Become Your Fursona

Carol lay there for what seemed like forever.

People walked right around her. People coming in and out of class. Most of them gave her a wide berth. One person kicked her, and another stepped on her tail. She did nothing.

Carol’s mind hadn’t changed, which confirmed her suspicion that she’d been an animal on the inside all along. Her body had only gone partway, though, which was the way that it happened for so many weres. She was still wearing her clothes, and her thoughts didn’t seem strange to her at all. For someone gone catatonic, anyway.

I’m dead. I’m dead. I’m dead. I’m dead. That was all she could think for a long time, even when she was kicked. She felt the press of the concrete next to her face and her side, but she couldn’t do anything about it. Her body was completely limp. All of her prayers, all of her memories seemed so far away.

After awhile she started to pray in her head, but the words she used weren’t really hers. They were taken from the man that she’d heard in class.

This is what she said:

God, I’m sorry I took that sweet child of yours. I’m sorry that I possessed her. I know that I’m an abomination and I don’t deserve my own life. You can have this one back now. Please take it.

The tears started to return. Didn’t you hear that man? He cast me out in your son’s name. That means I have to come out. I have to come out and let this poor girl live her life. Please, God, let me come out! I’m begging you!

I don’t want to live this life anymore!

She cried again, laying there on her side, for five minutes straight. Then she choked on her own tears, and reflexively sat upright.

Carol coughed and coughed until her airways were clear. It forced her to be aware of her own body, and it took her a long time, shaking her out of her reverie. She felt like she’d just woken up.

When Carol finished she gasped for breath, and wiped off her face on her sleeve. She stopped when her arm hit her muzzle. Oh man.

The tears came back all of a sudden, and she squeezed her eyes shut and gritted her teeth, fighting them back. Her face was shaped differently, and she could feel it, and the thought made it harder to hold the tears back. Help help help what do I do now? What should I do? What should I do …

She took a deep breath. I have to get up and see just how bad it is.

Carol stood up on reverse-jointed feet. It felt strange, and she held her arms out for a second to balance. But her long, whiplike tail swayed and stabilized her, and she slowly lowered her hands. They were covered in thin, grayish fur, and weren’t shaped right.

She kicked her unused shoes aside and headed towards the restroom. No one was there in the hallway. The lights were turned off, but the sun was shining outside. She could hear people moving inside one of the classrooms she passed, but aside from that, nothing.

She was uncomfortably aware of her breathing and movement. It wasn’t unpleasant; just different. Everything felt different, inside and out. She felt a strange feeling like homesickness tightening its grip on her insides.

Carol pushed open the door to the restroom, and turned on the light. Then she rounded the corner where the wastebasket and paper towel dispenser were, and stopped in front of the full-length mirror. Her breath caught in her throat as that feeling reached up and strangled her.

That’s not me.

It was wearing her clothes.

That can’t be me.

It had a face like a dog’s crossed with a rat’s … or maybe a possum’s. And it had a lighter build, and strangely-shaped legs, and a hairless tail that whipped from side to side in abject terror.

Oh please, don’t let that be me …

Carol felt weak all of a sudden and dropped to her knees, leaning up against the mirror and breathing fast as a panic attack took over. Her face plastered next to the glass as she fought to control her breathing, taking longer, deeper breaths, doing it consciously and ignoring how strange it felt to be breathing through nostrils so far away from her eyes. She focused on the sight of her nose out in front of her, treating it objectively. Letting it be there, and letting herself breathe.

It’s not mine. It’s not mine. It’s not mine. It’s just there. It’s just there right in front of my face.

After a minute or two had passed, and her breathing had settled down, she started to be uncomfortable with her position. She settled down to sit there on the floor, leaning up against the mirror, her legs sprawled to one side and her arm in between her face and the glass. She looked into the mirror with the eye on that side of her head, and saw the face of a frightened animal, its glassy eye nervous and wet.

She felt sorry for it.

* * *

A half-hour passed, as Carol tried to come to terms with herself. She washed her hands and the side of her face that’d been pressed to the floor with soap, and messed up her fur in the process. It took her forever to dry herself off. Her cellphone rang while she was doing that, but she ignored it, and didn’t even check the display when she was done.

It seemed so far away. Everything seemed so far away. Everything, except that strange creature in the mirror.

Now that it was here, she found that she wasn’t afraid of it. Either that, or she was so scared that she had become numb to it. She actually almost liked how it looked, and she tried out different poses and facial expressions in the mirror. Swishing its tail was especially fun, even though part of it was still sore. Watching the thing in the mirror was like watching a zoo animal.

And that’s what it is, she thought, still unwilling to think of herself as it. It doesn’t look like a possessing demon to me. It just looks like an animal. An animal that happens to be shaped like a human being.

That’s funny. Animals aren’t supposed to be shaped like human beings.

She grinned at the mirror, feeling happy and traumatized, silly and in shock. Giddy, lightweight, and detached, and covered in so much cold sweat that she felt like she was thirsting to death. Her grin looked like an animal baring its teeth, and getting ready to snarl at her.

“I think animal control should take care of it,” she said, slowly, still feeling lightheaded. Her voice sounded like she was chewing taffy, or recovering from a bad headcold. “It doesn’t belong on a college campus. It belongs out on the street. So it can get roadkilled, just like all the other possums. Run over with a pickup truck. We’d better back up and run over it again, just to make sure that it’s dead.”

The “grin” on that thing in the mirror widened, as Carol’s insane giddiness deepened. “Y’hear me, boy? Git out and check on that big ol’ possum. We’s eatin’ well tonight!” She laughed, and it sounded like barking and echoed inside the closed bathroom. She had to stop after a second of it and wince, and the ears on that thing in the mirror flattened.

Carol saw the thing in the mirror cringe, and instantly hated how helpless it was. And she remembered again what others would think of it, and how she was supposed to feel towards it.

She smiled smugly, and walked over and put her finger up on that mirror. “You don’t deserve to be here,” she said, feeling snide and superior and terrified and threatened. “This is the girls’ room, not a litterbox or a backyard. And this is a Christian college, not a kennel or I-85.

“You don’t deserve to be here.” Her eyes narrowed, and she lowered her hand and glared at that thing in the mirror. “Do you hear me? You don’t deserve to be here! You’re not cut out for it! You’re not even a person! I hate you!” Tears ran down the sides of her face. “I hate you!” she screamed, and it made her ears hurt. “Die!” she screamed. “Die!”

She wrestled the front part of the paper towel dispenser off of its hinges, and beat the mirror with it till it cracked. Then she flung the front part across the room, and it hit the wall and bounced off with a loud plastic clatter.

That thing in the cracked mirror was not dead yet. Four of its siblings mocked her, gasping for breath in the windows above the sinks.

Carol looked down at the pieces of glass on the floor, thinking about it for a moment. Then she stomped over to the door, flung it open and ran out into the hallway, looking for the stairs to get to the top floor. Looking for an open window.

* * *

Carol stopped at a water fountain on the way. She was sweating so hard she was thirsting to death. She got her face all wet just trying to drink from it, though. It wasn’t designed for creatures like her.

She stalked back towards the bathroom to dry her face off, but saw from behind someone entering it. She immediately took off the other way, running as hard as she could. She threw herself onto the pushbar for the door to the stairs, and vaulted up the steps three at a time, the side of her face still cold and wet. Carol slipped as she tried to round the corner at the next landing, and fell and touched off the floor with her hands, taking off at a run up the next flight of stairs.

Finally she got to the top, and wrenched the door handle and flung it wide open. She ran down the hall past quiet teachers’ offices and a waiting room of some kind, all the lights turned off except for green LEDs on the front of computer monitors. Then she stopped in front of the window, and squinted out at the sunlight.

She could barely see out there. It was just as well.

Carol wrestled with the window for a moment, before undoing the latch at the top of it and then yanking it upwards. It only budged an inch, and she took a moment to catch her breath before pulling it upward another inch.

Her cellphone rang again.

The ringing drove her to fury, and for a second she thought about throwing her cellphone down to the sidewalk far beneath the window. But it wasn’t open far enough yet. She took her cellphone out of her pocket, opened it up to take the call and then clapped it shut again, before throwing it down to the floor. It bounced.

Carol spent another minute or so strugging with the window, as chill, wet air came in through the opening. Finally she got it open all the way, and sat on the windowsill looking outside. It really looked like a nice day out there. The sky had fluffy white clouds in it, and the leaves on the trees ringing the parking lot had already turned red and gold. The lot itself had only a handful of cars in it, and she didn’t see anyone out there.

She sat there for a while just looking outside, arms wrapped around her knees pulled up to her chest, sitting dangerously close to the edge. Then she remembered something, and reluctantly swung herself inside to pick up her cellphone again.

Carol flipped her cellphone open, and the screen came on. It looked alright.

She climbed back onto the windowsill, and pressed a button on her cellphone.

“You have … one … new message,” it said. “First message-”

She pressed another button.

“Message deleted. End of messages.”

She pressed cancel and then fumbled with it for a second, trying to look up a number. She had claws now, and they were unfamiliar to her. She couldn’t feel which buttons she was pressing all that easily, and the buttons on the keypad were indented outwards, making it easy for her claws to slide around them. Now that she was sitting back up on the windowsill, Carol just wanted to throw the stupid thing outside. But she couldn’t. Not until she’d fulfilled her promise.

It rang once before Liz answered. “Carol?”

“Hi, Liz,” she said in a monotone.

“Carol, are you alright?”

She didn’t answer.

“Talk to me, Carol. I’ve been trying to find-”

Carol shifted the phone to her other hand, after wiping the sweat off its pads. “Remember the promise I made you?”

Now Liz was silent.

“Just calling to let you know.” Carol stood up on the outside of the windowsill, still holding the phone up to the side of her face and using her other arm to balance. Her tail swayed through the window behind her, like a balancing rod, and she squinted as the sun came out from behind the distant clouds.

“Carol … ”

“Thanks for letting me stay at your house.” The whole sky brightened, and warm red light highlighted Carol’s fur and the tan wall of the building. She turned to look away, eyes watering but only with how bright the sunlight was.

“Wait.” Liz sounded shaken. “We need to talk.”

“Okay.” She leaned her elbow against the side of the building. “Let’s talk.”

“Carol, why are you doing this? What happened?”

“I p-shifted in class,” she said, still in a monotone.

Liz was silent for a moment. Then, finally, “Is that why your-”

“Yes.”

“Your voice-”

“Yes.”

“Then you’re still-”

“What part of that didn’t you understand!?” Carol stopped leaning up against the window so that she could hold the phone closer to her face. “And what do you mean, still? I’ve always been this way, Liz. Always. Now I just look it on the outside as well.”

“Okay,” Liz said. “I believe you.”

“About what?”

“That you’ve always been this way, inside. I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you.”

“Really.” Carol saw her dull claws gripping the phone, with the eye on that side of her head, and she imagined herself using them on something.

“Yes. I should have listened to you.”

“And done what?” The dog-possum gave the parking lot an impatient look.

“We could’ve gotten you help-”

“Help?” she screamed. “At an institution?” Carol laughed hysterically, a loud barking noise that echoed throughout the whole lot. Her sensitive ears heard a clatter from her phone’s speaker, and it sounded like Liz had just dropped her cellphone.

There was a pause, as Liz picked it back up. “Carol, please listen-”

“No, Liz. You listen to me.” Her sides were soaked with sweat, and she found herself leaving her muzzle hanging open in between sentences. “Do you know what they would’ve done to me there? They would’ve done the same stupid thing that these people here did.”

“What did they-”

“They exorcised me! At least, they tried to! They told me I was a demon possessing one of God’s sweet children, and that I had to be cast out in Jesus’ name. That’s what they said, Liz. I’ll never forget it.”

