Beware buyers ! Spaguts.com is most certainly the worst company to purchase
Spa/Hot tub and pool parts for.

Their customer service is the absolute worst that I have ever had the
displeasure of dealing with. From what I can tell it consists of 1 employee.When
calling in to report a problem expect to hold more than 20 minutes on dead air.
If you ever reach a live person you will definatly not be treated courteously.
The employees working there are rude and centered on one thing, making sure the
company get's and keeps your money.

If you have a problem with one of their products, beware, it will stop working
guarenteed. No if's and's or but's, it will die before the warrently period. I
purchased 2 blowers and they both died, the first one in only 10 months and the
second one that I purchased less then 2 weeks ago is dead out of the box. If you
are looking for an RMA (Return Merchandise Authorization) number, forget it as
they will deny all claims.

The only way to obtain an RMA number is to use their on-line email form and
guess what ? It does not work. Here is what happens. You send them an email via
their form and it informs you they will reply back within 72 hours and they
never do. Their claim is that they never received it and there is no way to
prove that you ever sent a request for one. I submittted 3 requests for an RMA
and I finally had to call them and complain and of course since the unit died 3
weeks before the warrenty expired and it took me a whole MONTH to talk to a live
person, the warrenty expired and they denied the claim.

I attempted to talk to their "General Manager" Damien and he never, NEVER
retured my calls. After 5 attempts calling in and asking to speak with the RMA
Manager I finally was connected to Damien. Of course he too was rude and would
not listen to my case. I asked to speak to his manager and he claimed and I
quote "I am as high as your going to get. The owner of the company is the next
level and ho does not speak to customers".

Read closely, STAY AWAY FROM SPAGUTS.COM  ! This is a seriously small company,
the emplyees are rude, their products are sub-par and you cannot even escalate
to the owner of the company Mike Whitney. They will flat out tell you that he
will not EVER speak to you about a problem.

Oh.... I get it


It was a trick.

tich tich tich

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even if he is a woman now.

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There is a LOT of gender bending in manga and anime, some good, some bad, and
some downright annoying.

Much of it has a sameness about it that causes me to loose interest very
quickly, or it's just too cute/silly or a number of other reasons that prevent
me from getting into it.

I would like to recommend one I just came across that was is of the rare ones
that not only could I watch a whole episode, I watched the whole series

The thing that got me about it is that it's not a one joke, or rather theme,
story, the TG is just a part, though an important part, of a much broader tale.

It's called Le Chevalier d'Eon and is an anime series based on a manga (though
the two stories if you read the manga and see the anime are completely different
from each, other than having mostly the same theme and characters.)

The manga you'll have to find in a book store, however the anime you can watch
on line.

The story is based loosely on the historic character Le Chevalier d'Eon, whom if
you come here I'd surprised if you haven't heard of already.

This series however changes history by mixing in fantasy and horror elements.

The basic plot is that a cult of revolutionaries / alchemists are plotting
something sinister in mid 18th century France. This starts with the murder of
Lia de Beaumont, the sister of d'Eon and a spy for the king, There you have one
of the changes, they give Le Chevalier d'Eon a sister she or he (accounts vary)
never had.

During the investigation of her murder most of the King's secret police are
killed in a `spoiler alert' manner I won`t go into, the only survivor being her
brother D'Eon de Beaumont.

To cut to the chance (or the TG part really) when the need arises the spirit of
Lia de Beaumont is able to take over the body of her brother making the whole
greater, and a lot prettier, than the parts.

So if you like historic swashbucklers, mixed with magic, monsters and gender
bending you might like this.

The first few episodes are good, but a bit slow at times as the world and
situation are being set up, however by episode 15 and after they move along at a
goodly clip.

There are a number of places were you can watch episodes on line and a list of
them can be found at.

http://www.animetoplist.org/watch/le-chevalier-deon.html

It can also be found in a very nice boxed set, just so you know.

Okaaaay.....


