Become Your Fursona

Wordcount has resumed, and after a brief edit I’ve decided not to throw out what I have of McMajik’s story so far. The progress in my FA journal’s footer has been updated.

Feathertail is going on hiatus from writing fursona stories. He doesn’t know how long it will be.

If you have commissioned him, your place is still saved in the queue, which you can see at his FA page. You may request a refund at any time.

This magic item was created by Weasel clerics inspired by the abilities of spiders to get into places they’re not supposed to. While they’re still working on a way to shrink down, they were able to intuit a way to allow a Weasel to walk up walls in the same way a spider would.

The name is somewhat misleading, as they usually take the form of a set of cloth wraps (though fingerless gloves may be used depending on the maker.) The material is irrelevant, for the gloves’ true power lies in the Weasel pictograms painted on it.

Someone replied to part 1 of An Enemy To God on FurAffinity, saying it’d shaken him or her badly. I realized I couldn’t leave people hanging like this, and decided to post the rest of the story. Again, it’s intense and disturbing, so please be careful. If you think you can handle a story that deals with suicide, though, I strongly recommend that you read it.

I’m on MSN, AIM, and YIM right now, if anyone wants to talk to me about it. My contact information is listed on my FurAffinity account. If you want to talk over IM after tonight, use the contact form on the About page.

May you all be one with the Tao.

Read part two of An Enemy To God.

I could see it so clearly, in my head. Mark would come in and see me, his jaw would hang open in astonishment, and then he’d beat me ’till I was unconscious. I didn’t know if he’d actually do that, but it was easy to imagine because it was so depressing … and because I’d been on the receiving end of his temper a couple of times in high school.

Of course, when I actually heard his truck pull up, I panicked.

* * *

Mark whistles as he pulls up to the house in his moving truck. It’s more upscale than he thought it would be. And with Joshua’s big-screen TV plus his XBox 360, life is going to be sweet.

He frowns for a moment, as he thinks about their “new roommate.” Only Joshua’s car is in the driveway, though, so that’s good, he thinks. That gives him time to prepare. Maybe even to vent without Andrew there to yell at him.

He hears some noise inside as he turns off the engine and steps out. Like a scuffle, or somebody running fast all of a sudden. But he doesn’t think much of it until he gets up to the side door, and it opens right as he’s about to knock, revealing a scared-looking anthro red fox.

They stare at each other. Mark does not recognize him.

Mark starts to say something when the door gets slammed in his face — and on his hand, which was still raised to knock. He winces, his knuckles stinging. “Ow! Hey,” he shouts, as the deadbolt locks. “Let me in!”

More noises from inside. An animal whimpering, doors flung open, boxes and furniture moved. Something gets pushed in front of the door. Mark goes around to the front door and tries it, but it’s locked too.

“Joshua!” he shouts, cupping his hands to his mouth. “Josh, let me in!”

No response. Just more noises, this time from the other side of the house. Mark turns to head back to the driveway, noting again that there’s only one car in it besides his, and he wonders: Could Joshua have given the anthro a ride? Could he have accepted a change from him? Was that Joshua, that he’d seen at the door? It’d explain how weird he’d sounded …

Mark’s brow furrows. He folds his arms, indignant. Josh had always seemed to live up to his standards before today. Now he’s been caught in the act, and he’s trying to hide it like the shame-filled sinner he is.

That’s bad enough. But besides that, he’s keeping Mark from unpacking his truck and playing Modern Warfare II on that big-screen. And that’s unforgivable.

Mark fake-curses under his breath as he edges through the bushes up to the wall, and starts testing the windows to see if one is unlocked. Finally he gets one open and pushes it up, climbing in just in time to hear something clatter across the house. “Josh?” he calls out. “Is that you?”

No answer.

Mark heads through the living and dining areas to the downstairs bathroom, where the noise was coming from. The door is open, and the small window over the toilet has been wrenched open, its screen tossed aside.

The windowframe is covered in scratch marks, and looks like it was bitten in places. But the most bewildering sight is the clothes; jeans, left in a pile by themselves without even unbuckling the belt.

Mark sticks his head out the window and looks, just in time to see a fluffy, blue-and-white-tipped tail disappear around the corner near ground level.

* * *

I wanted to run! A big, scary thing was chasing me, and I couldn’t let it even see me. But there was this thing stuck to my face, damp and clingy and smelling of sweat, and it had holes big enough for my head in it but they weren’t big enough for the rest of me. I tussled and clawed with my hind legs, and shook my head back and forth to try to shake it off. Then finally I backed up, and that got it to leave me alone.

I looked around, remembering that something dangerous was nearby but not remembering what it was. Then I heard footsteps from inside the hole I’d jumped out of, and I ran around the corner as fast as I could, not looking back.

I ran for about a minute, then dived into a patch of bushes far away from where I had started. They were next to another building, much bigger and more solid-looking than the one with the hole that I’d jumped through. Made of brick, instead of wood. I could hear a voice coming from inside, and my ear pricked towards the window. It sounded like a people voice, a male one. But it was just slightly off, like it was on TV or something.

Something seemed familiar about the voice. Familiar, and unnerving. I flattened my ears and slunk around the wall, darting quickly between bushes, looking longingly out at the forest … past the cars parked all around this building. I wanted to just run for it, but that’d leave me out in the open for a few seconds, and I didn’t dare. Not here, not when there were dangerous things nearby that had caused me bad memories.

I was about to try to sneak out past the cars when I caught a whiff of something. Food! Warm meat and cheese, with lots of grease on top. I looked up, and saw that a side door had been left open.

I crept inside, peeking my nose in first, then my face, then the rest of me. My claws clicked on a tiled floor as I looked around, sniffing the air. Machines made sounds like the ones in that house that I’d left, and drowned out the people voice from down the hall. There was a big garbage can, but what was really exciting were all the dishes up on the counters, filled with glorious smells! My ears perked and my tail twitched excitedly, and I took a moment to aim before jumping up onto the counter, looking down at the closest casserole dish and licking my chops.

I bit into it eagerly, then backed up so fast that I almost fell over. That thing had bit me! It’d bit my nose! I pawed at my muzzle, trying to get it all off, and it bit my paws too, making them sting.

A word came to me, hot, and I remembered it as I looked down at the steaming dish. The wisps of vapor smelled good, but the closer I stuck my nose to their source the hotter they got. I looked for a dish that didn’t have as much steam coming out of it, and when I found one I started eating, with relish. It tasted of cheese and noodles and mayonnaise, and for a moment I wondered Is this okay for me to eat? Will it hurt me? But I decided it must be okay, because it was so good.

I licked my chops afterwards, feeling full and warm and satisfied. There was still so much good food here, but there was no way I could eat it all. I’d have to come back for it later.

