Difference between revisions of "User:MatthiasRat/Made Alone"

Revision as of 12:51, 29 January 2008

[[:Category:Paradise|Paradise]] story universe

[[Setting::Paradise| ]]

This story is a work in progress.

Works by MatthiasRat on Shifti

Author's Comments

This is the first story of Christopher's life in the Paradise setting.

Made Alone

Author: MatthiasRat

"Have a good evening, sweetheart!"

The curly dark-haired woman waved to her husband as she hurried out the apartment door dressed in her work uniform. "I'll try," Leslie muttered. Her husband nodded, knowing how much the evening shifts irritated her. Sometimes she didn't return home until nearly four o'clock in the morning. Once she'd been even later.

That would bring her to just about the time her husband would experience an annual event that science couldn't explain.

Though to all appearances, Leslie and her husband were a happily married couple, appearances, her husband had learned, were very deceiving. Because for the last six years, Christopher Mattiaz did not see the same face in the mirror that everyone else saw when they looked at him. In fact, from year to year, he did not see the same face. Every August the 17th since 1996, at just after five in the morning, he changed. But only he could see the change.

"I hope you're feeling better soon," Leslie said before offering him a tired smile and rushing up the stairs to the ground level.

"Flu's passing already," Christopher said to her back, and it was true; his annual flu had passed him by, which it always did by this point of the evening.

With a long sigh, Christopher let his arm fall to his side and he shut the door. Their dog lifted her old head from the bean bag, curious at the sound, and then lowered it again. But Christopher, a name he had once hated but now embraced because it was unmistakably masculine, could only stare at his hands and wonder what tomorrow they would look like.

For where everyone else saw four human digits and a thumb, he saw two thick fingers ending in dark, hoof-like nails and a single thumb that could barely touch either finger. He lifted those beastly hands to his face, rubbing over the long equine snout, flaring his nostrils, and then up over his long ears, and then back down his spiky, black mane. This year it had been a donkey, and as his hands rested on the shirt that hung loosely from his shoulders, he felt the straps of his bra. Not just a donkey, but a jenny.

"Father in Heaven," he prayed fervently, "please let me be male again."

Only a few days ago, Leslie and he had celebrated their second anniversary of marriage. He'd still been a man then; well, a rat, but he'd been male at least. But on August 17th, 2000, only six days after they'd been wed, he'd changed again, a change that no one else could see, feel, or understand. And that time he'd become a female dog, and his hopes had been dashed.

Christopher slumped on the couch, the hooves that ended his legs digging into the carpet. His long rope-like tail settled behind him, still comfortable despite being pinned behind his back. He closed his eyes and just breathed, taking in the many scents of their apartment. Their dog, Crystal, was the most obvious, as well as his own pungent aroma. Then there was last night's pasta caked on the pan still needing to be washed, and the fetid miasma of the trash that needed emptying. Leslie also had a flavor, one both sweet and simple, one that he always took the time to savor. And lastly, the persistent fragrance of scented candles which he often burned to hide his musk.

His ears bent to either side, and he sighed. Though the shape of his head prevented him from looking down at his chest, he could feel the two breasts snuggled judiciously in his bra. He may have spent the last two years as female --- and two more before that --- but he didn't wear the bra because he had embraced the feminine. It was a matter of practicality, gravity, and comfort. He hoped that by tomorrow he wouldn't have to wear them anymore.

His eyes strayed to the gold ring adorning the smaller of his two fingers on what passed for his left hand. His wedding band; he had two others already made because this one didn't fit his finger in those shapes. At least, despite the bizarreness of his body, he still had Leslie; one day she might even know the truth.

The female donkey sighed and rubbed at the base of his ears with thick nails. No sense berating himself for things he couldn't change, so he may as well start collecting all his donkey things and put them in their boxes to store away. If the pattern of the last few years fit, he'd need much bigger clothes tomorrow morning.

Christopher stood up again, steady and sure on his hooves. He had twelve hours before his hour came; it would come whether he prepared or not. Hooves clopping, he walked down the narrow hall through the middle of their apartment and slipped into the computer room. He fired up his email and web browser. Maybe one of his long-standing inquiries would finally prove that he wasn't alone in being a beast.

After an hour browsing the news, traipsing from website to website, and scanning furry forums for questions that might imply a more intimate familiarity with the difficulties being a real furry would bring, Christopher closed his browser. A few years ago, he'd been certain that there had to be other people out there like him; people changed into animal forms that only they could see. With enough care, clever questioning, and investigation, he might find some of them and at last be able to share his story.

He sighed and rubbed heavy nails into his forehead. The tough hide shifted back and forth under his touch, and his supple lips formed the prayer that had been his for the last six years: "Father in Heaven, please don't let me be alone."

But he was alone, there could be no denying it. After six years, chasing down so many false trails, why should things be any different now?

He opened his eyes and stared in surprise at his email client. There at the bottom, unread, was a message bearing an attachment, the subject reading, "My Picture. I Hope You Like It!"

His heart beat faster, and his tail flicked from side to side. He recognized the email address as his most recent possibility. They'd been corresponding now for a few months, and Christopher had dropped several hints as to his equine condition. He'd even risked sending his new friend a picture of his hoofprint in the snow. It had taken him three weeks to work up the courage to do that! He usually brushed all his hoofprints, pawprints, or any other sort of print he might leave so that nobody would see them.

How well he remembered the day last January, when Leslie saw the hoofprint. While he'd been on campus, Leslie had been out shopping and saw his name on an envelope at the photo shop. Thinking she was doing him a favor, she picked up the pictures, all of which were of him and the various signs he left with his hooves in the snow. When he'd returned home, she asked him if he'd seen the horse who'd left the prints. She couldn't see that he was a female donkey in the pictures, but she could see the hoofprints.

And that hadn't been the first time he'd learned that the delusion that everyone else had when they saw him did not extend to things he left behind. Some days it was all he could to do to focus on not leaving any visible signs --- shed fur, prints, and gouges in the floor or walls from hooves and claws were his most common worries. When the stress became too great, he just called in sick.

Christopher shifted in his seat, tail flicking against his legs. His hooves tapped a staccato on the chair legs, as he opened the email, a small flicker of hope in his heart. Words upon words filled the screen, and he scrolled it until the picture came into view.

Human. Christopher let out a bray, and closed the screen. Of course they were still human, what else would they be? He smacked the pencil holder off the computer desk and they scattered over his printer and across the floor. Hot tears steamed his eyes and cheeks; agonized, he bent over until he was nearly on all fours, his pants stretching tightly over his wide hips.

Christopher wasn't human. He wasn't even a he anymore. He ground his blunt teeth together, running his thick tongue along their backs. Long ears folded to either side, and he rubbed at his cheeks with the remnants of his hands. After a few moments, he managed to lean back against the spare bed, hooves crossed before him, knees to muzzle, and enjoyed a good long cry. He was alone, and that was that.

It took him a while to gather the energy to move again. He made himself a hearty bowl of oatmeal --- just the oats, he didn't bother adding hot water --- and then opened the closet in the computer room. Leslie never went in there at his request, and he trusted her not to violate his privacy. Inside he saw twelve printer paper boxes stacked up to the top, and on the top shelf a stack of used journals.

He took out the top three boxes which were empty except for his feminine items, opened them up, and set the box tops behind them. Munching on his oats while he worked, Christopher carefully went through his clothes drawers and emptied out his shirts and pants, folding them as tightly as he could, and then stored them in the boxes. Some of his clothes he left out; those would be big enough if he changed according to the pattern of the last six years.

He returned to the entranceway and grabbed both sets of shoes, sandals and sneakers, and tucked them away. So odd that he didn't need to wear shoes except that if he didn't, everyone would comment on his going barefoot. But whenever he slipped shoes on, they disappeared! Christopher shook his head, took another mouthful of oats from the bowl, and resumed scouring the apartment for anything else he needed to store away for the next time he became a donkey.

The last thing Christopher put away, always the last thing, was his wedding band. Carefully, he gripped it between two hard nails and began seesawing it back and forth, sliding it up and over the knuckle. He had to angle it just right to slide it free of the hoof-like nail at the tip of his wider finger, but with only a little bit of pain, it came free. He rolled the simple golden band around in his palm for a moment and sighed. He took a small jewelry box and set it inside to keep it safe for the next few years.

"Well," he said to himself, his voice sounding rough but soft at the same time, pitched as a woman's would be, "only thing left to do is see what happens tomorrow."

Not quite true, Christopher reminded himself. He still had to store away his current set of clothes, but that could wait until after he'd walked the dog one last time. Returning to his closet, he stared at the nine other boxes, especially those marked with a "Year 3". If he changed the way he expected, he'd need them in the morning.

As he reached into the closet to drag them out, his eyes spied the journals sitting on the top shelf. He nickered to himself and grabbed them instead. On the cusp of such an auspicious anniversary, he did enjoy remembering where he'd once been.

The journals were nothing more than the standard composition books with black and white cover. He'd started keeping them his freshmen year in college, and he had tabbed moments that were especially important to him. The first tab marked his first date with Leslie. The second his first change.

Christopher took the journals to the spare bed and sat atop it, tail between his legs, hooves digging at the coverlet. He set the first journal aside and opened the next to the second tab. He trembled, ears folding down at the sight of his horrible scrawling. He flipped back a page, staring at his last human entry.

