FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Post-Transformation Therapy

By CalexTheNeko

The best thing about a good scheme was the potential for follow ups. And this time Kickaha had a pretty good follow up. Honestly though, it felt wrong to call something so outright beneficial to society a scheme. What he was doing this time could almost be considered a civil service! In fact the only reason it wasn't was the very meager fee he had decided to charge for it. After all, just because he decided to contribute to his community didn't mean he didn't deserve lunch money.

He was currently hard at work setting up. For businesses like these, location was one of the most important things to consider. This time Kickaha had chosen a nice little neighborhood in the suburbs. It was one of those planned developments. But that didn't mean that every single house was exactly the same. After all... There were three completely distinct approved floor plans for houses in the community and two approved exterior colors! It was practically a world of variety. And some houses had a maple brown shadowbox privacy fence while others had a walnut brown shadowbox privacy fence. The world had never known such diversity.

This place was special. And the reason for that is that it was what was considered normal. A community mostly full of nuclear families, perfectly maintained lawns and homes, and even public space with a gazebo for the neighborhood block parties. The thing was... It was too normal. The thing was... Normal attracted weird. And so when you went super all in on normal, it meant things were going to get weirder. After all, it was hard for something to stand out in a place where all the odd things happened. But in a place where nothing ever happened? Well... That was just rife for everything to happen! A place like this was full of marks for people like Kickaha!

And those marks needed his help!

Kickaha was almost done setting up. He had built a small little booth out of a big cardboard box and a few sticks. Hanging above his booth was small sign. It read 'Post-Transformation Psychiatric Therapy: 5¢.' Below that on the booth was another message that read 'The Doctor is.' The foxyote took a few steps back from his booth and examined it. There was only one minor detail missing before he can open. He quickly wrote down the word 'in' on a piece of paper and taped it next to the message on the bottom of the booth. Then he leaped behind the booth, leaned into it and rested his head on his arms. All that was left now was to wait.

It didn't take long for his first client to appear. The person in question was a wolf, though not quite a normal feral animal. Much like Kickaha, they walked upright on two legs. They were also easily twice his size. The wolf had a heavy muscular build, and he was currently dressed in a pair of torn pants that clung desperately to his thighs and a t-shirt that only managed to cover the top half of his chest. The wolf looked absolutely miserable. He walked straight past Kickaha's booth without stopping. Then after a few seconds turned and looked at the foxyote, did a double take, and just stared. After a full minute he finally walked over to the booth and began to struggle to dig through his pockets. His claws threatened to tear the fabric of his trousers with each movement. And judging by their current condition this was a common event. It must have taken a miracle for the wolf to even get them on in the morning. After struggling for awhile he finally managed to produce a single nickel from his pocket before dropping it onto Kickaha's booth.

"Well hello there!" Kickaha gave his best smile. "And howl can I help you today?" The wolf gave him a deadpan stare at this. His large canine ears twitched as if he wasn't sure what he had just heard. After a few minutes though he finally speaked.

"The thing is... I'm a werewolf." He muttered under his breath.

"Yes. I can see that." Kickaha nodded. "I'm trained to pick up the subtle clues."

"Wait. So are you a werewolf?"

"That would be ridiculous." Kickaha crossed his arms. "I am a foxyote. Anyone can see that just by looking!"

"So... Like a werefoxyote?"

"Just a foxyote."

"But..." The werewolf seemed uneasy. "But you walk on two legs and talk just like me."

"Wow, your conversion must have been really recent, right?" Kickaha gave the werewolf a curious glance. "I mean if you can't even tell the difference between a were and a normal humanoid animal yet. Don't worry, it'll get easier. Especially now that you have more fine-tuned senses to notice the small details."

"But... But..." The werewolf looked ready to tear up. "But I'm not supposed to be a werewolf! I'm a human! Or I was! But now..."

"Okay, let's calm down..." Kickaha took the werewolf's massive paws in his own. "There's no need to get upset. Now... What do I call you?"

"Mark..." The werewolf replied meekly.

"Okay Mark, I'm here to help." Kickaha nodded. "Before we can do that though... Let's start from the beginning. How did you become a werewolf?"

"Well..." Mark withdrew his paws and tapped two of his claws together nervously. "The thing is... It's really embarrassing but... Um... It sort of happened during that Super Blood Moon."

"I thought it might have." Kickaha did his best to maintain a neutral tone of voice. "The were population always skyrockets during those. I know a few of them who have parties. Guest list gets longer each time. As do the number of wild animal attacks in the paper."

