The day Ralph and I changed places.


June 8, 2000 — The day Ralph and I changed places
“I stood in the rain on White Oak Hill. In the heat I was
getting soaked, clothes and fur, but I didn’t move…”

Finished the first part of Ralph’s story and posted it to the library and FA.

…and thou.

Old story… finally finished with the revision. Third person, eeagh!


On a cool April day—the sun shining with a softness of color that pastelized the world—Kohath was shopping. Just by looking at him you could tell he was touched by love; he was humming “45’s Earthlight,” and his usual trudge was replaced by the unselfconsciousness that only comes from focusing on someone else.

He moved alone, though, down the street of shops, stopping every now and then to look at things in the windows that caught his eye: colorful glass sculptures, a chocolate fountain, a dance lesson—until he caught the warm scent of bread baking and knew what he wanted. He followed his nose to the bakery and approached the counter.

Good morning, wolf,” said the baker, a short boar in a flour-covered apron. “What can I get for you today?”

Bread!” he said, grinning. The baker only rolled his eyes at the joke. “Uh, one of those sweet loaves. And half a dozen of… nah, just that.”

He paid two nummi for the bread and headed back out to the street, putting the loaf in his bag. The wind brought a luxurious smell of citrus, of apples and grapes, making Kohath’s belly rumble. Time enough for eating later, right? No… let’s see if we can find something good. He went down to the square at the end of the street where the fruitsellers were set up.

The first stall he saw belonged to a very small tiger selling very large berries. He picked up a raspberry the size of an orange and looked it over, somewhat impressed.

Biggest berries in the province,” the tiger said. “I have a certificate from the general saying so.” It was framed and hanging behind him; he seemed pretty proud of it. “All natural, too.”

Kohath considered the fruit for a moment, then put it down. “Maybe next time,” he said, and moved on. New food can be hit or miss, and today was not a day for taking risks.

In the next stall, a raven was busy shooing children away from pyramids of melons meticulously piled, and in his frustration nearly knocked them over himself. The avian was cursing like a walrus and Kohath decided to pass him by.

The third stall wasn’t selling fruit; it shaded an elderly wolf lady sitting on a halı, surrounded by racks of bottles. She sniffed the air as he approached.

Come for juice, young wolf?”

He smiled and sat down in front of her.

I’m having lunch with someone special, teyze,” he said. “And I thought fruit would be a good idea but nothing here is really grabbing me. Juice sounds like a good idea…”

Much more convenient,” she said. “No messing with seeds, or rinds, or sticky paws.” She laughed to herself. “And no need to worry about carrying the other half of the strawberry you couldn’t finish because someone decided it should be the size of a melon…” She shook her head and reached for a bottle on her left. “For someone special you’ll want something special,” she said, pulling the bottle from the rack and running her paw across the label. “My son makes this from his best grape. For a boy in love, one nummo, and I’ll throw in cups for free.” She pulled two tumblers from the top of the stack behind her; one was blue and the other pink.

Kohath took the colors as a good sign and paid the nummo, thanking the her sincerely. Bottle and cups went into his bag and he was back in the street. A simple lunch being provided for, he set off towards the park where he was to meet his fox.

On the way there he got distracted by a used book store near the edge of the mahalle that he’d never noticed before, a tiny place called “The Joli Raja’s.” Since he had plenty of time, he figured he’d stop in and give it a look.

Just inside the doors was a bargain bin—ten books a nummo. The attendant told him they were worthless because they were so heavily marked, and if he just wanted one, it’d be free.

Kohath burrowed through the pile. There were elementary math books with the answers written in; a copy of an Ayn Rand book where every page had been marked ‘Nonsense,’ even the blank ones; a Koran and two Bibles with torn pages and clipped passages.

The gem he ended up walking away with was a book of Shakespeare’s sonnets that someone had heavily annotated. The text itself was unscathed, but the margins were full of drawings—simple icons—and thoughts of love answering to and illustrating the poems. It was perfect.

He reached the grove in the park with plenty of time to spare, and laid out his blanket. He had wanted to find a traditional picnic cloth, the kind with the red and white checkerboard pattern, but hadn’t been able to find one for some reason; he was making do with a rather garish rainbow plaid.

He set down his bag, leaving it closed up to keep the bugs off the food, and sat back against a tree to wait, thumbing through the book.