I jumped down from the counter and stepped further into the building, feeling emboldened … or at least, drowsy and lazy from having eaten so much. A few paces down the carpeted hall, I could hear the people voice again. It was growly and scratchy, and it didn’t sound mean but I could remember it now. My ears flattened, and my tail drooped. I couldn’t remember why, but this voice was bad. It’d hurt me before, I knew it.

Something moved up ahead, and I pressed myself close to the wall and crept closer, to keep a table farther down the hallway between me and it. After a second I saw it again; it was a foot, coming into view for just a second in front of the door leading outside. In the … foyer, I remembered, down the hall.

There was something else, above the foot. A tail.

This was interesting. I crept even closer, until I was right under the table. This person was still pacing; I could see his legs moving quickly, and I could smell nervousness in his sweat. There were big, closed doors leading further inside, and I could smell people footsteps going in there … why wasn’t he in there with them? But the growly, male voice continued, from the speakers above as well as through the big doors.

“God created man in his own image,” it said. “Male and female created he them.”

The long, fluffy, ring-striped tail twitched uncomfortably.

“There are some who would say ‘Oh, I was born a man, but I want to become a woman.’ Still others would say ‘I was born as a human being, but I would rather be an animal.’ The world tells us that people are born feeling this way, and only costly surgery or uncomfortable, painful procedures can make them realize their true forms. As though the ones that God gave them aren’t good enough.”

I heard people laughing, inside the dark doors. My nose flicked towards them, before I looked up at the feet and the tail again. The feet were standing still, and furry hands were clutching the tail, stroking and wringing it nervously.

“I tell you now, with all the authority that God has given me, that he does not make mistakes. Only people do. And for those people who’ve erred, His message is always the same: Come back. Come, and let God’s power heal you. It can overcome anything-”

The … lemur? … in front of me gave a long, high-pitched male sigh. His hands drooped, and his tail dropped to his side.

“-even the feelings placed in your heart by Satan himself.”

I continued watching his tail as he started pacing again, slowly. It was so lifeless now. I could smell sadness, and fear, and guilt.

“There are those who would have us put God’s commandments to a vote. They ask that we consider the feelings of those who say they are trapped in a form they don’t want. But what of the feelings of wives, who find their lifelong partner has changed himself into a woman? What of the feelings of mothers, whose sons have become raccoons and are crawling through back alleys, eating their food out of garbage cans? Hearts are being broken this day-”

I jumped and pressed myself to the wall as the lemur suddenly ran past me, crying. A second later, I ran after him.

“-and innocent spirits are being destroyed by these lies.”

* * *

I stepped cautiously into the kitchen, peeking around one of the cabinets up at the lemur. He was opening and shutting drawers, as though he were looking for something.

Finally he seemed to find the right drawer, and started holding up long kitchen knives. He examined their blades, looking hurried and desperate. Something felt very bad about this, very bad and familiar, and I wanted to do or say something to help. But just then both of our ears perked towards the door. We could hear footsteps, and two women talking.

“I can’t wait to see what the world’s reaction will be.” The first woman sounded sarcastic.

“He said ‘We will not change our standards,’” the other one told her. “That says it all, I think!”

The lemur ran out the back door, still carrying one of the knives, and I followed, my paws sliding and claws scraping on tile. I heard the two women gasp, as they entered the room right behind me.

After the lemur got far enough away he started walking briskly towards a beat-up, reddish-orange pickup truck. He unlocked the front door and got in, shutting it right as I got up next to him. I heard the engine start, and my whiskers twitched … somehow, I needed to do something!

I ran to the back of the truck and jumped onto it, then hopped over the tailgate and got inside just in time. My claws scraped on the metal, as he pulled out and I tried to steady myself. But the engine noise was so loud that it hurt, and it drowned out what I was doing. I flattened my ears and braced myself, as he took off and momentum shifted again.

It took an uncomfortably long time for him to get to where he was going. The tops of houses and streetlights went past, above me … then, eventually, trees and power lines. I began to feel sick from watching them, and so I lay down with my tongue hanging out, wishing that I hadn’t eaten so much.

Finally, after a series of bumps that almost made me lose my lunch, gravel crunched beneath the tires as his pickup truck slowed to a stop. The engine turned off, and I could see a row of trees overhead, and hear the lemur breathing heavily. From the window in back of his seat, I saw his shoulders sag.

“I’m sorry, God … ”

My ears perked.

“I’m sorry for everything.”

I made myself stand and crept closer to him, careful not to make any noise. He had his arms folded on top of the steering wheel, and was sniffling with head bowed and eyes closed.

“I took my mother’s daughter away from her. I took my brother’s sister away from him. I took everything you gave me and threw it away, because I thought I knew better.”

Tears streamed down his furry cheeks, as I watched.

“It was my fault I was unhappy as a girl. It was my fault I was unhappy as a human being. And it’s my fault that I’m damned to Hell, and I’ll be unhappy for all of eternity.”

He started to choke up. I saw him reach into his pockets and pull out a handkerchief, and blow his muzzle onto them.

“And I know you’ve been willing to save me. I know. It’s my fault, okay? Nothing works because I’m so worthless! I’m stupid and awful and stupid and awful and stupid stupid stupid-” I stared as he started hitting his own leg, pounding it fast with his closed fist, then slapped himself. Hard. Over and over again.

“Oh, God, I’m so sorry … ” He cried into his hands for a long moment, his shoulders shaking with each tear. I didn’t know what the words themselves meant, but I understood what he was saying. My ears and tail drooped, and I looked away.

For a long moment, there was silence.

“I love you, God,” he finally said, his voice husky. “I always have. Goodbye.”

I looked up, and he had his arms stretched out, pointing the knife at his heart.

“Yip!” I shouted. “Yip yip yip yip yip!” I jumped up and scratched at the window.

He jumped in his seat, dropping the knife and almost skewering his foot. Then he yanked off his seatbelt and turned around facing me, pressing himself to the steering wheel and leaning into the horn as he stared. My ears flattened, but I didn’t stop barking at him.

Finally he got off of the steering wheel and came and looked out the back window, inches away from my face. And in the glass’ reflection, I saw the blue bands around my neck glow, at the same time as his.

He opened the window and I jumped in his lap, then put my front paws on his shoulder and licked his face. He cried, hugging me tight and rocking back and forth. And it was uncomfortable at first but I stayed there with him, nuzzling his face and letting him hug me and scritch my head.

I’ve done something good, I thought. I’ve done something good.

* * *

“Um, I’m Lawrence … ”

The lemur looks disheveled, and is wearing an old jacket on top of his white shirt and church pants. He takes the drink that Andrew is offering him and sips at it gently, as the young human sits down on the couch cushion next to him. He glances up at the other human, Mark, who is playing some game on their XBox … something realistic and violent, with gunshots and explosions. He hasn’t said a word to their guest.

It’s not turned up loud, but Lawrence’s voice is quiet. “Excuse me?” Andrew asks, raising his voice to be heard.