Aug 16, 1996

Well, the headache is finally going away. Been sick as a dog the last two days; figures it would happen right before I come back to Bridgewater. Band practice starts tomorrow, and I'd hate to miss it. My folks moved Barry and I into our new dorm room today. It's a corner room, so we have windows on two sides. That'll be nice in the winter when they turn the boiler on. Maybe this year I won't roast all winter long if we can get a breeze going. Barry and I each have our sides of the room, and it should be just enough for both of us. This is the first time either of us haven't had a private room in years, so it should be interesting. I am looking forward to this year. I have a good number of Math classes, but I'm also going to be taking a number of History and Music classes. I finished all my Science and English classes at least. And then there's Old Testament; oh boy, I know that one's going to be interesting. I hear the professor is one of those guys who doesn't think anybody who wrote the Bible actually wrote the Bible. Talk about headache inducing! I think Barry is really going to like it here at Bridgewater. Nice small school, small town, lovely countryside. Heck, even the scent of cow and chickens is kind of nice. Weird how I realize how much I miss it when I get back here. My brother says he wants to major in Physics and Chemistry. Yikes, he'll be busy! Leslie won't be in town until next week, which sucks, but I can be waiting with flowers for her or something. Yeah, I think I'll do that. I really hope Band plays some good pieces this year. If we have to play another one of those Circus Marches I'm going to puke! I guess I shouldn't complain; Doc is the man! Well, I'm still feeling kind of bleah, so I think I'll head to bed early tonight. Nothing is open on campus right now, so no point worrying about email or anything like that. Father, please bless this school year and help us both do well! </div> Christopher sighed and tried to imagine what he'd been thinking on that last day of his human life. After six years of hiding, surreptitiously buying clothes in all different sizes, sewing tail holes into his pants and underwear, and ever looking for signs that there might be other animal-men, he didn't really know how to think like a normal person. What he saw on the following page of the journal was more real than a human life.

Aug 17, 1996

I cannot even begin to describe this day. I can barely even write it with these hands... paws? What's happened to me? And why can't Barry see it? He just looked at me like I was an idiot when I tried to show him. He kept thinking I was trying to play a joke on him. I've got a tail and he thinks this is a joke!

Okay, this is too crazy, I have to try to write this down as best I can. I'm sitting here on a toilet because I don't want to bother Barry with any of this. Yeah, sitting on a toilet and trying to keep my tail from getting wet. My tail! My TAIL!

So I wake up a little before 5 in the morning. Odd, but I went to bed early last night, I don't think much of it. I sneak out in my sandals and bathrobe to get a shower and shave. Nobody else in the hall but my brother and me, so may as well. I'm showering, and then I feel really odd all over, like I'm cramping in every muscle. Next thing I know I'm scratching myself with claws! I'm looking at my hands, and instead of nails, I have short, hooked, black claws! First I think, I'm turning into a werewolf or something. Then I see my finger tips swelling and darkening, huge calluses like dogs and wolves have on their feet.

Yeah, I'm just going crazy, right? But when the heck have I ever been able to imagine anything this vivid? I don't even dream in color! I can't even really see in color at the moment, at least not much. This has to be real, I keep telling myself. It's just real. I'm transforming. I'm changing.

So I get out of the shower, scared crazy. I look at my face in the mirror, and my nose is black, broad and leathery, and my teeth are getting sharper. I've got these black hairs growing all over my upper arms, sides and along my face, with rust colored fur growing over my hands, lower arms, neck, chest, and around my snout. Yes, my snout! I have a snout! I just watched it grow out of my face, like toothpaste squeezed out of a tube.

I didn't even notice that I'd grown a tail and I was standing on my toes. Just watching my face change was so captivating... like I was melting away and an animal was taking my place. My eyes... that was the most horrid thing... watching my blue eyes darken, the iris spreading until the whites were gone. All I saw was an animal's eye, dark brown, the only hint of intelligence was me looking out of them.

That's when I noticed that the throbbing sensation was gone. I look over myself, still dripping wet from the shower. I have a sudden urge to shake my body, and before I can stop myself, I do it! Just like a dog! That's when it hits me, I'm a dog! I'm a freaking dog! Okay, a dog that walks on two legs, can still talk and think and brush his own teeth, let alone handle a pencil - dang my fingers are cramped from all this writing!

Okay, my fingers are feeling better. I've stretched them out some, and gave them a few minutes break. Barry came in asking me if I'd fallen in. Haha. Why can't he see this? His brother has just been turned into a Rottweiler and nothing's wrong?

So after I've given the bathroom my personal shake, Barry comes in and tells me to put my robe on. I yell at him, growl even, trying to ask him what's happened. Tell him I'm turning into a freaking dog. He calls me crazy. I say, `Oh yeah, here, grab my tail'. He humors me, but he cannot feel it. I feel him put his hand on it, but he just doesn't feel it. So I let it drop, tell him that I must be really tired, apologize, and tell him to apologize to Doc for me, because I'm not going to make practice today.

Even if nobody else can see what's happened, I'm glad I didn't go. I spent most of today exploring my body, trying to figure out how it works, how to use the bathroom again, and even what breed I've become. I'm now a five and a half foot tall Rottweiler with opposable thumbs. My fingers are a little bit shorter, but I think I'll be able to handle the Tympani mallets okay. Not sure what I'm going to do with my tail. It's about two feet long, and there's no way I'm stuffing it down my pants.

My feet look like normal dog paws, just the four toes and no heel. They're bigger though. Shoes are weird. I can put them on, even though they don't fit at all, and they just disappear. And when I try to take them off, they come back. I don't get it.

I can hear a lot better. I played some of my tapes to calm my nerves, and had to turn the stereo way down to keep from hurting my ears. My ears flop down on either side of my boxy head. It's kind of cute, for a dog. I have a huge tongue, and I've been panting half the day whether I wanted to or not. I can smell a ton better, and dang do Barry's feet stink. Going to have to get some foot powder for him or something.

I'm going to have to go to band practice tomorrow. If Barry can't see that I'm a big Rottweiler, then maybe nobody can. Besides, maybe this happened to some others too. Sure, I spent all day just trying to master holding a pencil again, but at least I can write. If I wake up tomorrow and I'm still a Rottweiler, well, I guess it would be interesting to live like this for a while.

What am I going to do about Leslie? I can't tell her! If Barry thought I was nuts, what's my girlfriend going to think? `All that roleplaying has finally gotten to you, hasn't it?'. Maybe I should just get her flowers. She does love dogs. Maybe this is a plus! Heh!

Okay, my paw is cramping again. And this bathroom is starting to really stink. I'm going to try to get some sleep and see what happens tomorrow, Rottweiler or not.

God, I don't know why this happened to me. Please guide me and help me understand what Your plan is for me! Amen.

A slight smile creased Christopher's snout. That had been a wild first day. He'd been male that first change. Only two weeks later he had been with Leslie and they took pictures together. He hoped that he'd see himself as a man, but he'd still been a Rottweiler. Oddly though, he'd come to like the way he looked. So he scarfed down milkbones when no one was looking, so what? After a bit of adjustment, and adjusting his pants and underwear with holes for his tail, he'd grown comfortable with and even enjoyed being a Rottweiler.

And the foot powder had worked wonders on Barry's stink.

Just the memory of that brought a bray to Christopher's throat. The first year hadn't been bad at all. His handwriting improved dramatically in a matter of weeks, and he even felt more assertive than he had before. Being a Rottweiler just made him feel tough. And he certainly had more muscles than he used to! If he could go back to being that, he'd bark to the Hallelujah Chorus.

He picked up the next journal in the series and opened it to the tab. He flipped back one page and read the previous entry.

Aug 16, 1997

Well, tomorrow is my one year anniversary of becoming a Rottweiler. All in all, I'd say I'm glad it happened. Sure, nobody else can tell, and I haven't seen anybody else who's changed like me, but it's definitely given me a new perspective on things. I've learned to sew for one. And I loved the expression on Nate's face when I caught that frisbee with my teeth last month!

Of course, I have to keep some things hidden. It looks odd to see dog tracks in the snow, and Barry almost found my claw trimming kit that one time. And definitely keep clear of shag carpets! Oh, the worst is closing the door on my tail. That was so embarrassing to yipe, and then not be able to tell anyone why.

Oh, and when that... that... Beth conspired to vote me out of the officers of the Sci-Fi club. I just couldn't stop barking and snapping at her! I thought for sure people would figure it out then. I helped found that club here at Bridgewater, and she has to stage a coup just to get me?! I wanted to bite her so bad.

But that's past. I'm back at Bridgewater for another week of band practice before my senior year starts. Had another cold yesterday and today, but I guess its fitting to celebrate one year as a Rottweiler. I'm posting a picture of Leslie and me here; I think things are really looking up for us. Once I graduate and start my Master's degree, I think I'll propose to her. Maybe we'll have some puppies! Hehehe.

Father in Heaven, I still don't know why I became a Rottweiler, but thank You for helping me make the best of this!

