When I'm dreaming, I can fly. I can soar, wings outstretched - just like the guy in the A3 sized kids book i loved in pre-school reading time. I don't have a helicopter hat, or crazy long arms, but i can fly anyway. When my alarm goes off, i plummet back to reality, ground bound by physics.
At least today I have a job, a room to sleep in, and stuffies to keep me company. I pull on a second hand pair of jeans and a long sleeve shirt, leaving the skirts and tank tops alone for after work. I'm going to need to get another pair of jeans soon. these ones are made of stretchy material that is wearing out at the crotch area. They have at least three of four more days before they are unusable, i'd say.
Ever since my egg cracked, i found that lady jeans felt better than the boxy boy jeans that have been riding low on my hips forever. High waist jeans changed everything.
It's hard to believe my egg cracked three weeks ago. The high of having the right hormones in my brain is starting to wear off - the extra energy and mental acuity of those first two weeks were mind blowing.
Letting out a sigh, i hoist my heavy laptop in my backpack. It was too heavy to carry in the shoulder bag I bought with it. With the heavy door locking as it swings shut behind me, i confirm my key is in my pocket. Luckily it is. I've only had to climb in the window three times in the last month. Having a ground floor window definitely made sense for me. Having to wait until the groundskeeper opened my door would have taken way too long.
Waving to the groundskeeper sitting outside the garage converted into his quarters, i head towards the boxy fingers of the skyscrapers in the CBD in the next suburb. We've bonded over the cool motorbike i got to keep costs down. Having a vehicle is necessary when public transit takes so long to get anywhere, but a car is a lot more per year for registration and repairs.
Imagine if i didn't know how to talk shop with dudes. it would be a lot harder to boymode. Its deceptively easy to return to the boy habits that i've been using for the last 25 years of my life. Those first five years where i was just a curious cat messing around were the best i can remember up til now.
Arriving at the office, i boot up the computer and head over to the boss's grinder and espresso machine. Every week he gets a fresh blend and sets the grinder to the optimal setting. It's the best tasting coffee i've ever tasted, but that's not much of a stretch. I was raised on the cheapest, foulest blend available. Going to uni for three semesters meant I was exposed to the best blends the city had to offer. This fresh grind is the next best. I miss those uni guys. They were so queer and vibrant.
Sitting at my desk for another day of testing, I remember the disastrous first day where the boss tested out my coding skills. The different colours of text all over the coding program totally blew my mind. Now that ive been relegated to tester, I listen to the trained specialists gab about implementation with no clue what they're talking about. And i get to listen to music while they're working. Not a bad gig. And i'm getting paid more than I ever have before.
After work, I leave the office to take a walk through the park next door. It has a long, looping track for vehicles and pedestrians which starts next to the trainline and heads all the way around the pond and past the river up to the RSL club. And then i head past the church back home.
Since it's summer, I'll have to turn the portable A/C on as soon as i get home. If i didn't have this job i would never have been able to afford the rent to buy option. That thing is the only way I get through these 40°C days.
Of course, if I was a skinnier I might cool down quicker. This chunky body is a heat sink. At least I can use the upstairs shower without it overflowing like the one downstairs.
Once the room is cooling, i head up to the shower. By the time I walk downstairs to my room through the humid heat, it's cool enough to lie down on my bed comfortably. The first time I ever say on the bed it complained and almost broke. I took a few milk crates from the piles in the backyard to make sure it wouldn't collapse and now I have a solid place to sit and sleep.
With my pretty leopard stuffie Sally snuggled close, I sigh up at the ceiling. I would love to be a snow leopard chasing mountain goats through snow on steep rocky slopes. I would even have a fluffy tail to keep my mouth warm.
"Good night Sally." I whisper into the darkness.
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I yawn, stretching out in my bed. Its warmer than ever despite the A/C blasting all night. I snuggle into Sally's soft fur finding it impossibly soft against my cheeks. Reaching up for her, I realise my fingers feel different; What's wrong with my fingers?
