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.
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.
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.
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.'
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.
Murder Becomes Her
Stuck in the world of a noir film, a tigress takes on the role of a femme fatale. Explicit.
"So let me just make sure this is right."
Liz stared blankly. Not only had she never seen this German shepherd before, but he was black and white. No, it wasn't that his fur wasn't colorful. He had no color. But she didn't have time to ruminate on that now, since he seemed to be saying something important.
"At about one in the morning, you walked in on your husband and a..."