Christopher stared at the picture taped to the bottom of the page. There he was, dark boxy face with mahogany eyebrows and neck fur, one arm draped around Leslie's shoulders, his fingers spread, showing off his claws and paw pads. You could even see the end of his tail as it curled around his hip. He had a goofy grin, the end of his pink tongue sticking out between his teeth. His dark eyes were warm and happy.

If only he'd stayed that way.

Christopher set the journal aside and climbed to his hooves. He couldn't bear to look at the next page just yet. He'd take his dog for a walk first. Striding back into his living room, he grabbed his keys, shook them meaningfully, and Crystal got to her paws and followed his swishing tail out the door.

Crystal was an old dog, nearly thirteen. And while Christopher hoped she had a few more years to her, she had slowed down considerably. When he'd moved to Blacksburg back in 98, she'd still been able to play chase with tennis balls for as long as he felt like throwing it. Now, she sauntered along at a leisurely pace, a contented old matron enjoying the survey of her domain.

Her lugubrious pace gave Christopher the time he needed to calm himself. One drawback of being female was his tendency to begin crying for no reason he could name. When Leslie was with him he could keep the tears at bay. But sometimes, when he was all alone in their apartment, the tears came.

By the time he returned to his apartment, he felt better. He should. Tomorrow he'd change again, and there was an even shot of him being male again. In fact, if the odds were fifty-fifty, he had a better than even shot. He'd spent four of the last six years with breasts. Surely whatever caused his annual metamorphosis wouldn't make him female again. The odds of him being female five years out of seven were 21 in 128, so he had less than a 17% chance of being female again.

Then again, if it was an even fifty-fifty, he really still had a fifty percent chance of being a woman.

Christopher snorted in disgust and shut the door. Crystal climbed up in her bean bag, contented for now. He stomped back to the computer room, and stared at the array of boxes laying there. The journal sat open to his second change. He sighed and took it in his two-fingered hands and read.

Aug 17, 1997

This is not good. Somehow I've managed to get through today, but I'm about ready to scream. And of course nobody noticed a thing, not even these things on my chest! Barry looked straight at them and didn't even blink!

Slow down. I made it through the day, made it through band practice, and everything is fine.

No, everything is not fine! I wake up this morning, early again, and as I'm brushing my fangs, I feel a throbbing all over. I think, "Am I becoming human again?" Not even close!

My nose spreads and widens, ears stretching upwards, my black fur lightening to a grey, and shortening to a mere stubble. My fangs disappear and are replaced with ugly flat teeth. My paws... my poor paws, the fingers fuse until I've only got two left, and my claws become these blunt hoof-like things, black and hard. Next thing I know, I'm standing on hooves — hooves!

But then I see the worst of it all. Breasts! That's right, I've got a pair right there on my chest. And I've got nothing between my legs now. My hips are wide like a woman's too. Not only did I turn into a donkey, but I turned into a female donkey! Why? Why? How am I supposed to be a girl?

And now I'm crying. I can't stop. I can't.

I liked being a Rottweiler! Why can't I go back to being that? Father, please help me. I don't know what to do. How can I be with Leslie when I'm a girl too? Father, I need your help. Comfort me please. All I want to do is cry.

"And here I am a jenny again," Christopher said, running one of his hoof-like nails up across his bodice. "But hopefully..."

His ears lifted when the phone started to ring. Curious, he closed the journals and returned to the living room. A smile crossed his equine lips when he read the name on the caller ID. He picked up the handset, which had been the largest one he could find to accommodate the increased distance from his mouth to his ears. "Good evening, this is the Mattiaz residence. We're not home right now, but if you leave a message, and we deem you important enough, we might get around to getting back to you."

"Hello Chris," the ever cheery voice of Trevor replied. "I hope I am important enough!"

"Yeah, I guess you are. So you made it in okay?"

"My trip was very uneventful." Trevor chuckled lightly while he spoke. It didn't matter what he was saying, or how he really felt, there was always a laugh beneath his words. "I'm still putting all my things away, but 1600J is filled again with furs."

"Good," Christopher said, and meant it. Since he had become what folks like Trevor wished they could be, it seemed the best place to make friends, even if they were still truly human. The Furry Club of VT had started a couple years ago now, and Christopher had been one of its founding members. As had Trevor and his roommates in Foxridge 1600J. "What's the plan for this weekend?"

"Tonight, get things put away. I'd invite you over but Bob's feeling sick and doesn't want to give it to anybody else."

Christopher could imagine Bob moaning and complaining about being sick and how he shouldn't even be around anyone, all the while walking about and doing all the work around their apartment. "Except for all of you because he won't go to bed?"

"Exactly!" Trevor chuckled. "Well, how are you and Leslie?"

Christopher twirled the phone cord around one finger and his ears folded back. "Leslie's working tonight, and tomorrow night! All you undergraduates returning to campus and ordering pizza; it's driving her crazy!"

"But she does such a good job!" Trevor protested. "I order from her pizza place all the time."

"So she tells me," Christopher replied, a braying laugh escaping his throat. "I'm doing fine. I work tomorrow morning at Target. Oh, did I tell you I'm working there now."

"No, you hadn't. Hey, we're hoping to have all the furs over at our place tomorrow night. I know Leslie won't make it, but you are more than welcome to drop by around six o'clock. And you can bring Crystal too."

"Thank you, Trevor, I'll do that. I'll give you a call if I have to bail for some reason." Like changing into a creature for which none of his clothes fit.

"Well then, we shall see you tomorrow. Good night!"

"Good night!" Christopher hung up the phone and disentangled his finger from the phone cord. That was good news at least. Bob and Nick had stayed over the summer, but both of them had taken summer jobs and they'd barely been able to get together. It would be nice to hang with the furs again.

But if only they just knew how furry he really was. He touched his breasts and grimaced. Well, maybe he didn't really want them knowing.

With a sigh, he trotted back into the computer room to finish reviewing his journals.

The clock read nine-thirty-five when Christopher set the journals aside. As always, he felt quite tired at this early hour. He'd be up before 5 AM tomorrow, regardless of whether he wanted to be or not. It was time to finish putting a close on his second year as a donkey.

Christopher climbed off the bed and stacked two of the boxes back in the closet. The third he left sitting on the bed next to the journals. He walked into the bedroom, his hooves making only a muffled thump on the carpet. After turning down his bed, he looked at the full body mirror. Before him stood a reasonably attractive jenny whose weary brown eyes drooped.

When he could, he liked to take one last moment to look at himself, even if he wasn't truly a he. And then there were two more things he needed to do before his time as a donkey was complete. He needed to store the clothes he was wearing in the final box, and he had to write in his current journal.

As he stared at his long snout and ears, Christopher undid the button on the front of his shorts and the one on the back for his tail, then slid them down his long legs. He lifted first one hoof, then the other, and finally kicked the shorts into one corner with a flick of a hoof. His legs appeared too spindly to support his weight, but he'd never had any trouble with them. The hooves, dark, but now crossed with lines from stress, had been kept in good shape over the year by his judicious care. The last thing he'd needed was a split hoof.

He then pulled his t-shirt over his head. He hated the way it rubbed his mane backwards, but he'd grown used to that. Compared to seeing in the mirror a female donkey wearing only a bra and panties and knowing that it was him, rubbing his mane the wrong way felt wonderful.

Christopher undid the bra and tossed it in the pile with his shirt and shorts. He then slid the panties off and put them in the same place. His long tail flicked from side to side as he regarded the body he'd lived his last year in. Freed from the bra, his breasts sagged a little; apart from the fur and darkened nipple, they looked much the same as a human's. What was between his legs was... not much. He only thought about that when his body forced him to.

He closed his eyes and sat down on the edge of his bed, taking long deep breaths. When he opened them again, the world hadn't changed. He snorted, irritated with giving into the emotional roller coaster his female wiring provided. He grabbed his journal, pencil, and opened it to the first blank page. He rolled the pencil between his two fingers until it settled against the root of one of his thick nails and began to write.

Aug 16, 2002

Six years. For six years I have been changing from one thing to the next. At first, I didn't want to become human again, because then I would no longer be special. But now, I would take that as long as it meant I'd be male again.

It is not that I have anything against women. Not at all! I understand their problems more acutely now than I ever wanted to. And it is not that there aren't some advantages to being female and furry. For instance, I don't have to perform gymnastics to use the toilet. Nor is it the clothes, as bras and panties don't really bother me at all anymore; they are comfortable and feel as natural as anything can in this beastly shape.

What upset me is that I cannot be with Leslie. I know she loves me deeply, because we've been married for just over two years, but have we done much together? And can we while I remain female? I don't like to think of myself as a she, but I am a she, at least for now. Tomorrow that could change.

I hope it changes.

So, anyway, my second year as a donkey female has come to an end. Only a few significant items to note. While my PhD advisor is pleased with my work and thinks there is an outside chance I'll graduate by the end of 03, I let becoming female interfere with my Teaching Assistant duties, and now the Virginia Tech Math Department has decided it will no longer support me. So I managed to land a job at Target of all places. Thankfully they haven't asked me to work in women's clothing yet. I've already caught myself pondering what I'd look like in some of those skimpy outfits; I don't need any more temptation!