“Lawrence,” he repeats, then squirms uncomfortably.

“Thank you for bringing our friend back,” Andrew tells Lawrence. “Did you just find him on the side of the highway, or something?”

“Something like that … ” Lawrence turns in his seat and looks up, at the footsteps coming down the stairs. Joshua’s wearing clean clothes, and his fur is messed up like he’s taken a shower. He grins and waves as he takes a laundry basket towards the utility room.

“He says he was considering suicide,” Andrew says, more quietly, when Joshua has gone past. “Whatever you did to him, it must have helped. Thank you.”

Lawrence fidgets. “He did more to help me, I think … ”

“Oh?”

“When he showed up, I was about to send myself to Hell.” Carefully, Lawrence takes the knife from inside his coat, and hands it to his host by the blade. Andrew takes it, his eyes wide beneath their glasses.

“People who commit suicide don’t go to Hell,” Mark says. His eyes do not leave the big-screen.

“Where did you hear that?” Lawrence asks.

“Someone I knew killed himself a few years ago.” Mark’s fingers twitch on the controller. “At the funeral our church leader said that suicide is like death from despair. It’s what happens when the bad stuff gets too much to handle. It doesn’t have anything to do with where you go in the next life. And God will be there to comfort you in heaven.”

In the other room, the washing machine starts to run. Lawrence turns to look, for a moment.

“How many people were at his funeral?” Lawrence asks.

“Hundreds.”

“Everyone liked him, huh.”

“Yeah.” Mark’s controller vibrates with an on-screen explosion.

“It’s easy to say that stuff about people that everyone likes. It’s harder to say it about yourself, when nobody likes you.”

There’s a clatter, as Joshua sets the laundry basket aside. He goes to the kitchen sink to wash his hands. Nobody speaks until he comes into the living room and sits down on Lawrence’s other side, putting an arm around him and pulling him close. “Feeling better?” he asks.

“I guess.” Lawrence looks down at his drink.

“Something wrong?” Joshua gives him a concerned look.

Lawrence sighs. “I don’t know what I’m going to do now.”

“What do you mean?”

“My family kicked me out. I’m eighteen, so it’s legal. They don’t want me there anymore.” He swishes the ice in his soda, watching it with a blank face.

Andrew coughs. “We had a fourth who was going to stay here, but he bailed on us at the last second.”

Joshua’s ears perk, and he nods to Lawrence. “You can stay here, with us. At least until you decide what to do.”

“I couldn’t … ” Lawrence looks out the window a moment, then shakes his head. “I couldn’t. I’ve got a friend a few hours away that I can crash with, I think … maybe.”

Joshua and Andrew exchange a horrified look past him, a look that says This is the last time anyone is going to see him unless we do something right now.

“Josh is going over to a friend’s place for a furry party tomorrow night.” Andrew and Joshua stare at Mark. “There’ll be other anthros there. You can talk to them.”

Lawrence doesn’t notice the staring. He’s looking back down at his cup again. “I guess … ”

Andrew seizes on that. “Yes! And I can put in a call to campus aid, see if they can find you a counselor … ”

“I can’t afford-”

“We’ll find out if you’re covered,” Joshua says, holding up one hand. “And I’ll go out now and get us some pizza for tonight. You want to come, Lawrence?”

By now he’s blushing. “Okay.” He smiles a bit.

“I’ll come too,” Andrew says, standing and picking up his coat. Keys jingle in one of the pockets. “We’ll take my car.”

The three of them head for the door. “Remember what kind I like,” Mark says, as they open it and step outside.

Joshua gives Mark a thumbs-up, a second before disappearing. Mark just watches the screen, as it replays the headshot that finished him.

* * *

The next day

* * *

“I feel sorry for him.”

“Hm?” I looked up at Sam. Then I looked out across her apartment, into the living room where a handful of humans and anthros were taking turns at Sam’s game console. It was an older model, and the place was cramped enough that the people who weren’t playing had to crouch or stand next to furniture. But they seemed to be having fun … even Lawrence, who was doing well at their game and getting cheered on.

“Yeah.” I looked back across the snacks on the dining room table, to where Sam was reading her tablet. “He’s having fun now, but he doesn’t have a home to go back to. I just hope he makes some good friends here … that could make all the difference.”

“Huh? No, I mean this guy. The guy who gave the talk that set him off.” She handed me her tablet. Above the media playback icons was a muted video of an old man, with a wrinkled face and a businesslike demeanor. It matched his expensive suitcoat, and the hardwood podium he was giving his talk from.

I looked down at him, confused. “How do you know this was him?”

“Because he’s been on all the trans-species sites. Him and that blasted talk. Everyone thinks it was especially tasteless, since we’ve had four more people kill themselves this past month. And that’s just the ones that we know about.”

“Ahh … ”

“Look at this.” She came over to stand next to me and pressed the back button on the tablet, then scrolled through a page full of links. “These are the highlights of his career. He’s given talk after talk about denying who you are, and suppressing the feelings God gave you so that the people at church will approve of you.”

I looked down at the links, feeling uneasy. I was used to looking up to people like him. I’d always thought that suppressing my sinful desires was how I’d gain God’s favor, not man’s. But looking out at the living room again, and seeing that beautiful golden lemur who had almost died yesterday, I had to wonder if God really wanted people like him — like me — to feel that way.

I thought back on all the times that someone or another had told me that God liked it when I did something, or disliked it when I did something else or dressed in a certain way. And … I wasn’t trying to rebel. I really wasn’t. But it just occurred to me how convenient it was, that God always liked what these people liked, and disliked whatever they didn’t. And hated the people that they couldn’t stand.

Or did he? “It’s not always like that,” I started, lamely.

“Oh?” Sam looked down at me.

I looked away. “Um-”

The other room broke into cheers, and then two people swapped controllers. It took me a moment to think about what I was saying. “At my church we were taught to love the sinner and hate the sin … ” I looked up at Sam. “We didn’t approve of what anthros were doing, but we loved them and welcomed them just the same.”

Sam folded her arms. “Okay. So how many anthros were in your congregation?”

I scratched behind my head. “I don’t know, they were kind of … not-”

“-not allowed there unless they looked human,” she finished.

That’s the point, I thought, but then I realized how cruel it sounded. Especially when I was an anthro myself.

“Where did you first hear that anthros were killing themselves?” she went on. “Was it at church, or on some website that the people at church warned you against?”

“I, uh-”

“Did anyone at your church know you were having suicidal thoughts?” Sam tapped her foot on the floor. “And that it got worse whenever they talked about anthros, and called it a sin to want to be one.”

Now I was sweating, hard. “It was my fault … ” I looked down at the bowl of pretzels. “I should’ve told someone. I should’ve gotten help long ago.”

“But you didn’t, because you were scared and ashamed of yourself.”

I sighed, and hung my head. “Yes.”