--- In DreamSalon@yahoogroups.com, "siraj_buriro" <siraj_buriro@...> wrote:
>
>
> because of hairstyles human looking beautiful
>

There is Google Groups, but that's one of Google's rare flops.

Felix

--- In DreamSalon@yahoogroups.com, "lore1138" <monkeyman1138@...> wrote:
>
> If only there was some kind of alternative site without all the silly
restrictions, random deletions, etc. But the only other I can think of was
SuperGroups and that shut down ages ago. Still, I'm glad to see your actively
making captions again, their very much appreciated!

If only there was some kind of alternative site without all the silly
restrictions, random deletions, etc. But the only other I can think of was
SuperGroups and that shut down ages ago. Still, I'm glad to see your actively
making captions again, their very much appreciated!
--- In DreamSalon@yahoogroups.com, "gulliverarkham" <Ace-Detective@...> wrote:
>
> It was at that point that Larry Murdock started to get the suspicion that his
friend Olaf had been less than truthful about the so-called Wishing Stones of
Grunderhos, and how they granted any wish on the feast day of Saint Deter the
Sticky to the first person to touch them after sunrise.
>
> Larry wasn't feeling any richer at all, but he was feeling something, he just
couldn't put his finger on what, but it sure did feel strange.
>
> Olaf however had his hopes on putting his fingers on the wish he had made that
night at midnight when the real wish granting took place at the sight everyone
in the village knew and avoided as the Cursed Pylon of Deter Lüsternengeist, a
notorious local wizard that had lived, and made life difficult there 200 years
ago.
>
> --------------------
>
> When Sylvester Hardy volunteered to be strapped into the machine at
C.R.A.S.H., or the Cronos Repair Agency Salvaging History, headquarters and have
his mind sent back in time to trade bodies with someone in the past, while their
mind was pulled to the year 2023 to be housed in his body he so he could use his
knowledge and skills from the future to attempt to alter the past to make a
better present.
>
> Other than being able aim his mind somewhere around German, more of less, and
more of less around a hundred years ago, the C.R.A.S.H. people had no way of
telling when, where or in whom he would land.
>
> Hardy however was sure his 21st PhD knowledge of psychology and pharmacology,
and his "gift of gab" would let him make a lot of changes.
>
> That he would find himself at the end his journey in 1927 Berlin in the body
of cabaret entertainer Lily Goldigvogel, whom everyone seemed to listen to, but
really only as an excuse to ogle while not paying much attention to what she was
saying did not really help Sylvester forward his plans.
>
> Plus the pay of a singer at that time and the rampant inflation made his other
idea of inventing and introducing mood eveners decades early out of her reach.
>
> And after four years of that Lily found herself out of a job when the public,
and government censors, proved less than open to his introducing the translated
repertoires Pink and Madonna to 20's German Sylvester read the coming history on
the wall and collected what money she could get and headed for Mexico where she
introduced Prozac early, knowing that both she and the world was going to need
it very soon.
>
> Meanwhile in the year 2023 Lily, in Sylvester's body, who had been compensated
very well by C.R.A.S.H. for being so uprooted from her time and so had no need
to work, found she quite liked being a young man of leisure in the 21st century,
particularly with all the interesting and readily availably "happy pills" that
were put out ironically enough by a company that bore her old last name.
>
> For images see files Goldenbird & Sticky_Situation in the miscellaneous file
folder
>
> Unfortunately due to more pointless changes from Yahoo this mean that now to
do this you are most than likely going to have to put in your password a dozen
times or more to do this.
>
> It seems that now you have to put in your password once or twice (or three
times) to get to the group page, then put it in again to get to the files  and
then again to look at a file…. EACH file you look at!!!!!
>
> To put in this message and the three files I have just up-loaded I have had to
put my password in nine (count `em 9) times.
>
> Sorry about that
>
> Felix
>

Hello,

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   File        : /Miscellaneous/Goldenbird.jpg
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   Description : Sometimes a song in your heart is just not enough to change
history.