"But that's the thing!" Mark pleaded. "I wasn't attacked by a wild animal! Or bitten! I just... I was on playing around in one of those video chat rooms! The type where you meet random people! Suddenly... A wolf shows up the other end! And they claim to be a werewolf! I figure... It's a joke. Someone is having fun since there's the whole blood moon thing... I figure it was just a camera feed of a zoo, or just some clever 3D animation or something. But they keep saying they're real and could change me if I wanted. So I laughed and said then do it."

"Ohhhh, that's permission." Kickaha shook his head. "You shouldn't have done that."

"Suddenly a bunch of weird gibberish appears on my screen and the computer turns off... Next thing I know I've gained a foot in height, 200 pounds of muscle and am covered in fur! Then I've got this tail... That just does whatever it wants! And nothing fits anymore!"

"Ah yeah, they must have infected your computer with some malwere. It's probably downawoo." Kickaha nodded sagely.

"A computer virus did this?" Mark looked skeptical.

"Don't be so surprised." Kickaha wagged his finger. "Humans aren't the only ones who have advanced technologically. Pretty much everyone from your average werewolf to your totem spirit owns a computer now. And of course some of them couldn't resist the urge to mix a little magic in so they could work from home. It's all part living in the modern age."

"But... But look what it did to me!" Mark gestured at his body. "I mean at first I thought it was kind of cool. I had always been kind of scrawny... Suddenly being tall and able to lift my whole desk with one hand. That was cool. But... I thought I'd change back when the blood moon was over... And instead."

"You stayed a werewolf." Kickaha nodded. "Naturally can't expect a computer programmed curse to run the same as the old one. The old stuff used a lunar based system. Not very efficient, can only run once a month. This new stuff... Well as long as the internet exists, it's not going anyway anytime soon."

"But that means I'm stuck like this!" Mark whined.

"Look the way I see it, you've got two major problems." Kickaha grabbed Mark's paw to try to calm him down. "And neither one of them is related to what you look like."

"Huh?"

"The first!" The foxyote held up one finger. "Is that you're living in the past. You keep thinking about how you were human! But that's not who you are! An important thing to remember, is that people change, every day. Sometimes, it's because you learn life lessons and mature a little bit. Other times you turn into a seven foot tall wolf man. But change is part of life, and you can't go back on it. You have to adapt to who you are."

"But I feel like I've been in constant pain since-" Mark started to object.

"And that brings us to issue two." Kickaha held up a second finger. "No pants."

"W-what?"

"No pants." Kickaha nodded. "Do you see me wearing pants?" The foxyote was dressed in only a green cloak and nothing else

"N-no."

"Right, because they are silly human things." Kickaha nodded. "And they don't fit you, that's why you're in pain. I'd lose the shirt as well."

"But I can't walk around naked!" Mark protested. "It's not proper!"

"Maybe not for a human, but you're a werewolf." Kickaha pointed a finger at him. "And the best way for you to move forward with this is to own that fact!"

"But where will I keep my wallet and keys!?" Mark pleaded.

"You want my advice? Get yourself a cloak." Kickaha gestured to his own. "I've got pockets sewn in, able to carry everything I need without restricting my tail or other body parts. Just don't get one in red."

"Why not?" Mark seemed confused.

"Just... there have been incidents involving large wolves and little red cloaks." Kickaha shook his head. "Just trust me, any color but red and you're fine. Other than that, like I said stop living in the past! Think less about how you used to be human, and more about what you'll do as a werewolf!" Kickaha paused and then looked at his wrist as if checking a watch. His wrist of course was bare except for his own fur. "And with that we're out of time. Next customer!"

Mark took the hint and vacated the premise. The werewolf walked a few feet away before looking down at himself. He then slowly removed what remained of his clothes. He had to tear most of them off they were stuck so tight. After this he paused briefly, and then his tail began to wag as he realized he did indeed feel better.

Kickaha meanwhile had already moved on to his next client. As big as his last client was, this one was small! This one was a humanoid rabbit with gray and brown fur that was half the foxyote's size. He came hopping down the sidewalk while desperately clinging to a pair of trousers. At this point he might as well have been trying to wear a parachute, and every few hops he tripped over them.

He didn't hesitate for a moment when he saw Kickaha's stand. It was, however a struggle for him to climb up onto the stool. After two failed attempts the foxyote got tired of waiting, lifted the rabbit up, and placed him in the stool.

"So what's hoppening?" Kickaha asked the rabbit who returned him a deadpan stare.

"It isn't that obvious?" The rabbit muttered. "In case you haven't noticed... I'M AN ADORABLE BUNNY!"