I felt her hand on my shoulder. “That’s what this does to people. They grow up hearing lies about other people, how they’re evil and monstrous and terrible. And when they realize they are that kind of person, they hide it, because they’re afraid of the people around them. Or, worse, because they’re afraid of themselves.”

I wanted to cry. Her words hit so close to home. But I held back, because I didn’t want her to see me that way. I didn’t want Lawrence to, either.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, without looking up.

“I know.” Sam squeezed my shoulder. “I know.”

The rings around our necks pulsed with soft, blue light.

* * *

I spent most of the rest of that evening writing an email to my parents, on my smartphone. When I got back I made sure Lawrence was okay (he’d had a blast), before heading back up to my room to finish.

That night, I slept better than I ever had. The next morning — or afternoon, as the case may be — I was human again. Part of me was relieved, but another was disappointed. I knew how to change back, though, even if I ended up not being able to induce it myself. So at least there was that.

The light on my phone was blinking. I’d gotten an email from my mom. It took me awhile to work up the courage to read it, but I finally sat up in bed and did so.

Here’s what it said:

* * *

Joshua, thank you for sharing that with us. In hindsight, it makes perfect sense; I could tell you liked animals, even when you were little. It’s funny to think that you actually were one, all this time.

I have two anthro friends, at work. They aren’t allowed to change while on duty, but we talk about it sometimes. I admit I don’t see why they’re interested, but it doesn’t make them bad people, in my mind. It just makes them different.

If something at church is giving you trouble, don’t worry about it. You know that God loves you, and so do we. I trust you, and I know you won’t do anything that would endanger yourself or hurt anyone else.

Write again soon.

Love, Mom

* * *

I stared down at the screen, then at my hands as it went blank. I couldn’t believe what I’d read … I didn’t know what to say in response. I felt guilty, and wished Lawrence had gotten an email like that. Instead of getting kicked out.

I didn’t feel guilty for long, though, because the good feelings were starting again. And this time, I didn’t struggle. I just closed my eyes and leaned back and let them overtake me, as I changed back into my real self. Hopefully, for good.

Whoever you are, whatever you’re dealing with, remember this: It gets better.

Read Feathertail’s personal story here and here.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re really cute as a fox!” Sam admires his fur, in the light of the moon from outside. Then she looks up at his face, and realizes the expression is not one of wonderment. It’s one of shock.

“Joshua … ?” she asks.

There’s no answer. He’s frozen as though in midstride, one hand still inches away from his face where he’d been scratching it. Breathing slowly through his muzzle.

“Joshua, are you okay?”

I was tempted to mark my new story, An Enemy To God, as containing mature content. It deals with serious issues, and some of my readers may find it disquieting.

I decided not to partly because I want more people to read it. It’s the most intense, personal story I’ve ever written, and I’m not the only one who’s had to go through this. Especially in the past few weeks.

You’re a terrible, evil person. I hope you die. You know you deserve it, right? You’re not even human anymore, and it’s your fault. I hate you.

Read part 1 of An Enemy To God. And tell your friends to read it, too.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re really cute as a fox!” Sam admires his fur, in the light of the moon from outside. Then she looks up at his face, and realizes the expression is not one of wonderment. It’s one of shock.

“Joshua … ?” she asks.

There’s no answer. He’s frozen as though in midstride, one hand still inches away from his face where he’d been scratching it. Breathing slowly through his muzzle.

“Joshua, are you okay?”

Sam’s feline tail twitches nervously, and she clasps her hands and fidgets during the long silence. She can smell sweat, and fear, and horrible pain coming from him.

“Uh, look, if this is about the feelings you had during your change … ” She looks away, still fidgeting. “It’s not your fault. A lot of people are sensitive to it like-”

He says something, and she can’t hear him.

“Er, what was that?”

“I SAID GET OUT!” He stands, his eyes burning and tear-stricken, and it looks like he’s about to throw something at her.

Sam jumps to her feet and hurries to the door, sweating and shaken, as he follows right at her heels. When she gets most of the way through the door he slams it on the tip of her tail, and she screams, jumping and losing her glasses. He opens the door just a crack, and her tail twitches out just in time for him to slam it again.

Dogs are barking all over the neighborhood now. A silhouette appears at the window across the street. Terrified and in shock, she reaches down to pick up her glasses and sees that they’re okay, before the pain in her tail catches up to her. Tears come to her eyes as she fights it back, cringing and clenching her teeth.

For a moment she wants to just sit there on the doorstep, cradling her tail and sobbing to herself. But she hears something slump heavily against the door, and a second later she hears Joshua crying. She hurries to her car instead, limping because of her tail and wondering what she did wrong.

* * *

Where had I gone wrong?

Was it looking up transformation stories, with vivid descriptions of changes? I’d hidden that all throughout high school … it’d been my deepest shame and my fondest desire.

How about looking up pics? I hadn’t worked up the courage to do that until I’d almost graduated … they were so shocking. Painful changes, mental changes, change-as-reward and change-as-sadistic-punishment. People being annihilated and replaced by something else, something more attractive, something that deserved to live unlike me-

I convulsed and froze that way, my face twisted in pain, every muscle locked up. It lasted a long few seconds before letting me go, and I gasped for breath and tried to gather my thoughts again. The floor was hard underneath me, and I leaned against the door for support.

Maybe it was when I’d started going to furmeets, I thought, still trying to catch my breath and holding onto the doorknob. I’d told myself there was nothing wrong with it. I’d told myself I was past all of that. But then Sam was there … and she was really a you are too now-

Another convulsion.

By now I was fighting back tears again. I’d almost torn off the doorknob. It wasn’t anything physical … it wasn’t anything to do with my new form or the bands on the fur around my neck and shoulders right now. It was fear, and pain, and awful, awful guilt.

My mind replayed the last few hours for me. Staying up late, letting down my resolve, reading those stories and being filled with such desperate longing again. Remembering that Sam was nocturnal … remembering her invitation. The one she’d extended so innocently, because she hadn’t known. She hadn’t known what I believed, what my family believed, what we’d been taught at church twice a week. She hadn’t known the Truth.

But I had, and I’d been so horrified when I realized what I wanted to do. I’d wanted to just turn my brain off. I’d wanted to forget. I’d turned off my computer, gotten up from my chair and started pacing my room miserably. But nothing distracted me from what I wanted so badly to do. So I called her, and nervously took her up on her offer. I made sure to let her know that this wasn’t a date, and the door had to be open at all times so we wouldn’t be alone together.

After that horribly awkward conversation, my mind cleared a little. I thought to myself Okay, self, you’ve bought twenty minutes to think about it. And when she gets here, you can just apologize to her and ask her to leave; maybe even tell her why, and invite her to come to church with you or something. Something good can still come out of this. And I paced, and sweated, and calmed myself down as well as I could, and imagined exactly how the conversation would go.