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gulliverarkham <Ace-Detective@...>

It was at that point that Larry Murdock started to get the suspicion that his
friend Olaf had been less than truthful about the so-called Wishing Stones of
Grunderhos, and how they granted any wish on the feast day of Saint Deter the
Sticky to the first person to touch them after sunrise.

Larry wasn't feeling any richer at all, but he was feeling something, he just
couldn't put his finger on what, but it sure did feel strange.

Olaf however had his hopes on putting his fingers on the wish he had made that
night at midnight when the real wish granting took place at the sight everyone
in the village knew and avoided as the Cursed Pylon of Deter Lüsternengeist, a
notorious local wizard that had lived, and made life difficult there 200 years
ago.

--------------------

When Sylvester Hardy volunteered to be strapped into the machine at C.R.A.S.H.,
or the Cronos Repair Agency Salvaging History, headquarters and have his mind
sent back in time to trade bodies with someone in the past, while their mind was
pulled to the year 2023 to be housed in his body he so he could use his
knowledge and skills from the future to attempt to alter the past to make a
better present.

Other than being able aim his mind somewhere around German, more of less, and
more of less around a hundred years ago, the C.R.A.S.H. people had no way of
telling when, where or in whom he would land.

Hardy however was sure his 21st PhD knowledge of psychology and pharmacology,
and his "gift of gab" would let him make a lot of changes.

That he would find himself at the end his journey in 1927 Berlin in the body of
cabaret entertainer Lily Goldigvogel, whom everyone seemed to listen to, but
really only as an excuse to ogle while not paying much attention to what she was
saying did not really help Sylvester forward his plans.

Plus the pay of a singer at that time and the rampant inflation made his other
idea of inventing and introducing mood eveners decades early out of her reach.

And after four years of that Lily found herself out of a job when the public,
and government censors, proved less than open to his introducing the translated
repertoires Pink and Madonna to 20's German Sylvester read the coming history on
the wall and collected what money she could get and headed for Mexico where she
introduced Prozac early, knowing that both she and the world was going to need
it very soon.

Meanwhile in the year 2023 Lily, in Sylvester's body, who had been compensated
very well by C.R.A.S.H. for being so uprooted from her time and so had no need
to work, found she quite liked being a young man of leisure in the 21st century,
particularly with all the interesting and readily availably "happy pills" that
were put out ironically enough by a company that bore her old last name.

For images see files Goldenbird & Sticky_Situation in the miscellaneous file
folder

Unfortunately due to more pointless changes from Yahoo this mean that now to do
this you are most than likely going to have to put in your password a dozen
times or more to do this.

It seems that now you have to put in your password once or twice (or three
times) to get to the group page, then put it in again to get to the files  and
then again to look at a file…. EACH file you look at!!!!!

To put in this message and the three files I have just up-loaded I have had to
put my password in nine (count `em 9) times.

Sorry about that

Felix

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Hello,

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Hi,

I hope you don't mind me promoting my new blog here?

I have just launched 'Yvonne's Caption World' at
http://yvonnescaptionworld.blogspot.com/ please do come over and have a look.

I hope you like it!

Yvonne.

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Hello,

This email message is a notification to let you know that
a file has been uploaded to the Files area of the DreamSalon
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   File        : /Miscellaneous/GiveMeTheGold.jpg
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it.

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Mark Mallory a beginning, but talented stage magician, who billed himself as
Mark Merlin Jr. was sure he would win the 234th annual All Wizards Tournament
being held in Arkham.

That he had never heard of this "famous event," and had not been invited to it
was beside the point, the brash and somewhat rude young prestidigitator was sure
that once they saw his act he would win the pure gold trophy the rumors that
lead him to Arkham had also hinted about, and that was all that mattered.

Imagine "Mark Merlin Junior's" surprise when it turned out that the people
competing in this competition all considered themselves to be "real" wizards,
magicians, witches and other such humbug!

