Toon Jooce: Now in Cow!

A couple try out a cow-themed toon transformation drink pulled off the shelves for being a little too potent. Explicit.

The can of Toon Jooce looked exactly like it had in the commercials: flat, bounded by an outline, and subtly unsteady, like some cosmic animator had rotoscoped itinto Andrew’s hand. He could feel its roundness but the only visual cues distinguishing it from a cardboard cutout were the soft-shaded shadows beneath his fingers. The black-and-white cow-print pattern on the label didn’t even move if he turned the can from side to side.

Miranda stood at the foot of the bed, a smile on her lips and an eager gleam behind her glasses. She lifted her eyebrows expectantly when he looked back up at her. “Well?” she asked.

“Weren’t these like, pulled off the shelves?” he asked.

Of course he’d been interested when Toon Jooce came out, billed as the first commercially-available toon transformation drinkable. The inherent volatility of toon matter made it difficult to provide the kind of safe, reversible changes most consumer-grade transformation triggers offered. It had only been on the market for two weeks before a few high-profile cases of unintentional permanence had forced the manufacturer to recall the entire stock.

Miranda just shrugged. “The gas station I bought it from must not have heard the news. But I know you’ve got a thing for cow girls…” She plucked the can from Andrew’s hand and held it between two of her fingers. “So when I saw this on the shelf, it made me think of you.”

It was hard for Andrew to say no to the idea of fooling around with a bouncy cartoon cow-girl version of his girlfriend, but the knot of anxiety deep in his belly made it almost as hard to say yes. “That’s super cool of you, it’s just…you know people have gotten stuck using that stuff, right?”

Miranda sat down on the side of the bed and wrapped an arm around his back to reassure him. “I saw those stories too—it only happened because they got too into it. As long as I keep cool and don’t lose my head, I’ll be fine.” She leaned against him and lowered her voice to a playfully conspiratorial whisper. “Besides, I’m not doing this just for you.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll make sure you don’t get too crazy, all right?”

Miranda smiled. “Deal.” Taking the can with her, she hopped off the bed and found a spot on the floor with plenty of open space on all sides. “Got your lasso ready, cowboy?”

Andrew shared a mutual snicker with her as he scooted up to the edge of the bed. He had some idea of what to expect thanks to videos online, but had never seen it this up close and personal.

With a dramatic gesture, Miranda popped open the tab on the Toon Jooce. A few black-and-white toon bubbles fizzled up into the air and poped. Under her breath she counted down, “Three, two, one,” then lifted the can to her lips and tipped her head back in one smooth motion, drinking it all down in several big gulps.

After she swallowed, there was a moment of silence, heavy with expectation. Miranda gave the can a thoughtful look. “Hmm,” she mused, “pretty good, actually. Kinda like caramel cream, but more cream—mmmrrp!” Mid-sentence, a deep burp rumbled its way up her throat. She covered her mouth to stifle the sound, but only succeeded in redirecting the pressure. With an exaggerated thwump like the sound of a foley artist punching a big soft pillow, her chest surged outward so quickly that it split the front of her shirt clean open. Taut, tawny-yellow cartoon muscle thrust itself outward in two jutting swells, shoving her nipples, now thick and glossy green, down and to either side. Despite their jiggling roundness, they were decidedly no longer breasts. They were pecs.

Shifting

A new werewolf and her boyfriend are ready for her first change. They weren't expecting her to change into a male werewolf, though. Explicit.

June sat on the floor of the living room in nothing but her underwear, with all the furniture pushed up against the walls. Sean hovered nearby, reading over Your First Full Moon, the pamphlet from the doctor's office, for what had to be the fiftieth time.

While the bite had healed weeks ago, today she'd woken up with two strings of red marks curled around her left wrist. Cortisone cream only helped so much, so she'd put on a long-sleeved shirt and tried her best not to scratch, but they'd itched all day long. Now that the mark was bare, it was hard to keep her fingers off of it. Every so often, it twinged beneath her skin like a flexing muscle.