But then I heard her knock at the door, and it’s like my mind went all aslkjdf- And all I could think about were those stories, and how badly I wanted it, and this voice in the back of my head was saying Just once! Just for tonight! Just to see what it feels like! Please!

And I couldn’t say no.

So after she knocked a second time, it’s like I went down there on autopilot. Then I sold my soul for a minute of pleasure, and this horrible dustmop thing behind that’s my tail

I almost clawed my eyes out with that spasm.

I lay there on the floor gasping, looking up at the ceiling, hurting from where my foot had struck the stairs but too exhausted to move it.

Finally I dragged myself to my feet and limped up to my bedroom, whimpering with each step and trying to forget what I’d done. Imagining that I had a skin disease, or was wearing a tight, fuzzy coat.

It didn’t work. I cried myself to sleep, thinking of what my parents would say if they knew. Remembering all of the good times with them, and all of the family lessons, and knowing I’d betrayed their trust. My favorite hymns mocked me as I drifted off.

* * *

I dreamed I was seventeen again.

I was sitting on a hard, metal folding chair, in the gymnasium of the church that my family went to. I was surrounded by dozens of kids and a handful of adults. We were listening to the elderly preacher they’d invited to speak to the youth go on about the evils of our day and age … immodesty, homosexuality, disobedience to parents. When he mentioned Internet pornography I shrank in my seat, and realized how disgusting it was to imagine bodies changing like in the stories I read. I nodded, quickly, at everything that he said, beating myself up inside and silently begging God to help me overcome this evil.

“Isn’t this a crazy, mixed-up world we live in?” he asked, his leathery face wrinkling with a sardonic smile. “Where a man thinks he can marry another man … ”

He paused to let everyone chuckle.

” … and where animals think they should be treated like human beings.”

I froze.

“The scriptures say God gave man dominion over all lesser beasts,” he went on. “That means animals, whether they walk on four legs or two!”

Someone called out “Amen!” Meanwhile, I could feel sweat begin to pour down my sides. I was aware now that I was dreaming, I was aware that I was feeling this inside my dream because I was sweating in real life, and I wasn’t letting myself wake up yet because I had to listen to how wrong I was.

“God will not curse you with temptations that you can’t handle,” he went on, stalking the room and pointing out at us. “Not if you pray and submit yourself to Him. So if a woman becomes a cat, a cat that walks on two legs, it’s her own fault!”

“Amen!” more people shouted.

“And if that cat helps a boy become a fox, it’s his fault!” He stabbed his finger at me, and I looked down and started crying. “He has forfeited his rights and blessings as a human being, and has taken his place beneath man!”

“Amen!”

“And since animals don’t have souls,” he growled, “it means he has given his to the Devil, to be tormented by the flames of Hell for all of eternity.”

The crowd and the preacher drifted away, their response muted and faint, as the chair I was in was surrounded by darkness. Hot, firey darkness, and I could hear roaring flames as they began to lick at my-

* * *

I woke up covered in sweat, tangled in bedsheets and scratching myself furiously. I itched all over, and as I fought and squirmed and nearly fell out of bed I could feel my tail and my muzzle growing back out. I must have changed to a human while I was asleep, and now something was causing me to change back.

No! I thought. Stop! I want to go back to being a human! But the itching continued, and I threw off the bedsheets and tore off my shirt, sitting up and scratching hard all over. It didn’t feel good at all, unlike the first time. I was even starting to get nauseous.

Finally I looked up, at the light coming in through the curtains and at the digital clock on my desk. It was almost 11. The space heater was on and the door was closed, and it was sweltering in my room.

I reached over and turned it off, then flopped back on top of my bed, groaning. Rubbing my eyes, and stopping when I felt pawpads. Then I lifted my hands from my face, looked at them for a long moment, and let them fall to either side of me, letting out my breath.

My body felt limp and lifeless. But my soul felt even worse, because I knew that I’d given it up to the Devil — traded it for empty pleasures, a form that would probably last for the rest of my life, and the knowledge that I had sinned against God and His image. And while God was forgiving to those who submitted to Him, there was no forgiveness for soulless animals.

I had no energy left. Not even enough to move. I just looked up at the ceiling and sighed, closing my eyes.

“Damn me,” I whispered. “God damn me to Hell.”

But he didn’t have to, I thought, because I’d already done it myself.

* * *

I don’t know how long I stood in front of the mirror.

I hadn’t bothered to put my shirt back on yet. It was a shock to see myself as an anthro, to the point where I had to pretend that it wasn’t me that I was looking at. The “fox” who looked back at me wasn’t miraculously fit, like in most of the drawings … he was in the same physical condition that I’d always been in. He even still had a bit of a stomach. Somehow, I’d always imagined that I would’ve gotten in shape before doing this.

His fur looked ragged, his face looked lifeless, and his shoulders sagged with the same weariness that I felt. I looked his red and white pelt up and down, too tired to feel any disgust. And when I finally reached my arm out and turned the light off, and saw a dim blue glow around his shoulders and neck, I sighed. Because it meant that I’d probably be looking at this fox in the mirror for the rest of my life.

“However long that is.” My voice cracked.

I swallowed to moisten the inside of my muzzle, and shuffled on out of the bathroom.

I pulled my shirt back on as I stepped off the stairs, and walked into the living and dining area, sunlight streaming in through the curtains. The opened boxes, unplugged electronics, and dishes still wrapped up in packing paper all seemed unearthly somehow. It felt like the place had been frozen in time, like I was stepping into a crime scene.

I’d been going to finish unpacking this morning, before registering for classes online. Somehow that seemed far away now.

Something felt off, but I wasn’t sure what until I slumped onto the couch and sat there still for a moment. Then I realized I could hear everything; the whirr of the refrigerator, the ticking of the clock, the buzz of the electronics in the kitchen behind me. The sunbeams coming in through the windows seemed brighter than usual, and I could feel my clothes on my fur, itchy and uncomfortably tight.

Is this why Sam’s usually human? I thought. But then I corrected myself. She’s not human, she’s … she’s …

I winced. I couldn’t do that to her.

I’m an animal, I thought, sinking back further into the couch. And it doesn’t matter if I can make myself look like a human. I don’t know how. I don’t care to learn how. I don’t care about anything anymore …

My tail was getting squashed painfully. I did care about that. I sat upright and adjusted it, and my mind went blank again for a few seconds. Then it reminded me of what I’d done, and I sighed and put my head in my hands.

An hour later I was still there on the couch, sprawled out along it, staring up at the ceiling and remembering. Imagining. The feel of the changes inside me …

… the shame that I felt inside …

… the first bits of fur poking through my skin …

… knowing I was awful and slimy to the core …

… feeling like this was what I had been made for …

… knowing I’d destroyed myself.

I was a fox, I thought! A red fox! I actually was one, and it was real and I could change back and forth any time that I wanted!

“I am an enemy to God,” I whispered, the corners of my eyes moistening. “I chose to fight against him. I don’t deserve to live, and I deserve to be cast into Hell.”