Of course a dedicated skeptic like Mark could not help but make some very
cutting remarks about the general intelligence of the gathering after pushing
his way on stage and doing his act anyway.

"Here for the gold?" asked one of the judges who just happened to be the real
Merlin, "why not?"

"Do you expect me to believe any of this is for real?" screamed Mark after the
two security trolls had set the newly gilded and transformed former man beyond
the perimeter of the contest, they not being the talking sort did not answer.

By then the other spell that Merlin had placed on Mark was already starting to
work and she wandered off to fall madly in love with the first person he
happened to encounter.

Looks like you're looking for the meet bar down the street.

All I've got here are a bunch of story files in the files area.

       +++   ---   +++   ---   +++


DREAM SALONS:

http://community-2.webtv.net/Ace-Detective/DreamSalon/

Because sometimes normal isn't enough.

       +++   ---   +++   ---   +++

I'm a newbe here.  How does this site work?  I'd love to have someone have
thereway with me.  How do you start?

The Fountian of Girl

http://www.oglaf.com/fountgirl1.html

A year ago, if you had told me that more than half a dozen governments
and at least 50 of the most powerful and influential businesses in the
world would be taken over by a clandestine movement with at most only
five to eight thousand members. I would have thought you a paranoid
crank. If you had gone on to tell me that they would enact their
conquest via so called astral travel, I would have known you were a
paranoid crank and a complete loon.

Call me a loon then because I know this to be the case. I know this
because I do not just know about this group. I am one of its victims.
It was a year and a day ago today, on May the 23rd 2005 that I had my
old life ripped from me and was set on the path I now find myself. At
that time I was known to the world as James Keith Grayson. At 38 the
C.E.O. of Grayson Industries, an international corporation well on its
way up the Fortune 500 list.


I had a privet jet, nine cars; three homes, a personal fortune of over
three billion dollars and any woman I wanted. J.K. Grayson still has
all these things, though I'm not sure if he's still a devotee of the
charms of supermodels. I speak of myself as if I were another person
because that is the situation I and many other formerly powerful men
find ourselves. Let me tell you how it happened.


One year ago and one day ago I was in Mumbai having just finished a
deal to take Grayson Industries into India and net me another 20 or 30
million annually. As I do on all my business trips, I had concentrated
strictly on business. As I went from airport to boardroom, to hotel, to
the end of the deal and then back to the airport. I could not tell, or
care if I was in New York, London, Tokyo or any other point on the
globe. All that mattered to me was the deal.


I had no interest in local color, perhaps if I had stayed strictly to
that regiment I would not be where I am now. The meetings in Mumbai had
gone better then I had anticipated. We were closing the deal a full two
days sooner then I thought possible.


Tonmay Ganasalla, who I was negotiating with had a reputation for being
a hard nosed business man. For some reason he had been surprisingly
easy to swing to my point of view. He told me that he would be
compensated in ways I had no idea of later. I had no clue that this
mysterious statement meant.


To celebrate the early closing I thought I would take in some of the
sights of Mumbai. Tonmay the head of the Indian company with whom I had
just made the deal invited me to what he called a special restaurant, a
place


"undiscovered or ruined by common tourists."
The restaurant proved to be nice enough, but nothing I found all that
remarkable, Dining on curry and drinking tea. The meal was also nothing
I had not had before. Then Tonmay said that it was time for the house
speciality.


Two Indian women brought it out; one appeared to be in her late 50's
while the other looked to be in her mid to late 20's.


Both women wore well-made green saris; the attractive younger one also
had a bare midriff and a tantalizing flash of cleavage. Both, I later
found, were of one of the lower castes, which if I had known at the
time would have lead me to wonder what a Bramin like Tonmay was doing
in a restaurant owned by them.


The "special dish" proved to be, of all things, a salad! However, I was
not paying for this, so if my host wanted to think of it as special, so
be it.
The salad proved to be rather bland. The only thing I found notable
about it were pieces of a crunchy, slightly bitter root that I found
liberally sprinkled through out the dish.