I'm grateful for the furry club here, even if they can't see what I am. At least when we roleplay, I can describe what I'm actually feeling and everybody just thinks I'm a good gamer. Really makes me glad I decided to stay at Virginia Tech instead of go to Waterloo two years ago. As much as my furry body would prefer the colder clime, I would never have met the friends I have now.

But still. Six years and a different body each year, though I've twice been a Rottweiler and now twice been a donkey. I wish I'd been a male Rottweiler last year. That first year... that was the best year I think. I was glad that I was male two years ago when I was a rat, but still, I lost a foot in height, and driving became outright insane!

I don't think there's any point in beating myself up. I'm adapting to each change, and I'm doing my best to live and keep this hidden. Not much more I can do really. I'm alone in the world, made alone by these changes that nobody else can see.

Father in Heaven, help me to change those things that I can, and accept those things that I cannot, and the wisdom to tell the difference. Amen.

Christopher set the journal on his night stand, stretched his fingers to work out the cramp that had settled there, and then went to clean up his clothes. He carefully folded each before storing them in the box. With a sigh he shoved the box into the closet. He left the boxes with his year three clothes on the top of the pile, just in case he changed according to pattern. He then closed the closet and turned the light off in the computer room.

"Come on, Crystal," he called to his dog as he turned the lights out in the living room. The old dog climbed out of her bean bag and followed the donkey into the bedroom. He picked her up, careful not to bruise her with his hoof-like nails, and set her on the end of the bed. Christopher climbed in and drew the covers up over his breasts and laid on his back. He turned the light out, even as his dog settled just beneath his hooves.

His ears folded against the pillow and he let his breath out slowly. It was time to sleep. He would find out soon enough what his body had in store for him next year.

Though he hadn't set the alarm, his body rose from troubled dreams a few minutes to five. One moment he slept, and then next his eyes popped open, long ears turned to catch the sound of Leslie snoring softly next to him, and the faint whimpering of Crystal as she dreamt of chasing rodents. It was time for his annual Change.

Christopher slipped his legs out from under the covers, making sure his hooves didn't clack together. First one then the other he planted on the carpet to steady himself. Then, he rolled over with one hand pressing on the side table to ease himself off the mattress. Leslie didn't stir; she'd probably only come to bed an hour or so ago, but he didn't want to risk waking her, especially when she was groggy. One time when she'd been so sleepy, she'd seen him for what he really was. Christopher shook at the memory; but in the end Leslie had just thought it a dream.

He walked to the bedroom door and with slow precision turned the knob, stepped out into the hall, and closed it behind him. He always made sure the hinges were greased, and this year had been no different. He gave the same care to the bathroom door, making sure to step on the small rug to keep his hooves silent.

Once safe inside, Christopher turned the light on and stared at his reflection in the mirror. He spread his supple lips wide and gnashed his flat teeth together. Those would be gone in a few moments, and he'd be glad of it. He always thought equine teeth were ugly, and two years as a donkey had not changed his mind.

Christopher glanced at the clock on the wall and saw that he had another few minutes before his change would begin. It always happened at 5:10, the very same time he'd been born. He sat on the toilet and relieved himself, ropy tail pressed back into the lid. One thing was for sure; Leslie never had to complain about the seat being left up.

When he climbed to his hooves, he felt disoriented, and had to grip the edge of the sink to keep his balance. A pressure began to build inside him, like a swell of gas filling a balloon. Christopher stared into the mirror, even as every nerve of his body cried out for relief.

And then it began. His face widened, swelling to either side, even as his nostrils shrank, and his muzzle shortened, pulled back towards his cheeks. The long ears dwindled and rounded; his fingers quivered as each one split in two, the blunt nails lengthening and narrowing into sharp claws. His rope-like tail shrank into his body like a spaghetti noddled being slurped up. His chest and body expanded, rounding out, his belly acquiring a significant paunch. His legs thickened, his ankle swelling and settling on the ground as his hooves shrank, toes and claws emerging beside it. His eyes warmed into a chocolate brown, pupils swelling into a more human circle.

And all around him, the world shrank as his body pushed upwards as well as outwards. Inch by inch he climbed higher, until his hands --- now paws --- only just touched the edge of the sink. He shifted his weight around, muscles developing to accommodate his increased girth. And then his body subsided, his change complete. Where once had stood a donkey now was a six and a half foot tall brown bear.

Christopher opened his jaws, admiring the sharper teeth and long fangs. He rubbed his tongue across them, glad that he'd be able to enjoy meat again. He sniffed, the scent of donkey already being replaced by his new ursine fragrance. He stretched his toes, careful on the rug lest his claws tear the threads. It felt so good having toes again.

But one thing hadn't changed. There in the middle of chest hung a pair of breasts, covered more thickly in fur, but still the incontrovertible sign of femininity. Christopher sighed. Another year as a woman.

Christopher fixed his gaze one last time in the mirror. In a growling whisper he said, "My name is Christopher Mattiaz. Only I can see that I am a woman. Inside I remain a man. I will be a man again. I will enjoy being a bear this year. God has made me this way for a reason, and I will trust Him in all things." With one long claw he made the sign of the cross, adding, "In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Amen."

He left the bathroom for the computer room. Opening his private closet, he pulled down the four boxes marked "Year 3", and opened them up. Inside he found all the clothes that fit him while a bear. This included the over-sized bras and panties that he'd ordered from that woman's catalog. He grunted under his breath as he realized that he could probably size a woman's body better than his wife could.

Leslie would leave for work before his shift at Target ended, so he would put all his clothes out after he returned. But he'd need a few things before then. From one box he pulled out a matching bra and panties set and pulled them on. He preferred wearing colors that blended with his fur, especially when he had a lot of it. Nobody had ever noticed that he had on a bra, but why take chances?

The bra pulled his breasts closer to his chest to give it a more masculine outline, but not so tight as to make them uncomfortable. As for the panties, they were his only set without a hole for his tail. As a bear, his tail was so short that he found keeping it stuffed in his trousers brought no discomfort. He probably could have worn boxers, but while female, wearing anything else brought a strange sense of vulnerability.

Next he took out his bottle of old spice. The fragrance sometimes irritated his superior nose, but he hated being asked about the peculiar odor that lingered about him. He dabbed a bit on his thick paw pad and smacked it around his neck all the while wrinkling his nose.

Christopher put the bottle back, and then gingerly took out the jewel case which held his ursine-sized wedding band. He smiled as he beheld the simple gold ring, carefully sliding it free between two claws. The luster had not diminished since he'd bought it in the store, but now would be the first time he'd try it on. He'd had to guess at its size, and he hoped he'd guessed right!

He spread the fingers on his left hand wide, took a deep breath, and slid the ring over his claw. He managed to get it past the top knuckle without any trouble, but the bottom knuckle proved too big. With a growl, he pushed and pushed, but it wouldn't slide. The fur was too thick and kept catching beneath the ring. Furious, he stomped into the bathroom, grabbed his razor blade --- which he rarely used --- and shaved the fur from his finger. He rumbled in approval when the ring slid on this time. He'd have to take it to the jeweler and get it resized soon.

A creaking sounded from the bedroom. Christopher felt his heart tighten. He'd forgotten himself in his anger and had made too much noise! Was Leslie awake? What would she think if she saw him wearing a bra and panties with shaved bear fur in the sink?

Quickly, he scooped the bear fur into his paw and stuffed it in the trash, burying it beneath a small pile of toilet paper. He shoved his razor back into the cupboard and as daintily as possible stepped into the computer room and closed the door behind him. A muffled grunt came from the bedroom, but he didn't hear Leslie stir again. He sighed.

Now that his ring was on, it was time to find clothes for work. Target required him to wear khakis and a red shirt. He tried to keep his clothes as generic as possible so neither Leslie nor anyone else would remark on them, so he should have something suitable. After rifling through his clothes, he found a pair of khakis, but the only red shirt he had was a lumberjack red-black flannel. It would have to do; he'd buy a pair of red v-necks when he got to work.

Dressed, Christopher replaced the boxes and then went down to the kitchen to see if there was anything edible in the refrigerator. He grunted unhappily when he saw the numerous breads, fruits, and vegetables, but very few fresh meats. There goes the grocery bill, he mused.

He shut the fridge and returned to the computer room. He'd stop at Hardee's on the way to work and pick something up to eat. That meant he had another two hours before he needed to head to work. He turned on his computer and sat down. The seat creaked from his extra bulk, but he made sure not to lean back --- he'd already broken one chair that way! There was so much to remember after changing; he could only hope he remembered it all before anything bad happened.

Leslie was still asleep by the time Christopher left their apartment. His pads told him about all the little pebbles strewn on the asphalt. And his body complained about the flannel. Summers in Blacksburg were never hot, but as a brown bear, seventy degrees was too hot for him. He fumbled with his keys, still getting used to fine manipulation with these long claws. Once his car door was open, he pushed the driver seat all the way back and squeezed inside. His head still hit the roof of his Saturn, but at least his belly didn't press into the steering wheel.

He didn't dare buy a larger car though. If he became a rat next year, he'd need to shove the seat all the way forward just so his legs would reach!

Still, he grumbled about being cramped as he pulled out of the Chasewood parking lot and turned left on University City Blvd. The road twisted and turned steadily to the left until it passed the Kroger's and Volume Two Bookstore. Just before the corner with Prices Fork Rd, he turned right onto a side road past the bank and into the Hardee's parking lot. With a hefty grunt, he extricated himself from the car and sauntered inside.