“Why-”

“Because I was changing into a monster at the time!” Carol screamed it at the top of her lungs, surprising even herself, and it echoed just like her laughter had. She heard footsteps pounding the sidewalk below, and voices talking to each other, but she tuned them out.

Carol took a few seconds to catch her breath. “That’s not what I meant,” Liz said, and it sounded like she was crying. “I meant why did they exorcise you.”

A pause. “You didn’t tell them that I had Animal Syndrome?”

“No, Carol. I told them nothing.”

“Then they must have picked it up from the fact that I spoke up for weres. Or the way that I did it. Heck, maybe they just picked up on my ‘scared animal’ demeanor. Isn’t that what predators do? They look for the weak and the sickly ones, and they grab them and wrestle them to the ground and rip all their guts out!” She practically strangled her cellphone, holding it in front of her face so that she could shout at it.

Liz was crying, on the other end of the line. It made Carol want to cry too, and she did. She heard the voices still talking down below, but no one was calling to her, and there were no sounds or movement coming from inside.

“That’s what you are,” Carol said, through her tears. “You’re all predators. You prey on each other, and you prey on animals like me. And you tell yourselves that we’re soulless, or demon-possessed, or just evil, so that you don’t have to worry about feeling our pain.”

“I feel your pain, Carol! And I want to help you!”

Liz was still crying, and Carol was too. “No, Liz.” She shook her head. “I believe what you say, but you don’t really want to help me. You just want to exorcise me.”

“Carol, I don’t even believe in-”

“Of course you don’t, I know already, you don’t believe in their kind of exorcism. You believe in science’s exorcism. You think that they could use pills and restraints and electrocution and beatings and torture and threat of death to get the awful animal-ness out of me, and you see it as other and you think that it’s making me sick. But the animal’s not making me sick, Liz, the animal is me. I’m the animal. And I’m not possessing this body any more than you are ‘possessing’ yours.”

Liz said nothing. She just continued crying.

Carol heard running footsteps, inside the building. “There’s only one way to separate my soul from my body, Liz, and I’m going to save you the trouble of trying to do it for me. Goodbye.”

“Carol, please-”

She closed up her phone, and tucked it into her jeans pocket. Then the door to the hallway opened, and without looking, Carol pressed her foot-pads onto the edge of the windowsill and leaped out into the air, arms wide.

scratch scratch scratch

Knees pressed into the carpet, elbows up on her bed. Scraggly fluff under the tops of her feet. Darkness playing across her eyelids.

“Um, God … ”

scratch scratch scratch

The rushing sound of the central air conditioning. The buzzing whirr of her notebook’s fan, on the desk behind her.

“I don’t know if this means anything to you … ”

scratch scratch scratch

” … but I’m pretty sure that I’m going to die … ”

A ping, from the notebook behind her. Somebody else had just logged in.

“You saw what happened … ” She swallowed, and fought to hold back the tears. “You heard what he said.”

scratch scratch scratch

“I don’t want to be like this anymore … ”

The microwave dinged and a chair scraped the floor, somewhere downstairs.

“Please, God! I don’t want to be like this anymore!” Tears ran down her cheeks.

scratch scratch scratch

“I want … I want … ”

scratch scratch scratch

The scratchy tag on the back of her shirt. The scratchy wool on the top of her bed. The scratchy scratchy scratching on the scratchy-

“Go away!”

A frightened yip, and then four feet pounded the floor, running away from the door to her room. But she wasn’t paying attention. All of the hairs on her body had stood up and fluffed themselves out, and she was fighting them back into place. She finally collapsed, drenched in sweat, leaning up against the bedframe and gasping for breath.

Footsteps outside. A knock at the door, and a muffled female voice. “Any reason why you just yelled at my brother?”

She couldn’t say anything.

The door opened, and in walked a light-skinned woman in pale blue jeans and a red t-shirt, carrying a plate of steamed vegetables. She stopped when she saw her. “Carol, are you alright?”

Carol shuddered. “I’m going to die, Liz … ”

‘Liz’ set the plate down on the desk next to Carol’s notebook, and sat on the carpet next to her. The wood squeaked, underneath, and the central air turned off.

They were silent for a few moments, Carol regaining her breath and Liz watching her intently, before Liz spoke. “It’s about what he said today, isn’t it. The teacher at your criminal justice class.”

She sniffled. “Yeah.”

“Carol, you shouldn’t feel bad about yourself.” She started to reach out a hand to her, then thought better of it. “He wasn’t talking about you. He was talking about-”

“People like your brother?”

They both glanced towards the door. They could just barely hear him out in the hallway, scratching his neck with his hind legs. “Well, yeah … ” Liz lowered her voice and cupped one hand to the side of her mouth. “But it’s not like he could get married anyway. You know that.”

Carol looked up at her. “But I could?”

“Of course! You’re not-”

“Like him?”

Canine panting and breathing, out in the hallway. Liz glanced in that direction. “Well … yeah.”

“Wrong.”

“Listen-”

“No. You listen.” Carol’s voice was shaking. She glared up at Liz for a second, before looking back down at the floor. “People act like Animal Syndrome and Wereism are two separate things. I thought they were separate things. I wanted to think I was normal. But I’m not.”

Liz sighed the sigh of a person who’s had to deal with this before. “You’re also not walking on all fours.”

“But I want to.”

She raised one eyebrow. “You really mean that?”

Carol winced. “I mean deep down! Deeper than wanting to go to college, deeper than wanting to be a normal human being. I look at him and I don’t think ‘Oh, the poor thing’ or ‘Ha ha, what a cute dog.’ I think … I think pictures, and feelings, and sounds, that translate to ‘Canine, male, juvenile. Smaller than me. No threat.’ And then I want to smell him.”

Liz laughed.

“I’m serious!” Carol looked up at her, frightened and pleading, and the laughter stopped.

Out in the hallway, claws clicked as her brother sat down.

“What are you afraid is going to happen?”

Carol clenched and unclenched her fists, still leaning up against her bedframe and looking away from Liz. “I’m afraid I’m going to lose my soul.”

“What?”

More claws clicking, out in the hallway, and a short canine whimper. Carol turned to look to the doorway and stared out through it, blankly, as she spoke in a monotone. “You heard what they said. Only humans were made in Imago Dei. Animals weren’t. They don’t have souls. That’s why men are supposed to subdue and dominate them. And that’s why it’s okay to brutalize weres who resist arrest. Never mind that they’re scared and don’t know what’s going on. Never mind that they’ve forgotten how to talk like a human being. They aren’t real people anymore, so it’s okay to do whatever you want to them. We’d better stop them from breeding, so there aren’t any more freaks like them ever.”

A pause. Liz coughed. “You’re afraid that you’re going to turn into a were, and you’re going to be disoriented enough that somebody like our teacher is going to beat you up?”

“No. I’m afraid that I’m going to lose my soul.”

“But you said you were like my brother, deep down. So wouldn’t that mean that you’ve already lost it?”

“I don’t know.” Carol looked up at the ceiling, and closed her eyes.

Liz fidgeted, and glanced over at her steamed vegetables. “Carol, you never had this much trouble with it when we were growing up … ”

“It wasn’t as hard then.” She spoke with her eyes closed. “Now there’s all this pressure on me to be a human being, the same kind of human as everyone else. And every day I feel more like an animal, who doesn’t understand why they’re asking her to do all these tricks. And just wants to hide somewhere and be safe.”

Nobody talked for a few moments. The room was silent except for her notebook’s fan.

“I’ve started to P-shift,” Carol remarked.

Liz jumped to her feet. “Right now?”

“No, a few minutes ago. Second time today. And again last week.” Carol opened her eyes partway, and stared half-lidded up at the ceiling for a moment, before closing them again and letting out her breath. “It’s exhausting.”

“Carol, we’ve got to get you to a hospital.”

“I’m not going there … ” She still had her eyes closed.

“I mean it. If you’re changing then we have to-”

“I’m not going to be institutionalized.”

Liz groaned and looked skyward. “How else are you going to get the help that you need?”

“The help … that I need … ” She grunted, and struggled to sit upright. Liz came over and helped her. ” … is not to be drugged up and locked away. If anything, that’ll stress me out so much that changing will be inevitable. Then I’ll be locked up, muzzled, restrained … kept there as long as they can keep me, and thrown on the street once my insurance runs out.” She glared at the wall.

“Carol … ” Liz knelt next to her now. “Prescription pharmaceuticals can help people. That’s what they’re made for. You can take drugs that’ll keep you from changing. But you can’t get a prescription without going in there for an evaluation.”

Carol clawed the carpet with both hands, digging deep with her nails, and spoke through her teeth. “How come I have to get drugged up to keep me from changing, and they can’t just hire someone who isn’t a stupid evil hateful bigot?”

She shook and held her breath, as though fighting something back, and Liz broke out in a sweat. Then Carol stopped, and started gasping for breath again. “And that’s three,” she managed.

She sat there for a minute or two, her breathing fast but gradually slowing and becoming more stable. Liz stayed there beside her, listening. Finally, Carol crawled up onto her bed by herself, rejecting Liz’ offer of help, and lay down and closed her eyes.

“You should take some time off from classes,” Liz finally said.

“I will.”

“And you should pray.” Liz stood up. “I still think you should get professional help. But whether you do or not, you need God’s help on this.”

“Will God help a soulless animal?”

She remained still, breathing regularly with her eyes closed. Liz watched her a few moments, before taking her plate, turning the light out and walking out, leaving the door open. “Good night, Carol.”

“‘Night.”

All was quiet. The notebook’s screen faded to black, up on the desk.

Then claws clicked out in the hallway, and into the room walked a fluffy orange collie, without a trace of human features. It looked up at Carol and whimpered, and she said nothing in response.

Finally it sat down, head pressed low to the carpet, eyes flicking upward to glance worriedly at her until it, too, fell asleep.

* * *

The week passed slowly. Carol spent the time reading and writing online, in the upstairs room of her friend’s house. She stayed up late, slept in late, and had headphones on 24/7. The homework piled up, but she didn’t care. She didn’t have enough energy to care.

Every day the orange collie trotted into her room, and gave her a worried look before sitting down on the carpet beside her. She stepped over it coming in and out of her room. Aside from that, she paid it no attention.

Carol slept in late the day that she had to return to her classes. She didn’t have classes until that afternoon, so she was only a little late getting there, after waking up and eating lunch and getting herself ready. Liz had already left by then, and they promised to meet up after class.

The halls of the Southern college she went to were quiet, and nearly deserted since everyone was already in class. She stopped outside the door to her criminal justice class, next to the bulletin board with posters up for mission trips and Bible study times, and took a moment to compose herself. It’s not going to be long, she told herself, fists and eyes squeezed shut. Just a few hours, and then you can go back home and do whatever you want. It won’t be so bad, and you’ll have time to recover afterwards.

You can do this.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed the door open and walked inside, going behind all the rows of seats lined up and over to an unused desk. She sat down quietly, ignoring the squeak in her chair, and tried to be as small as possible as she got out her notebook and pencil from her backpack.

It wasn’t until after she’d done so, and started thinking about what to draw during class, that a couple of things occurred to her.

One, the teacher had stopped in midsentence a moment after she’d stepped inside.

Two, everyone in the room was watching her.

Not “a few people had turned their heads to look at the person who’d just sat down.” Everyone in the room was watching her.

Lowering her head nervously, starting to sweat, she glanced around the room and caught the following up on the whiteboard:

WEREISM, CRIMINOLOGY, AND THE BIBLE

WHAT?
- mental / physical disorder
- epidemic -- 1 in 150
- early childhood
- mind/body turned into animal partway / fully
- loss of humanity

HOW?
- animal bites?
- genetic disease?
- demonic possession? Mark 5:1-13!