We made small talk and ate the salad. I was mainly thinking that I was
ready to make it back to the airport and fly back to Atlanta so I could
cap this deal off and prepare for the next one. At least I think that
is what I was thinking when my head fell forward to land in my half
finished salad.


I awoke, I know not how much later, to find I was being jostled. I
could tell I had just awakened from a deep sleep, my head was resting
against a the glass of a small window. Looking out of the window I saw
what looked like a train station.


Still groggy I looked to see who was shaking me. I was surprised to see
the older of the two women who had brought in the salad. Had I fallen
asleep in the restaurant? That was when I took in my surroundings and
saw that I was on a train. A densely packed, dingy train. The woman was
saying "Nabeela! Nabeela! It is time to go, get out of that seat and
follow me!"


Forget the fact that I had just come to in some train in India, had no
idea why I was there, or what this woman was going on about, or who
this Nabeela was. This was not the part of my experience that shocked
me the most. The part I found most amazing of all was that the woman
was speaking Hindi, and I understood her!


My first thought was to demand to know what was going on, to demand she
tell me where I was and how I had come to be there. I did not do this.
Instead I obediently got up and followed the woman down the crowded
passageway of the train.


Let me emphasize that I have always been a man who is use to making his
way in the world and giving orders not taking them. For the past 15
years since graduating from Harvard with a Masters in Business I swam
with the sharks and the sharks' ether got out of my way or got eaten.
Yet, as soon as this woman spoke to me I obeyed her command without
hesitation. My head felt as if it were stuffed with wet cotton, but I
was otherwise awake and in command of my facilities.


I followed the woman's large swaying rump down the passageway. At the
end of the car first she and I exited into bright sun light and
stifling heat and humidity. Although the train had been hot, walking
into the open air was like stepping into a sauna.


The instant the humid air hit me I could feel the sweat start to pore
out of me. I reached up to wipe away some that I felt trickling down my
neck and got a surprise when my hand bumped into something that got in
my hands way.


My hand had collided with a female breast, a breast that I seemed to
possess. My foggy mind came into sharper focus as the adrenaline from
this hit me. My heart pumped faster and everything, which until then
had seemed hazy and dreamlike, became clear as I snaped fully awake.


I looked down , and the hand I saw was slender, delicate and a rich
brown. I turned it back and forth like a baby discovering his for the
first time and finding he has these things and can control them. In
addition, I saw the swell of two pert breast, which I could not only
see, but feel were covered with sweat under a green blouse.


Beneath the green blouse was a bare midriff that swelled into wide hips
and long legs that were covered in a green sari. I recognized the
clothing. I had seen them on the young woman who had been been with the
older woman in the restaurant.


I ran the hand I saw over the breasts and confirmed that I was their
owner. The older woman came up to me and in a harsh voice commanded.
"Nabeela! You are making a spectacle of yourself, stop your dawdling
and come with me at once."


My inner self told me to tell her to piss off and give me an
explanation at once. What I did was drop my hand like a boy caught
sneaking a cookie, look straight ahead and without a sound followed her
as she set off walking away from the train station.

She walked out into some grungy little town that somehow I knew was not
Mumbai, though I had never seen it before, I gave no thought to doing
anything but following her down the street. Just doing this required
some concentration as the streets she headed down were incredibly
crowded.

As I moved after her. I found my mind trying to juggle the jobs of
dodging the seeming army of people dashing about, or the truly
destitute sprawling at the edges of the street. While at the same time
dealing with the strange new sensations that came with running a
perspiring female body draped in a long unfamiliar garment.


As I obediently followed her I could feel the breasts which were
unrestrained by a bra bouncing up and down, there was also the feel of
the skin. It is hard to imagine this; you do not know just how
submerged the feelings of one's own skin is.


