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.


Matat Spa

A couple visits a spa staffed by faceless latex attendants, and slowly lose themselves to the hypnotic smoke.. Explicit.

The highway weaved along the coastline, between the warm beaches on one side and the orange cliffs on the other. Riley sat behind the wheel of her rental car with the window rolled down and her arm hanging out to feel the breeze. The wind whipped at the side of her short mane. Riley had the imposing posture, sharp smile, and sinewy frame that came with being a hyena. She watched the road from behind her mirrored sunglasses as she followed it north.

Julie sat in the passenger seat. While the lioness didn't look as tough as Riley did, their tussles in bed had proved that they were evenly matched. Julie's copper hair was brushed back behind her ears, though the wind blew around the inside of the car so much that she had to occasionally re-tuck it. A pair of gold studs sat in her left ear, nearly hidden against her tawny fur.

As they came around another ridge, Julie's ears flicked up and she leaned forward to point. "There it is," she said.

Nestled between two orange hills was a building shaped like a white cylinder, three stories high, and shaded from the road by lines of narrow cypress trees. It was smooth and nearly featureless, and if it hadn't been for the spacious parking lot and well-kept driveway, it might have seemed like a water tower.

Riley pulled off the highway and followed the driveway up into the empty parking lot. She plucked the sunglasses off her face, then asked Julie, "Is this place open? It looks deserted."


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.


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!"


Rood Awakening

Woken from cryosleep, a cat must escape a post-apocalyptic training facility designed to turn him into a kangaroo supersoldier. Explicit.

In 2036, war began. Destructive, planet-wide, all-out war. Civilians, fleeing the encroaching devastation, sought out cryogenic stasis en masse. Governments pooled their resources with private companies in order to preserve their citizens, with the promise that, in five or ten years, they would be brought out of stasis and would return to the post-war world.

Sixty years later, war has changed. Gene-spliced soldiers fight a constant battle of attrition on the war-torn wastes. To fuel the never-ending conflict, warlords and military dictators search for stasis pods to replenish their bleeding ranks. With fresh pre-war blood, and genes ready for splicing, the civilians in the pods are the newest recruits in the endless war.

WARNING: HOMEOSTASIS BREACH. POD UNLOCK BEGIN.

He tumbled limp onto the floor. His lungs seared with chemicals as he coughed for breath. A computerized voice, back inside the pod, was saying something to him.

"You may be experiencing mild memory loss. This is normal. Please wait for a care counselor to come retrieve you."

No. This wasn't normal. His lungs were dying. His memories were a haze of feelings; anxiety, fear, wanting to curl up until the war went away. But who was he? It was a big blank in his mind. Brown fur, short claws, whiskers: cat, male, young. He spun the plastic tag around his wrist and read the name on it. 'Circutron.' Was that a name? Didn't sound like one, but it was all he had. 'Circ' was good enough.

He grimaced and clutched his chest. The sting in his lungs seeped into his veins. It spread into his body, some foreign thing that shouldn't be there.

The floor was littered with dust and flecks of concrete fallen from the ceiling. He leaned against the wall, cushioned by the tubes and hoses running between the pods. One hose had been ripped from the wall and connected to a rusted red canister with strips of duct tape. In yellow spray paint, the words 'RooD Jooz' ran down the middle of the tank. He coughed. Was that what he'd breathed in?