In Character

A late Halloween story: Morgan pieces together a last-minute costume and really gets into the role. Mature.

It was one in the afternoon on Halloween. Costumes were splayed on the ground, hanging off the hooks, and half-stuffed back into their bags. Morgan wasn't the only person in the store, but the clutter and high shelves left him feeling alone as he searched for a suitable costume. Maybe he shouldn't have waited until the last minute, but he hadn't known that Faye was going to be at the costume party.

All of the good costumes were gone by now. What were left were the things no one wanted to end up in-character as. A cheap gorilla suit listed to one side on its hanger; he'd have a hard time flirting as a literal ape. An angel costume with halo was slowly shedding its foil stars onto the floor; good if he wanted to be a total goody two-shoes. If he was going to be stuck in-character for the night, he wasn't going to settle for a gorilla or an angel or a cop.

Morgan rounded the corner of the aisle and stopped in front of a tall barrel, big enough that he could have sat inside it. A hand-written posterboard sign was taped up behind it. 'Grab Bin!!' it exclaimed, 'Build a unique look from these assorted accessories. Pick out three for $10!'

Maybe he could piece together something Faye would like. Morgan leaned forward over the thick rim and tried to peer into the barrel. He stuck his hand in, grabbed the first thing he felt, and lifted out a pair of shiny black pumps. The shoes had slim heels and chunky soles and a cheap, plasticky-gloss surface. He was not getting stuck in-character as a girl for the night. He tossed the shoes off to the side and bent over to keep searching through the assortment..

Up on his tiptoes with his head in the barrel, Morgan couldn't see the black heels moving.  They quivered, then inched across the floor. Once they were close enough, the black shoes reared back onto their heels, lifting their toes into the air right behind Morgan's feet. In unison, they stomped down on the back of his sneakers. His shoes popped right off his feet and the black plastic heels wriggled their straps up around his black socks.

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.

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

Two bounty hunters land on an exotic alien planet in search of strange fauna, but run afoul of bimboifying mist and overly-phallic parasites. Explicit.

A story in the Trials in Tainted Space universe. Continues in Part Two.

1 - Welcome to Xenobia

"Five minutes till we hit the atmosphere," squawked the radio on Evie's hip. "Buckle up. This one's thick, over."

The fox-morph's hands were full with the speckle-backed Algonian screechworm. The three-foot-long mass of slime, tentacles and biting wasn't happy about being captured, and it was less happy about getting shoved into a cryotank. Grabbing its tentacles like a bouquet, she slammed it into the tank, then before it could thrash its way out, slammed the lid on top.

Evie took a deep breath as frost crackled across the walls of the tank. The screechworm stiffened mid-writhe and fell silent. She tossed the tank into the storage bay with the rest of their haul: three uncharted worlds' worth of undiscovered species. Even splattered with screechworm slime and panting from exertion, Evie couldn't wait for uncharted world number four. Nothing in the galaxy could beat the thrill of the hunt.

Her gloves peeled off with a rubbery snap. Evie hauled herself up the ladder from the small cargo bay into the ship's tight corridor. One hand on the red bar above her head, she squeezed down to the crew quarters and cranked the door open. Ducking under the threshold, she lifted her radio in front of her mouth. "Roger that, buckling up now."

The blonde vixen tossed the radio onto her bunk. She tugged off her soaked vest and pants and tossed them into the autoclave. Nude, Evie stepped into the shower stall, dialed up Deep Scrub on the knobs, then closed her eyes and held her breath.

The Mirror

A woman's bathroom mirror alters her reflection and slowly transforms her. Explicit.

The mirror in Jessica's bathroom wasn't broken, not physically. It was just showing the wrong things.

Day 1

She was in the middle of combing her hair when it first happened. She looked at her reflection and saw she was wearing lipstick. Not just any shade, but a vibrant blue. It didn't match with her casual college student clothes or with her short black hair or her basic, simple makeup. A wrinkle creased her brow as she pouted her lips and curled them upward so she could see them directly. They were normal. Unpainted. But in the mirror, they were electric blue.