Opening my eyes, it looks like I've gone blind. Everything is white, with some black splotches here and there.
The longer I look around, the more sense I can make of the scene. It's unsettling. First of all, I'm outdoors. I cant hear anything except the wind over snow covered slopes. Mountains reach up towards the clouds I'm to my left and right. Below me, the snow slopes towards thick tree growth, obscuring everything below it.
And that's not all.
Instead of lanky arms and legs in their place are fluffy white limbs with black rosettes. That's the impossibly soft fur I felt earlier. Lifting a paw up to my face, I can see sheathed claws hiding in its furry fringe. Flexing the paw causes the sharp points to push forwards revealing their wicked curves.
What!?
The last thing I can remember is having another dream about flying ... but then what?
Lying on my side in the snow isn't providing any answers. I look our over the mountainside, kicking my legs up in the air and rolling over. My new spine isnway more flexible - the sensation of writhing on the hard ground wonderfully decadent. And my tail! It flicks around behind me as snow flies everywhere.
Climbing to my feet and sitting on my haunches to take in the view again, I curl my tail around me.
That was amazing. No wonder housecats do it so often.
For a perfect moment, I bask in the joy of it all.
Now then, what am I going to do next?
I am distracted by how fluffy the snow is. Being in the southern hemisphere in a dry, flat county means snow is rare in the city. I did get to see some once but the graveyard didn't have much by the time we got there. And it was icy sludge instead of the pretty, fluffy powder I'd heard about in fiction.
Grinning, I pounce on the snow, sinking into it easily. Leaping around, flinging snow in all directions, I catch a glimpse of something behind me. Crouching down into the powder, I wiggle my hips, digging my hind legs into the dirt. I leap, pouncing with paws outstretched and jaws wide. My target whips away, just out of reach. I follow, eventually managing to grip my tail between my paws and teeth.
I chew happily on my tail, its warmth lovely on my tongue.
My nervous energy spent, I can concentrate on getting out of here.
I have to go down the slope, right? No one is going to be living this high up.
I'd better get started.
I remember what I was thinking about before I fell asleep. Something about mountain goats. Was that why this happened? Some kind of monkey's paw wish granting? Sure, you can live int he mountains, but you're a cute cat! Maybe the monkey's paw underestimated how much I like being a Big Cat? Either way, I'm here now, and I'm extremely cute and cuddly. Win-win.
Stepping slowly and carefully through the deep snow, I'm surprised by the lack of other sounds. All I can hear is the crunch of powder beneath my feet and the gentle breeze in my ears. It's so quiet compared to the busy streets of the city that when I reach the trees and start crossing the bed of fallen pine needles, my ears latch onto the sound of voices immediately.
Pausing midstep, one paw in the air, my ears twitch like furry radar scanners. I sniff the air, just in case I can smell something, but the wind is behind me.
They don't sound very far away, at least.
Picking up my pace, I trot through the trees, spotting the two figures struggling through the snow outside the clump of trees I'm in. As I draw closer, I realise something is wrong. The person in front is a woman, and they're wearing clothes that look unsuitable for a snowy mountainside. They are wearing a thin long sleeved dress and leggings. I can't see any shoes at all. What's more, the person behind her has much more suitable clothing, with a fur lining peaking out from their hood. They're moving much more rigidly, as thought underneath they are wearing more warm clothing.
I like being about to hear so clearly. I'm pretty sure I was going deaf back home. Now what is going on here?
Carefully I move towards the two, keeping quiet. Sunlight flashes on something in the second person's hand. A long, wicked blade, like a bowie knife, is clutched in a mittened hand.
"Hey, what do you think you're doing?" I shout, galloping towards the figure. Sadly, my voice is not the one I'm used to. Instead, it's a loud yowling, like a housecat on steroids.