The scent of grease and several other things he didn't want to name struck him like a hammer to the stomach. His black nose wrinkled and snorted, but he made himself walk in. A bored looking student tried to smile when she saw him come in. "Welcome to Hardee's! May I take your order?"

He didn't need to look at the menu. "Three Frisco Sandwiches, and two sausage biscuits."

Her eyes lifted in surprise, and she laughed a bit as she typed it in. "Will you have anything to drink with that?"

"Four orange juices. And yes, I'll have an order of hash browns." He'd have ordered more, but he figured he was about to consume enough grease to kill his rat form on sight. Did the cholesterol leave his arteries when he changed, or did it stay the same size? He had no idea, and wasn't about to go to a doctor to find out.

The cashier rung up his total, and he paid in cash. Yeah, the grocery bill was going to suck.

A couple with two kids came in while he waited for his order. A young boy of about five stared up at him with wide-eyes, and said, "You're fat!"

Oh great, Christopher thought. Just how much will people think I weigh? The last time he was a bear, his mother had commented on his tummy, but nobody else had. Was it worse this time?

The boy's mother apologized, staring at his breasts the whole time. He shook his head and said it was fine, then grabbed his order and found a shady spot near a vent to sit. The cool air felt wonderful, and he started to relax. One by one he unwrapped his sandwiches and scarfed them down in as many bites as he could manage and still satisfy his ravening hunger. Between them he popped hash browns and downed in a single swallow one of the small cans of orange juice. Within a few minutes, the entire order had disappeared in his gullet.

He licked his muzzle clean, wiped it off with the napkins, and threw the trash away. The poor family had stared at him the whole time, the parents trying their best not to. If they only knew!

The Target was new to the area, built in the Spradlin Farms shopping area of Christiansburg back in 2000. The year before it had been a pasture for cows, but their scent was long gone. From the Hardee's, Christopher turned onto 460 East and was there in only ten minutes. Though he'd only started work at Target a couple months ago, he knew the routine well enough now. After parking in the team member section at the far end of the lot, he sauntered up to the side entrance where the other members of the morning crew waited to be let in.

"Hey Chris," Billy said and waved. He leaned against the brick wall, glasses hanging low on his nose. He pointed at Christopher's waist. "What have you been eating lately? It looks like you've gained twenty pounds since I saw you last week!"

He rumbled and patted his belly. It jiggled a little. When he'd been human, he'd been as skinny as a rail. To be fat now was a definite change. "I don't know, maybe a hormone change or something. I just started getting this gut."

Billy chuckled and gave him a thumbs up. "Looks good on you for some reason. You'll probably have to change that shirt though. Alex is a stickler for bright red." Alex was the store team leader, and was notoriously picky about every detail of his store.

Christopher nodded and shrugged, "My others won't fit over this. Going to pick up some new ones." He looked past Billy at the rest of the team. Apart from Billy, who worked hardlines with him, there were three girls who were also new hires talking amongst themselves. Even as they spoke, another pair of cars pulled into the lot.

"There's Alex now," Billy said, pointing. Christopher turned and watched as the now familiar silver Chevy truck pulled into the lot. Alex had a cheerful expression, round face and body that reminded you more of the Pillsbury Dough Boy, but you still didn't argue with him.

Alex waved a set of keys and everyone stepped out of the way. He took one look at Christopher and said, "You need to get a lighter shirt."

"I'm going to buy some first thing, all my others didn't fit anymore."

Alex nodded and unlocked the door. They followed him in, and one by one clocked in. The morning huddle brought all the sales floor and morning cashiers together in the front of the store. Alex read last night's sales, their goals for the day, and handed out assignments. Then they did their morning stretches. Christopher had been able to reach his hooves the last time he'd been at a huddle, but now he couldn't get past his knees.

When huddle was over, Alex gave him a meaningful look, and Christopher headed into softlines, where they sold all their clothes. Already several guests were browsing the tables, while a few Virginia Tech students vainly searched for Hokie merchandise.

Christopher had to walk the entire breadth of the store to reach the paltry men's section. The women's section surrounded him on both sides, and his eyes stole back and forth between the many outfits, some modest, others revealing, to the nightwear that looked temptingly cozy. He may feel like a woman, but nobody else could see it!

When he reached the men's tables, he carefully rifled through the largest sizes they had and held them up to see if they would fit. It took him five minutes, but he found two good red shirts with collars wide enough that he could get his massive head through. He folded them again, cleaned up the tables, and took them to the registers. Now he just had to figure out where he was going to change!

Mornings at Target were always more interesting than evenings. Though Saturdays were always busier, Christopher and Billy spent most of their time building end-caps and setting out new merchandise. Classes didn't officially start for another week, but there were a good number of parents coming in to buy supplies for their college students. The real crunch would come next weekend, which was why they were building the end-caps now.

Billy had been Christopher's mentor earlier in the summer, and they'd hit it off almost immediately. Billy's wicked sense of humor and his frank appraisal of their managers kept Christopher's spirits up as he dealt with having to adjust to retail work. Now that Christopher faced another year as a woman, he was very grateful to be pared with a friend.

Becoming a bear did make his job there easier. He had no trouble carrying the metal shelves back and forth, and he even surprised Billy and several guests with how high he could reach. They wanted the item on the top shelf? Not a problem anymore! After the third time showing off Billy warned him that if Alex saw him stretching on his tip toes like that he might not have a job anymore. Christopher always retrieved a ladder first after that.

As he worked the hardlines side of the store, he walked on tiles the whole day long. They were smooth and cool on his foot pads, but he heard a clicking with his claws everywhere he went. He would have to get his claw trimming kit out when he got home. He'd bought it back when he'd first changed, sized for the largest of dogs. It workd pretty well on his bear claws too, given that he was nowhere near the size of a real brown bear.

As the day wore on, more and more guests came in, and he and Billy were sent to different sections of the store to handle restocking returned items or items left lying around, as well as helping the many guests. Several of them decided to be quite rude to him, either by their dismissive attitude or their impatience. Christopher found himself growling under his breath at quite a few of them. When things were too bad, he slippe dinto the electronics stock room to cool off --- figuratively as well as literally because it was at least twenty degrees colder in there!

But his shift finally came to an end, and after extricating himself from one last guests persistant and fruitless questioning, he grabbed his shirts, clocked out, and left the store. The day had grown hot, and he loosened his collar, tongue hanging out his muzzle as he made his way to his car. He tossed the shirts in the trunk and squeezed back into his seat. As soon as the engine was running, he cranked the AC all the way up.

As expected, Leslie had already left for work when he got home. Crystal trotted over to greet him, licking his snout with her fast tongue. Petting gently, he licked her face once, and rumbled in amusement at her confused snuffling.

There was still an hour-and-ahalf before he needed to be over at the furry apartment, so he had no need to rush. Methodically, he emptied the four boxes with his bear clothes and stored them in all his dresser drawers. He put the rest of his shoes in the closet, and organized his feminine products in the last remaining box for when he'd need them. Lastly, he took out his polaroid camera, stripped, and proceeded to take a few photos of himself for his journal. These he stored back in the boxes to be sorted another night.

He fed Crystal, checked his email, changed into more comfortable and lighter clothes, and then sat down on his couch. His pwas crept up to his breasts and he sighed. He'd almost made it through one day; now he just had to get through another 364 before he could hope to be a man again. Christopher sobbed quietly and covered his face with his thick paws.

This Story is a Draft and still in Progess --MatthiasRat 05:20, 23 January 2008 (EST)

