Redder Than Gold

A wolf enjoys his Argentinian vacation once the music turns him into a colorful vixen. Mature.

He put his feet on the dance floor and the trumpets flared against the beat.

Roland had stumbled through his second day in Buenos Aires with half-remembered high school Spanish and the clothes that he'd taken in his carry-on bag.

The percussion stomped along and he lifted his feet. He drew deeper into the crowd.

Roland had spent the entire day on his feet between trying to walk to museums and trying to get his lost suitcase back from the airport.

There were people dancing all around him now. He couldn't turn back.

The Hyena in the Honeymoon

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.

Fight the Beast

Thrown into the arena, a young lion grows into a tough, brutish gladiator. Explicit.

A blade flowed down with a flourish along the way, aimed directly at him. Milon stumbled back. Cheers clapped his ears, sand twisted his feet, and sun shot through his eyes.

The next stroke was hidden in the glare of the sun. Up, across, stinging, bringing him to his knees. He clutched at his chest. His hands were red. His fur was red. The gash running from his breast to his stomach ached with every motion he made, ached with a pain that was dull and deep, hot and stinging, sticky and trembling and too imperfect to be a dream.

The tip of a sword pointed at his face. The cheers subsided, then roared even more fiercely. Milon's eyes were rooted to the blade. A drop of blood wobbled on the end. He stood still, staring into his life cut into two by the sword.

Lophiformes Elapidae Cordyceps

A batch of contaminated eggs cause a series of strange mutations. Explicit, body horror.

T-0:30 to Patient Zero; six eggs remain.

Alice pushed open one of the few remaining cartons of eggs. The last one had two that were chipped, but these seemed all in order, except for one of the eggs which was smaller than the others by a centimeter or so and sitting at an angle to all the rest. Alice picked up the exceptional egg. It weighed fine in her hand and there were no marks or otherwise to hint that it was damaged.

Maybe then it was a sudden spasm of her hand, or she had misestimated the strength of the egg, but whatever the reason, the shell cracked open. She expected a mess of white and yolk to drip down her hand, but what oozed between her fingers was an opaque, sticky, whitish substance. Alice shook her arm and wiggled her hand and spread her fingers but the white goo only bounced and rippled and stayed stuck fast to her hand.

Demophagiai

Scythian hyena-barbarians capture a Greek man and make him join their warband. Explicit.

Demos had no reason to be scared of the Scythians. They were like beasts, or were they like amazons; they devoured everyone, or maybe they kidnapped everyone, or both. No matter who was telling it, though, they always came in the dead of night for misbehaving young boys and girls and snatched them from their beds. In short, they were the monsters at the edges of childhood.

Demos had no reason to be scared of the Scythians until they came. He was grown up. He sold oil all over Thrace. He had a slave who stayed up night to make sure no one tried to make off with a jug of his oil and another slave who brought him dinner. He was supposed to be beyond monsters, but they had come in the dead of night and then pain had exploded across his head and everything was black.

On top of him lay a thick weight and beneath him it was uncomfortably lumpy and all around him the smell was awful. At the tips of his fingers, arms outstretched, he could feel a breeze. Animal instinct drove him toward the open air, squeezing and pushing and grunting. At last his head and shoulders were free.

Another One of the Girls

A fox-squirrel runs into one of those trashy rat girls. Surprise surprise, she TFs him. Explicit.

The doors started to close, then stopped and pulled back. Fortune stepped into the elevator and tapped the brass button for the fifteenth floor. The bed was waiting for the fox-squirrel up in his room, where he could rest his legs and feet before dinner. Probably Italian food, he thought—it seemed fitting while he was in the city, even if he'd had pizza for lunch for the same reason.

He looked from the doors up to the number three which slid up to four, then to the other person standing in the elevator with him. The way her ass jutted out in the thin black dress made it beg to be squeezed, and the way one of her knees was crooked, lifting one of her tall black heels off of the ground, seemed almost inviting. Her pink tail swayed from side to side behind her. The dress ended just below her shoulder blades, amid the thick curls of her black hair, while on top of her head, a pair of rounded ears held up heavy golden hoops.