Beneath the fur lining, a man's face is awash with fear. The woman looks from me to him and then swoons, the back of one hand going to her forehead. With a comically exaggerated cry, she faints dead away. The man sees the movement and lets out a gasp. With his hostage out of commission, he abandons his knife, dropping it in the snow to sprint away. Hampered by his clothing, he takes lunging strides, carving a wide gouge through the snow towards a nearby stand of trees. In a matter of moments, he is out of sight.
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The hostage is wheezing. I hurry towards her, hoping to find her okay.
She sits up and I realise she's laughing.
"ah, haha, oh dear. That was perfect. Thanks little one, you really appeared at the right time." she shakes her head, tears frozen on her lashes, as she picks up the knife and hurls it into the treeline. "There we go, noone will be tripping over that until the snow thaws. Blessings to you, ghost."
Still smiling, she hurries down the slope. She probably knows where to find other people. I better hurry after her.
Trotting after her, through the snow, I realise she has barely touched the snow, her footprints wide apart with every stride. Her raven hair swishes violently from side to side as she disappears into a thicker group of trees.
How is she moving so fast? I've got more legs than her and I'm not going that fast!
Picking up the pace, I hurry after her, hoping I don't love sight of her.
At least I can tell where she's going by smell. If it comes to that.
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With treetops keeping the snow off the bed of fallen pine needles, I pick up the pace into a full gallop.
Wait, her smell changed. Sniffing around, I find what looks like footprints in the soft floor. Suddenly, two feet become something else, too faint for me to identify. The smell is sharper, somehow. Cleaner. Brow furrowed, I sniff the air to check the direction she's going in and readjust. I set off again, bounding down the trail.
There she - wait what?
I spot movement several times but they're just animals going about their business. Perplexed by the woman's disappearance, I follow the scent, discovering another snow leaopard running in the same direction. The only difference, from what I can see is the fabric clutched in its jaws. I miss a step, my tail flailing as I catch myself with my extra paws. Good thing I wasn't on two legs for this. I would have taken a dive.
Luckily for me, the beast is moving at a trot. It seems to be the source of the new scent too. I follow it, trying to understand what I'm seeing and smelling. I can just make out the roove of buildings beyond the trees around us when the other snow leopard skids to a stop. The fabric drops to the ground as it begins to change, the tail disappearing, and the limbs reshaping until a human woman stands in its place. My jaw drops as the woman pulls on the same dress and leggings she was wearing up in the snow, and strides quickly out of the trees and towards the buildings.
What? What the fuck was that?
Moving forwards to sniff at the site of her transformation, I confirm that her scent has changed again. Having the scent match what I saw helps solidify the craziness as having actually happened. It's much easier to fool the eyes than the nose.
I continue after her, although she has already disappeared into the maze of streets. All around me, chimneys send smoke up into the air. The buildings are made of timber, large logs hewn into walls. On the slopes, stony foundations keep the floors level. No one seems surprised to see me walking around, but i'm getting lots of dirty looks. I'm used to getting dirty looks for being a man in a skirt, but this is weirder. I would have thought seeing a ferocious beast striding through the streets would have been cause for more concern than just a dirty look.
Then the hissing starts.
I slink away from the crowds, finding a nice cozy backyard to lurk in. I slump down onto the ground, huffing out a sigh.
What's the deal with this place? They're not surprised or scared, just ... angry? Is that what the hissing is all about? Well, my best bet is to see if I can turn back into a person. Even if I hate my body, it will be easier to get around this place. Maybe I'll get lucky and I'll recognise that woman too.
Welp, nothing for it but to try. If I fail, well, I better get used to hunting for dinner.
The chickens and other animals in the streets are no doubt pets, so I can't just eat them when i get hungry. That's how you get hunted by angry humans. I better get started then.
Sitting up, I let out another sigh. The things we do for opposable thumbs. I never felt right in my body. Despite the glowing reviews it got from my brothers, I wanted something a bit more feminine. Of course, being in an isolationist cult of fewer than 10 people meant I didn't find out what queerness was until much later. So i was just depressed and anxious all the time. The flip side of that was when I started taking estrogen, and my entire brain lit up like a firecracker. The joy of those first two weeks, full of energy, cemented the belief that I was doing the right thing. Even the anger that plagued me through growing up was softer. I could control it now. Testosterone really did a number on me.