WHY?
- fallen / sinful natures
- last days -- 2 Tim 3:1
- final judgment / THE BEAST!!

WHAT IS SOCIETY TO DO?
- stoning? drowning? (God's law / man's law)
- sterilization (possession + genes)
- incarceration / institutionalization

WHAT ARE CHRISTIANS TO DO?
- insanity plea? maximum sentencing
- prayer cover
- rebuke / cast out!!

She read the whole thing, cheeks burning red and sweat pouring down her sides. I am going to die.

“Brethren and sisters … ”

All eyes, including Carol’s, looked up at the teacher — tall, bald, and commanding.

“I sense an evil spirit in our midst.”

It barely even registered. The world was nothing but heat and despair and humiliation, so overwhelming that Carol began to feel disembodied. This isn’t happening. I’m not really here. This is just my imagination.

“A spirit that has taken over the body and mind of one of God’s sweet children … ”

I should never have spoken up in that class. They knew. They could tell. It was so obvious.

” … and held her in bondage since she was a little child.”

I’m going to die. I’m going to die. I’m going to die. I’m going to die.

“And I say to that evil spirit … ”

I’m going to die.

He stretched out his hand. “Begone.”

For several long seconds, Carol couldn’t make herself move or do anything if she’d wanted to. Then she felt the burning on her skin turn to intense itching, and spread into her organs, her feet, her face. And she realized what was happening to her and jumped out of her seat, taking off running for the door to the hallway.

“In Jesus’ name, begone!”

She jumped as she heard that, right as she opened the door, and fell out into the hallway sprawling and kicking and clutching her sides and crying noiselessly. She barely caught sight of another girl carrying textbooks, and she registered the feel of her legs making contact with something as she writhed and struggled and changed. It hit the floor right next to her, but she didn’t care. She couldn’t.

I’m dying I’m dying I’m dying I’m dying I’m dying …

I’m dead. She shuddered, and took in a gasping breath through her wet muzzle, as tears streaked down her fur through closed eyes. I’m dead.

“OPENING SOON!
The CITY CREEK CENTER — Salt Lake City’s premier retail destination, with over 500,000 square feet of nationally-recognized chain stores!”

That was on the sign next to the doorstep where Alexandre Britos sat, huddled and shivering. He had the shape and build of a tall, skinny human, but his face was shaped like that of a fox. A pink fox, with white fur around and beneath his muzzle and short, bright blue tufts on top.

It was a cold, snowy Christmas Eve night. The air was thick with huge, fluffy snowflakes, forming halos around every streetlight and headlight. And in between the rush of traffic, just across the street from the Center, Alexandre could see the walls of Temple Square, and the forest of Christmas lights just beyond them.

There were humans there; white, upper-middle class humans, taking pictures in front of the lights and the live Nativity scene. Enjoying the night, if they had the clothes to not look out of place. Holding hands, if they were of opposite genders. Celebrating the eve of Jesus’ birth, and the holiday sale on at Deseret Book.

Alexandre flattened his ears. He still didn’t understand why they’d thrown him out of there. He’d just found these books that someone had left by themselves on a table, and decided to be helpful by putting them back in their places. How was he to know that they’d get upset at him for putting the Book of Mormon in the fiction aisle? It wasn’t like he’d tried to just take something without paying for it; he’d learned his lesson after the hot dog incident.

You know why they were upset, he thought to himself. But he didn’t want to think about it … it didn’t seem real right now. The whole world had seemed kind of fuzzy all day, and it wasn’t just because he had fur and a tail. He clutched the tip of it, trying to warm it, long past having given up on his ears. And he wondered if it was safe to go out yet, and if anyone was still looking for him.

Alexandre got up when he heard voices, coming from the door behind him. Then the door opened, and he jumped around the corner, pressing himself to the wall. For a moment he wanted to run, but then curiosity got the better of him — who’d needed to be inside a mall that hadn’t opened yet?

“Thank you for your time,” a male voice was saying. It sounded clipped and professional. “I know we’ll get to common ground somehow.”

“I’ll bet you do,” another male voice said. This one was higher-pitched, and sounded annoyed.

“Merry Christmas,” the first voice said, although it didn’t sound like it meant it. Then the door slammed shut.

After that, there was silence.

Alexandre peeked around the corner, trying to squint through the snowfall to see who it was. Then he stared.

The person who’d just come out was not human at all, but had the face of a cat; some kind of wildcat, with small and thin facial features and long, tufted black ears. They flattened, as he glared across the street with his arms folded. And his tail swished, as he shivered beneath his coat and jeans.

Then he noticed Alexandre. And if he noticed that neither of them looked human, or that Alexandre was staring at him in a confused panic, he did not mention it. “Hey,” he said, his ears unfolding.

“Hel-lo,” Alexandre said, not sure if he should run or not.

“What’s your name?” the cat asked.

Don’t tell him! said Alexandre’s instincts. They were still in fight-or-flight mode, and had just been rehearsing a lecture he’d seen, about how you should always plead the 5th Amendment when you were questioned by the police.

“Uh … ” he said, overwhelmed with these strange new fox feelings, that were making him skittish and hard to calm down. “Uh … no comment,” he finished, and swallowed.

“I see.” The cat took a few steps down the stairs, as if to take a closer look at him. “Are you alright?”

Alexandre’s fox instincts, as well as his human sensibilities — that had never seen a real-life anthropomorphic animal before that day — were still scared and on edge. But he could sense that this … person, meant him no harm. And so he tried to calm down.

“I … um.” Alexandre realized that he had been hunched over as though getting ready to bolt, and made himself stand up straight. Then he put one hand behind his head, embarrassed. “It’s a long story … ”

The cat reached down and brushed off one of the lower steps, then sat down and gestured towards the space next to him. “I’m not going anywhere. Do you want to talk about it?”

He sat down next to the cat, eyes locked onto his face and ears, trying to tell if what he was seeing was real or not. Even after what’d happened to him, he still wasn’t sure. Especially after what’d happened to him. How could he be sure anything he saw was real?

The cat noticed and returned the look. “So, where are you from?” the cat asked.

“Logan.”

“Do you work anywhere?”

“I’m still a student.” Alexandre looked up. “Uh, how ’bout you?” His eyes flicked up towards the door. “What’s up with them?”

“Oh, them.” He rolled his eyes. “They sorta brought me in as a consultant.”

“They, as in the church? I mean the, uh-”

“Yeah, the LDS church, I know they’re the ones building the mall.” He gestured across the street at Temple Square. “They wanted me to come take a look at it.”

Alexandre gave him a funny look. A corporate consultant in street clothes? He looked more like a vagrant. And his species …

The cat grinned. “Yeah, I know. I’m not really their type. I tried to tell them up-front, but they insisted. Even though I was with the GLBT protests outside their temples this fall.”

“I … guess they didn’t know you were there, huh?”

“I do kinda blend in, in a crowd.” His tufted ears twitched.

Now Alexandre was bewildered. Between this cat and what he’d gone through that morning, it was starting to make him question his sanity. What had happened to him? Was everyone going to start looking like an animal?

“So yeah, uh, consulting … ” Alexandre fidgeted. He had to come up with something to say, that would keep this cat here long enough that he could figure out what was going on. “What did they want you to look at, exactly?”

“Oh, the indoor stream, the retractable roof, the underground parking lot … ” The cat’s tail swished and brushed snow off the step, in the way that a hallucination could not. “The million-dollar condos … ”

“And they, uh, they … ” Alexandre made himself look away from the cat’s tail. “They wanted you to tell them how they were doing with them?”

“No, they wanted me to smile and say how excited I was and tell them all that I loved it.” The cat spoke through clenched teeth. “They didn’t want to hear what I really had to say.”

“Ah … ” Alexandre looked closely at the cat’s fangs. “And what did you have to say?”

“I told them they should sell the whole thing, and donate the money to charity.”

Alexandre choked, and coughed for a moment. “Yeah, they wouldn’t want to hear that, alright!”

“At least they finally asked.” The cat folded his arms. “I would’ve loved to hear from them a long time ago.”

“Uh … huh.” Alexandre watched him tap his clawtips impatiently on his sleeves.

He looked up at Alexandre. “So, did you want to talk about what’s bothering you?”

“Huh? Oh, I, uh … ” He grinned nervously. “Is it that obvious?”

“Oh, yes.” The cat nodded. “You’ve been on edge the whole time I’ve been talking to you.”

“Well, I, um … ” Alexandre swallowed. His face turned from pink to red as he tried to think how much to tell him, and how to make it not seem crazy. “My friends and I sort of got ourselves in trouble.”

“With your parents?”

“Er … with the police.”

“Sounds like fun.” The cat grinned, and Alexandre caught a hint of mischief in his eyes. “What’d you do?”

“We, uh … we were conducting kind of a social experiment. You know, like Candid Camera.”

“Do tell!”

“Well, uh … ” He didn’t want to tell the cat that it’d been to find out what random people saw him as.

His own friends hadn’t realized that he had become a fox, at first. They’d just thought there was something strange about him, until he had pointed it out to them. Then they’d looked closely at his face, and pressed their fingers to his wet nose and fox ears, and felt his bushy tail. Even though that tail had knocked something off of the coffee table in front of the last holdout, he still hadn’t gotten it ’till Alex had taken him by the hands, looked directly into his face, and asked him what he saw.

After that, they’d thought it was the funniest thing ever, and had tried all kinds of experiments on the way that their mind played tricks on them when they looked at him. And he’d gone along with it and laughed, because it was so much easier to laugh with them than panic and wonder What’s happened to me? He’d wanted to feel that things were alright, that this was nothing serious, and that he wouldn’t be stuck like this for the rest of his life. So he’d let things get carried away, and let himself get carried along with them.

The cat was still looking up at him expectantly. “I, uh … ” He looked away for a second. “Y’know that picture, where it’s like two people’s faces — but if you look at it the right way, it’s really a lamp?”

“Yes. So you wanted to know which one people saw?”

“Yeah, kind of-” Alex jumped to his feet in a panic, as two people came walking around the corner and down the sidewalk just past them. But the cat didn’t move, and the people turned to look but didn’t seem particularly worried.

He sat back down, feeling embarrassed. “Anyway, uh, most people saw the ‘lamp,’ but a handful of people could see the ‘face.’ Especially children.”

The cat smiled, and swished his tail happily. “I love kids.”

“You have any?”

“Lots.”

Alexandre gave the cat’s face a searching look. He hadn’t thought he looked or sounded that old.

“You were saying?” the cat asked.

“Well … the kids were fun. I really hammed it up for them.” He grinned, at the memory. “But I kinda got carried away … ”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I uh … kissed one of my friends on the cheek, just to be silly.”

“Except that he was a guy, and you were on LDS church property at the time.”

“Yeah, and they sicced the Gestapo on us.” Alexandre put his hand behind his head, embarrassed. “In hindsight, they probably wouldn’t have chased us so far if we hadn’t run so fast. But we kinda split up along the way, and well … ” He spread his hands out, helplessly. “Yeah.”

The cat grinned. “Sounds like you had more fun today than I did.”

Alexandre laughed. It was a relief not to be judged. “Yeah, well, maybe you should’ve tried that! Kissed one of those boardroom types and then run off. It probably would’ve gotten you further than talking to them did.”

“I should’ve!” The cat’s slitted eyes brightened.

“Listen, can I, uh … ” Alexandre looked down at the cat’s swishing tail, and coughed. “Can I ask you something real quick?”

The cat nodded.

“When you look at me. What do you see?”

“A person.”

“No, I mean … ” Alexandre cringed. “What species am I?”

“What does it matter?”

And then Alexandre knew that the cat was real, and that he could see him, and that he wasn’t just dreaming this up. “So I’m a … ” He gestured helplessly. “And you’re a … ”

“How does it matter?”