"Oh I noticed..." Kickaha looked away. "But it's not very professional to compliment your patient's looks."

"Very funny." The bunny crossed his arms. "But while you're making jokes... I'm in the middle of a crisis here! Everything has gone topsy turny and the entire world is going to come crashing down and I'm the only one who sees it!"

"Alright, there's clearly a lot going on here." Kickaha gently patted the bunny on the head. "How about we start with a name and five cents?"

"Hank Miller, Vice President of Sales at Happy Little Pillow Company." The rabbit reached into his oversized trousers and produced a business card and a nickel.

"That sounds like an impressive position." Kickaha carefully pocketed the five cents, then tossed the card over his shoulder without looking at it. "So I take as a vice president of a small business you must have a lot of stake in the-"

"Small business!?" The bunny almost foamed at the mouth. "There's nothing small about the Happy Little Pillow Company! We're the third largest supplier of hypoallergenic pillows in the world! I oversee more pillows sold in a day than you'll have clients in your life."

"Is that so?" Kickaha resisted the urge to say something along the lines of 'So like three?' He was here to help after all.

"And let me tell you one more thing!" Hank was still worked up and going. "Pillow sales isn't like selling anything else in existence! Pillows are serious business. Life threatening business. I've had rival competitors slash my own brakes on three separate occasions when they thought I'd make it to new client to present my pitch before them! I once clawed my way out of a corporate sponsored dungeon using only a plastic spork to dig a tunnel! And I still made the sale!"

"Sounds like quite the adventure." Kickaha was genuinely intrigued. He had no idea that pillows were so dangerous. There was potential for a future prank here.

"And it's only this easy now because they outlawed the use of barbed wire in high-tension negotiations about fifteen years ago." The bunny muttered and crossed his arms.

"Wait what would you even-"

"But this... This!" Hank wasn't done. He began to gesture at his own body wildly. "This is like nothing I've ever seen before! How could they do this to me!?"

"So I take it you being turned into a bunny was somehow related to a pillow sale?" Kickaha tented his paws.

"A pillow sale!?" Hank nearly fell off the stool in rage. "Would you call the Louisiana Purchase just 'a real estate transaction'?"

"I suppose not..." Kickaha conceded.

"This was not just a 'pillow sale'!" Hank jumped off his stool and began to pace back and forth across the cardboard box while clinging to his trousers. "This was history in the making! This was... The National Farmers' Convention!"

"... What?"

"Farmers work hard, and they sleep hard. They're the number one buyers of pillows in the world." The bunny nodded. "This is a well known fact! And I was all set up to get the contract with the hotel they were staying at! Imagine, farmers from all over the world getting the best sleep of their life, thanks to the Happy Little Pillow Company! It would have been the greatest marketing stunt of all time! And we were making the hotel pay us to let us do it! But then... THEY appeared."

"And who are they?" Kickaha's was practically holding his breath in anticipation of this story.

"My Three Moms Seamstress and Embroidery." Hank turned and spat over the edge of the booth in disgust. "They don't know the first thing about pillows! They think the only thing that matters is that the pillow is trimmed with lace! They tried to undercut my sale! And with what! Pillows that were half as thick for twice the cost! All because they had a little bit of fancy cloth tapered around the edge."

"Please, go on." Kickaha could have listened to this all day.

"So then their sales agent shows up. His name is Jeff... And let me tell you, he's a real piece of work. He wears... novelty ties." Hank looked ready to spit again at the thought.

"The horror." Kickaha's eyes widened.

"Well he comes in here, and he's getting up in my face! Tells me I'm old, that I've gone soft! And I don't have what it takes to make it in the pillow game anymore."

"So how did you respond?"

"With tradition." Hank puffed out his chest proudly. "In the pillow industry there is only one way to resolve conflict. It dates back to our forefathers' forefathers. I speak of course of the ancient tradition of... The pillow fight."

"I should have guessed." Kickaha smiled wistfully as he tried to picture grown men in their best suits hitting each other with pillows.

"The fight lasted for three days!" Hank continued. "And then... Right when it seems I've won... They hit me with some special new dainty pillow they have! One that was shaped like a... A bunny."

"And then you turned into a bunny." Kickaha tapped his own chin. "You know I've heard of these spell throw pillows but never used them myself. Seemed impractical. I guess you lost the fight after that?"

"LOST THE FIGHT!?" Hank shouted at the top of his lungs. "You think just because I turned into a soft little bunny I lost the fight! I've been selling pillows for thirty years! I know this is war! And I came for blood! I ran that Jeff all the way out of town! With All My Moms gone the hotel had no choice but to buy from me!"

