Ashley Lazlo

Earworm, I think they call them, you know one of those tunes that you just cannot get out of your head. If I have gotten that right then I have a headworm, there is this thought that keeps popping up inside me.  I’m getting a bit ahead of myself, keen to unload the thought.  I’m an 18 year old living in my own apartment in Chelsea… OK…I can hear what you are thinking - spoilt rich kid - well just a minute…my home is a World's End council housing estate flat on one of the floors way up in the sky, a right schlep when the lift is out. The tenancy passed on to me when grandad passed on. Whats up - that ‘rich kid’ remark not feeling so good now? Don’t feel too bad. See grandad was a bit of a lad - you know a villain in his day. Not a flash git, me and him are down to earth Londoners, well just me now. Anyway he left me a bit in his post office savings so life is OK. Everyone calls me Dave but really I am David to the local police and them as don’t know me. So now you know all you ...

    The group enjoy a fancy dress night and post pictures online using  Hashtag:  #crossdresser #whichone #girlyboy #trans. 'The Flowery Gang' the others at school had mockingly called them. Names apart nothing tangible had ever tied any of them together, they just happened to be a natural group in the way that hippopotami are and despite Rogers name having no botanical connection.  In the early years a sixth would occasionally join their group and even though Ash, Fiore, Lily, Roger and Rowan welcomed them in a friendly way they knew instinctively in the same way baby birds instinctively know the difference between flying and falling that it would only be a matter of time before the newcomer decided time had come to be moving on.  The other kids would take great delight in joking that the temporary newcomer had wilted. At middle school age they would spend summer holidays as a group with one parent taking the whole group swimming, walking, the amusement p...

  A tale of voluntary cross-dressing that takes a new direction... “I used your laptop to check my emails while mine was being repaired” Andréa said “and I owe you an apology” she leant in and kissed Edvard “well several apologies really”  Edvard swallowed. When did he forget to shut it down he wondered. How could he have been so stupid to have written his journal in English? “that day we ran out of milk when you walked to the shop” Andréa said “I would have asked but it was open…you remember that day…you accidentally took my phone instead of yours” “that’s OK, there’s nothing important on there” Edvard had decided to bluff it out as most of his writing was in Swedish. Perhaps she hadn’t found his journal “you said several apologies?” Andréa said how sorry she was, first for snooping and had read some of the journal that he kept on there, secondly she apologised for how she had so mean about his crossdressing “I feel ashamed of myself for the way I demanded you stop without ev...