” … I’m not sure.” He looked down at his feet, at the boots that were a little too small for him now, and curled his squashed, frozen toes inside them. His dull claws dug into the soles.

The cat took a deep breath. “Alexandre, listen to me.”

“How do you know my name?” Alexandre was sweating.

“That doesn’t matter either. What does matter is that you’re a person, no matter what you look like or who you like to kiss. Or what part of the bookstore you think LDS scripture belongs in.”

Alexandre was looking down at his feet again now, his heart pounding like mad, unable to look up at the cat’s face.

“You’re not going crazy, you’re just realizing what kind of person you are. And I know it’s painful. I had a good job and a comfortable life when it happened to me, and then all of a sudden I started doing stuff that made no sense at all to the people that I grew up with. I got arrested, I got into trouble with church leaders, I got spat on and beat up and laughed at. But I had to put up with it all, because that was just the kind of person I was. Once I realized who I was, and what other people were, I had to do something to help them. No matter what trouble it got me into.”

“Tell me … ” Alexandre looked up at the cat, nervously. “Were you a carpenter before all this happened?”

The cat just reached over and hugged Alexandre. He hugged him back, crying into the fur on top of his head.

“That doesn’t matter either,” the cat whispered, scritching Alexandre’s back slowly.

Alexandre just nodded, his eyes squeezed shut and still crying.

“Don’t worry about how others see you. Just be yourself, and try to see everyone for who they are. Because that’s the only thing that’s changed about you today. All that’s changed is your eyes are more open now.”

“Okay,” Alexandre whispered.

“I’ve got to go,” the cat said, letting go of him gently and standing. “Merry Christmas, Alexandre.”

“Happy birthday,” the fox said, and swished his tail in the snow.

“You’re only the second anthro I’ve met … ”

Joshua put his head down, grinning and embarrassed. “I’m not sure I’m ready to think of myself as an anthro yet. I’ve only been one for a couple of days.”

We were climbing the stairs, up towards Sam’s apartment. Our footsteps and voices echoed. “Do you think I’ll … uh … do you think you’ll ever get used to it?” I finished.

“You know, it’s strange … if all I had to worry about was how I felt about it, and I didn’t have to worry about getting stared at, or kicked out of church and things, I think it would be pretty sweet.” He turned around and looked back at me. “And I mean, I know that not everyone wants to be an anthro. But for me it was like … ”

“ … a dream come true,” I finished.

“You could say that!”

I couldn’t help but grin to myself. It felt so surreal, and amazing, to hear someone else say what had been in my heart for so long. Somehow it made it seem real, even natural.

Plus, he had a really cute fluffy tail. It tickled my nose while I walked behind him, and that made me grin even more.

We were quiet for a moment, as he opened the door on our landing and we both went inside to the hallway. It was narrow, and one of the doors was open. I got a really quick glimpse of someone looking up from his newspaper and giving us a weird look, and I hurried past.

“So, uh, yeah … ” Joshua said quietly, once we got past. “I’m starting to get the feeling that most places aren’t designed for people like us, and things are going to be a bit awkward until we can learn to change back.”

“It’s like you’re ‘in the world but not of the world,’” I ventured.

“Yeah, kinda! I think we’ll manage, though … ”

That “we” scared me. And as we got up to Sam’s door, I started to feel nervous. It’s like, I was mostly okay with who I was right now, but I wasn’t sure I was ready to be him in public. Around other anthros. Joshua was okay, and Sam was okay, but the thought of being with those people in general was still scary to me. Even though I knew now that I was one, and had always been.

It’s okay, I told myself, as Joshua knocked. You know Sam, it’ll be alright, you can relax …

A short, blue-and-black-feathered bird answered the door, and looked up at us with glassy eyes. “Can I help you?” he (she?) asked, as I sweated under my fur.

“It’s Josh,” came Sam’s voice, and I heard footsteps head towards the door. The bird stepped aside as she pulled the door open, and Sam and Joshua hugged each other for a long second. “I’m sorry,” they both said, at the same time, then Sam laughed. “It’s okay,” she said. “You told me over IM already.”

“I’m still sorry,” he said, grinning sheepishly and putting his hand behind his head.

“Come in!” she said, guiding him towards the living room. I could see other humans and anthros in there already, eating snacks and playing on one of her game consoles, but I hung back. It was like I just couldn’t make myself … it felt like I was back at my family’s house, and I was scared of whatever might happen.

She saw me then, and I looked away. But she’d already started to step towards me, and pretty soon I was being hugged too, eyes closed and holding on tight.

“I was so worried about you,” she said, letting go and stepping back a bit. “When they closed the door on me I thought … I was afraid they were going to kill you,” she said, talking fast. “I called the police, on my cellphone. But they told me-”

“-that they couldn’t come,” I finished. “My dad was on the police force before he taught Institute. They look out for each other.”

She blinked. “You mean they’re corrupt?”

“I guess, if you want to call it that.”

But Sam was already back in the kitchen, setting more bowls and bags of snacks out, and I followed her. “I TFed to cat form and looked in their windows. It looked like you were still breathing, but no one was moving to help you.” She looked up at me. “I’m sorry, Lawrence … I really don’t know what’s normal sometimes.”

“I know … ” I looked down at the snacks instead of at her.

“I stayed there a few hours before heading back. You’d given me your home number, so I was going to call and check in on you the next day, and see if you wanted to come back and stay here. Then Joshua called, and asked me to come over and change him, and I didn’t … ” Her ears and tail drooped, and she looked down. “I didn’t know.”

I hugged her, and she hugged me back, tight. She scritched my back, and I scritched hers hard, as I realized it felt good to hold her. I wanted to stay there for longer, as she rubbed her head up against my neck, and feel her and love her and tell her how much her help had meant to me. But then-

“Hey, Lawrence!” Joshua called out, and I jumped and pressed myself back against the fridge, scared that someone had noticed. Scared that I had been caught.

But he was smiling, and he waved to beckon me closer. “C’mon and try this game out!” he said, holding up a controller.

My fur settled back down, as I looked over to Sam questioningly. “Go ahead,” she said, scritching the top of my head gently. “I’ll be over there in a minute.”

So I sat down next to these nice humans and anthros, and played games and talked with them, and … this is kind of the weird part. But the whole point was to meet other anthros and furry fans, right? To hang out with those people.

But they didn’t seem like that when I was there. They just seemed like people. And after I’d been there a little while, I forgot that I was a lemur. I mean, I didn’t literally forget, since I still had the ears and the tail and all, but it’s like … that was me. I was me, and those were a part of me, and I didn’t have to worry about being an anthro. It wasn’t a secret, it wasn’t something to be ashamed of, it was just who I was. And my long ringtail got stepped on a few times, but people also admired and played with it, and I thought that was really cute.

Towards the end, when most of the others had left, Sam sat down right next to me and used my tail as a scarf, giving me a playful look to see if I approved. I felt the same way that I had when she’d sat next to me back in my tent, but this time I enjoyed it. I smiled up at her, then my eyes lingered on her smooth, furry legs for a moment, before we leaned on each other’s shoulders and held each other, scritching each other’s backs gently.

I don’t know what she was thinking. Maybe she was attracted to me, in her purely romantic, asexual way. Maybe she was just naturally cuddly, because she was a cat. Or maybe she felt like I needed some more reassurance … heck, maybe she wanted to be reassured that I didn’t hate her after all that.

But we stayed that way for awhile, just being there with each other, even though other people were around us. And while it wasn’t as … involved, as what Katelynn and her friend had done in private, it felt so good just to feel her there close to me. It really did.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

“You’re-” Sam was cut off, by the two furs in front of the TV cheering and high-fiving each other before getting back to their game. She just smiled, at me and at them.

“Um … ” I fidgeted. I didn’t want this to end, but I wasn’t sure what to say.

“Yes?” Sam looked up at me.

I squirmed. “Er … would you like to come by and visit, tomorrow? There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

“Who’s that?”

* * *

“I’m calling to report a missing person.” Laurence’s mom paces her house’s front yard, her cellphone in one hand and a lit cigarette in the other. She’s quiet a moment, listening.

“Yes,” she says, and pauses.

“Laurel Williams.” Another pause.

“Don’t give me that bull-” She stands there a moment, her eyes narrowed at the phone. “What do you mean, it hasn’t been twenty-four hours? It’s been days since she was supposed to come … home … ”

There’s a familiar engine rumble, from down the street.

The person on the other end is still talking. Laurence’s mom presses “End” on the touchscreen and puts out her cigarette, then looks up as his truck comes down the street towards her house. She’s already walking briskly, and is right at the curb next to it as it parks.

Two anthros get out, one on either side, and Laurence’s mom considers them while they’re doing so. “So, which one of you is my offspring?” she asks.

Laurence just runs up and hugs her, and she hugs him back, tightly. She’s never been held by an anthro before, and the fur’s a bit tickly on her bare arms. But she doesn’t mind. After all, he’s her son.

“Laurel. Amber. Williams,” Brother Pratt intones, with eyes closed and head bowed. “By the power of the Holy Melchizedek Priesthood, we seal this anointing upon you.”

His hands are on Laurel’s head. Olive oil drips from between his fingers, and mixes with the blood and vomit on the ground. His companion beside him helps hold Laurel still, despite her seizures, as the girls all around fold their arms reverently and try not to peek.

The ambulance has been delayed. Nobody thinks that she’ll make it.

“At this time, we pronounce a blessing upon you.” Brother Pratt sweats bullets, as he tries to feel what to say. “Sister Williams, know that your Heavenly Father loves you and cares about you, despite whatever choices you’ve made … ”

A cat meows, somewhere nearby.

“And while our wrong choices can lead to bad ends-”

“Stop the blessing!” Sister Powers shouts.

Brother Pratt looks up, startled. He sees an orange-and-white tabby cat sitting on Laurel’s stomach, and thinks What, for the cat? But then he sees the blue bands glow on Laurel’s and the cat’s shoulders, and he jumps, standing up all of a sudden and shaking. He wipes his oily hands off on his shirt frantically, and checks all over his arms for any sign of the blue glow.

Beneath him Laurel’s chest flattens, her shoulders widen, and her face turns into a golden-furred lemur’s, as a fluffy ring-striped tail curls out behind her until it touches Brother Pratt’s shoes.

Everyone looks on in horror, as the cat nudges Laurel’s face and curls up beside him. He rests, peacefully, as Brother Pratt has the nervous breakdown that will send him to LDS Family Services for the third time.

* * *

I got out of Sam’s car, and leaned on the roof after I shut the door. I felt like I’d thrown up half my body weight in the last 48 hours, and my knees were still shaking when I tried to walk.

She came over and took me by the elbow, to help me. But I wasn’t looking at her … I was looking across the street, at my family’s perfect house in the Provo suburbs. The sprinklers were on, the lawn was green, and my truck and the minivan were in the driveway. My dad’s car wasn’t there, though, so at least that was one less parent to worry about. For now.

“Are you sure you feel up to this?” Sam asked. She was in human form, and wearing a modest t-shirt. I would’ve been human-form too, if I could get my body to change. Could get it to do anything besides be sick over and over.

“I don’t know.” I felt like I didn’t know anything anymore. Except for one thing: What I had done was wrong.

“You don’t have to do this,” she said, one hand on my shoulder. And for a moment, I remembered how it had felt when I’d asked her to change me.

Then I remembered bishop’s interviews, Conference talks, Young Women’s lessons on purity. Licked cupcakes, soiled handkerchiefs, boards without nails but with nailholes. The peace that I’d felt in God’s holy temple, when I did proxy baptisms for the dead, and the awful guilt of knowing that I’d never be able to go back.