"You sure you don't want anything else to eat?" Sean asked, looking up from the pamphlet.

They'd read the whole thing together: sitting on their bed, her arm freshly bandaged and tucked against her chest, her cheek against his fur, leaning on him like a big, Sean-shaped comfort pillow. The cuddling was one of the upsides of having a collie for a boyfriend.

June leaned back on the floor. "At this point, I'm less worried about going hunting and more worried about throwing up on the carpet." Then she added, "I'm full, but thanks." All day she'd had more bark and more bite in her than usual. She wasn't sure how much of that was anxiety and frustration, and how much was the feral feeling stirring beneath her skin.

The Bureau

A fox goes to the Bureau of Orthomorphic Management for a routine appointment and runs afoul of red tape. Mature.

Robin found the yellow envelope waiting in his mailbox on Thursday. It announced, in thick letters, that it was his final notice from the Bureau of Orthomorphic Management, and that he needed to renew his license by Friday or it would be revoked. As well as the final notice, it was also the first notice, and the only notice, that Robin had gotten.

The thought of letting his license lapse as some sort of protest came to mind, but then Robin remembered what a nightmare his friend Nick had gone through when he'd gotten his license revoked. He didn't even get his old name back; he'd had to take a crummy public-access name like Reginald.

So shortly after noon and still a little sleepy, Robin tugged the garage door open, threaded himself between his apartment-mates' cars, and climbed into his own. It wasn't a long drive, but he didn't want to leave his license's fate to the whims of the local bus route.

---

The building of the Bureau of Orthomorphic Management looked like a brick of tofu. It did have windows and doors, which aren't features of tofu, but even the un-tofu parts of the Bureau building were infused with that bland simplicity. Robin imagined vandalizing its facade with spraycans of sauce and spices.

There was a short concrete walkway that led to the front door, guarded by railings made lumpy by so many re-applied coats of black paint. Beside the double doors were two plastic signs mounted to the wall. The first said, 'Bureau of Orthomorphic Management, Regional Office'. Below, next to a small intercom, was the second sign. A drawing showed a stick-figure with large tusks hunched over, trying to fit through a door too short for them. 'Persons needing assistance please press button,' it said.

Robin pulled the door open and stepped inside. The top of the doorframe cleared his ears with two feet to spare. Foxes like him weren't the tallest species, but you'd have to be a giraffe to have trouble with the front door.

Past the front doors, Robin came to the lobby. The lobby was meant to have a directory. But at some point, someone had thought to pin up a sign directing visitors to their department. Then everyone else had realized what a good idea that was, and by now, the lobby had grown into a jungle of signage. Sheets of printer paper with arrows were taped to the walls and pinned to bulletin boards and stapled on top of each other, all begging the reader to follow their directions.

If you were coming to see the Exercise and Fitness Approval Board, that was on the other end of the building. Nonstandard Locomotion Permits could be found on the sixth floor, stairwell access only. The Body Planner's Office announced that it was "on the Mezzanine", which Robin thought was likely a made-up word to trick young interns.

Hooked

A fox girl and her friends succumb one by one to addictive, transformative, brain-draining cigarettes. Explicit.

1 Hazel, Monday morning

Hazel hadn't seen Jordan all day. At this point, she was convinced that Jordan was home sick and hadn't texted her about it. Hazel knew the rabbit girl would be more pissed about missing track practice than missing class.

Her two other friends were already sitting at their table in the cafeteria, so Hazel headed their way. Her fluffy fox tail flicked behind her, weaving through the tight gaps between people's chairs. Between her short, crisp red hair and sharp green eyes, she had the look of someone who could be confident one day, once she got over her own teenage awkwardness. Right now, she was more lanky than anything.

Hazel slid into a seat at the table. Zoey and Evie barely noticed her sitting down.