Jessica stepped out of her bathroom to grab her phone from the bed. Flicking its camera on to use as a mirror, it showed her face, with an eye-catchingly bright shade of blue lipstick. She curled her lips up again to check. They were blue in reality, too.

Her phone came with her back into the bathroom. Next to her moisturizer on the counter was a small tube of blue lipstick, as if it had always been there. She turned and looked at herself in the mirror. She gasped quietly. Her fingers rose to her blue lips as she stared at her reflection's eyes. Thick black eyeliner rimmed each eye, and a heavy coat of blue eyeshadow dusted the tops of her eyelids. It was smoky and striking and colorful, and not at all what she'd looked like a few moments ago.

Mane: For Men

TransCo-branded shampoo turns Riley into a beastly male gnoll. Whoops. Explicit.

Riley had run out of shampoo. This wouldn't normally be a problem, but she didn't have enough time before work to go to the supermarket for her usual shampoo. The gas station on the corner only had travel-size bottles of Mane: For Men.

But even shampoo marketed to insecure teenage boys was better than nothing. Riley closed the bathroom door and kicked off her shoes. She tugged her shirt off over her head and shook out her black curls, then bent over and pushed off her pajama pants. She took a glance at the mirror; no surprises there. Fair skin, average figure, and unremarkably cute.

Riley stepped into the shower stall and swung the door shut. At first, she just let the hot water spray over her scalp. Then she rolled her head, soaking her curls and combing her fingers through them until they fell flat against her cheeks. Once she'd thoroughly rinsed, she reached for the bottle and popped the top.

The shampoo's scent ('Gnollspike', which she'd chosen over the alternative, 'Bristleboar') wasn't as bad as she'd feared. The sweet smell of soap was warmed by spices, but it wasn't overpowered and musky. ...At least, not too musky. If she rinsed it out well enough, she would be fine.

She squeezed a splurt onto her hand and slapped it onto her forehead. She spread it back along her hair, then with both hands, she scrubbed the shampoo into her scalp, working it down through her tangled curls.

The shampoo tingled into her hair follicles, like the pleasant burn of popping a cinnamon hard candy into her mouth. If she let it linger, it started to hurt, but feeling it wash across her scalp was invigorating. She leaned into the spray and closed her eyes. The water rolled down her face and hair, carrying the suds down her body. She flicked her wet hair back and squeezed another squort of shampoo into her hands. She wanted to feel that tingle again.

Belong to the Sea

While on vacation, a chemical spill kicks off a college student's transformation into a squishy sea monster. Explicit.

Leah's day at the beach had been cut short by a chemical spill, and then everything else went wrong too. She was diving as far out as she could go, so when the hazmat guys started calling everyone in, she didn't hear. By the time she saw something was up, she'd spent an extra fifteen minutes more in the water. Waiting at the back of the line for the quarantine tent, every itch was acid and every turn of her stomach was flesh-eating bacteria. And then, once she'd been checked over and put through the decontamination shower, she learned they had run out of spare clothes.

To make things worse, she was dry. The salt, plus standing in the sun, plus the chemical rinse, left her skin in desperate need of moisture. She was taking a bath as soon as she got back to her hotel room.

Leah left the tent with nothing but a towel wrapped around her waist. As soon as she stepped out, she was assaulted by a broad smile, a yellow-and-orange baseball cap, and a yellow piece of paper thrust into her free hand.

"We at TransCo hope your experience today has been a pleasant one," the young man in the cap said. "We'd love it if you took the time to fill out that survey."

Leah swallowed to wet her throat. "Do you have any water?"

The young man grimaced. "Ooh, no, sorry. But I do have some pens with our logo," he said.

"I'm good," Leah said. She started along the boardwalk back to the hotel. That chemical shower must have done a number on her skin. She was so dry she could feel her skin brushing against itself, like little tectonic plates. She fought the urge to scratch at the itch on her back. Untended, the prickling spread over her shoulders and sides.