I remembered being slumped in my chair with the door open, after my dad took my laptop from me. Hearing my stepmother’s crying echo through the stairwell, and knowing that I was the lowest scum in the universe.

I sighed. “Yes, I do.”

Sam helped me across the street. I had to lean on her most of the way. But when we got up to the doorstep, I rang the doorbell and then stood up straight, on my own, to face the music.

It was a Janice Kapp Perry arrangement. The sound came out of the living room speakers, as my stepmother opened the door and blinked at me.

“There is beauty all around, when there’s love at home … ”

I stood there, red-faced under my fur and ashamed, too scared to even look up at her.

“There is joy in every sound, when there’s love at home … ”

I knew that she was ashamed of me. I knew-

“What do you want?” She sounded scared and suspicious.

She didn’t know.

She didn’t know.

“Peace and plenty here abide … ”

Sam coughed. “Mrs. Williams, your stepson wanted me to drop him off here so that he could talk to you.”

“Smiling sweet on every side … ”

I glanced up at her face, and saw shock and absolute horror. “Laurel … ?”

I nodded, too scared and ashamed to do anything else.

“Time doth softly, sweetly glide … ”

I stood there for what seemed like forever, frozen with fear and with guilt, as my stepmother’s face slowly twisted with agony. The tears came out before the sound did, and she started to shake before she actually cried.

“Mrs. Williams … ”

She made the most awful, agonized sound that I’d ever heard, before turning and running back into the living room.

“ … when there’s love at home!”

I numbly stepped in after her, watching as she took random things from the tables and shelves and flung them across the room.

“Love at home … ”

The “Good Shepherd” statue of Jesus and one of his lambs, smashed to pieces across the fireplace.

“Love at home!”

The framed quote from D&C 88, about making a house of order.

“Time doth softly, sweetly glide, when there’s love-”

The stereo stopped playing, when my stepmom threw her Salt Lake Temple miniature at it. Half of the building rolled next to my feet.

By now tears were running down my furry face, and the triplets were up there crying with us. They were pleading with their mom and tugging at her arms, trying to get her to stop. She just screamed and buried her face in her arms, sobbing and letting the family portrait fall to the mantle and crack.

“Heavenly Father hates me!” she cried. “All the work that I’ve done, all the fasting and praying to make things right, and my daughter comes home as an animal!” Her voice squeaked.

There was no feeling at all in my arms or legs. I couldn’t have moved if I’d wanted to. I couldn’t even turn my head to see if Sam was still there. The triplets were clinging to my stepmom now, staring at me like I was a stranger to them.

She kept crying as my brother came up from the basement stairs. My brother, whose last conversation with me had been about how anthros freaked us both out. “Alright, what’s all the-”

He stopped, and took in what was happening. Then his eyes rested on me. “Who are you, and what have you done?”

“That’s your sister!” my stepmom cried. “That’s Laurel!” I could only stand there, frozen in terror.

There was a long pause. Then: “Oh no, it’s not.” And a second later I had my head cracked against the wall, before being wrestled down to the floor.

“What have you done with my sister!” he shouted. “What have you done with my sister!?”

“I-”

He decked me across the jaw, and I tasted blood. Then he hit me again and again, as the triplets screamed and hid behind their mom. It looked like there were six of them by the time he stopped hitting me.

“Somebody get this trash out of here,” he said, standing and walking away. I just lay there motionless, next to the shards of the Salt Lake temple, hearing my stepmother cry in her chair. A minute later I also heard smashing and clattering noises downstairs, and realized that my brother was destroying everything in my room.

For some reason, I didn’t care anymore. The physical pain blended with the emotional hurt and rejection, and I lay there and let it soothe and numb me. Promising myself that it’d be over soon.

This is my fault, I thought, and I deserve this. It became a mantra. This is my fault, and I deserve this.

I kept repeating it in my head, as the smashing and clanging and crying continued. Salt tears and metallic blood ran into my mouth, as my lips were too swollen to stay shut.

The world had already started to blur before I closed my eyes.

* * *

“Get up.”

I was groggy, and wasn’t sure what was going on. But it was dark all around me, and there was a man standing over me. Had I died? Was that …

“Laurel, get up.” It was my dad’s voice.

I sat up, then immediately clutched my head as it started to hurt. My swollen lip throbbed, and the top and the sides of my head were sore even to touch.

There were lights on elsewhere in the house, but he didn’t have them on in this room, as though he couldn’t bear to see what I had become. He didn’t offer me his hand as I slowly stood up, leaning against the wall, and he looked away from me as he spoke. “Your keys are on the mantle,” he said.

I nodded, gently, and winced.

“Your biological mother is still out of town. I’ve printed out directions to the homeless shelter if you need someplace to spend the night.”

I closed my eyes, still leaning against the wall, and sighed.

“Take some food, get what things you have left, and go. May God have mercy on your soul.” His voice shook, and he took off his glasses and wiped at his eyes.

I dragged myself into the kitchen, squinting at the light. My stepmom was in the dining room, watching the TV news. “ … committed suicide,” the announcer was saying, “after his friends posted pictures of his gay sex acts onto Facebook-”

She changed the channel to KBYU.

They were having one of their roundtable shows. The words blurred together as I picked things out from the pantry and stashed them in a paper bag, one that it took me two or three tries to unfold. It felt surreal … it was like being home, and being unwelcome in somebody else’s house, at the same time.

Halfway through I heard my stepmom crying, and the world blurred as my eyes started to water too. I just grabbed up a few more cans and hurried back out to the foyer, leaving the bag by the door as I ran downstairs to my room.

Somehow, deep down I thought it’d be just like I’d left it. It had always been my sanctuary … the one place where I could stay there all day with the door closed, and read and pray and destress. I don’t know how many times I’d hurried there to escape from my stepmom’s crying or my family’s arguments. I don’t know why I thought it would be that way now.

My breath caught as soon as I turned on the light. My chess trophies were in pieces. All the furniture had been overturned, and the papers that’d been on my desk were strewn all over the clothes that I’d left on the floor. I saw my TV cart and the game consoles next to the door, but I didn’t see the TV itself, until I looked up and saw it next to a hole in the wall. The screen was cracked.

I turned around, and saw myself in the mirror that covered the closet door.

I don’t know if you’ve ever looked in the mirror and not recognized what you saw. It’s like there’s a split-second where your brain tries to identify who the other person is, before your conscious mind tells it it’s you. In my case, my brain told me That’s one of them. That’s one of those people.

He was wearing second-hand clothes from the D.I., and he looked like he’d just been beat up. It was probably one of his lovers, my brain said. You know they do that kind of stuff in his lifestyle.

I looked up at his face, and he looked back groggily. Drowsy and uncomprehending.

Then I looked down at the destruction all around him, in the mirror. And I clenched my fists. You killed me! I thought, glaring at him. You killed me and ruined my life! How could you!

My vision blurred with tears again. “I hate you … ” I whispered. “I hate you I hate you I hate you!” I dropped to my knees and put my hands to my face, but it hurt; and the shock of feeling my new face made me pull my hands away and cry into my sleeves instead.

I stayed there a long time, crying and sniffling into this person’s clothes, surrounded by the life I’d used to lead and knowing I’d never go back to it. Forgetting the pain, forgetting the guilt, forgetting the fear and frustration. Remembering only the family, and the good times, and the promises that had stretched to eternity.

At one point I was leaning up against the mirror, gasping for breath. And I’d just wiped my tears away, and I saw this frightened male lemur’s face right next to mine, and I knew That is me now and I killed her.

That was when I died. That was when Laurel got replaced with Lawrence. And Lawrence felt horrible for having taken my life from me, and wished that he could give it back. For my sake, and for my family’s.

My father killed a man once, when he worked on the police force. It took him years to work through the guilt. His anti-depressants are still in the fridge.

I realized, as Lawrence, that I knew what he’d felt like now. Because there was no way to get back the person I’d been. There was no way to give back my parents’ daughter, and my brother’s sister, and make the person who’d lived in this room come back to life. There was only me, and the sickening despair that I felt over what I had done.

I didn’t want this! I pled with myself, my claws tracing down the mirror. I didn’t mean to do this to you! I’m sorry, Laurel! I’m so sorry!

We can choose our actions, Laurel said, her arms folded in my mind, but we can’t choose the consequences of those actions. Obeying God’s laws leads to happiness. Disobeying leads to death.

In desperation, I thought But it’s not my fault! I’m not the one who told your brother to beat you up and destroy your room. I’m not the one who told your parents to disown you! They only chose to do that because … because …

Because they were obeying the counsel of God’s chosen leaders, Laurel’s ghost finished for me. And I remembered the General Conference talks, about how parents should not “enable” their transgender or transspecies children. Should limit their interactions with them, and especially keep them from influencing the rest of the family. No matter the cost.

Obeying God’s laws leads to happiness. Disobeying leads to death.

I nodded slowly, eyes squeezed shut. Knowing what I had to do.

* * *

Looking back on it, I wonder if there was any way that someone could’ve stopped me.

Like when I came back up the stairs clutching my suitcase, filled with Laurel’s stolen toys, and saw her dad still standing there at the fireplace with his head in his hands. I told him “I love you, and I’ll see you at church tomorrow.” Was there anything he could’ve said that would’ve made a difference? What if he’d said “I love you too?” What if he’d even nodded?

But no. “Just go,” he said, pointing at the door. “Get out of my sight.” So I did, while fighting back tears.

What if my mom had come back from her trip by then? Would we have stayed up all night and drank coffee and talked? If I’d cried on her shoulder, and said I believed her that Mormonism was hateful, would she have hugged me and waited ‘till later to judge? Or would she have just said “I told you so?”

Maybe it would’ve helped if Sam had been at her apartment that night. Or if she’d come back in the hour that I waited there, ringing the buzzer and pacing the apartment building’s lobby.

Maybe if she hadn’t left me, when I was laying there moaning in pain.

I spent most of that hour praying, in my mind, and asking Heavenly Father what I should do. And when he didn’t answer, I drove to the nearest Church meetinghouse, and parked the truck there for the night. If God wouldn’t answer my prayers, I thought, in a daze, I’d wait until tomorrow and hear from his chosen leaders.

After all, I didn’t want to miss General Conference.

Continued in part 2 of An Enemy to God.

Or, continue reading in this story.

“Is it alright if I sit down?”

I was frozen in place, too scared to nod, to scared to speak to this naked anthro who’d just changed right in front of me. I couldn’t even look up at her, but the change kept replaying in my head and it made me feel warm and uncomfortable and I wanted to see it again.

She sat down, a few feet away from me.

“I heard the last part of your prayer,” she said. “Do you want me to-”

“NOi’mokay!” I jumped to my feet and started pacing in nervous circles around the clearing, keeping my head down and trying not to look at her.

The cat sighed. “Sorry.”

I’m not looking at you, I’m not talking to you, I don’t want to be here, please go away … My brain had locked up. I wanted to run, but I couldn’t face the other girls back at camp. And besides that, I couldn’t believe this was happening. I felt like I had right before I’d watched all those videos … knowing I was going to, but trying to convince myself otherwise.

“Are you okay?” Sam asked.

“No.” My voice shook.

“Is it because of what happened, or is it something I did?”

I said nothing, and kept pacing.

“Look, I just wanted to help. You’re the only one here who’s opened up to me. Everyone else just seems fake, like they’re only saying what they think I want to hear. And they sound so happy when they talk to each other, but then they say mean, hateful things, about people they know nothing about. Don’t think I haven’t noticed how they’ve been shunning you.”

I can’t say anything, I thought. If I say anything, I’ll give in.

She sighed. “Is it because you’re a lesbian?”

I stopped.

“Why you’re uncomfortable right now, I mean. And maybe why they’ve been shunning you.”