He had only known one of the sonnets before, and he looked for it first. It was the one that began—

My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun…

In the margin surrounding this poem, the annotator had written:

Not because you’re beautiful, not because you shine, just because you’re real, that’s why I am thine

A bright orange tabby and a bright orange fox walked by him, paw in paw. Kohath took a deep breath, enjoying the cool air and the scent of the food that somehow managed to escape from his bag, and, once they had passed by, read both poems aloud.

And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false compare.

He flipped through the pages and picked another at random.

The other two, slight air and purging fire…

He read the sonnet through, imagining the elemental influences. The page on the left, facing it, appeared to be unaccountably blank, until he noticed it was a loose sheet, folded to fit the page, that the annotator had inserted. He pulled it out and unfolded it.

It was a fairly decent drawing, done in colored pencil. In it, two foxes were standing at opposite sides of a canyon, reaching out to each other. He felt a doubled loneliness from the poem and the image, and checked his timepiece.

His fox was late. No sign, no word. He pulled his phone from the bag to make sure; no missed calls. He considered calling, but figured it might come across as a bit smothery. It was only ten minutes so far, after all.

He went back to the book, hunting for a more uplifting message.

The Massage

New story inspired from an old RP.
NSFW (softshifting, reconfiguration, weird) below cut… »

Another full day

This story was ordered by FA’s saiwolf.
NSFW (M/M, feeding, inflation, popping) below cut… »

[final] Atligili.

I looked at the costume in its box and tried to hold out against the temptation to wear it again. I didn’t want to wear it—it wanted me to wear it. It compelled me. But I didn’t want to wear it. I had only worn it three times since I’d gotten it, and each time….

The fear was exciting—addictive. I didn’t want it to be. I didn’t want to think about it.

I knew if I thought about it, it would get into my mind again.

And if it got into my mind, I would wear the costume again.

And if I wore the costume, the monster that it was would get hungry again.

And I was already running out of stuff.

But I couldn’t stop looking. The fear was exciting—addictive. It compelled me.

It was a gorgeous alligator suit, the kind that inflates around you and makes you look like a big shiny pool toy when you’re wearing it. Just then, though, I thought it looked kind of sad, stuffed in its box all rumpled like it was. I never did put it away properly… after the last time, when the thing’s hunger had faded and I was in control again, I hadn’t taken any chances: I’d hid it away as quickly as I could.

It was a shame to mistreat something so valuable. I figured I ought to at least fold it up properly.

When I picked it up, though, I knew I was trapped again.

It was the smell of it that grabbed me, that pure smell of vinyl, or whatever it was that it—that he was really made of… it entered my nose, bypassed my brain, and took hold somewhere deep in my gut.

Before I had realized what was happening I had already torn my clothes off—and I mean I literally ripped them from my body. I didn’t know I had that kind of strength in me. The smell was so powerful! He shouldn’t have smelled so clean—I’d left him covered in the remains of what he’d eaten—crumbs and spills of food and drink and worse… the paint, I couldn’t convince him paint wasn’t for drinking, and he’d gone through five cans and it had been so sour in my stomach—and the blood, I’d forgotten… how the cat had struggled… but he was clean now, somehow, and…

…and those memories were fading away again now, now that he was controlling me again. I climbed into him through the opening in his chest. I closed up the airtight seal and pulled up the oversized costume zipper that covered it. And I turned on the built-in pump under his tail that would give him his shape.

He never spoke, but I could feel his satisfaction: I was his dependable slave, even though I was unwilling. I felt his hunger, too. I watched his reflection in my bedroom mirror as the air filled him fat and round—so beautiful, so majestic, were the thoughts in my head; whether they were his or mine I wasn’t sure—and as soon as he was full he stretched out, hopped on his big feet experimentally, and barreled purposefully out the door.

My house, as I mentioned, was already mostly empty. The beast sniffed at the air and, though I didn’t smell anything, he must have gotten wind of something. He bounded into the kitchen, the wobble of his body pushing hard against my skin. The kitchen cupboards were still empty; I hadn’t dared to refill them since last time and I’d been eating out.

He grabbed the trash can.

Please, no, I pleaded.

He opened his jaws wide, forcing mine open as well, much wider than should have been comfortable for me. He poured in the contents of the trash can, and I tasted Styrofoam, greasy fast-food wrappers, and a few day-old French fries.

I felt like I was going to be sick as the monster forced me to chew and swallow. But he wouldn’t get sick, so neither would I, no matter how much I wished it.

