Shoplifters Will Be Prostituted

A quick story written as a warm-up. Content warning for rough language and the sort of stuff you'd expect from the title. Explicit.

While the coyote up at the cash register had her nose down in her phone, Kris slipped another two bracelets off the rack and dumped them into her bag. Her bag was one of those big clunky ones—ten percent of why she wore it was because it was trendy, and the other ninety because you could stuff a lot of expensive stuff in there.

Well, as expensive as you could find in Too U, at least.

Becoming One of the Girls

A fox girl gets a makeover from a pair of trashy rats. Explicit, crude language.

"Hey, mine aren't as fake as yours, barbie-tits." Maria pulled the collar of her leather jacket open and shoved her chest forward. It was true. Rita's tits sat higher and tighter than Maria's.

Rita clicked her tongue and flexed an arm. "That's 'cause I got muscle. Means it's harder for me to be a fatass than it is for girls like you."

Maria scoffed at the other rat girl leaning on the counter. "Like you don't love my fat ass. Why else are you hanging out here?" She gestured around, at the racks of trashy clothing and slutty clubwear. There weren't any customers, so The B*tch Boutique was quiet, aside from the constant pulsing club beat over the speakers.

"Body shop's closed, TV sucks, might as well talk to a skank," Rita said. She hopped up onto the counter and dragged a cigarette out of her pocket. Maria didn't bother to tell her not to light up inside. Number one, she didn't care, and number two, Rita looked so fucking butch when she smoked that it drove her wild.

"You just wanna watch hot chicks trying on slutty clothes," Maria said.

"If that was true, I'd just hide in your closet."

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.

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.

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.

Marian

Robin Hood fanfic, oh no! Sir Hiss hypno-corrupts Maid Marian. Mature.

Prince John had a gallows grip on the gold coins between his fingers. One wrinkle creased his brow just above his snout. His lip curled, just a little. With each breath, an uneven whine left his throat, like a wet log steaming in a hot fire.

Sir Hiss grinned as ingratiatingly as he could.

"Sssire, you've counted that gold twice already. I think it'sss time sssomeone went to bed," he said.

Prince John didn't look at him. Hiss peeled back the corners of his mouth harder.

"Come now, sssir, you need your beauty sssleep," Hiss said.

Hiss's tail draped across the line of gold rings that Prince John held. He hooked the coins against his tail and tugged. Prince John held on tightly. His mouth stayed closed, though his lip had started to wobble.

Hiss had hoped the prince would have taken rejection better, but there was nothing the lion reacted to pleasantly.