The memories began to merge. Instead of beautiful change pouring into me through Sam’s arms, I imagined firey, painful death. I imagined it tearing at me, consuming me from inside, liquefying my bones and roasting my internal organs. I imagined screaming as my skin and hair set on fire, and burning to ash as she laughed. Another soul claimed by the Devil.

The only thing worse than imagining that was knowing that it’d really happened. That’s what happened to my soul, I thought, while my body was being changed. I’m just a shambling shell now. That’s why I don’t have any energy left. That’s why it’s okay if I die.

That’s why I have to kill myself.

I stared up at the ceiling again, imagining it and wondering what the best way would be.

* * *

It took me a little while, but I finally figured it out. I didn’t know which cuts I’d have to make, but I thought I could just try them all and see which one did the job.

The trouble was, I’d have to ignore the pain long enough to do so. Worse, I’d have to actually get up and go to the kitchen to get out a knife. And because everything was still packed up, I’d have to dig through the boxes and find which one had them in it, and then find one that was sharp enough.

I wasn’t sure I could even stand up right now, let alone dig through boxes. I felt so drained it was a stretch just to lift up my arm, and squint at my claws. Too dull, I thought. No good. I let my hand drop back to the couch, and sighed.

That’s when the phone rang.

It could be Sam calling to apologize, I thought.

Or to demand an apology, I thought back to myself. To tell me her tail is broken and sue for damages.

Second ring.

Maybe it’s someone else, I thought. Will they still remind me of how worthless I am? Will they help me get the rest of the way there?

Third ring …

I jumped to my feet and ran around the couch to smack into the kitchen wall, and just barely grabbed the phone above me before it rang a fourth time and the answering machine picked it up. My shoulder absorbed the blow, and I slumped down next to the wall and winced before speaking. “Hello?”

“Hey, Josh!” It was a male voice, the voice of one of my friends from high school. It sounded like he was driving. The caller ID just said ” >>> MARK <<< ".

"Hey." I forced a grin.

"Didn’t go to church today?" he asked.

"Uh, no ... " I looked up at the clock. "Too busy ... unpacking. I guess."

"Yeah, don’t worry, we’ll both make it up. I’m still out on the highway," Mark went on. "Got a big moving truck I finally finished loading last night. Still can’t believe they’ve got us in duplexes this year. We’re moving up in the world!"

"Heh, yeah ... " I squirmed, and rubbed at my shoulder to try to make it stop hurting.

"Is something wrong?" Mark asked. "Your voice sounds kinda funny."

"Huh? Uh, no, uh ... " I coughed. "Maybe I’m getting a ... a something ... uh ... are you sure it isn’t your signal?" I broke out in a sweat.

"Yeah, it is noisy out here." He was silent for a long moment, and I could hear the sounds of his driving. He shouldn’t be driving while using a cellphone, I thought, even as I realized I knew what I had to say and tried to think how to put it.

“Listen, Mark, uh … ” I coughed again. “I hate to break it to you, but we’ve got a new roommate,” I sort-of-lied.

“They’re putting five in there?” he asked. “What kind of new roommate?” he went on, before I could stumble over his first question.

“The, uhh … ” I swallowed. “The slightly furry kind, if you get what I’m saying.”

Long, long pause. I burned and itched all over with sweat.

“They’re having us live with an anthro?” Mark asked. “But that’s dangerous! What about disease? What about parasites? What if he turns feral?”

I couldn’t say anything. I’d started to pant through my muzzle, and was slumped up against the wall, sitting down.

“And what about spiritual dangers? I mean, I know the crazy liberals who make the laws don’t give a flying flip, but you know what they do, Josh! This is … ” his signal broke up, ” … a religious college for heaven’s sake! Whatever happened to freedom of religion? Didn’t the Honor Code used to prevent being openly anthro? And now he’s going to be walking around campus that way, shedding in the cafeteria, dating human girls and trying to get them to live his lifestyle!

“This is what we were warned about, Josh. It’s a sign of the times, and it’s already starting. He’s going to try to corrupt us,” he finished, sounding dire and prophetic.

“M-maybe he already has … ” I continued panting, drawing in huge breaths, unable to stop myself.

” … what do you mean by that, Josh?” He sounded suspicious. “And what’s that sound?”

I hung up, then buried my face in my hands and started crying again. It lasted for a long time. The phone rang again, but I ignored it.

I’m doomed, I’m doomed, my whole life is over … It was separate from wanting to kill myself, and felt more real right now than Hell did. This hurt even worse, because it showed me that even if I wanted to go back to my old life, I couldn’t. Not anymore.

The cordless handset rang next to me again, as I huddled there in the fetal position. I wiped tears from my furry, fox face to squint down at the screen. The caller ID read “PETERSON, ANDREW.”

I picked it up, pressed the button and sniffled. “H-hey … ”

“Hey, Josh.” I heard a road map crinkle, and sounds of traffic from nearby, but it didn’t sound like he was driving. “Got lost and stopped at a gas station. The attendant doesn’t speak English well enough to give directions. Can you tell me how to get there?”

“Uh, s-sure … ” I sniffled again.

“Is something wrong?”

“Yeah, uh, no, uh … ” I swallowed. “Where’re you at?”

He told me as well as he could, and I spent the next minute or so giving directions. It took my mind off of what was going on, and helped me to think more clearly.

“Thanks,” he said. “Glad you’re not at church today. I would’ve missed you.”

“Yeah … ”

The phone clicked against his glasses, as he shifted it to the other hand. “Listen, are you sure you’re okay? You don’t sound so good.”

I coughed. “I’m not … ”

“What’s wrong?”

“I, uh … ” I couldn’t say it. ” … I found out we’re getting an anthro roommate,” I finished, lamely.

” … that’s got you upset?”

“A-and Mark, he’s really mad about it … ” I sniffled, again.

“What, do you think he’s going to make you into one of them, or something?”

“I-”

“You know it’s not contagious. You know the changes are only temporary. The only ones who are changed permanently are the ones who have species or gender dysphoria, and they seek them out! So if you don’t want to become an anthro, it’s not going to happen!”

“But-”

Andrew swore. “You know what? I don’t know why I agreed to this. And I am not looking forward to a whole semester with you two. Can you and Mark at least try not to be bigots, for once?”

He hung up, leaving my muzzle hanging open in mid-word.

I slumped back against the wall again, sliding down until my feet touched the couch. My arms hung to either side, limp on the floor, and my hand let the cordless phone roll out of it.

I didn’t know what to do, or say, or think anymore. I felt like everything bad I’d been told about me was true, even if it contradicted itself. I was a bigot, and I was also a disease vector and a dirty, unclean animal. Plus I was going to Hell.