Despite all that, I still was opposable thumbs. I can deal with some dysmorphia if I can walk around this town without getting death stares. I need to find that woman.
With my mind set, I reach upwards, for a curved spine, and the horizontal hips of a biped. Thankful for my hyperfixation on human anatomy, I push with all I have for an upright position.
Its working! I can feel some stretching, but it's like I'm pushing against a door with rusty hinges. My arms and legs are stretching, my neck shifting too. I get the feeling I'm halfway there when it starts to feel more difficult again. Redoubling my efforts, I feel the rest of my body shift - the tail disappearing back into my spine, my head losing its muzzle and sharp teeth, and my arms and legs no longer furry. Standing up straight at last, with my eyes closed, I can immediately feel the cold. Now that the sun is beginning to kiss the mountains behind me, it's fucking freezing. Luckily, the backyard I picked to hide in has clothes on a line in an enclosed verandah. That's probably the only way they can get things dry up here. There isn't that much snow around, now that I'm in town, but there's no time to think about that. I dart into the enclosed area and pick a shirt and pants off the line, leaving the pegs behind. I make my escape back into the backyard, pulling the items on.
Wait, is the shirt tighter in the front? And are those pants a little looser than I remember?
I stop, moments from pushing the gate open, and look down at where the shirt is tight around my chest. Oh my god - are those...? And ...!
My heart beats loud in my chest as I push the gate open and set off down the street. My head is tingling with the revelation that I've gotten what I always wanted. And all I had to do was leave everything behind. Although there wasn't that much back there, if I'm honest.
Even with all this euphoria, I still miss the warmth of that fur. As soon as I can shift back, I'll be warm and cozy again. On top of that, I'm pretty sure I'm a human girl now. So hopefully I can change back whenever I want. Until then, I need to figure out what I'm going to do for the night. It's getting dark, and I'm getting hungry. Shifting takes it out of you, apparently. And I haven't had anything to eat for hours. My belly grumbles as my bare fleet slap on the cobblestones. Can I use my tits to get free food and drink? It works for the girls in fiction. If only I could talk to someone about it.
"Hey, I've just found out I have tits, can you tell me the secret to getting free food and drink?" Hardly an auspicious start to a conversation.
Shaking my head at the absurdity of everything that has happened today, I almost miss the sneering voice coming from a dim alley to my left.
"Hey pretty girl." It makes my skin crawl just from hearing it. It stops me in my tracks, weak human eyes having trouble penetrating the gloom of early evening. Backing away, I see three men advancing into the street. Now i can see them more clearly, and I don't like what I see. Fuck, I guess some things are universal. Pretty girls get mugged no matter where you are. Still, better than being stuck in a man's body.
"What?" I try to sound angry, but it comes out with a whimper.
"No need to worry, love. I'm just a humble villager, looking for a bit of warmth on a cold dark night. Eh?" he chuckles darkly, his two cronies sharing a look. The leader is wearing a jacket and thick pants. His shoes look like mocassins or medieval leather shoes. He isn't wearing any gloves or mittens, but he does have a beanie on. The other two don't have his square jaw, or clothes anywhere near as fine. They look like they've rummaged around in a scrap heap for their clothing. And one of them is missing a shoe.
When they spoke, I was worried. Then, when they came out of the darkness, I was scared. Now, though, as they leer at me from several metres away, I find myself confused.
"What the fuck are you doing? Go home and leave me alone." I set off again, feeling a thrill in my belly at giving them a piece of my mind. Telling dickheads to fuck off always feels good.
Someone grabs my arm, pulling me around to face him. It's the leader.
"Now now, darling, no need for the cold shoulder. It's plenty cold enough already tonight." His voice is husky, like a soap star, and I curse my body for feeling a tingle towards my core. Now is not the time to be attracted to this man!
