Hell of a Party

A Halloween party gets more enjoyable for a young cat once a demonic force starts altering reality. Explicit.

Circ had grown out of parties. Well, he didn't want to say it like that and sound like an asshole, but that was pretty much the way he felt. Parties were great when you were a kid and got presents and everyone played games. And he bet that parties were pretty fun when you were an adult and could get drunk and do all sorts of crazy stuff. But when you were a teenager, what was there to do?

He couldn't dance, so trying to would be an embarrassment. It was way too loud to have a conversation with someone. But everyone was was where it was noisy; he couldn't slip off somewhere quiet and find someone to talk to.

The music was hurting the brown cat's ears. Damn it, was he getting a headache? He'd wanted to go trick or treating, but his friends had talked him into coming to the party instead. He was pretty sure he'd be having more fun trick or treating. Only maybe half the people had even showed up in any kind of costume.

Conversion

College girls on a road trip have a run-in with alien parasites. Explicit, mild gore.

"We're gonna see if there's anything to do in this dump. You wanna come with us?"

Jessie cracked her toes. She stretched them out after tugging off her sneakers. She could see a sliver of the ass of Emily's jeans through the open bathroom door.

"Nah, I'll stay here. I'm pretty tired from the driving, so I'll probably sleep soon," Jessie said.

A lazy stroke of lipstick rested across Emily's lips when she came back into the motel room.

"Fine, be a recluse if you want. Not like we came to hang out with friends," Emily said.

A grin flashed across Emily's face. Jessie returned her friend's look with a small smile of her own. Emily crossed the room to grab her purse, then continued on toward the door.

"I'll see you later," Jessie said.

A Proper Belle

A cat inherits an old Southern manor, which comes complete with a friendly ghost who wants to dress him up. Explicit.

Trees whirred by in a green haze. The gentle undulations of the guardrail blurred into a wriggling wave. He had been on the road for a few hours now, but the exit was coming up soon.

'Dear Sir: It is with great sadness that I write to you today, to inform you of the death of Emmaline Beauregard, your great-aunt.'

Circ never heard of a great-aunt in the family. And he didn't know that he had any family in Georgia in the first place. In fact, he had assumed the first letter was a prank, or that the mail had delivered it to the wrong person despite both the letter and envelope bearing his name.

'Her will stipulates that the bulk of her estate is to be given to her youngest blood relative of legal standing. As you are the one to whom these conditions apply, we ask for an opportunity to speak with you, at your earliest convenience.'

A Bit Like Revenge

Trying to turn his ex into a bimbo, an obsessive ex-boyfriend stumbles into his own trap. Explicit.

Sometimes, there can be a fine line between romantic and frightening. Chris had found that he didn't care about that line any more. A year. Moving two towns over. An extra hour to get to work. And then it was suddenly all for nothing? They were just over? He wasn't buying that. He'd tried the 'whatever I did, I'm sorry'. He'd tried letting her have some space and asking her a few days later. It was then that she'd told him it was time for him to get his things moved out of her apartment.

And really, that was the trigger. That was where he'd snapped. If he couldn't hold onto her, what did it mean for other girls? For his whole love life? For one, both were nonexistent outside of his ex-girlfriend. Was he defective as a guy? He was going to prove that he wasn't. He was going to make her want nothing but him.

To Be The Dream

A sci-fi fan zapped onto a Galaxy-class starship fills the role of the Caitian counselor. Explicit.

This wasn't Melissa's bed. For one thing, her bed didn't have big thick lumps in it. And her bed did have sheets, which were conspicuously missing now. She was beginning to think she wasn't lying down on a bed at all.

With an uncomfortable groan, she pushed herself up and pushed her eyelids open. Crates. Right. And she had been lying on? A crate. The pattern on the top of the lid was stamped into the side of her face. Her neck ached slightly until her sitting up elicited a loud crack that spread out into the vastness of the room.

The Thief and the Sapphire

A thief trying to steal from the queen's palace gets turned into a princess instead. Mature.

It was the day of mourning for the dear, passed queen, and so Alex was wearing black. But, setting her apart from everyone else, Alex was currently making her way, brick by brick and handhold by handhold, toward the queen's balcony. With the queen dead, no one would be staying in her royal bedroom, so no one would notice if a couple of valuable gems and silks happened to vanish. And it wasn't as if the queen would care any more, either.

The leather-clad thief pulled herself onto the balcony that connected to the queen's room, and let out a long sigh. She'd made it, the hardest part was through. She stepped through the doorway, and into the grand bedroom, walls coated with tapestries, carpets muffling her quiet steps. There were gold and jewels and all sorts of expensive, easily carried things delicately arranged across dressers and desks and shelves. It was a thief's wet dream.