My energy had left me again. I wouldn’t be killing myself anytime soon, unless it was of starvation. Or a neckache, from laying down at this angle. But Andrew and Mark will be here soon, I thought. And I’m sure one of them will be able to do the job for me.

Either that, or make me wish I was dead.

I’m probably up at the top now. The researchers said that the trail was safe, and after everything else that’s happened I’m feeling daring. I know, I shouldn’t go alone, but I feel like I have to.

I’m sorry for putting you through this. I know how dangerous it was for me to run off, especially that first time. I know how stupid I’ve been. And I’ve paid the price by being scared and hurt and physically violated.

But I had less of a choice than you imagine.

Read part four of Prized Possession.

The young woman shivers, and bundles herself up more tightly inside her insulated sleeping bag. She is awake, but does not want to move.

A cold light shines down on the snow and the rocks around her. Except for her breathing, the camp is silent.

She gets up, startled, looking around. Checking where her friend had been.

A short time later, she’s wrapped tight in her coat, shivering violently in front of the stove. The kettle begins to bubble and froth.

The woman glances down at her radio briefly. But then she stops, and reaches into her coat pocket for her phone. There is one new message.

* * *

To: Bree Shandar
From: Karadur Inacu

Thanks again for your help with this trip. I mean it. There were times when I didn’t know what I would do, and you came through for me. You always have.

I’m probably up at the top now. The researchers said that the trail was safe, and after everything else that’s happened I’m feeling daring. I know, I shouldn’t go alone, but I feel like I have to.

I’m sorry for putting you through this. I know how dangerous it was for me to run off, especially that first time. I know how stupid I’ve been. And I’ve paid the price by being scared and hurt and physically violated.

But I had less of a choice than you imagine.

I’ll explain when I get back. Wish me luck.

* * *

The young woman spends a long time reading her message, while sipping her tea and cooking breakfast. Then she sits down on her sleeping bag, arms wrapped around her knees, and looks out into the distance.

* * *

I stood at the top of the mountain, looking out over the land below as the sun rose over the ocean. The ground sloped downward beneath me, rocks and features blending together until they were impossibly tiny, just as they met the ocean. And out in the distance, the sea and the sky were both beautiful shades of red.

I couldn’t see the ice bridge, or the land we’d come from. I was on the wrong side of the mountain. The actual peak was an unclimbable rock; I was on a plateau just beneath it. And somehow, it felt good to look away from where I’d just come from. I didn’t want any reminders. And I sure as heck didn’t want to think about what it’d be like to have to go back all that way on foot. I just wanted to stand there and enjoy the view — the climax of this whole trip.

For the first time since leaving, I felt a real sense of accomplishment. My fingers and toes were numb, to say nothing of my ears and tail, but I stood there with my mask, coat, and hood off, letting my fur keep me warm as I took in the sights and sounds from all angles. I breathed deeply of the crisp air, and the silence. And I stayed there for at least an hour, just thinking and looking and feeling the sights and sounds. I wanted to have as much time as I could there, to myself. Before the others came. And made noise, and burned food, and probably got themselves drunk.

“Now you know how we feel.”

I jumped, and looked all around. I’d heard that, clear as daybreak … and while I hadn’t heard the voice before, I knew instantly where it had come from.

I couldn’t see anything, but for a moment, it felt like I was back in the room with the statues. Except somehow, this time, despite having been startled, I wasn’t afraid like before. I didn’t feel like an interloper. For the first time that I could remember, from anywhere, I felt like I belonged there.

I laughed, as I imagined it … being a hermit, living out here. Then I shivered, and huddled my arms to my sides. I knew that I had to go back. But just for a moment, I saw myself as though from outside. For all that I was part-human, tired and hungry and carrying my life in my backpack, I really was a snow leopard. And for now, this was my mountain.

I went back to looking out over the water.

I don’t know how long it was before my ears cocked back towards the trail. I could hear them approaching; talking, laughing, grunting with exertion. I couldn’t hear Bree with them. She was probably just being quiet.

I stayed there, arms folded, self-conscious about being seen. I made myself remain still as a few of them shouted greetings. Then I covered my ears and winced, as they whooped and hollered and hugged each other to celebrate.

I imagined having to arrive here with them, tired and miserable and unable to enjoy the view for all the noise they were making. And I was annoyed that they had to spoil the beautiful silence, but I was also grateful that I’d gotten that time by myself.

“Are you okay?”

Bree had come up next to me without my realizing it. I stepped back a bit, unconsciously, since she was so close. She looked worried … I wondered if she thought I’d been depressed or lonely, out here.

I wondered if she’d gotten my email.

I dug out my A.T. and held it up to her, pointing out the message I’d sent and giving her a quizzical look. She nodded quickly, looking out at the others. “Yes, I got your message, but I’m not sure now is the best time for-”

“Where’re the cheese puffs?” Nalar shouted, excited. “Where’s the mountain dew?” someone else hollered, behind him.

Bree winced. “I think all the snacks are in my pack … ”

I tapped something out on my A.T.. “Let them have mine.”

“Are you sure?” she asked.

I nodded.

I went back to looking out at the view, as they feasted and munched behind me. I found myself hoping they enjoyed themselves … wondering if they would, as much as I had. One or two of them came up to the ledge at a time, to take pictures or record videos, and they stood at least two metres away and didn’t talk to me at all. I decided to be generous and assume that it was because they were being respectful, and not afraid.

Besides that, I didn’t pay attention to them, until I heard Arris say “I’ve hired a boat to meet us back at the station … ”

My ears perked, and my eyes lit up. Would I not have to walk all the way back?

“It doesn’t look like your friend’s situation is an emergency,” he continued, “but I imagine you’re going to want to have him looked at as soon as possible.”

It took me a moment to realize what he was talking about. My ears flattened, and my eyes narrowed.

Bree coughed. “Um, I think he-”

“You’ve got an exorcist on speed dial, right?” That was Nalar.

I turned and walked toward them, my tail bristling.

They were standing around a rock, where the portable stove had been set to warm hot drinks. Nalar had his back to me and the edge of the mountain, and was munching on cheese puffs out of the bag. “Because seriously, I don’t know how else you’re going to-”

I stepped into the circle beside him, elbowing him aside gently as I typed on my A.T.. “I don’t need an exorcism … ” it said.

Arris was impassive and Bree looked uneasy, but Nalar just laughed. “You could’ve fooled me!”

I noticed he seemed a bit shaken, though, as I continued to type. “I don’t want to be cured either. Too much time and money. Just get us all home please.”

“Hear hear!” someone next to the stove said, and shivered.

“Hold it.” Nalar held up a gloved, cheese-stained hand. “Don’t tell me you intend to go back to society, acting like nothing’s happened. Because that ain’t gonna fly. It’s not every day someone gets possessed-”

I glared at him.

“-or gene-modded, or whatever by the Sentience. And not only are people leery of it, they’re liable to sue if somebody lets a dangerous animal into their store or workplace or whatever. People could panic. It’s not normal for something like him to be going around outside a cage … ”

“I’m not a thing,” I began typing.

