Each of the 100 stories featured herein will be set within a Universe of the writer's creation, all being a part of a larger, shared Multiverse.
Writers have free reign to tell the story they wanna' tell and providing...
The man who met Maybell on Schenor was too gorgeous to be all human. "But I am!" he lied, sensing Maybell's prejudice against Genetics.
"And you're Tan Scarlett?" she asked into his shocking, almost yellow, hazel eyes.
"I am!" His hair was a thick tabby brown, tufted to look like bird wings.
Maybell looked at his transport. "That's just a truck," she observed. "My ship can't make it dirtside. You need a space transport."
"I know! Come with me and we'll get one!"
Maybell scowled. Her horny genes told her that this guy was coming on to her. They also told her his flawless, snow white skin was to die for. She caught him sniffing her butt as she climbed into the passenger seat of his panel truck. With a claw and a scratch, she took a halfhearted swipe at his nose. He dodged her using cat-like quickness. In a flash, he raced around and climbed into the driver's seat. Trapped in the confines of the cab, she swatted his nose for real, feeling only slightly annoyed.
"You smell like fish," he said as he drove to the transport dock.
"Yeah. I get that a lot."
Tan slapped the gearshift and popped the clutch every time he changed gears, making Maybell's bosom bounce. "I have the most luxurious whirlpool bath," he said as he eyed her from time to time. "Warm and scented with bath salts, all hot and ready to go."
"You got any bourbon?"
"Kentucky's finest, my dear!"
"Are you sure there's no sedge weed in it?"
"If it does, you may spit it in my face!"
"And fruit? You got real fruit? Not that spacefruit crap?"
Tan again eyed his prey. "Have you seen all those birds on your spaceship? We have tons of lovely, real fresh fruit!"
Maybell practically drooled. "Then let's go," she said, instantly regretting her poor decision-making skills.
After Mrs. Peacock signed Claire's paperwork and the creds were transferred to Sara Jane's business account, Tan led Maybell to his quarters. It was spacious and filled with seats and perches of all types, most with supple men and women draped over them. They eyed Maybell with languid curiosity, each sniffing the air as she passed.
Maybell could smell them, too, since there were over a dozen of them. "You're cats," she said with disdain.
"Not really!" Tan said as he paraded her past his clowder. "I don't have any feline characteristics."