I swallowed. “No,” I said. “I’m bisexual. And I’m very attracted to you.” My voice cracked.

“Ah.”

I started pacing again, feeling my heart pound like never before. My legs were unsteady, and I wondered if I’d just pass out.

“Would it help if I said I’m asexual?”

My mind went blank. “You’re-” I coughed, and swallowed again. “You’re what?”

“Asexual. My orientation is ‘neither.’”

I actually turned to look at her, staring blankly at her face. “So you don’t-”

“No.”

“And you’ve never-”

She shook her head. “Uh-uh.”

My brain was so scrambled right now, I just blurted out what I was thinking. “Not even when you’re in heat?”

“It’s uncomfortable, but not in that way.”

I sat back down next to her, dazed. My heart was still pounding, but it wasn’t because of attraction anymore. Not because she was any less cute, but because the possibility of anything happening had just vanished. And it hurt.

“Do you need a hug?” she asked.

I accepted it, and cried into her shoulder fur as she put her arms around me. I’d lost so much in the past few minutes … including an incredibly kind, beautiful person, who I hadn’t realized that I’d felt so strongly about. Blue rings glowed around her neck, but they didn’t crawl onto me, and I wouldn’t have let them right then.

“If it makes you feel any better,” she said, “I’m not aromantic. I just don’t know if I could see myself in a relationship with another girl.”

“I don’t want to be a girl,” I whispered, mostly to myself.

“Do you want me to-”

But I had already let go of her, and clasped my hands in my lap again. “It’s not natural … ”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Sam’s ears flatten. “So it’s natural for a bisexual, transgender boy to grow up hating himself, but if someone accepts him for who he is then that’s just sick and wrong.”

I stood up, holding my hands out at her while looking away. “I’m not going to argue about this … I’m not going to be persuaded to live a wrong lifestyle.”

Sam folded her arms. “Oh yeah, watch out for us asexuals trying to convert people. You might suddenly lose your libido and go join a convent or something.”

“Or start TFing naked in front of people.”

I heard her tail smack into the brush as it swished. “If you know a way to carry a full outfit on you as a cat, then you let me know, okay? I didn’t know you were attracted to girls, I just wanted to help-”

“You wanted to spy on me!” I whirled around and glared at her. “And … and get me to live your transspecies lifestyle!” It felt so much better to pretend that it was her fault that I wanted it. It let me feel angry with her, instead of guilty.

“Because that’s just so much worse than being a self-hating, self-righteous jerk!” Now she stood up and glared back at me, her fists clenched and her fur bristling. “And don’t you tell me about ‘getting others to live my lifestyle.’ Not when you’ve got fifty freaking thousand missionaries going door to door to try to convert other people to yours.”

“I wish I was one of them!” I shouted, tears blurring my vision again. “I wish God would call me and give me the Priesthood and let me teach other people the Gospel! I wish my Primary teacher had helped me prepare, and it was expected of me instead of just … just … like tossing me a bone in case I can’t get married in time!”

“Huh?” Sam gave me a weird look.

I had to fight to control my breathing before I answered her. “Sister missionaries aren’t automatically called to go on a mission at the age of nineteen. They can choose to go at twenty-one, if they’re not married by then and they feel that God is okay with it. They don’t get the Priesthood, and they stay out for eighteen months instead of two years.”

“So basically, you’re a second-class citizen in your church because of your biological gender.” She flicked her tail at the brush again. “At least you don’t get drafted, like the guys do.”

I glared at Sam, breathing through clenched teeth and trying to think what the most hurtful thing I could say to her was. I hated my life, I hated myself and I hated her for reminding me of that.

Of what I had learned so painfully.

* * *

The bishop is moralizing at Laurel, telling her about the life that God wants her to live. Where she will give up on her foolish desires, and marry a returned missionary and become a mother in Zion. And in the next life they will go on and have worlds without end, and her offspring will fill those worlds and she will have glory in it forever.

Laurel says nothing. She can’t bring herself to. She just sits there, red-faced, holding back tears, as her father pronounces a death sentence on her.

Not on the Laurel sitting in front of him. On the Laurel who asked her Primary teacher why she wasn’t allowed to sing “I Hope They Call Me On A Mission.” On the Laurel who found out about TF at age 8, and prayed that God would let her do it because she knew she’d like it a lot. On the Laurel who played outside with boys, got crushes on girls, and pretended that she was an animal, all before she reached puberty.

On the Laurel who’d watched those videos the other night, and let herself believe — just for a moment — that someday it’d happen to her.

All the things that she’d hoped for, innocently prayed for when she was little, are being taken away from her now. And the Laurel who loved them is dying, stabbed in the heart by despair, as the Laurel in the bishop’s office watches her death throes in shock.

Suddenly, she is gone. And the Laurel sitting there in her church clothes slumps backwards, silently, as all of her strength leaves her.

“You have so much potential,” her father tells Laurel. “If you only knew how much your Heavenly Father loves you.”

Laurel imagines her overweight, hypertense stepmom, bearing children for all of eternity. And she knows that she will be joining her soon.

Her father removes his glasses and wipes at his forehead. “I’ll speak to the high council, and arrange for a Court of Love to meet with you. For now, that will be all.”

* * *

“It is a privilege to serve my Heavenly Father and his Church,” I told Sam, through clenched teeth. “He has promised me blessings beyond anything you could imagine, if I just set my stupid selfish desires aside and follow his prophets’ teachings!”

She said nothing, so I went on. “I know this Church is true!” I shouted. “I know we are led by a prophet of God! I know he wants me to stay home and not go on a mission … ” Tears started to come to my eyes. “ … and become a wife and mother and give everything I have to him! Everything!”

Now I was crying openly, as Sam continued to watch. “I don’t care if I never find out what TF is like! I don’t care if I have to marry young, or not go to college, or become like my stupid stepmom!” It was getting hard to talk, through the tears. “God knows me better than I do myself! And his plan is the only way I can be happy!”

I was down on my knees crying into my hands, as Sam came over and put her hand on my shoulder. Her pawpad was warm and soft.

I knew what she ought to say next: “If God’s plan of happiness is so great, then why are you miserable?” But she didn’t, and I was grateful to her for it. I couldn’t have taken it. She didn’t try to change me right there, either, but I wished so badly that she would.

I sniffled. “Please, just go away. I don’t want to be like you,” I lied. “It’s wrong.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s unnatural! If God had wanted me to be a … a golden lemur, he would’ve made me one!” I had to tell her. I wanted so bad for her to change me, and she couldn’t unless she knew what species. “And if he’d wanted me to like girls, then he would have made me a guy!”

“Just like in nature?” Sam asked.

“Exactly!” I looked up at her, my vision blurred.

“Well, there are a ton of gay and lesbian couples in the animal kingdom who need to have a word with him, then. Because he apparently messed up while creating them.”

I clenched my fists, frustrated. “There aren’t any animals who turn into people!”

“Yes, there are,” she said. And I immediately knew what she meant by that.

My face turned red, and I started to sweat even harder than when I’d confessed my attraction for her. No wonder she’d been so naive. No wonder she didn’t seem to care about being naked in front of me. Her claws traced down my hair and my spine, gently massaging me like I’d petted her as a cat, and I wondered how long she had been like this … and which, if any, her “real” form was.

Then I realized I knew what mine was. And it was like a switch had been flipped in my head, one that I couldn’t turn off.

“But I don’t want to give up God’s blessings … ” I thought, trying in vain to unflip the switch as Sam stroked my hair.

It doesn’t matter, I realized. You’re not the kind of person who can live like that. You never were.

“But my dad promised me!” I thought back to myself. “He told me I could become … become … ”

You’ll never be worthy by their standards, I realized. No matter how hard you try, it will never be hard enough. Your only options are to lie your way through, the way Katelynn does, or to accept that you cannot do as they ask.

My shoulders slumped, but my heart pounded hard as I listened to my conscience lecture me. It hurt so bad to admit defeat. “I’m supposed to let Jesus give me the strength to obey … ” I pleaded inside, as Sam scritched my back in silence.

When did Jesus ever help anyone follow the rules? my conscience asked me. He never helped those who make rules. He never helped those who set themselves apart as “holy” and looked down on others because of that. He only liberated the oppressed.

You are oppressed.

And then suddenly, I wasn’t anymore.

I saw myself as the boy I was, as the anthro lemur I was, who was scared and in pain and had been trapped for so long. And I’d finally been given the key to escape. “Change me,” I whispered, before I lost my nerve.

“A male golden lemur?” Sam asked, as though she’d been expecting this.

“Yes. Please.”

“Alright, then,” she said. “Hold still.”

I felt her kneel down and press herself close to my side, and wrap one arm around my shoulders while the other took hold of my hand. Even though I had my eyes closed and braced for it, I could see the blue glow of her bands through my eyelids, and I could feel them crawl onto me from her shoulders.

I had a moment to wonder how the changes would feel, but when they came they weren’t painful or blissful or anything. They were just there, all inside me, especially my gut. And they seemed to take a long time. I found myself thinking Yes, please, faster, before-

“AHA!”

It stopped, while it was still inside me. Before the changes had reached my skin.

Bright lights hurt my eyes, and I opened them to see flashlights shining on us. “I knew you’d sneak off and try something like this!” It was Katelynn’s voice, and I could see Sister Powers’ silhouette next to her but for some reason they seemed far away, and even my heart wasn’t beating fast. I couldn’t feel it. “What do you two have to say for yourselves?”

Sam stood up, and the girls gasped at her. A moment later I stood up beside her, but I staggered as the world spun around me, and Sam reached out to steady me. I still didn’t feel scared, even though I knew I should be. Just really uneasy, like that feeling you have when you’re looking down at a gaping wound. Right before the pain registers.

Somewhere in the back of my brain, I knew they were asking me something. I fished for a response as the world started to blur. “I … I … ”

I stumbled free of Sam’s grip, and then everyone backed up as I fell to my knees and threw up violently. It was black and putrid, and smelled of blood.

I drew in a gurgling breath, and then threw up again. Something thick and bloody and squishy came out and splatted onto the ground, and I thought Oh God, I’ve just lost a kidney.

The thought was so sickening that I almost threw up again, and I tried to hold back because I didn’t know what would come out this time. But that made the pain catch up to me, searing and wrenching, and I moaned and clutched my stomach as it brought me down to one side.

Everyone’s voices all blurred together, as the world became agony.

It took way too long for me to pass out.

“Why don’t we begin with a quick word of prayer?”

Laurel’s father gives the prayer, from behind his hardwood desk. The words blur together into a soft, slow drone, that reminds Laurel of General Conference talks by Church leaders. Sweat pours down her sides, as she realizes that as soon as he’s done she is going to die. And for a moment she’s glad for his monotone prayers, because this one is all she has left.

“Amen,” he says, and then there is silence. A long, long minute of silence, that makes her face burn as she sits there with arms folded and eyes closed still. He’s waiting for her to look up, she realizes, and she thinks I don’t want to look. I don’t want to look. I don’t want to look …

Laurel looks up, and sees her laptop open on the desk next to her father, with the screen pointing towards him. Her breath catches when she sees it. Oh God, please no. Please, no. I’m so sorry. Please don’t let this be about-

He slowly turns it around to face her. “Would you care to explain this?”

* * *

The rest of that day, after I’d decided I had to tell Sam that I was attracted to her, was agonizing for me. All of a sudden it seemed like it was never a good time to bring it up. And we got into a couple of short conversations that day, but they were stunted and awkward, because now that I had acknowledged my wrong feelings they seemed stronger than ever. And knowing that they were wrong just made it worse.

Finally it was lights-out, and I was feeling miserable. I sat outside in the dark for a couple of minutes, before going back up to my tent and grabbing a few granola bars from my pack.

