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.

In a cyberpunk world, a punk panthress is brainwashed into being a police officer while a shy jackal finds a new, more punkish self through body modding. Explicit.

Opal stuffed her small red mohawk into a hat made of electrodes, elastic straps, and a tangle of wires. Her natural panther bulk made her an imposing figure, and her black fur only more so. Rows of piercings climbed up her ears and a set of rings jutted from one of her eyebrows. Her chest was stuffed tight into a tank top and her big boots held big paws. In short, she was what the Party called an 'improper citizen'. It was a term Opal took with pride.

At the other end of the wires sat Cai. At his most rebellious, the young jackal looked like an office intern. His pointed ears were the only remarkable thing sticking out of his polo shirt and slacks. But behind that squared-off demeanor and tight-combed black fur was a networking genius with a burning distaste for the status quo. Opal had found him years ago, and now they were partners in hacking.

"Ready to fuck shit up," Opal said.

"Just be careful," Cai said. If you wanted to hack these days, you had to go full immersion. Riskier than good old screen-and-keyboard like Cai preferred, but you could move as fast as you could think. "Here we go." He flipped the switch for the neural rig.

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.

Captured by the Lion Clan, a cursed adventurer struggles to keep his independence. Mature.

The misty forest hung heavy on Circ's whiskers. The droplets of dew weighed each whisker down. The weight of the drops became an unseen hand pushing his head down, telling him to stop, to turn back, or at the very least, to rest. If Circ knew anything about this land, that feeling meant this was the worst possible place to rest.

The young cat pushed on through the mist, clinging to his spear like it would draw him through the woods. His armor creaked softly as he moved, stretching around his slim form. Armor was little help if he was ambushed, though, and he was so slight that only light leather could give him enough mobility to defend himself. His best defense was the small shield buckled to his forearm, followed by the tip of his spear. If anything came at him, the best he could do was put it down quickly before it could get its claws into him.

Minutes crept by and trees emerged from and disappeared into the haze. He had no idea where he was going, but at the very least, he couldn't see any tracks ahead of him, so he wasn't circling around. Every sound of shifting leaves made him turn and squint into the mist. He was almost sure he saw a figure moving or a bit of fleeting motion behind a tree. When he looked again, there was nothing, just the mist playing with his eyes.

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.

Dick and Janet have some car trouble, so they stop for help at a mad scientist's home. Explicit.

Janice reached out one paw and switched off the radio. The inside of the car was starting to smell like radiator fluid.

"Are you all right, honey?"

Dick grasped his forehead where a bump was slowly rising against his fingers. "I'm fine—Jesus, that was some kick," he said.

Dick opened the door, climbed out of the driver's seat and popped open the hood of his car to be greeted with a plume of smoke. The tiger stepped back, eyes closed, coughing.

"Looks like the radiator blew. I could fix it, but I'd need some tools."

Janice climbed out of the car and Dick took just a moment to soak her in, lit up by the headlights. From her silky dark bob to her polka dot dress to her frankly fantastic legs, all of the beautiful skunk was his to have and to hold: his brand new wife.

"What are we going to do? We're in the middle of nowhere," Janice said.