"So... What's the problem?" Kickaha asked. "It seems like everything worked out."

"What's the problem?" Hank gestured at himself. "LOOK AT ME! No one takes me seriously now! Do you know how hard it is to get my team to respect my authority looking like this!? They're always coming in late... Taking extra breaks! And I keep catching them making personal calls during business hours!"

"I see. And this is completely different from the usual?" Kickaha tilted his head.

"Of course!" The bunny paused and considered. "Well... Not really... I guess... Maybe these are the same things. But I feel so much more ridiculous now."

"I think I see what's going on." The foxyote leaned forward. "The way I see it you have two major problems. The first one is... You have some control issues."

"I do not!"

"Look, you clearly see yourself as always in control of the situation." Kickaha responded. "Whether you're speeding down the road in a pillow filled car with no brakes or commanding your sales team into battle, you're in charge."

"Of course I am! I'm a professional!" The bunny turned away from Kickaha.

"But that means when you're not in control, you feel more stressed. Like when your team doesn't respond to you... Or you suddenly change species without planning to."

"That's not a normal thing!" Hank protested.

"Right. You didn't consider it normal." Kickaha nodded. "It was unexpected, uncontrolled. The problem isn't that you're a bunny, it's that you didn't get a say in it. The problem isn't your team doesn't listen to you, it's that they're not under perfect control. Sometimes, you need to take a step back, relax, and accept that not everything is under your power. Once you do that, you can focus more on things you can control."

"I suppose... I still made the sale despite looking like this..." Hank conceded. "But... I feel so silly now."

"And that brings us to your second problem." Kickaha grinned. "No pants."

"What?"

"You look ridiculous carrying those oversized things around." Kickaha gestured at them. "Like a kid playing dress up. Look. You have fur, why worry about it? You'll look less ridiculous without them and people will respect you more! Neat fur always looks professional. Trust me, ditching the pants will have you feeling more confident like your old self immediately."

"You're crazy. Why'd I ever pay you a nickel for your words!" Hank shouted as he jumped down from his stool. "I'm not listening to a word you said!" That was what Kickaha heard him say. But the foxyote took note of a subtle change in the rabbit's demeanor as he left. He was less hopping mad now. He had also left his trousers sitting on the stool. Kickaha suspected he was going to be just fine.

Besides, a third client was already approaching. This one certainly stood out compared to the other two. He was even shorter than the rabbit. In fact, probably only reached six inches in height. Other than his small size he looked pretty fearsome. Horns protruding from his head, sharp claws, a tail with spines, and bat-like wings protruding from his back. He was a dragon! But one thing was at odds with his fearsome appearance. He was wearing a pair of cloth pants and a shirt that had clearly been stolen from a doll.

The dragon flew over the booth dropping a nickel on it before landing himself.

"So... I'm going to guess you're upset about being a dragon?" Kickaha tried.

"Oh, I'm SUPPOSED to be a dragon!" The dragon roared. "I did my research and knew this was going to happen! But I... I thought I'd be bigger."

"Why would you think that?" Kickaha tilted his head and looked down at the dragon. "You're honestly already a lot taller than most of the dragons I've met."

"Are you KIDDING me!?" The dragon released a billow of angry flames.

"Not at all." Kickaha didn't miss the chance to reach under the box and whip out a marshmallow on a stick. The dragon's flames were just hot enough to slightly toast it.

"Look at me!" The dragon stomped his foot. "I only stole that jewel because I thought it'd make me more fearsome and this..."

"So I can piece together where this is going, but maybe I should get your name, and then we can start from the beginning." Kickaha began to nibble on his marshmallow.

"My name is Maximas Rodman III... Or Max for short." The dragon huffed. "I'm fifteen years old, and I'm trying to take over the world."

"I might need popcorn for this..." Kickaha finished his marshmallow.

"What?"

"Nothing!" The foxyote did his best to give a grin that wasn't condescending. He almost succeeded. "Go on."

"Look. What I'm about to tell you may blow your mind." Max continued. "I've been on the internet. Googled things others weren't meant to know. And in that I discovered... Magic is real."

"I am shocked." Kickaha replied, completely deadpan.

"Oh yes! And upon learning this I set out on my plan to conquer the world!" Max rubbed his hands gleefully. "And my first step was so simple! I discovered the local museum had a gem that was cursed to punish greedy hearts. Basically, if the gem was ever stolen instead of traded fairly the thief would be transformed into a ferocious fire breathing beast to reflect their inner greed."