@@ Line 27: / Line 27: @@
 With a long sigh, Christopher let his arm fall to his side and he shut the door.  Their dog lifted her old head from the bean bag, curious at the sound, and then lowered it again.  But Christopher, a name he had once hated but now embraced because it was unmistakably masculine, could only stare at his hands and wonder what tomorrow they would look like.
-For where everyone else saw four human digits and a thumb, he saw two thick finger ending in dark, hoof-like nails and a single thumb that could barely touch either finger.  He lifted those beastly hands to his face, rubbing over the long equine snout, flaring his nostrils, and then up over his long ears, and then back down his spiky, black mane.  This year it had been a donkey, and as his hands rested on the shirt that hung loosely from his shoulders, he felt the straps of his bra.  Not just a donkey, but a jenny.
+For where everyone else saw four human digits and a thumb, he saw two thick fingers ending in dark, hoof-like nails and a single thumb that could barely touch either finger.  He lifted those beastly hands to his face, rubbing over the long equine snout, flaring his nostrils, and then up over his long ears, and then back down his spiky, black mane.  This year it had been a donkey, and as his hands rested on the shirt that hung loosely from his shoulders, he felt the straps of his bra.  Not just a donkey, but a jenny.
 "Father in Heaven," he prayed fervently, "please let me be male again."
@@ Line 35: / Line 35: @@
 Christopher slumped on the couch, the hooves that ended his legs digging into the carpet.  His long rope-like tail settled behind him, still comfortable despite being pinned behind his back.  He closed his eyes and just breathed, taking in the many scents of their apartment.  Their dog, Crystal, was the most obvious, as well as his own pungent aroma.  Then there was last night's pasta caked on the pan still needing to be washed, and the fetid miasma of the trash that needed emptying.  Leslie also had a flavor, one both sweet and simple, one that he always took the time to savor.  And lastly, the persistent fragrance of scented candles which he often burned to hide his musk.
-His ears bent to either side, and he sighed.  Though the shape of his head prevented him from looking down at his chest, he could feel the two breasts snuggled judiciously in his bra.  He may have spent the last two years as female -- and two more before that -- but he didn't wear the bra because he had embraced the feminine.  It was a matter of practicality, gravity, and comfort.  He hoped that by tomorrow he wouldn't have to wear any anymore.
+His ears bent to either side, and he sighed.  Though the shape of his head prevented him from looking down at his chest, he could feel the two breasts snuggled judiciously in his bra.  He may have spent the last two years as female --- and two more before that --- but he didn't wear the bra because he had embraced the feminine.  It was a matter of practicality, gravity, and comfort.  He hoped that by tomorrow he wouldn't have to wear them anymore.
-His eyes strayed to the gold ring adorning the smaller of his two fingers on what passed for his left hand.  His wedding band; he had two others already made because this one didn't fit his fingers in those forms.  At least, despite the bizarreness of his body, he still had Leslie; one day she might even know the truth.
+His eyes strayed to the gold ring adorning the smaller of his two fingers on what passed for his left hand.  His wedding band; he had two others already made because this one didn't fit his finger in those shapes.  At least, despite the bizarreness of his body, he still had Leslie; one day she might even know the truth.
-The female donkey sighed and rubbed at the base of his ears with thick nails.  No sense berating himself for things he couldn't change, so he may as well start collecting all his donkey things and putting them in their boxes to store away.  If the pattern of the last few years fit, he'd need much bigger clothes tomorrow morning.
+The female donkey sighed and rubbed at the base of his ears with thick nails.  No sense berating himself for things he couldn't change, so he may as well start collecting all his donkey things and put them in their boxes to store away.  If the pattern of the last few years fit, he'd need much bigger clothes tomorrow morning.
-Christopher stood up again, steady and sure on his hooves.  He had twelve hours before his hour came; it would come whether he prepared or not.  Hooves clopping, he walked down the narrow hall through the middle of their apartment and slipped into the computer room.  He fired up his email and web browser.  Who knows?  Maybe one of his long-standing inquiries would finally prove that he wasn't alone in being a beast.
+Christopher stood up again, steady and sure on his hooves.  He had twelve hours before his hour came; it would come whether he prepared or not.  Hooves clopping, he walked down the narrow hall through the middle of their apartment and slipped into the computer room.  He fired up his email and web browser.  Maybe one of his long-standing inquiries would finally prove that he wasn't alone in being a beast.
 {{Separator|k}}
-After an hour browsing the news, traipsing from website to website, scanning furry forums for questions that might imply a more intimate familiarity with the difficulties being a real furry would bring, Christopher closed his browser.  A few years ago, he'd been certain that there had to be other people out there like him; people changed into animal forms that only they could see.  With enough care, clever questioning, and investigation, he might find some of them and at last be able to share his story.
+After an hour browsing the news, traipsing from website to website, and scanning furry forums for questions that might imply a more intimate familiarity with the difficulties being a real furry would bring, Christopher closed his browser.  A few years ago, he'd been certain that there had to be other people out there like him; people changed into animal forms that only they could see.  With enough care, clever questioning, and investigation, he might find some of them and at last be able to share his story.
 He sighed and rubbed heavy nails into his forehead.  The tough hide shifted back and forth under his touch, and his supple lips formed the prayer that had been his for the last six years: "Father in Heaven, please don't let me be alone."
@@ Line 57: / Line 57: @@
 How well he remembered the day last January, when Leslie saw the hoofprint.  While he'd been on campus, Leslie had been out shopping and saw his name on an envelope at the photo shop.  Thinking she was doing him a favor, she picked up the pictures, all of which were of him and the various signs he left with his hooves in the snow.  When he'd returned home, she asked him if he'd seen the horse who'd left the prints.  She couldn't see that he was a female donkey in the pictures, but she could see the hoofprints.
-And that hadn't been the first time he'd learned that the delusion that everyone else had when they saw him did not extend to things he left behind.  Some days it was all he could to do to focus on not leaving any visible signs.  When the stress was too great, he just called in sick.
+And that hadn't been the first time he'd learned that the delusion that everyone else had when they saw him did not extend to things he left behind.  Some days it was all he could to do to focus on not leaving any visible signs --- shed fur, prints, and gouges in the floor or walls from hooves and claws were his most common worries.  When the stress became too great, he just called in sick.
 Christopher shifted in his seat, tail flicking against his legs.  His hooves tapped a staccato on the chair legs, as he opened the email, a small flicker of hope in his heart.  Words upon words filled the screen, and he scrolled it until the picture came into view.
@@ Line 67: / Line 67: @@
 {{Separator|k}}
-It took him a while to gather the energy to move again.  He made himself a hearty bowl of oatmeal -- just the oats, he didn't bother adding hot water -- and then opened the closet in the computer room.  Leslie never went in there at his request, and he trusted her not to violate his privacy.  Inside he saw twelve printer paper boxes stacked up to the top, and on the top shelf a stack of used journals.
+It took him a while to gather the energy to move again.  He made himself a hearty bowl of oatmeal --- just the oats, he didn't bother adding hot water --- and then opened the closet in the computer room.  Leslie never went in there at his request, and he trusted her not to violate his privacy.  Inside he saw twelve printer paper boxes stacked up to the top, and on the top shelf a stack of used journals.
 He took out the top three boxes which were empty except for his feminine items, opened them up, and set the box tops behind them.  Munching on his oats while he worked, Christopher carefully went through his clothes drawers and emptied out his shirts and pants, folding them as tightly as he could, and then stored them in the boxes.  Some of his clothes he left out; those would be big enough if he changed according to the pattern of the last six years.
@@ Line 116: / Line 116: @@
 <p style="text-indent: 2em; line-height:1.2;">Yeah, I'm just going crazy, right? But when the heck have I ever been able to imagine anything this vivid? I don't even dream in color! I can't even really see in color at the moment, at least not much. This has to be real, I keep telling myself. It's just real. I'm transforming. I'm changing.
-<p style="text-indent: 2em; line-height:1.2;">So I get out of the shower, scared crazy. I look at my face in the mirror, and my nose is black, and my teeth are getting sharper. I've got these black hairs growing all over my upper arms, sides and along my face, with rust colored fur growing over my hands, lower arms, neck, chest, and around my snout. Yes, my snout! I have a snout! I just watched it grow out of my face, like toothpaste squeezed out of a tube.
+<p style="text-indent: 2em; line-height:1.2;">So I get out of the shower, scared crazy. I look at my face in the mirror, and my nose is black, broad and leathery, and my teeth are getting sharper. I've got these black hairs growing all over my upper arms, sides and along my face, with rust colored fur growing over my hands, lower arms, neck, chest, and around my snout. Yes, my snout! I have a snout! I just watched it grow out of my face, like toothpaste squeezed out of a tube.
 <p style="text-indent: 2em; line-height:1.2;">I didn't even notice that I'd grown a tail and I was standing on my toes. Just watching my face change was so captivating... like I was melting away and an animal was taking my place. My eyes... that was the most horrid thing... watching my blue eyes darken, the iris spreading until the whites were gone. All I saw was an animal's eye, dark brown, the only hint of intelligence was me looking out of them.
@@ Line 138: / Line 138: @@
 <p style="text-indent: 2em; line-height:1.2;">Okay, my paw is cramping again. And this bathroom is starting to really stink. I'm going to try to get some sleep and see what happens tomorrow, Rottweiler or not.
-<p style="text-indent: 2em; line-height:1.2;">God, I don't know why this happened to me. Please guide me and help me understand what Your plan is for me! A-men.
+<p style="text-indent: 2em; line-height:1.2;">God, I don't know why this happened to me. Please guide me and help me understand what Your plan is for me! Amen.
