The Curse Deepens

Captured by the Lion Clan, a cursed adventurer struggles to keep his independence. Mature.

The misty forest hung heavy on Circ's whiskers. The droplets of dew weighed each whisker down. The weight of the drops became an unseen hand pushing his head down, telling him to stop, to turn back, or at the very least, to rest. If Circ knew anything about this land, that feeling meant this was the worst possible place to rest.

The young cat pushed on through the mist, clinging to his spear like it would draw him through the woods. His armor creaked softly as he moved, stretching around his slim form. Armor was little help if he was ambushed, though, and he was so slight that only light leather could give him enough mobility to defend himself. His best defense was the small shield buckled to his forearm, followed by the tip of his spear. If anything came at him, the best he could do was put it down quickly before it could get its claws into him.

Minutes crept by and trees emerged from and disappeared into the haze. He had no idea where he was going, but at the very least, he couldn't see any tracks ahead of him, so he wasn't circling around. Every sound of shifting leaves made him turn and squint into the mist. He was almost sure he saw a figure moving or a bit of fleeting motion behind a tree. When he looked again, there was nothing, just the mist playing with his eyes.

Broadway Was Waiting For Me

A superpowered cat sucked back in time is introduced to the high society of the Roaring Twenties. (And also turned into a girl.) Mature.

A wave of gray slush crashed up over the curb, then hung, frozen, an inch from colliding with the young cat.

The businessmen on the corner stared from beneath their dark-brimmed hats. A fox clutched at the fur stole draped around her neck, like she had been frozen in place along with the water. Someone let out a low whistle of amazement.

This was worse than the cell phone.

Today was Celsius's bad day. Number one, it was the twenty-third of December and he'd had a final to take this morning. Come on, you couldn't schedule it any earlier?

Number two, he'd ran out of people to ask to the school's Holiday Bash. Stupid party. He didn't want to ask the cute archaeology major to the party anyway.

Number three, he'd missed his bus stop, and the next stop was all the way down in the historic district, so he'd either have to go to an ATM and get change for the bus fare back, or spend half an hour walking home.

And number four, he was stuck in a time-warp to the Roaring Twenties.

Subject #39-01-4

A parasite slowly converts a feline test subject into a gooey, draconian form as he tries to escape. Mature.

AFTER ACTION REPORT

SUBJECT #39-01-4

DOCTOR ???????

NARRATIVE:

The subject was received from the retrieval team operating in ?????????, ?????? on March 30, 20??. The subject was unconscious as per protocol, identified as biologically male, feline (domestic cat), age approximately eighteen to twenty-one. All identifying documents had been properly removed by the retrieval team. Doctors Allbright and Kim were on hand to transport the subject.

Specimen Room A3 was reserved for the initial procedure. Upon entering, we learned that during processing #39-01-1, the previous team of Doctors Lee, Mayers and Reyes had neglected to properly clean all equipment. At this point, Allbright and Kim finished the work left undone by the previous team, where I filed a disciplinary report which has yet to be processed at the time of this writing, but can most likely be found by accessing my record.

Silken

A cat tries to rob a Chinatown store, but its owner finds a better use for him. Explicit.

The lanterns were strung up, the already-cramped streets were choked with stalls and people, and every single shop was busy. Obviously, Chinese New Year was a big event in Chinatown, and that was what made it the perfect time for a bit of petty thievery.

See, all of the shop owners would be busy as hell—and likely not even in the shops, if they had a stall out on the street. With so many people around, one little orange tabby cat could easily go missing. No one would pick him out when the place was packed with tourists. He knew a couple of the back streets, since he'd come here a couple of times before. One of his friends had a thing for Chinese food. It was simple, easy, hard to fuck up. Get in the back of a shop, grab some expensive stuff, and make a couple hundred selling it all on the internet.

Liam had gone for the nondescript look. Hooded sweatshirt, pair of jeans, sneakers—just a college kid checking out Chinatown. There were some roadblocks that blocked off the back roads so that people wouldn't go back there, but it took no more than ducking underneath to get past them. No one said a thing to him, if anyone even saw him slipping past the barrier at all.

An Account of the Accession of Queen Mary IV to the Imperial Throne

A cat gets sucked into a world ruled by Victorian wolves and turned into their regent. Mature.

As requested by Her Majesty Queen Mary IV, Lord over all States of the Dominion, the following is an Accounting of the divers Events which preceded the Accession of H.M. Queen Mary IV to the Throne. The personal Account from which this History is constructed is my own as Royal Attendant Miss Abigail Hartford, and has been supplemented with other Accounts taken by Interview of others present for the Queen's Accession.

These Events began on a day in the Spring, upon which the kindly Weather was well disposed to Hunting. Thus I had left the Imperial City, having taken along with me Provisions and Victuals for the Day ahead, my Hunting Coat, and my Rifle. My Dogs carried my Sledge far afield into the Tundra, with the scent of some Beast (I had hoped to return with a Bear) in their Noses.

There was no Beast to be found, certainly not as such, that day. Instead, my Sledge was rocked by a Sound so terrible that my Dogs were frightened and which nearly knocked me into the Snow. As my Dogs were rendered useless through Fear and Shock, I resigned to leave them tied there on the Ice, and investigate the Source of the Sound on foot.

Jewel Roxx

Too much of an 80's TV show turns a cat into a glam rock dinosaur. Explicit.

There had to be cosmic irony somewhere in this. He had called in sick for work today. But his boss didn't want him losing the whole day in terms of productivity, so at nine in the morning, wrapped in a blanket and sniffling, he took a big bag of VHS tapes from one of the other interns.

He was being asked to watch cartoons as his job, and he didn't want to do it; that was the ironic part. He was sleepy, and his fur was all messy from rolling around constantly, and he wasn't exactly thinking straight. But his boss would want his 'trendy young 16-24 year old feline demographic' opinion on...he pulled one of the tapes from the bag. Jewel Roxx.

It took an internet search to figure out what the hell he was going to be watching. A show made in the 80's about a dinosaur rock star who fought to defend the planet. Maybe it would kind of be...hipster bad? So at least he could be ironic about it. But considering it had been canceled halfway through its pilot, he didn't have high hopes.

He took out the tapes and shuffled them around until he'd gotten them in the right order, then took the pilot tape and stuck it in his VCR. He had to fish the remote out from under the coffee table before he plopped down on the sofa and adjusted his blanket around him. He reached for the tissues and blew his nose, then turned on the TV and hit play.