A sleepy young woman transforms into her spirit animal – a cute sloth girl.
Kind of a one off silly little thing :)
“-again,” John said, leaning close to his girlfriend.
“Mmmm?” Aliya asked without opening her eyes.
“I said you’ll be late again if you don’t get up,” her boyfriend repeated.
“‘sfine,” she mumbled, pulling the blanket over her head.
“You got yelled at last time,” he reminded her.
“Mnnnnnnn,” she whined, turning over beneath the blanket. She kicked her legs to pull the blanket between her knees until she was curled into a ball beneath the blanket cocoon.…
From My Patreon!
A scientist makes a fatal mistake and grows as she becomes enraged.
Dr. Elizabeth Russell’s lab coat weighed heavily on her shoulders but not nearly as heavily as the foreboding silence within the chamber.
When she showed new interns around the part of the lab she was in now, they always, without fail, asked if the lab used to be a bank. The chamber was sealed with what looked like a vault door but she assured them that it had never been a bank. No, it was custom created and far beyond a financial institution’s specifications.
She stood in dim lighting in the inner ring, facing the chamber at the center of the lab.…
A young woman becomes the target of a strange curse.
A light flurry of snow chased the three young women as they walked along the sidewalk, the surface gleaming wet from melted snow. Laughter and conversation followed them with people calling out cheerfully and drunkenly. Store fronts were well lit and busy, even this late at night and a Salvation Army volunteer called out for donations on seemingly every other street.
Trish hugged her body close, shivering for a moment as the wind sliced through her scarf, burning her ears. Her small, sharp nose barely showed above the scarf. She tried to burrow her face lower into the scarf but, instead, pulled her knit cap further down.…
A very quick, very messy wererat story with an alternate “sexy” ending. I haven’t done a rat TF before so, here you go!
“No, listen. Listen! I’m telling you, the goddamned cab driver dropped me off at the wrong place.” The young woman stalked down the desolate street, shoulders hunched deep within her suit jacket. Her black high heels clicked-clacked on the broken sidewalk. Rows of old brick houses lined the street. The buildings were built in rapid development decades ago but now most lay empty and boarded up. A few children played basketball in the street ahead of her and several adult sat in front of their homes, relaxing on the wide, dark gray concrete steps.…
Gods are fickle things. Fickle and numerous and given to flights of fancy. Or, sometimes, fits of jealousy. And then, rarely, a god will take interest in our world long enough to assert his or her or its influence on events. Demons fear when a god looks askance at their doings and humans are frail things in comparison.
Frail and pliable things.
Sandy scanned her computer’s monitor as her onscreen character huffed and chuffed, claws at the ready. Bodies lay strewn around her character’s form and the semi-pixelated werewolf seemed to look for its own prey as Sandy moved it around the computer generated world. …
“I need another blanket,” Susan muttered. “This is ridiculous.” The walls of the young woman’s tent rippled against the light wind and she shivered under her blankets as the cold settled densely around her. The constant light snowfall pelted her tent with muttered pattering sounds. Susan peeked over the edge of her covers to watch her small tent sway. She could feel the cold somehow reaching through the blankets to seep into her and her bones ached from it. She weighed her options. On one hand, she felt like she could survive well enough with her parka, clothes, gloves, hat and four blankets. …