 </div>
-A slight smile creased Christopher's snout.  That had been a wild first day.  He'd been male that first change.  Only two weeks later he had been with Leslie and they took pictures together.  He hoped that he'd see himself as a man, but he'd still been a Rottweiler.  Oddly though, he'd come to like the way he looked.  So he scarfed down milkbones when no one was looking, so what?  After a bit of adjustment, and adjusting his pants and underwear with holes for his tail, he'd grown comfortable with being a Rottweiler.
+A slight smile creased Christopher's snout.  That had been a wild first day.  He'd been male that first change.  Only two weeks later he had been with Leslie and they took pictures together.  He hoped that he'd see himself as a man, but he'd still been a Rottweiler.  Oddly though, he'd come to like the way he looked.  So he scarfed down milkbones when no one was looking, so what?  After a bit of adjustment, and adjusting his pants and underwear with holes for his tail, he'd grown comfortable with and even enjoyed being a Rottweiler.
 And the foot powder had worked wonders on Barry's stink.
@@ Line 152: / Line 152: @@
 Aug 16, 1997
-<p style="text-indent: 2em; line-height:1.2;">Well, tomorrow is my one year anniversary of becoming a Rottweiler. All in all, I'd say I'm glad it happened. Sure, nobody else can tell, and I haven't seen anybody else whose changed like me, but it's definitely given me a new perspective on things. I've learned to sew for one. And I loved the expression on Nate's face when I caught that frisbee with my teeth last month!
+<p style="text-indent: 2em; line-height:1.2;">Well, tomorrow is my one year anniversary of becoming a Rottweiler. All in all, I'd say I'm glad it happened. Sure, nobody else can tell, and I haven't seen anybody else who's changed like me, but it's definitely given me a new perspective on things. I've learned to sew for one. And I loved the expression on Nate's face when I caught that frisbee with my teeth last month!
 <p style="text-indent: 2em; line-height:1.2;">Of course, I have to keep some things hidden. It looks odd to see dog tracks in the snow, and Barry almost found my claw trimming kit that one time. And definitely keep clear of shag carpets! Oh, the worst is closing the door on my tail. That was so embarrassing to yipe, and then not be able to tell anyone why.
@@ Line 158: / Line 158: @@
 <p style="text-indent: 2em; line-height:1.2;">Oh, and when that... that... Beth conspired to vote me out of the officers of the Sci-Fi club. I just couldn't stop barking and snapping at her! I thought for sure people would figure it out then. I helped found that club here at Bridgewater, and she has to stage a coup just to get me?! I wanted to bite her so bad.
-<p style="text-indent: 2em; line-height:1.2;">But that's past. I'm back at Bridgewater for another week of band practice before my senior year starts. Had another cold yesterday and today, but I guess its fitting to celebrate one year as a Rottweiler. I'm posting a picture of Leslie and me here, I think things are really looking up for us. Once I graduate and start my Master's degree, I think I'll propose to her. Maybe we'll have some puppies! Hehehe.
+<p style="text-indent: 2em; line-height:1.2;">But that's past. I'm back at Bridgewater for another week of band practice before my senior year starts. Had another cold yesterday and today, but I guess its fitting to celebrate one year as a Rottweiler. I'm posting a picture of Leslie and me here; I think things are really looking up for us. Once I graduate and start my Master's degree, I think I'll propose to her. Maybe we'll have some puppies! Hehehe.
 <p style="text-indent: 2em; line-height:1.2;">Father in Heaven, I still don't know why I became a Rottweiler, but thank You for helping me make the best of this!
@@ Line 173: / Line 173: @@
 Crystal was an old dog, nearly thirteen.  And while Christopher hoped she had a few more years to her, she  had slowed down considerably.  When he'd moved to Blacksburg back in 98, she'd still been able to play chase with tennis balls for as long as he felt like throwing it.  Now, she sauntered along at a leisurely pace, a contented old matron enjoying the survey of her domain.
-Her lugubrious pace gave Christopher the time he needed to calm himself.  One drawback of being female was his tendency to begin crying and for no single reason he could name.  When Leslie was with him, he could keep the tears at bay.  But sometimes, when he was all alone in their apartment, the tears came.
+Her lugubrious pace gave Christopher the time he needed to calm himself.  One drawback of being female was his tendency to begin crying for no reason he could name.  When Leslie was with him he could keep the tears at bay.  But sometimes, when he was all alone in their apartment, the tears came.
-And by the time he returned to his apartment, he felt better.  He should.  Tomorrow he'd change again, and there was an even shot of him being male again.  In fact, if the odds were fifty-fifty, he had a better than even shot.  He'd spent four of the last six years with breasts.  Surely whatever caused his annual metamorphosis wouldn't make him female again.  The odds of him being female five years out of seven were 21 in 128, so he had less than a 17% chance of being female again.
+By the time he returned to his apartment, he felt better.  He should.  Tomorrow he'd change again, and there was an even shot of him being male again.  In fact, if the odds were fifty-fifty, he had a better than even shot.  He'd spent four of the last six years with breasts.  Surely whatever caused his annual metamorphosis wouldn't make him female again.  The odds of him being female five years out of seven were 21 in 128, so he had less than a 17% chance of being female again.
 Then again, if it was an even fifty-fifty, he really still had a fifty percent chance of being a woman.
@@ Line 223: / Line 223: @@
 "So she tells me," Christopher replied, a braying laugh escaping his throat. "I'm doing fine.  I work tomorrow morning at Target.  Oh, did I tell you I'm working there now."
-"No, you hadn't.  Hey, were hoping to have all the furs over at our place tomorrow night.  I know Leslie won't make it, but you are more than welcome to drop by."
+"No, you hadn't.  Hey, we're hoping to have all the furs over at our place tomorrow night.  I know Leslie won't make it, but you are more than welcome to drop by around six o'clock.  And you can bring Crystal too."
 "Thank you, Trevor, I'll do that. I'll give you a call if I have to bail for some reason." Like changing into a creature for which none of his clothes fit.
@@ Line 243: / Line 243: @@
 When he could, he liked to take one last moment to look at himself, even if he wasn't truly a he.  And then there were two more things he needed to do before his time as a donkey was complete.  He needed to store the clothes he was wearing in the final box, and he had to write in his current journal.
-As he stared at his long snout and ears, Christopher undid the button on his shorts and slid them down his long legs.  He lifted first one hoof, then the other, and finally kicked the shorts into one corner with a flick of a hoof.  His legs appeared too spindly to support his weight, but he'd never had any trouble with them.  The hooves, dark, but now crossed with lines from stress, had been kept in good shape over the year by his judicious care.  The last thing he'd needed was a split hoof.
+As he stared at his long snout and ears, Christopher undid the button on the front of his shorts and the one on the back for his tail, then slid them down his long legs.  He lifted first one hoof, then the other, and finally kicked the shorts into one corner with a flick of a hoof.  His legs appeared too spindly to support his weight, but he'd never had any trouble with them.  The hooves, dark, but now crossed with lines from stress, had been kept in good shape over the year by his judicious care.  The last thing he'd needed was a split hoof.
 He then pulled his t-shirt over his head.  He hated the way it rubbed his mane backwards, but he'd grown used to that.  Compared to seeing in the mirror a female donkey wearing only a bra and panties and knowing that it was him, rubbing his mane the wrong way felt wonderful.
@@ Line 283: / Line 283: @@
 Though he hadn't set the alarm, his body rose from troubled dreams a few minutes to five.  One moment he slept, and then next his eyes popped open, long ears turned to catch the sound of Leslie snoring softly next to him, and the faint whimpering of Crystal as she dreamt of chasing rodents.  It was time for his annual Change.
-Christopher slipped his legs out from under the covers, making sure his hooves didn't clack together.  First one then the other he planted on the carpet to steady himself.  Then, he rolled over one hand pressing on the side table to ease himself off the mattress.  Leslie didn't stir; she'd probably only come to bed an hour or so ago, but he didn't want to risk waking her, especially when she was groggy.  One time when she'd been so sleepy, she'd seen him for what he really was.  Christopher shook at the memory; but in the end Leslie had just thought it a dream.
+Christopher slipped his legs out from under the covers, making sure his hooves didn't clack together.  First one then the other he planted on the carpet to steady himself.  Then, he rolled over with one hand pressing on the side table to ease himself off the mattress.  Leslie didn't stir; she'd probably only come to bed an hour or so ago, but he didn't want to risk waking her, especially when she was groggy.  One time when she'd been so sleepy, she'd seen him for what he really was.  Christopher shook at the memory; but in the end Leslie had just thought it a dream.
 He walked to the bedroom door and with slow precision turned the knob, stepped out into the hall, and closed it behind him.  He always made sure the hinges were greased, and this year had been no different.  He gave the same care to the bathroom door, making sure to step on the small rug to keep his hooves silent.
@@ Line 311: / Line 311: @@
 Next he took out his bottle of old spice.  The fragrance sometimes irritated his superior nose, but he hated being asked about the peculiar odor that lingered about him.  He dabbed a bit on his thick paw pad and smacked it around his neck all the while wrinkling his nose.
-Christopher put the bottle back, and then gingerly took out the jewel case which held his ursine-sized wedding band.  He smiled a he beheld the simple gold ring, carefully sliding it free between two claws.  The luster had not diminished since he'd bought it in the store, but now would be the first time he'd try it on.  He'd had to guess at its size, and he hoped he'd guessed right!
+Christopher put the bottle back, and then gingerly took out the jewel case which held his ursine-sized wedding band.  He smiled as he beheld the simple gold ring, carefully sliding it free between two claws.  The luster had not diminished since he'd bought it in the store, but now would be the first time he'd try it on.  He'd had to guess at its size, and he hoped he'd guessed right!
 He spread the fingers on his left hand wide, took a deep breath, and slid the ring over his claw.  He managed to get it past the top knuckle without any trouble, but the bottom knuckle proved too big.  With a growl, he pushed and pushed, but it wouldn't slide.  The fur was too thick and kept catching beneath the ring.  Furious, he stomped into the bathroom, grabbed his razor blade --- which he rarely used --- and shaved the fur from his finger.  He rumbled in approval when the ring slid on this time.  He'd have to take it to the jeweler and get it resized soon.