This came to me now as this body that I seemed to be in had very soft
skin, and I noticed it. Legs rubbing together, hand surreptitiously
stroking the bare stomach, the texture of the clothing touching it. I
was doing all I could not to fall flat on my face as I kept my eyes on
the woman ahead and avoiding the teaming crowds.


I don't know how long it took, all this stimuli
and a slight return of the mind numbness made
keeping track of the time hard. At last she stopped.
She came to a four-story building that looked as if
it had weathered the blistering heat of this town somewhere between
half a century and a millennium.


She went up a creaking stairway to the third floor
and unlocked a door with a key. Following her in I
found myself in a dimly lit room. The room, I could
tell was the home of at least four people due to the number of narrow
beds wedged into the one room. The
only other furniture was a large old wooden wardrobe,
a small battered desk & mirror and a cane backed chair. one small
window let bright dusty light into the
otherwise dim room. The older woman told me to set
in the chair and I did.
On doing this I found myself looking into the mirror and a face that
was not mine. It was the woman I had seen earlier but who I had not
really looked at closely. Now, staring into her or it would seem my
eyes I did.


`I´ looked to be in my mid 20's. I had large dark brown eyes that
seemed almost black, my skin was a smooth blemish free tan like a light
mahogany, with a prominent nose and a somewhat weak chin. However the
large clear eyes and full lips made the face very attractive. I had
thick black hair gathered into an intricate hairdo atop my head, undone
it looked to be at least two feet in length. Gold earrings, necklace
and rings contracted the deep tan skin. I saw that I wore light make up
and had a bindi dot on my forehead.


"Taking in your new home Mr. Grayson?" asked the older woman who stood
behind me and to my left. I still wanted to demand an explanation, but
again as soon as the thought of action formed something damped it down.


"Look at me girl." She ordered, and I complied turning from the mirror
to meet her eyes. "I am going to be very generous and give you an
explanation of what has happened to you, this will also serve to show
you that your fate is inescapable and tell you just what is expected of
you from now until we decide to make things different."


She moved closer to me and began to talk. Her lecture went on for some
time, so let me sum it up. To put the overly fantastic into simple
terms I, or more to the point my body and much of my memories had been
kidnapped by a secret society made up of women in India trained in the
use of amazing occult abilities.


The salad I had eaten had contained chosalla root, a plant unknown to
all but this order called the Ojasa Sudati Parivartanam which roughly
translated means The Powerful Women Who Will Change The World. The
chosalla root it seems loosens the seal that holds the soul in the
body.


The two woman and Tonmay, the man with whom I was doing business, were
all members of the O.S.P.   As soon as I had eaten this root, I had
fallen into a trance and been taken to a back room where the older
woman, a high level member of the Order, had transferred the souls of
myself and the younger woman who was a lower level member.


I was told the reason I could now could now understand Hindi was that
as the effect of the root wore off, my soul was grafting itself onto
the body that now housed it. Meaning that while I still knew who I was,
and reacted to things as John Grayson, my mind and body was that of
Nabeela Shyaamalajee. I would not be able to read, speak or understand
English but only Hindi.


I was Nabeela, while also knowing myself to be Grayson.
At the same time, Nabeela had my body and access to my knowledge, which
she had been trained to make better
use of. It was now, I was informed, used to further
the agenda of the the O. S. P.


And what was their agenda? Simply enough the conquest of the World. In
the last four years, they had replaced two thirds of the leaders in
government and business in India. I was one of the first in their move
West.


The last thing the older woman told me was that the best thing I could
do would be to settle and let Nabeela's mind/body do the thinking for
me. I could try to protest, but I should know that indeed the body is
destiny. If I were to try this, and others had, all it would mean is
that I would be regarded as a mad member of the lower classes.

She also added that if I behaved myself there was a chance of my life
and body being returned to me, after that is they had done everything
they needed with it and my business. Then she left me on my own, I have
not seen her again in the year since then. As the Sun went down the
three other inhabitants of the apartment returned. They too were
victims of the O.S.P.