"And so you stole it." Kickaha could fill in most of the story on his own from here.

"Of course I did!" Max stamped his foot indignantly. "If I'm going to take over the world I need to be something people will fear and respect! And what could possibly fit that description better than a dragon! And so I stole the gem from the museum and triggered the curse on purpose. I figured once I was a huge all-powerful dragon I could have this world under my thumb in a week!"

"And instead you wound up small." Kickaha nodded. "That happens a lot. The idea that all dragons were huge magical beasts is something of a misconception. It's all about physics really. You see, beasts that big can't fly. They weigh too much, their wings wouldn't support them."

"But that doesn't make sense!" Max shouted. "Everyone knows dragons are big!"

"Well I hate to tell ya this..." Kickaha looked around the area. "You see, dragons may be small, but they do have big egos. And they love to hire authors to write books and movies and TV shows about themselves. And if the client wants a thirty-foot awe-inspiring dragon, and the client is paying you in diamonds, you write about a thirty-foot awe-inspiring dragon. But that's beside the point. You're the only dragon here, and you're also the shortest. Regardless of what you expected, the reality is: small dragons."

"But... But..."

"And I'll be honest... I see a number of issues we could work through today. But before I even get started let me ask..." Kickaha slowly tapped the dragon with one finger to knock him over. "Is convincing you to give up on world domination on the table at all?"

"Not a chance!" Max stood back up and exhaled a small amount of fire from his nostrils.

"Oh, thank goodness." Kickaha let loose a sigh. "Because that's where the majority of the problems are... and I didn't want to be here all day for that. We can just work on the easy ones then. First off. Why are you so concerned about being so small? You're still a fire breathing monster, just not as big as you pictured."

"Because I thirst for conquest! And I can't conquest like this!" Max let loose more fire. A corner of the cardboard box burst into flames.

"Is that so?" Kickaha replied soothingly, producing a glass of water out of nowhere and pouring it casually on the box as he spoke. "But think about this... One of the most famous conquerors of all time in our world Napoleon Bonaparte.... Remember what else he was famous for?"

"Being... short?" Max's eyes widened.

"Exactly!" Kickaha grinned. The truth was he was practicing a little bit of deception here. Napoleon had never actually been that short. That appearance was the result of a smear campaign. But that little detail wasn't important to the lesson he was trying to teach right now. "When it comes to world conquests, size hardly matters. Well, I suppose being too big might make you a bigger target. But really, it's all about brains, creativity and ferocity. Are you saying you lack those qualities? Could someone without those qualities have found the deep, hidden secret of magic?"

"Well no..." Max admitted.

"There you go!" Kickaha patted him lightly on the head. "To me it sounded a lot like you were just trying to make up excuses as to why you couldn't take over the world. You were admitting defeat before you even tried. Your suddenly being small has nothing to do with the problem. It's all in your head. And if you can't get past that, you'll never conquer the entire world."

"I will too!" Max shouted as he flapped his wings furiously, taking into the air. "Just watch me! This time next year you'll be bowing beneath my feet!"

"There we go. That's the spirit!" Kickaha wagged his tail happily. "Oh but before you go, I do have one last piece of advice that will also help. No pants."

"W-what?" Max fell out of the air landing back on the booth.

"Look, I'm just saying no evil overlord would be caught dead running around in doll clothes." Kickaha shrugged.

"But..." Max looked down at himself embarrassed. "You expect me to walk around naked!?"

"Why not?" Kickaha shrugged. "It's not as if anyone has ever heard of a fire breathing monster that wore pants. Tell me, when you picture a tyrannical dragon ruling over the world, do you picture him in pants?"

"Well no..." Max admitted.

"Exactly." Kickaha nodded. "Only a silly human with no interest in global conquest would ever wear pants."

"I... See your point..." Max rubbed the bottom of his snout. "Well... I am a fearsome monster! I just... Didn't want to make people uncomfortable!" He puffed out his chest. "But obviously if I'm going to rule this world they gotta get used to it!" With that the dragon quickly ripped off both his pants and shirt before taking to the air and flying off.

"I do love the feeling of a good deed." Kickaha wagged his tail as he watched him fly off. He might have to keep doing this! He was apparently good at it! And it was amazing how one universal piece of wisdom managed to benefit everyone.

But for now... It was lunch time, and the burned, wet box was starting to sag. Kickaha tore down the paper reading 'in' and replaced it with one that read 'out.' He was on break. If he felt like it or remembered it, he might open up the booth again in the future.

The End