@@ Line 331: / Line 331: @@
 He didn't dare buy a larger car though.  If he became a rat next year, he'd need to shove the seat all the way forward just so his legs would reach!
-Still, he grumbled about being cramped as he pulled out of the Chasewood parking lot and turned left on University City Blvd.  The road twisted and turned steadily to the left until it passed the Kroger's and Volume Two Bookstore.  Just before the corner with Prices Fork Rd, he turned right onto a side road past the ban and into the Hardee's parking lot.  With a hefty grunt, he extricated himself from the car and sauntered inside.
+Still, he grumbled about being cramped as he pulled out of the Chasewood parking lot and turned left on University City Blvd.  The road twisted and turned steadily to the left until it passed the Kroger's and Volume Two Bookstore.  Just before the corner with Prices Fork Rd, he turned right onto a side road past the bank and into the Hardee's parking lot.  With a hefty grunt, he extricated himself from the car and sauntered inside.
-The scent of grease and several others he didn't want to name struck him like a hammer to the stomach.  His black nose wrinkled and snorted, but he made himself walk in.  A bored looking student tried to smile when she saw him come in. "Welcome to Hardees!  May I take your order?"
+The scent of grease and several other things he didn't want to name struck him like a hammer to the stomach.  His black nose wrinkled and snorted, but he made himself walk in.  A bored looking student tried to smile when she saw him come in. "Welcome to Hardee's!  May I take your order?"
 He didn't need to look at the menu. "Three Frisco Sandwiches, and two sausage biscuits."
@@ Line 347: / Line 347: @@
 Oh great, Christopher thought.  Just how much will people think I weigh?  The last time he was a bear, his mother had commented on his tummy, but nobody else had.  Was it worse this time?
-The boy's mother apologized, staring at his breasts the whole time.  He shook his head and said it was fine, then grabbed his order and found a shady spot near a vent to sit.  The cool air felt wonderful, and he started to relax.  One by one he unwrapped his sandwiches and scarfed them down in as many bites as he could manage and still satisfy his ravening hunger.  Within a few minutes, the entire order had disappeared in his gullet.
+The boy's mother apologized, staring at his breasts the whole time.  He shook his head and said it was fine, then grabbed his order and found a shady spot near a vent to sit.  The cool air felt wonderful, and he started to relax.  One by one he unwrapped his sandwiches and scarfed them down in as many bites as he could manage and still satisfy his ravening hunger.  Between them he popped hash browns and downed in a single swallow one of the small cans of orange juice.  Within a few minutes, the entire order had disappeared in his gullet.
 He licked his muzzle clean, wiped it off with the napkins, and threw the trash away.  The poor family had stared at him the whole time, the parents trying their best not to.  If they only knew!
@@ Line 353: / Line 353: @@
 {{Separator|k}}
-The Target was new to the area, built in the Spradlin Farms shopping area of Christiansburg back in 2000.  From the Hardee's, Christopher turned onto 460 East and was there in only ten minutes.  Though he'd only started work at Target a couple months ago, he knew the routine well enough now.  After parking in the team member section at the far end of the lot, he sauntered up to the side entrance where the other members of the morning crew waited to be let in.
+The Target was new to the area, built in the Spradlin Farms shopping area of Christiansburg back in 2000.  The year before it had been a pasture for cows, but their scent was long gone.  From the Hardee's, Christopher turned onto 460 East and was there in only ten minutes.  Though he'd only started work at Target a couple months ago, he knew the routine well enough now.  After parking in the team member section at the far end of the lot, he sauntered up to the side entrance where the other members of the morning crew waited to be let in.
 "Hey Chris," Billy said and waved.  He leaned against the brick wall, glasses hanging low on his nose.  He pointed at Christopher's waist. "What have you been eating lately?  It looks like you've gained twenty pounds since I saw you last week!"
@@ Line 359: / Line 359: @@
 He rumbled and patted his belly.  It jiggled a little.  When he'd been human, he'd been as skinny as a rail.  To be fat now was a definite change. "I don't know, maybe a hormone change or something.  I just started getting this gut."
-Billy chuckled and gave him a thumbs up. "Look good on you, for some reason.  You'll probably have to change that shirt though.  Alex is a stickler for bright red."  Alex was the store team leader, and was notoriously picky about every detail of his store.
+Billy chuckled and gave him a thumbs up. "Looks good on you for some reason.  You'll probably have to change that shirt though.  Alex is a stickler for bright red."  Alex was the store team leader, and was notoriously picky about every detail of ''his'' store.
 Christopher nodded and shrugged, "My others won't fit over this.  Going to pick up some new ones."  He looked past Billy at the rest of the team.  Apart from Billy, who worked hardlines with him, there were three girls who were also new hires talking amongst themselves.  Even as they spoke, another pair of cars pulled into the lot.
@@ Line 373: / Line 373: @@
 When huddle was over, Alex gave him a meaningful look, and Christopher headed into softlines, where they sold all their clothes.  Already several guests were browsing the tables, while a few Virginia Tech students vainly searched for Hokie merchandise.
-Christopher had to walk the entire breadth of the store to reach the paltry men's section.  The women's section surrounded him on both sides, and his eyes stole back and forth between the many outfits, some modest, overs revealing, to the nightwear that looks temptingly cozy.  He may feel like a woman, but nobody else could see it!
+Christopher had to walk the entire breadth of the store to reach the paltry men's section.  The women's section surrounded him on both sides, and his eyes stole back and forth between the many outfits, some modest, others revealing, to the nightwear that looked temptingly cozy.  He may feel like a woman, but nobody else could see it!
-When he reached the men's tables, he carefully rifled through the largest sizes they had and holding them up to see if they would fit.  It took him five minutes, but he found two good red shirts with collars wide enough that he could get his massive head through.  He folded them again, cleaned up the tables, and took them to the registers.  Now he just had to figure out where he was going to change!
+When he reached the men's tables, he carefully rifled through the largest sizes they had and held them up to see if they would fit.  It took him five minutes, but he found two good red shirts with collars wide enough that he could get his massive head through.  He folded them again, cleaned up the tables, and took them to the registers.  Now he just had to figure out where he was going to change!
 {{Separator|k}}
+Mornings at Target were always more interesting than evenings.  Though Saturdays were always busier, Christopher and Billy spent most of their time building end-caps and setting out new merchandise.  Classes didn't officially start for another week, but there were a good number of parents coming in to buy supplies for their college students.  The real crunch would come next weekend, which was why they were building the end-caps now.
+Billy had been Christopher's mentor earlier in the summer, and they'd hit it off almost immediately.  Billy's wicked sense of humor and his frank appraisal of their managers kept Christopher's spirits up as he dealt with having to adjust to retail work.  Now that Christopher faced another year as a woman, he was very grateful to be pared with a friend.
+Becoming a bear did make his job there easier.  He had no trouble carrying the metal shelves back and forth, and he even surprised Billy and several guests with how high he could reach.  They wanted the item on the top shelf?  Not a problem anymore!  After the third time showing off Billy warned him that if Alex saw him stretching on his tip toes like that he might not have a job anymore.  Christopher always retrieved a ladder first after that.
+As he worked the hardlines side of the store, he walked on tiles the whole day long.  They were smooth and cool on his foot pads, but he heard a clicking with his claws everywhere he went.  He would have to get his claw trimming kit out when he got home.  He'd bought it back when he'd first changed, sized for the largest of dogs.  It workd pretty well on his bear claws too, given that he was nowhere near the size of a real brown bear.
+As the day wore on, more and more guests came in, and he and Billy were sent to different sections of the store to handle restocking returned items or items left lying around, as well as helping the many guests.  Several of them decided to be quite rude to him, either by their dismissive attitude or their impatience.  Christopher found himself growling under his breath at quite a few of them.  When things were too bad, he slippe dinto the electronics stock room to cool off --- figuratively as well as literally because it was at least twenty degrees colder in there!
+But his shift finally came to an end, and after extricating himself from one last guests persistant and fruitless questioning, he grabbed his shirts, clocked out, and left the store.  The day had grown hot, and he loosened his collar, tongue hanging out his muzzle as he made his way to his car.  He tossed the shirts in the trunk and squeezed back into his seat.  As soon as the engine was running, he cranked the AC all the way up.
+As expected, Leslie had already left for work when he got home.  Crystal trotted over to greet him, licking his snout with her fast tongue.  Petting gently, he licked her face once, and rumbled in amusement at her confused snuffling.
+There was still an hour-and-ahalf before he needed to be over at the furry apartment, so he had no need to rush.  Methodically, he emptied the four boxes with his bear clothes and stored them in all his dresser drawers.  He put the rest of his shoes in the closet, and organized his feminine products in the last remaining box for when he'd need them.  Lastly, he took out his polaroid camera, stripped, and proceeded to take a few photos of himself for his journal.  These he stored back in the boxes to be sorted another night.
+He fed Crystal, checked his email, changed into more comfortable and lighter clothes, and then sat down on his couch.  His pwas crept up to his breasts and he sighed.  He'd almost made it through one day; now he just had to get through another 364 before he could hope to be a man again.  Christopher sobbed quietly and covered his face with his thick paws.
+{{Separator|k}}
 ''This Story is a Draft and still in Progess'' --[[User:MatthiasRat|MatthiasRat]] 05:20, 23 January 2008 (EST)

Difference between revisions of "User:MatthiasRat/Made Alone"

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