It was hard enough finding it out but I was able to discover that the
three women I was to share this cramped living space with were the
minister of Agriculture in India, Tonmay the business man whom I had
thought I was meeting, who was now being run by the woman who's body he
now had. a saucy plump little thing who it seemed was well on his way
of to totally giving into the situation, the last woman was a tall thin
woman even darker then I who had been the British Minister of Foreign
Affairs.


That is who we were deep down, to the world we were four young Indian
girls of a low caste and perhaps even lower morals. I found that I had
a job too. I was a maid working for an upper class family. The pay was
next to nothing and the wife treated me like chattel. The oldest son
however was another matter.


Badal, a student of engineering and so full of himself that he almost
needed a second body, just to house the extra ego seemed to regard the
world as his for the asking. And me as his without even asking. When
ever his mother's eye mother's eye was off him, which thankfully was
not often, his hands found their way on me.


"I see you are demanding I take those tasty breasts of your again." he
would say in response to the slight hint of cleavage from a dark blue
blouse I was wearing with a half sari. He would then work work himself
behind me and treat himself to a feel of my tits.


The most disconcerting thing about all this was that while my Grayson
self would rebel at this and want to bash his smug face in. The Nabeela
body would react quite differently. It seems the girl was more then a
bit loose, and I had all her reactions hardwired into the body. It was
at these times that I now not only found the unique feel of feeling
with a woman's skin, but also the feel of a woman becoming aroused! The
nipples hardening, a moistness coming between my legs, and from there a
growing warmth that is unlike anything I had felt as a man.


And that is where I find myself today. As a member of a secret society
of women subverts my business and does what I do not know with my body,
I spend my days laboring like a slave while fending off the horny son
of a family on it's way up.


How then, you ask, am I able to write these words? A fortuitous
happenstance that I doubt the Order ever thought of. I am, you see,
truly ambidextrous, I can write as well with my left hand as I can with
my right. I have also found that I am able to access my full Grayson
side by using my left hand.


As the year wore on my four companions have given themselves over
almost totally to the bodies that now house their beings. This writing
has kept me in touch with my old-self. If it had not been for this I am
sure I too would have become mostly Nabeela by now.


There are effects, I have grown use to this bodies feel and doubt that
I will ever loose Nabeela's taste for bitter tea or the longing for
fine clothing that seems to be a very strong part of her.


However I am still me, and I am gaining more and more command of this
body under my thoughts and feelings I am sure that with a little more
effort I will have total control.


What I will do next I do then I am not sure. But the O.S.P. were wrong
to think that J.K. Grayson was down for the count yet!


The End

If you're not aware of it there is a site known as Comic Vine that is sort of a
Wikipedia for comic book fans in that the information on it is put together by
fans.

It can be found at the link below

http://www.comicvine.com/

One of the things it does have a way to link various things to the various
comics listed on the site.

So that if you look at the listing for say comic book series X, Y or X, you can
go there and find images of the issues of that series (if anyone has put those
image in that is) furthermore if you click on an individual issue of a series
you might (again if a user has put it in) links to information about the
artists, writers, characters, objects, locations, and concepts that are found in
that issue. (if anyone cares to do so.)

A recent addition to the Concepts listings page is Gender Change which so far
has been linked to 81 comics.

You can find that at

http://www.comicvine.com/concepts/

The Gender Change Concept also has forum page as well.

Once you register you can take part in the different things such as up-loading
images and what not.

However, until you have over 1000 points all entries are monitored, forum
participation however is a freebie.

Just so you know.

The site by the way is G - Rated

Hello,

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She's "Secret Agent TRANS."

--- In DreamSalon@yahoogroups.com, DreamSalon@yahoogroups.com wrote:
>
>
> Hello,
>
> This email message is a notification to let you know that
> a file has been uploaded to the Files area of the DreamSalon
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this one Dan is the hero AND the femme fatal.
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