Zoey was the biggest of their bunch, thanks to her panther genetics. She had dangerous scowls down to a science, and she was on her last strike for violating the dress code. The grinning feline skull on her tank top peeked above the table.

Evie, the doe, had her hoof-tipped fingers wrapped around her fork, halfway through jabbing it into her salad. Her glasses made her wide-eyed stare look even wider. Her flannel shirt had been scuffed in spots, a veteran of one of her many hiking trips, and her hair was pulled back in her usual short ponytail.

Zoey and Evie both were staring in the same direction. Hazel glanced between the two of them, waited a few seconds, then broke the silence by saying, "What's up?"

"Jordan," Evie said.

Hazel followed Evie's gaze, but she didn't see Jordan. All she saw was the school's varsity quarterback and some sexed-up bunny sitting on his lap. "I don't get it," Hazel said.

Zoey reached across the table, wrapped one arm around Hazel's shoulder so they were looking from the same angle, and pointed at the bunny girl. "That's Jordan," she said.

Hazel's eyes widened. That couldn't be Jordan.

Matat Spa

A couple visits a spa staffed by faceless latex attendants, and slowly lose themselves to the hypnotic smoke.. Explicit.

The highway weaved along the coastline, between the warm beaches on one side and the orange cliffs on the other. Riley sat behind the wheel of her rental car with the window rolled down and her arm hanging out to feel the breeze. The wind whipped at the side of her short mane. Riley had the imposing posture, sharp smile, and sinewy frame that came with being a hyena. She watched the road from behind her mirrored sunglasses as she followed it north.

Julie sat in the passenger seat. While the lioness didn't look as tough as Riley did, their tussles in bed had proved that they were evenly matched. Julie's copper hair was brushed back behind her ears, though the wind blew around the inside of the car so much that she had to occasionally re-tuck it. A pair of gold studs sat in her left ear, nearly hidden against her tawny fur.

As they came around another ridge, Julie's ears flicked up and she leaned forward to point. "There it is," she said.

Nestled between two orange hills was a building shaped like a white cylinder, three stories high, and shaded from the road by lines of narrow cypress trees. It was smooth and nearly featureless, and if it hadn't been for the spacious parking lot and well-kept driveway, it might have seemed like a water tower.

Riley pulled off the highway and followed the driveway up into the empty parking lot. She plucked the sunglasses off her face, then asked Julie, "Is this place open? It looks deserted."

Lost Tales of the Planet Rushes: The Mind-Melting Parasitic Dildo-Snakes of Planet Xenobia, Part Two

Evie, host to a dildo-snake parasite, infects her fellow bounty hunter. Explicit

A story in the Trials in Tainted Space universe. Continued from Part One.

5 - An Old Friend

The purple foliage parted and out stepped Mina, in a silver spacesuit that hugged her lean muscle and a round helmet just like Evie's. She looked worried—at least, until she saw Evie. Then Mina's wide-eyed look fell away, replaced with a tight frown.

Evie was stretched out on the ground. Her legs were pressed together to hide the hole in her suit, and with her arms crossed over her chest, she blocked her bigger bust from view. She flashed a sheepish smile up at Mina.

Mina said, "I've been calling you on the radio for an hour. I thought you were in trouble."

Evie shrugged apologetically. "Oh yeah, I kinda lost it."

Mina's eyes narrowed. She took a step closer. "Are you okay? You sound...squeaky."

"Oh, yeah, that," Evie said, trying to buy some time to think. "I found this really weird, like, flower? It was all purple and blue and when I tried to smell it, it went poof and hit me in the face with a whole bunch of pollen stuff. And then I got dizzy and came here to sit down."

A moment of tense silence hung in the air, before Mina sighed and shook her head. "Great. Stupefying flowers. If you wore a helmet, maybe you wouldn't sound like a ditz right now." She pulled her radio off her belt and clicked the call button. A soft bwip came from the roots of the fern-tree where Evie had gotten to know her snakey friend. She gave Evie an 'are you kidding me' glare, then climbed into the brush to grab it.