tell Tommy Newsome about the site and he said it was really neat. He HAS been acting a little unusual for some time now, kind of femme as they say." "We’d better have a talk with Tommy then too. I’m glad you are finally happy honey." "Me too Jeri," said Amy. You’ve been a dear girlfriend to me all along. Now you can dress the part. I love you."
The end <or not>
© 1997-2000 No work herein described may be reproduced or distributed in print or electronic media without the author's express consent. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, to actual names that may exist or to circumstances which may have occurred or to other stories in this genre is purely coincidental.
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