Katelynn was getting ready for bed. “Think I’ll go take a walk,” I told her, without looking up.

There was a pause. “Okay … ” she said, slowly. “About how long do you expect you’ll be?”

“I dunno,” I said. “Probably awhile.”

She didn’t say anything else, so I walked out.

I clicked my flashlight on as I stepped out onto the path through the forest. Just as I did so, I nearly bumped into a girl who was going the other way, and who didn’t have a flashlight. For a moment I was annoyed with her; why hadn’t she brought a flashlight? Where was her “buddy?” The buddy system said that we weren’t supposed to leave our campsites without another girl with us. It was for safety, plus it kept us girls from getting in trouble.

I sighed, as I realized that I didn’t have one either. I hoped that Sister Powers wouldn’t find out, and that Heavenly Father would understand … it wouldn’t be right for me to be alone with another girl in the dark, anyway. It was awkward enough having to sleep in the same tent as Katelynn.

I walked all the way down the path to the lake, and watched the moon and its reflection disappear behind the treelines. The crickets and frogs were so noisy I could barely hear myself eating my late-night snack, but it was a nighttime sort of noise, and it comforted me. I almost forgot about the temptations that I was facing … for a moment. Then I had the most random thought.

I know this sounds gross, but I honestly wondered if I shouldn’t just mutilate myself to get rid of these wrong feelings. Hadn’t Jesus said “If thine right eye offends thee, pluck it out?” Better to be sterile and scarred for life, than to be kept from entering heaven. Wasn’t that part of the original reason for circumcision, to make those feelings guys had less intense?

I could still obey the commandment to start a family by adopting kids … it wasn’t like there was a shortage, in the foster care system. But my body would be restored to me in the resurrection, I knew. And to suddenly have to deal with those feelings again would be more than I would be able to handle.

I sighed. All of creation was out there in its majesty, from the trees and cat-tails to the Milky Way. And I was the part of it that was broken.

I let myself feel judged by it all for a couple of minutes. Then I made the long, slow walk back up the path, kicking at pinecones as I went. Telling myself how terrible it was to have all these wrong feelings, and reminding myself of how bad I’d felt when I found out how serious they were.

* * *

“Do you want to tell me why you were watching these videos?”

Humans changing, blue rings glowing, shedding clothes and growing fur. Animal features forming on them, tails bunching up in their pants or sticking out through their skirts. Holding other humans’ hands, blue rings crawling onto their skin, the changes coming to the other person as their faces show pain, bewilderment, ecstasy. Sensuous changes, matter-of-fact changes, fearsome in-the-dark changes. Male bodies slimming, curving, and furring gracefully.

Humans becoming anthropomorphic animals, of either gender.

“Laurel, answer the question.”

I can’t … she thinks. She can’t even look at the screen.

Another long silence, as Laurel is overwhelmed with shame and fear and awkwardness. It hurts so bad that it doesn’t seem real. This is something that other people do … those kinds of people, the ones who live “lifestyles” and break God’s commandments.

It hadn’t seemed real when she’d watched the videos, either. It’d seemed like she’d split into two Laurels; the one who was “just curious,” and the one who wanted it so bad she was willing to lie to herself to see it, and to imagine what it was like.

Just not willing to lie to the bishop. Which is why she can’t make herself say anything.

Her father clasps his hands on his desk, next to his day-planner. “Laurel, this is a serious matter. You could face Church discipline for it. Aren’t you going to tell me anything that could help?”

Laurel shivers, and speaks with a dry, cracking voice. “I want it to happen to me … ” she says.

“I beg your pardon?” Her father cups one hand to his ear.

Laurel swallows, and tries again. “I want it to happen to me.”

* * *

I turned off my flashlight as I stepped back into the campsite, being quiet so that I didn’t wake anyone up. And I heard weird noises coming from inside my tent, but I didn’t think much of it until I pulled back the flap and heard two girls suddenly gasp.

I clicked on my flashlight. Katelynn and the girl that I’d passed on the way out of the campsite were making out.

I don’t know how to describe what happened to me then. It’s like something clicked, in my brain. I felt my heart rate shoot to the ceiling, but I felt oddly calm as I asked “What’s this?” in a blank, deadpan monotone.

“Sorry, sorry,” the other girl said, red-faced, as she got up. She zipped back up her pants and hurried out the other end of the tent.

“Kate,” I asked, still feeling disconnected. “What is this?”

“Nothing,” Katelynn said, straightening out her t-shirt. “We were just talking.”

“Talking,” I repeated, as I watched the other girl hastily stumble out of the campsite without her flashlight.

“Yes. Angela’s my friend, and she was scared and nervous about being at camp.” Kate held up her hand and squinted at me, as I held the flashlight on her.

“Ah.” I looked back down at her. “Is that why you were holding her breasts?”

Katelynn stared at me. “What?”

I clicked the flashlight off and stepped inside, standing over her as she talked. “I didn’t … I … I’m sorry, but there is just no way I would have done that,” she said. “I am not that kind of pers-”

“I SAW YOU!” I screamed, as the wound-up coil in my head snapped. “I saw what you were doing!”

“You don’t know anything about us!” Katelynn stood up and glared down at me, her fists clenched. “I don’t know what you thought you saw, but whatever it was, it must have reminded you of your lesbian girlfriends back home.”

“I don’t have any!” I shouted. People were waking up outside, but I didn’t care. “I don’t have any because I’m too busy being told what a worthless excuse for a member I am!”

“Well, maybe you are!”

“I saw what you did,” I hissed.

Kate folded her arms. “Proof, or it didn’t happen.”

I stared at her. “What!?”

I could see my shadow in the beam of a flashlight behind me. I could also see Katelynn’s face. And it wasn’t smug and self-satisfied … it was indignant. Footsteps approached as I realized She really believes what she says. She doesn’t think that she did that.

How can she not know she did that? Is she blocking it out, or something?

For a moment, I wondered if I was going crazy. Then I realized that it didn’t matter.

“Alright, girls, what is the matter with-”

I whirled around and decked Sister Powers, knocking her to the ground.

Katelynn gasped, and Sister Powers moaned in pain. I heard the other girls come running to help her as I ran out of the campsite in tears.

* * *

“I’ve always loved books, and cartoons, and movies where people change into animals. I don’t know why, I just do.” Laurel is speaking fast, looking away from her father. “Sometimes I feel like my whole life is just … like I’m meant to be an animal, but I got stuck this way instead. And it’s like nothing makes sense to me then; none of my schoolwork, nothing at church, none of the news reports about war and things. But I still have to make myself deal with that stuff, even though it’s so abstract and alien and … and I’m not making any sense, here … ”

He’s still not talking. Just giving her an unreadable look.

Laurel is sweating hard and her face and forehead are burning, but she keeps on spilling her guts since she knows there’s no way that it can get worse. “I know the Church teaches God doesn’t make mistakes, but I just …sometimes … ” She swallows. “Sometimes it just feels that way, and I imagine-”

“Young lady.”

Laurel jumps, in her chair, and tries to straighten out her church dress as her bishop addresses her. “Those aren’t things anyone is supposed to imagine. This is serious! Your Father in Heaven did not intend for you to have feelings like this. He gave you a sweet, womanly spirit, so that you would want to marry a human man in one of his temples and help raise an eternal family. What does the world have to offer that could compare with that? Why would you even consider it?”

* * *

“Heavenly Father, I can’t do this anymore … ”

There was a “meditation area” a few minutes away from our ward’s campsite. The name sounds New Age-y, but it’s really a spot with a circle of benches, all surrounded by trees. I’d been there before, and saw other girls reading their scriptures and praying. It’d reminded me of the Sacred Grove, where Joseph Smith had had his First Vision.

I was on my knees praying there, next to one of the benches. And I was shaking as I tried to talk, praying the way I’d been taught to with all the thees and thous and such. “I don’t mean to question thy plan … ”

I sniffled.

“And I’m not saying that I’m going to rebel against it … ”

Long, deep breaths. Fighting myself, not wanting to say this but knowing that He knew anyway.

“But I want to. God, I want to.” I shook as I cried into my arms, wishing I had sleeves to dry my tears on. “I’m only mad at Katelynn because I wish I was her, and could actually be with someone and not get in trouble for it. I wish … I wish I was one of those people in the TF videos, and I could become a guy or an animal and it would actually be okay for me. I wish I was anyone besides myself!”

I cried for a long moment, my head on my arms as I knelt there in front of the bench. I felt the cold dirt on my bare knees, and the rough, splintery wood beneath my arms.

“I’m sorry, Father … I just … ” I gasped for breath. “I just … ” Again.

Long, deep breaths.

“I just don’t understand,” I finished. “If thy plan is the plan of happiness, then why am I so unhappy? Is it because of my desire to sin? But I didn’t choose to want this! I wish my same-gender attraction, and my gender dysphoria, and my species dysphoria, would go away. But they won’t, and nothing is working. Am I just broken inside? Am I just innately bad?”

I couldn’t believe I was asking God this. But my voice cracked as I said “Why can’t I ask someone to change me?”

Something furry bumped into my legs.

I screamed, jumping onto the bench and whirling around to look down at it. I almost lost my balance and fell into the bush, just as the cat jumped up next to me. “Mrow!” it said, and walked across my feet, curling its tail around my legs.

I stared at it for a moment. Then I sat down, laughing and crying at the same time, as the cat climbed up on my lap. I scratched it and ruffled its fur, cuddling it and crying as it put its paws on my shoulder and nuzzled my ears.

“I’m sorry, Heavenly Father … ” I went on, as the cat got my ears all wet and I scratched at its head all over. “I know thou art there. I know thou art looking after me. I don’t know why, anymore, but I’m thankful. And I’m so sorry for everything.” I sighed. “In Jesus’ name, amen.”

The cat purred, right next to my head.

I went on petting it for a few minutes. Then it hopped down out of my lap and ran off a little ways, and I got up after it. “What is it, kitty?” I asked, as it looked back at me. “What is-”

I froze in place, as I saw the cat rear up on its hind legs and grow into a female, human-sized but still catlike figure. Her tail swished behind the moonlit silhouette of her nude body, and around her shoulders and neck blue rings glowed. The rings that belonged to an anthro.

She turned her feline head, her back still to me, and spoke just loud enough that I could hear her over my pounding heart. “Do you feel better now?”

Of course, I thought, it would be Samantha’s voice.

Laurel is slumped into the chair in her Sunday dress, with a shell-shocked look on her face. Beside her, her stepmom is red-faced, her cheeks puffy from crying. She has her arms folded and is looking straight ahead, glaring at the door to the bishop’s office. Other churchgoers walk past in front of them, ignoring them but knowing why they’re there.

The next day, Laurel’s high school Seminary teacher tells her class about how anthros, gays, and transgender people are sick, and they do sick things to each other. They only want to live their lifestyles openly so that they can shock people, and they only want to get “married” so they can have tax writeoffs. That’s why they pushed their agenda, to get the definitions of marriage and personhood changed in California, and it’s up to the members of God’s true church to stand up for what’s right. It’s up to the Latter-Day Saints to fight back.

Laurel barely makes it through the class period, then throws up in the bathroom outside. Someone comes in as she’s retching, and just as quickly backs out.

Laurel’s knees are shaking as she straddles the toilet seat, trying to catch her breath. She’s pleading with God in her head, begging him to make her whole. Begging him to take these wrong feelings away from her.

All of them.

* * *

“What does ‘endure to the end’ mean?”

I was sitting across from the nonmember girl, Sam, in the big wooden dining hall down by the lake at Girls’ Camp. It was my last year there as a camper, before I graduated from Young Women, and my new friendship with her was the one thing keeping me going this year. We had the table to ourselves, because no one else wanted to sit with us … or with me, anyway.