“ … coughing up hairballs and eating defenseless children.”

I growled at him.

I don’t mean the “grr” sound humans make when they’re upset. I mean a deep, full-throated growl, a sound that echoed and made people jump. Several people stepped backwards, and I could see fear in their eyes as they tried to decide if they ought to start running or not.

The whole top of the mountain went silent.

Nalar was the first to break the silence. “Y-you see!” he said. “This … this isn’t like just putting an animal costume on. He’s really got a snow leopard inside of him, whether you call it ‘possessed’ or not.”

Another uncomfortable pause followed that. I could feel everyone’s eyes on me, and sweated.

I turned around and walked away a few steps, clenching my fists. I wanted to prove him right. He was bigger and stronger than me, but I had claws now, and teeth. I wanted to attack him. I wanted to become dangerous.

But I didn’t want to scare Bree.

So instead I reached down and scooped up two handfuls of snow, making them into a ball in my hands. Then I swung around all of a sudden and hurled it at Nalar.

It hit him right in the face.

Somebody laughed, somewhere between nervous and relieved, and someone else resumed drinking their tea. Nalar was sputtering and trying to wipe off his face, but I could feel some of the tension evaporate as I began typing again. “I’m sure it won’t be any harder for me than the people around me make it”, my A.T. said. Then I turned to walk down the path.

I felt a snowball hit me in the back, but I ignored it.

* * *

My fur was all matted and ruffled, but the shower had felt good after my nap. I sat next to the gas “fireplace” in the living room at the researchers’ compound, sipping hot tea while bundled up in their towels. My clothes hadn’t finished drying, but I didn’t care. I had been starting to feel uncomfortably warm with so many layers on.

Everyone else was out in the dining room, across the building. I could hear them laugh through the closed doors; I could see the light coming in through the windows. I just kept sipping my tea, setting the cup down on a table next to me. And when I was done, I began to write again.

* * *

To: Bree Shandar
From: Karadur Inacu

I promised you an explanation, so here it is. I’m sorry it took me all day.

I didn’t know how hard this was going to be. I didn’t know how painful it’d be to have to sleep on my back on the ice. Or how hot and itchy clothes get when you sleep in them four nights in a row. Or how much noise a group of sleeping people can make.

I know you warned me. I know I wanted to come anyway. I thought I could tough it out, because that’s what everyone tells me to do. Everyone says that you can do anything if you put your mind to it. And when they see someone who can barely walk, “running” a marathon on crutches, they cheer for her, even though she’s in last place. Because she’s “inspiring” to them. She “proves” that there are no limits.

I used to believe that there were no limits. I thought it was my fault that I couldn’t talk. I thought that if I just made myself, I could do it … all the time, like everyone else. But it cost me so much to try, and I didn’t know why it was so hard but it was.

I don’t try to make myself talk anymore. Not to hold conversations; not at all, if I can help it. You don’t either, and I’m grateful for that. But every time I have to pull out my A.T., I see other people rolling their eyes. I hear them talk slowly to me, as though they think I’m stupid. Because only a stupid person could have trouble with something that basic. If I’m not stupid, they think, then I must be faking it, and it’s okay to demand that I talk to them. But I’m not stupid, and I’m not faking it, and I’m scared when people act that way. Especially people like Nalar.

I went on this trip for people like him. I wanted to prove to them that I could. I wanted to have something I could point to and say “I did this. Could you?” But pretty soon after we started, I found out that it was a bad idea. And by then it was too late.

I should’ve asked you if something could be done to help me. And I shouldn’t have just run off. I’m sorry. I really appreciate your standing up for me, and wanting to help find a way to change me back to normal.

But I don’t want to look for a way to change back to normal. Or “normal” for me, anyway. And if you look closely at the rest of this letter, you’ll see why.

Just to be clear, I’ll spell it out for you:

I’ve gone through the worst times of my LIFE trying to make myself “normal”. Trying to make myself talk. Trying to make myself not get nervous and frustrated over stupid little things, like being touched or sleeping in noisy rooms. I could’ve died on this trip, all because I tried to push myself past my limits. Because I couldn’t accept that I HAD those limits, when nobody else did. Now, thanks to that, I have this new limit where I can only eat meat. And have to wear clothes that have tail holes in them.

I don’t want to keep doing this to myself. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life searching for a way to look human again. I don’t want to shave my fur, or cut off my tail, or pump my stomach a million times when whatever treatment can help me to eat plants again doesn’t work. I don’t see why I should HAVE to do that. What’s so special about being normal?

Besides, normal people don’t have tails. Normal people can’t balance, or climb, or see in the dark like a cat. Normal people can’t jump as far as I did, to get off that ice floe. But no one considers themselves handicapped because of it. No one thinks they have to spend their whole lives stretching out their legs, just to be as good as a snow leopard at that. Anything I can do that you can’t is just a curiosity, but if I can’t do something that you can, it’s tragic.

That’s what I used to believe. I don’t believe it anymore.

You’ve helped me so much. You’ve shown me my weaknesses, and helped me get around them. But you’ve ignored my strengths, and pretended that they don’t exist. And because of that, so have I.

It’s about time I stopped doing that.

* * *

It was dark outside by the time I finished. My feline ears faintly heard Bree’s phone chime, in the distance.

I was starting to get uncomfortable, sitting there on the couch bundled up in towels, and it was starting to get too cold for me, too. But now that I was done, I felt drained. I’d poured out my heart, but even though I’d tried my best to explain everything I still felt like a jerk. And I knew that she’d probably hate me after this trip.

I jumped when my A.T. chimed. Then I hesitated, before turning it back on to see Bree’s message:

“i’ll have to think about it some, but i see where ur coming from now”

I sat there, continuing to sweat, as I tried to think whether this was a good or bad answer. And what I should say in response. But then it chimed again:

“i rlly hope that u know what ur doing. and that things work out for u”

The other room burst into laughter again, and my ears perked towards it. After that, I watched and listened to the blue flames in the heater for a long moment, before setting my tea down and typing a message with both hands:

“So do I.”

I sat there for a few minutes more, but no response came. Finally I gathered the towels up, still holding them close to myself, and hurried through the cold hallways to the room where my pack was.

I needed to get dressed if I was going to join them in the other room.

For more about disability rights, visit Reports from a Resident Alien.

Thank you for reading.

“So he’s possessed.”

I gave Arris a sharp look, over the crate that we’d set up the kettle on, and tried not to spill my mug of spiced tea as my hands began to shake. My ears flared out, and I could feel my tail bristle behind me.

“That’s not what he said.” Bree’s words were muffled by the thick, concrete walls. She was the only one willing to sit next to me; everyone else was on the other side of the crate. “He’s probably just as scared as we are … in his own way”, she added.

Read part three of Prized Possession.