The gator moved a big paw down over his belly. I knew what he was thinking: Still empty…

He sniffed around again, but I could tell nothing left in my house interested him. He barged out my door and stepped into the street, and I trembled inwardly at the beast’s thoughts… a very clear picture of the meat we would have today.

2nd draft [partim] – …and thou.

Previous | First | Full first draft


On the way there he got distracted by a used book store near the edge of the mahalle that he’d never noticed before, a tiny place called “The Joli Raja’s.” Since he had plenty of time, he figured he’d stop in and give it a look.

Just inside the doors was a bargain bin—ten books a nummo. The attendant told him they were worthless because they were so heavily marked, and if he just wanted one, it’d be free.

Scott the Alchemist 3.

Previous | First [NSFW] | Full first draft [NSFW]


We sat quiet for a while. Arky calmed down some, recovered his composure, dried his eyes, blew his nose.

I could tell Flair,” he said, “About the humans, I mean. You know he’d get into it. And then, we could—“

Well, sure he’d like it. He’s taken everything else I’ve thrown at him. But would he be able to keep quiet about it?”

He wouldn’t have to! We don’t have to tell him you’ve been importing humans from… wherever it is you get them from… just that you’ve got a thing for them. It’d fit neat with that fib of yours about the gorillas, and he’ll be able to lord it over them shaven human-wannabes who hang out at the mall.”

I tried to suppress a bad memory.

But… what about Toby?” I said.

Who?”

The… imported human.”

Arky made an exasperated grunt and stormed into the kitchen. I didn’t follow him; I knew him well enough by then to know when he needs time to himself. So I went and put my sweats on while he made angry sandwiches. I lay on the couch, staring at the ceiling and thinking. I was torn between wanting not to hurt my best friend on the one paw, and the feeling that I might be—I didn’t want to think it—settling for less on the other paw. I half felt like turning to stone for a year to avoid the problem. No, that wouldn’t help. Maybe a big tattoo of shame dyed across my forehead. “BAD TIGER.” I was trying to figure out what typeface best conveyed horrible shame when Arky came back out.

2nd draft [partim] – Atligili

Previous | First | Full first draft


It was the smell of it that grabbed me, that pure smell of vinyl, or whatever it was that it—that he was really made of… it entered my nose, bypassed my brain, and went directly for my crotch.

Before I had realized what was happening I had already torn my clothes off—and I mean I literally ripped them from my body. I didn’t know I had that kind of strength in me. The smell was so powerful! He shouldn’t have smelled so clean—I’d left him covered in the remains of what he’d eaten—crumbs and spills of food and drink…

2nd draft [partim] – …and thou.

Previous | First | Full first draft


“I’m having lunch with someone special,” he said. “And I thought fruit would be a good idea but nothing here is really grabbing me. Juice sounds like a good idea…”

“Much more convenient,” she said. “No messing with seeds, or rinds, or sticky paws.” She laughed to herself. “And no need to worry about carrying the other half of the strawberry you couldn’t finish because someone decided it should be the size of a melon…” She shook her head and reached for a bottle on her left. “For someone special you’ll want something special,” she said, pulling the bottle from the rack and running her paw across the label. “My son makes this from his best grape. For a boy in love, one nummo, and I’ll throw in cups for free.” She pulled two tumblers from the top of the stack behind her; one was blue and the other pink.

Kohath took the colors as a good sign and paid the nummo, thanking the her sincerely. Bottle and cups went into his bag and he was back in the street. A simple lunch being provided for, he set off towards the park where he was to meet his fox.

2nd draft [partim] – Scott the Alchemist 3

Previous/First part of second draft (NSFW) | Full first draft (NSFW)


“I love you, Scott,” he said into my shoulder. “You couldn’t know how special you are to me…”

“I… I—”

“I wanted to belong to you,” he said. “Do you have any idea what kind of power a big cat like you has over a mouse like me?”

“I—”

“From the moment I met you… and you and me got along like a dream…”

“We—”

“…doing my best to get Flair interested in you so we could play together…”

“You—”

“What?”

“I… I didn’t know you felt so strongly,” I said.

“But I get it, you’re only interested in humans,” he said. “Well, here: make me human.”

“What?”

“I know you know how. Flair doesn’t know I skipped work to come see you; he doesn’t have to know about this, either. I’ll give up being normal for you… just please take me…”

“Arky—”

“Do it!”

I could. It would be easy. I wanted to—he was breaking my heart. But… “You’re not leaving Flair for me,” I said. “You’re special to me too—more than anybody—but I’m not going to be ‘that guy’.”