The double doors were open at both ends. Outside, the trees cast shadows across the pine needle-covered path. Flies buzzed around my second bowl of cereal, and I swatted them away before looking up at Sam, not sure I’d heard her right over the background commotion. “Huh?”

“Endure to the end,” Sam repeated, brushing her hair from in front of her glasses. “That thing you said people needed to do, when you were … ” She searched for the words, for a moment. “ … bearing your testimony, last night.”

I held one hand up, as I drank the rest of the milk in my bowl slowly. Trying to think how to put this. “It’s just that,” I finally said, setting my bowl back down. “We endure Satan’s temptations until the last day, when Jesus will come and bind him.”

“It sounds hard,” she said, while using fork and knife to cut sausage links.

I groaned. “You have no idea.”

“Perhaps I don’t. What does he tempt you to do?” Sam asked, dipping a piece of sausage in maple syrup and eating it.

“Well, you know that Heavenly Father wants us to be together in our eternal families,” I explained, “after we get sealed together in the temple. So Satan tries to make us unworthy to be in our eternal families, and he tries to keep us from starting families to begin with.”

“Ah,” she said. “So he was behind Proposition 8?”

I choked. “Er, what?”

“California’s Proposition 8,” she repeated. “Besides declaring anthros non-persons, it kept same-gender couples from starting families in that state, as well as invalidating opposite-gender marriages where one of the partners was trans. Was that Satan’s work?”

I stared at her for a long moment, trying to tell whether or not she was being facetious. “Um, no … ” I said. “That was God’s work.”

“I see,” she said, slowly.

“Transgenderism and transspeciesism are unnatural,” I hastily went on. “And what gays and lesbians are doing isn’t ‘starting families,’ it’s going contrary to God’s commandments.”

“Which of God’s commandments?” Sam had stopped eating, and was watching me now.

I squirmed. “That a man and a woman are supposed to get married, and start a family together.”

“What if I don’t want to marry a man?” Sam asked.

But then Sister Powers started shouting over the din, and presenting the day’s announcements. I folded my arms and listened to her, trying to think of what I would say when I next got the chance.

* * *

You’ll have to forgive me for being an idiot. Because it wasn’t until later that day that I realized what she had meant.

I guess I’d better confess, here, before going on … I have same-gender attraction too. I don’t just have same-gender attraction, though, I’m attracted to males also. And please don’t think it’s my fault. I had enough trouble convincing my old bishop of that, even after I showed him God Loveth His Children, that new pamphlet put out by the Brethren.

I didn’t choose to have SSA, or any of these other weird problems I have … the ones that made me squeamish inside, when she started talking about anthros and transgenderism. And while I’ve made some wrong choices because of them, it’s not too late for me. I’m not like those people; I’m not living their lifestyle, and I’ve never been transformed by anyone. I just have to repent for dwelling on these wrong things so much, and let God heal me of my sinful desires.

But you’re probably confused about what’s going on. So let me back up a bit.

*takes a deep breath*

This all started when I let my mom pick out my clothes. See, the problem is that my mom’s a nonmember — an apostate, actually — and she doesn’t believe in the Church’s standards of modesty anymore. So when I told her I left my suitcase at my dad and stepmom’s house, and didn’t have anything to wear to Girls’ Camp this year, she went out shopping and came home with all of these sleeveless tops and short shorts.

I tried to tell her I didn’t believe in wearing stuff like that. That it wasn’t just going to be girls there; that there’d be adult Priesthood holders to supervise, and they didn’t need to be tempted like that. She gave me this look like I was an idiot, and started in on a feminist lecture about equal rights and stuff, so I finally had to just beg her not to make me wear those because the other girls would shun me for it.

She said no, she wasn’t going back out to the store. And sure enough, my tentmate Katelynn (we’ve got two-person tents this year instead of cabins) just comes here in between activities to get things from the bags under her cot, then walks back out off the wooden platform the tent’s on without saying a word to me. No one’s approached me or said hi to me or anything, and Sister Powers, our Young Women’s leader, gave me this long guilt trip speech where she told me to think about how the Savior felt about what I was wearing.

I didn’t tell her that sounded like a really bad way of putting it.

She told me I wasn’t allowed to be one of the youth leaders this year, because I was setting a bad example with my worldly and immodest fashions … and I guess I can’t blame her for that. I just really wished someone would talk to me, which is why I was surprised to see that they were all talking to someone else who was dressed just like me.

You guessed it. Samantha.

I hope it’s not a sin for me to say this, but Sam is really cute, and I don’t just mean because of her outfit. It’s because she wears glasses (I’ve always had a thing for girls with glasses), and because she just seems so naive. She was asking such honest questions about the Church and Utah culture in general, and I could hear the other girls laughing as they explained things to her.

Meanwhile, I was trying not to think about her too much. And I was writing sappy, embarrassing stuff in my journal, about how I was struggling with these wrong feelings and wished that I didn’t have them. So of course, when she came up and said hi to me, I closed it up really fast and looked up at her, startled and red-faced.

“You’re Laurel, right?” she asked.

“Uh, yeah … ” I was trying to talk to her without letting myself look at her, and blushing as I did so. Oh my heck, I thought, she is so cute. But I pushed that away and asked “Uh, and you are?” I’d heard her name already, but I didn’t want her to know I’d been eavesdropping.

“Sam,” she said. “Why aren’t you out here? Are you not feeling well?”

“Uh, no, I just … ” I just couldn’t face being a social pariah, because of my apostate mom and the rumors about me and the fact that I was wearing immodest clothing. But how could I explain all this to a nonmember girl, in a way that she’d understand? And wouldn’t be insulted by, I thought. “I’d just … rather stay in here, is all.” I coughed. It was true, technically.

“Is it okay if I come in and sit down?”

I hesitated a second, then nodded, and she came in and sat down beside me. Like, right beside me, on the cot. Almost touching me. I scooted away from her immediately, and tried to make it look like I was being polite and giving her space.

She asked me polite, getting-to-know-you type questions. I don’t remember what they were, because I was too busy trying not to think how her shorts had rode up her legs when she’d sat down. I do remember that when she asked “What do your parents do?” I said

“My mom’s a homemaker. My dad teaches Institute.”

“Ah. What’s Institute?”

“It’s like a … it’s a college-level religion class,” I told her. I was going to say it was like grown-up Seminary, but I guessed she wouldn’t understand that either unless she’d been invited there.

“Oh. So they teach you about different world religions and things?”

“No … just this one.”

“How come?”

“Because … ” I could see her looking at me, a curious expression on her face. She really didn’t know. Another one of those things she was naive about, I guessed, and tried not to think how adorable that made her.

“Um.” I coughed again, trying to break out of that train of thought. “How much do you know about the Church?”

“The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints?” She didn’t call it “the Mormon Church,” she said its full name, like it was honestly how she thought of it.

“Yes,” I said. “The Church.”

“I know it’s headquartered here in Utah … ” Sam looked up at the roof of my tent, like she was trying to remember the facts for a quiz. I wondered how much she’d learned just today.

“It’s got over thirteen million members worldwide,” she said, “most of them inactive. It teaches its members to give ten percent of their income to the church without question. Some of this money goes to build temples, which are like meetinghouses but are only for worthy church members. The rites performed in temples are done to seal families together for time and for all eternity.”

“Um … yes, very good!” I was embarrassed. I felt unprepared to deal with this new investigator, who knew a lot about the Church already and was learning fast. And she already knew about tithing and inactives … I didn’t know if she thought those were good or bad. How was I supposed to teach her if I didn’t know what she was ready to hear? What if I said something she wasn’t ready for?

I said a quick, silent prayer, that I’d know what to say. “Do you know why we can seal families together?” I finally asked.

“You can’t,” she said.

My mind went blank. “A-huh?”

“You can’t,” Sam explained, “because you’re a girl. You can’t hold the Priesthood, so you can’t perform the ordinances.”

“Oh, right, sorry … ” I looked away, red-faced. I hated being reminded of that, I really did. Both my gender, and the fact that I couldn’t hold the Priesthood. “I meant ‘we’ as in ‘the Church’ there, sorry.”

“Oh, okay. Why?” She clasped her hands in her lap.

“Because we … I mean the guys, sorry … they have the Priesthood. It’s the literal power of God, and the authority to act in his name. Only God can seal families together for time and for all eternity, so only the servants of God here on earth can do that for us. That’s why we spend so much time teaching each other and learning about the Church,” I finished. “Because it’s so important that we end up together, as eternal families.”

“Oh,” she said. “You care for your family a lot, don’t you?”

“I … ”

* * *

Laurel’s stepmom blows her nose on a handkerchief, from the seat next to hers, as the bishop opens his door. A boy that she doesn’t recognize hurries out without talking to Laurel, brushing past her in her seat.

Laurel looks up, at the balding man in the white shirt and tie. She swallows. “Hi, dad … ” she says. But the look on his face says that he’s not her dad right now. He’s Bishop Williams.

“Come in,” he says, turning around and heading back to his desk. Laurel gets up and does as he asks, and shuts the door behind her, feeling like she’s sealing herself into her own tomb.

* * *

I sighed. “I don’t know.”

The rest of the conversation was a blur. Samantha could sense my discomfort, and she moved on to something else … something about animals at first, but I got really tense then so she brought up something pop culture-y instead. Movies, I think. We talked about one we’d both seen.

She put her hand on my knee at one point. It felt warm and embarrassing. I didn’t stop her, though. I didn’t know how to politely ask. And I could tell that she wasn’t trying to flirt; she was trying to comfort me. She could tell I was in distress.

I couldn’t help thinking how good it felt that she was touching me like that. But then after Sam left, I got down on my knees where no one could see me and begged Heavenly Father to help me reach her. Begged him to help unworthy me to at least not stand in her way. I knew that I’d probably ruined my own eternal family, but I promised that I wouldn’t ruin hers.

When they had the nightly prayer and testimony meeting, around the fire in our ward’s campsite, I waited for a few other girls to share their thoughts about being at camp before standing up and bearing my testimony.

“I just wanted to say that I know the Church is true,” I said, knees shaking a bit as the campfire warmed me. Making me sweat uncomfortably. “I know that Heavenly Father restored it to the earth through Joseph Smith, and that he gave him the Priesthood keys to seal families together forever.”

I took a quick glance down at Sam. She was sitting there watching me, and actually listening.

I took a deep breath and went on, sounding less like a calm, reassuring Church leader and more like a scared little girl. “I know that we can be together forever, so long as we’re worthy and we obey all the laws and ordinances of the Gospel. And make and keep sacred covenants … and … and endure to the end,” I finished lamely, feeling the onset of stage fright. “In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”

I sat back down in the back row, the only one there on my bench.

* * *

Anyway, I’m pretty dense to start with, and the butterflies in my stomach from being attracted to Sam (but not wanting to admit it) made me even slower on the uptake. So it wasn’t until I heard her talking ouside my tent, saying she’d never had a boyfriend, that it dawned on me.

Oh. My. Heck.

She had same-gender attraction too! No wonder she’d said that thing about not wanting to marry a man, at breakfast … oh, crud, did that mean she liked me? What if that hand on the knee was flirting?

I felt this weird churn in my stomach, like being flattered and sickened at the same time. It felt right and wrong all at once, and I wanted to dwell on it some more. But I also knew it was the last thing that I ought to think about.

But she’s been talking so much to me and asking me so many questions … I thought. Then I sighed.

I’ve got to tell her, I thought. I have to tell her I can’t talk to her anymore, and explain why. I’ll find someone else to help teach her the Gospel. It’s for her own good … heck, it’s for my own good.

Of course, as it turned out, I wouldn’t get to confess to her until much, much later that night. And I’d end up spilling my guts to her about everything else … literally.

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?”

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.