"Get lost!" I snap, pulling away from him. His two cronies step towards us, the bare foot slapping on the cobbles.
"Come on then, love. How bout a bit of it eh?"
The man's grip around my arm is like iron, his free hand pawing at my chest. I grit my teeth, feeling the rage that I kept tightly under control boiling up to the surface. My first 10 minutes as a woman and I'm getting groped by a cunt. I slash my free hand across the bastard's face, digging my claws in. Shit, he's still holding on. Lifting a foot, I kick at his groin, but he uses his knee to deflect.
"Hah, try another one love." one of his cronies crows. I sink deep into the rage, finding something resonating deep inside me. Something that wants to get out. I feel something shift, something I felt earlier, when i was changing forms. My fingers elongate, claws popping into existence. My face lengthens, teeth becoming sharper. A tail creeps out from my waistband, feet sitting up as I feel claws appearing at the tips of my toes.
"Try this on for size!" I bellow, my voice husky from the stretching in my throat. This time when I slash at the man, deep gouges mar his face, blood welling up immediately.
"Oh fuck, she's a dirty shifter!" The leader leaps away from me, hand against the wound to staunch the flow of blood. The iron tang of its scent fills the air, urging the predator inside me onwards. My rage revels in it. Yearns to sate its lust for revenge.
"Don't like it when prey fights back huh?" I jeer at them, blood dripping off my claws. I lift them up to my mouth, licking them clean with my tongue. It doesn't taste very good, but it has the desired effect.
"She's fucking crazy!" someone yells, scampering down the alley they appeared from. The beast inside me purrs at their fearful departure. I put a firm hand on its metaphorical head to prevent it from giving chase. Prey running away really gets her going. I'll keep that in mind.
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The rest of my walk through the town is uneventful. Going barefoot is common, based on the lack of funny looks I'm getting. And despite being an upright furry person, I'm not getting the death stares from earlier either. Sweet, works for me. With the cause of my helpful shift gone, I can feel myself beginning to fade back towards my human form. It's slow to reappear, but she is going back to sleep, pleased with herself.
A sharp splat draws my attention. A woman a few metres away has dropped something. It's some kind of bag. The contents have gone everywhere, but her face is white as a sheet. And in the darkness, I'm not fully back to human yet, so I've still got the enhanced dark vision of a cat's eyes, and some of the white fur. My tail isn't fully receded yet either, so she can tell I'm a snow leopard shifter too.
"Um, hello," I wave happily, "Can I talk to you for a minute?" She turns and sprints away, feet bare, like mine. "Wait, I just need a second!" I call after her, but she doesn't slow down. I give chase, surprised to find that I'm not short of breath like I would be back home if I tried this. The further I run, the more human I am, until the shadows are as dark as ever. The only thing I have to go by is the slapping of her barefeet on the street.
Finally, she stops under a street light - a lamp poking out of the side of the building. She's bent over at the waist, huffing and puffing.
"What. Do you want?" she hisses, although it sounds different to the angry hissing from earlier.
"Uh, sorry," I demur, rubbing the back of my head sheepishly. "I saw you shift, up in the forest," I point a thumb behind us as the slope, "and I was wondering if you could show me where I might find more people like us? Maybe something to eat? Also I kind of stole these clothes from someone, and I'm not sure where I would get my own."
The longer I speak, the less upset she appears. By the time I'm finished, trailing off into a whisper, she just looks confused.
"Wait, so you're not a Soapwood?" She asks hesitantly.
"A what sorry?" I don't think I've ever heard of a soapwood before. I know what 'Ironwood' is, and 'soapstone' but 'soapwood'? Never heard of it.
The mystery woman blows out a long breath, chuckling to herself.
"I'm sorry, I thought you were -" she takes a deep breath and straightens. "I'm Nila. Come on, it's not going to get warmer out here."
I hurry after her, still completely confused.
What have I gotten myself into?
