La Dame de la Louve Blanche

A wolf pursues her friend through noir-Paris, while getting hypnotized into an elegant femme fatale. Explicit.

Two blocks from the private investigator's office, Vicky heard the narration kick in.

“The water came down in sheets, giving Paris the cold shower it deserved. The city of love? When you’re lucky, love chews you up and swallows you whole. When you’re not, it tears you to shreds and leaves you drowning in the gutter. Whoever decided to make a city of love was mad, or French. The two were close enough.

“Anyone with sense was inside. Which was why one rain-drenched wolf climbed through deep puddles and streams of water running down the streets: madness. Or love for a friend. Close enough.

Vicky got the idea. She was inside a film noir that was set in Paris; she'd figured out that much when she showed up and everything was black-and-white except for her. She was still baffled how Liz had gotten here in the first place, but that wasn't important. What was important was finding her friend.

Matat Lounge

In a side story to ||||||||, a fox couple goes to a hookah bar and get turned into faceless latex drones. Explicit.

Jason couldn't stop staring at the sign. It said 'Matat Lounge' in simple, backlit black-on-white. There was nothing wrong with it. The longer he looked, the more the vertical strokes stretched in his eyes, the smaller everything else became until the letters were meaningless shapes. They were uniform blocks of black and white that meant nothing. A primal fear of emptiness rose from deep in Jason's mind.

Elle flicked his stomach with the backs of her fingers. Jason flinched and gasped and blinked. The sign said 'Matat Lounge' in simple, backlit black-on-white again. There was nothing wrong with it.

"Are we going in, or do you need some more stare time?" she asked. She leaned her elbow on top of his shoulder until he gave way. He couldn't find the words to explain the fear in the pit of his stomach. It was already retreating from the forefront of his mind like a bad dream.

Jason smiled at his vixen girlfriend instead. "Yeah, sorry, just zoned out," he said. He flicked his keyring into the palm of his hand, checked the car door to make sure it was locked, and then stepped up onto the sidewalk with Elle.

The Dragons Womb

An adventurer becomes host to a parasitic worm that turns her into an egg-laying dragon-insect hybrid. Explicit.

Talia walked through the ribcage of a dragon. Ten feet above her, its spine jutted from the rock ceiling. Its ribs were like curled pillars embedded in the rock walls. A tiny stream ran down the middle of the floor, fed by the trickle of water dripping over the ancient bones. With one eye on the floor and another ahead of her, she followed the slow incline of the tunnel. Up. Up to the mines, and then up out of the Dragons' Tomb.

A bag of drake scales rustled inside her pack. She'd plucked them fresh off a centipede drake's hide: her prize for braving the Tomb. Eline had said it wasn't worth the risk, but a suit of scale armor was a precious thing to have. Talia had found enough scales to make gloves for her roguish friend, too.

Her torch cast a flickering light over the damp. It lit her body: her banded steel armor, her short, dark hair, her young but stern face, and the muddy grit smeared on her cheeks. The centipede drake was still fresh in her mind; wet chittering, hundreds of scuttling claws, and a head that bulged with far too many eyes. She had only nearly bested it.

A flicker of movement caught her eye, shifting in the shadow beyond her torch. Her heart quickened. She gripped her mace. Torch low, she advanced step by step.

Striped Success

A TransCo subsidiary motel chain turns a young woman into a confident business-skunk. Explicit. A young woman staying at a hotel before a business conference turns into a confident, professional skunk-girl. Explicit.

It was the end of her New York-to-Chicago car drive. Tori just wanted to fall asleep, but every hotel near the conference center was booked up tight, and the closest hotel she'd been able to find on short notice was the one-star Come On Inn. Carrying her suit for the conference tomorrow and her backpack, she stepped into her room. It smelled like cigarette smoke. They didn't have any non-smoking; she'd asked.

'Welcome to the Come On Inn, a TransCo subsidiary!' a typo-laden note on the bedside stand began. Tori sat on the edge of the bed and read the note between groggy blinks. It offered her to 'Please make use of the complementary hair freshener.' She looked back at the stand, where a small, blank, white box sat. She popped it open, tore open the plastic wrap, and pulled out the cone-shaped air freshener.

It gave off a pleasantly clean scent, cool and almost floral. It was refreshing after the dry, tarry smell of cigarette smoke. She set the freshener down by the floor AC unit and turned the fan up to high. The fresh smell rolled through the air, starting to permeate the room. While the room freshened itself up, she grabbed the bag with her toothpaste and toothbrush from her pack.

Tori watched herself in the bathroom mirror as she brushed her teeth. She looked worn down and strung out from the car ride. Her face was bleary, eyes baggy, brown hair mussed from being pushed up against the headrest for hours on end. In her casual clothes, she looked even more young and scrawny than usual. And here she was, only a junior associate, about to represent her whole company tomorrow.

Something about her face didn't seem entirely right. Tori squinted into the mirror and pressed a finger to her nose. The skin on the tip was darkened and purple. The whole thing seemed oddly swollen, the tip broader and more bulbous. She sniffed, but didn't smell anything out of place. She tapped on the tip of her nose, then squeezed both fingers around it, trying to see if it was tender, but no. She tried rubbing at the bottom, but the color didn't come off. She twisted her mouth to one side, then the other. It looked kind of like a little snout.

Suits You

A bull buys a swimsuit that turns him into a cow, though he's less put out by that than you might expect. Explicit.

Beau tapped his hoof-fingers on the counter, waiting while the clerk rummaged through the back room. Every minute spent shopping for a swimsuit was another minute he wasn't spending at the pool, getting appreciated for his hard-earned body. The shaggy-haired Highland bull was in the market for a new swimsuit because his old one just couldn't stand up to the strength of his squats.

The winged human came back from the back, holding a folded-up piece of black, satiny fabric. With a flick of her hands, she unfurled it theatrically, holding up the black one-piece. It was almost like a singlet--no, more like a woman's one-piece swimsuit. In fact, that seemed to be exactly what it was: low neckline, coming to a point in the crotch, showing off the hips.

"That's a girl's swimsuit," Beau said. He folded his arms on top of his thick chest, then spared a hand to swipe the overgrown bangs out of his eyes.

Beach Buff Blues

A trio of police officers on break at the beach find a bottle of sunblock that causes growth, arousal, and aggression. Explicit.

Caitlyn plucked a warm bottle of suntan lotion from the sand and shook it. It glorped heartily back at her.

"Hey, Sarge!" she called out to Jefferson. He was a short distance away, laying out a blue towel in the shade of a beach umbrella.

"We're off duty, Caitlyn," he reminded her. Caitlyn and Jefferson, and Brianna, who was getting the cooler from the car, worked together at the precinct. Even despite Jefferson's natural small stature and mild nature, being a mouse, he was partnered up with the two girls to keep them in line. Today, though, they were just friends hanging out on the beach.

Caitlyn corrected herself. "Whoops, sorry. Hey, Jeffy, check it out!" She held up the bottle of suntan lotion and shook it in his direction. "Free sunscreen!"