FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

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It was 3:30pm when Joseph finally came through the door. "Hey pumpkin," he said absently, as if there were not less than 2 hours before the party, and as if the condo were perfectly spotless and completely decorated.

"Where in the world have you been?" I asked, my tone a bit more irritated than I wanted to let on. Damnit if he doesn't always do this, I thought to myself.

"I couldn't find a candelabra, and then I couldn't find the candle place you told me to go to to get the candles for the candelabras I did find," he said by way of excusing the fact that I had been left to cook everything in his absence. "I tried to call, but my cell is out of juice."

"Convenient," I snorted, already doing mental backflips trying to figure out how we were going to get everything done in time, but my tone was more sardonic than accusatory. He smiled.

"It's gonna be so great. And that smells wonderful, by the way," sniffing the air like a four-legged version of himself.

I couldn't help but smirk. I remember seeing old Disney wildlife segments on TV when I was a kid. I always thought the foxes were cute, especially when they stood stock-still and sniffed the air for what seemed like minutes at a time. I thought they looked like they were reading the wind like a player piano roll and all the life stories written there in an ephemeral script, wafting in curlicues like scent trails in old 30s cartoons.

And now, here I was, watching a two-legged fox do the same thing. The irony was too much, and I chuckled at his antics. "OK, your sense of smell can't be that suppressed, even with a cold. You surely can't have trouble smelling remoulade and cornbread, can you?"

"No trouble, no. It just smells so good, I don't want to stop," he said simply, tongue lolling a bit.

And all was forgiven. I guess I'm shallow - I really like it when someone enjoys my cooking. I think that's one of the things that drew me to Joseph in the first place all those years ago. He really seemed to see me, and everything around him, with appreciation. That may sound like a simple thing, but it's rare, believe me. And it mirrored how I experience the world. And we've been fast friends ever since.

Not that he doesn't get on my nerves, though. "So are you gonna stand there and just sniff, or are you gonna start to get this place in shape? I still have to get ready for the show, you know. Or do you not want me to do it?"

"It's the main reason some of my friends are coming," he threw over his shoulder as he disappeared down the hallway. "It's the feature of the party."

"Well then," I called behind him, "get cracking on the cleaning and decorating. I still have three more dishes to prepare, and no place to serve them."

How do I get myself into these things? I wondered, as I sliced the French bread for crostini. I know,crostini with remoulade? Well, when you add sauteéd jumbo shrimp and crème fraîche, you have a kick-ass appetizer. And I never do anything halfway - even when it isn't technically my party. But my good friend doesn't turn 30 everyday, and I haven't thrown many parties myself lately. I haven't even been around much since I moved out of state. So I guess guilt had something to do with it. That, and I couldn't pass up an opportunity to flex my creative powers in the kitchen, and the drawing room.

When had been the last time? College? Had it been that long ago? No, surely more recent than that. Ah yes, just a couple years ago - a favor to a friend. But much more private and personal. I hadn't practiced since then, but it's kind of like riding a bike. And for me, it was that way ever since I was a little kid.

Mesmerization, hypnosis, suggestion, induction - call it what you will. I've always been able to do it. I don't know why, and I don't know how I knew, but ever since I learned that hypnosis existed, I just knew I could do it. Shockingly easy, really. You just have to remember that the conscious brain is essentially lazy, and wants to switch off. You provide it the right environment to do so, and you're home free.

Alright, it's a little more complicated than that, but then, so am I. I don't think much about it anymore. Sometimes it's like I can see what the subject is seeing as I paint the picture. Whatever. I'm just grateful that I can do what I can do. Keeps life interesting - sometimes too interesting. But I guess maybe that's why I'm telling this story. No one knows what really happened but me. And if they did, they probably wouldn't remember. Like I said, it's complicated.

You never know what surprise life has in store around the corner.

"Damn it's cold in here," I muttered as I left the kitchen to check on Joseph's progress.

"You'll have to wear a sweater like always," he answered. "You know almost everybody else will be hot in here-"

"So take off all your clothes," I sang automatically.

"Yeah, it's not that kind of party," he said brightly. "Too mixed. Now if you want to have an after-party..."

"Um. Pass," I countered. "Besides, I'm not furry enough for you anyway."

"Like not at all, you mean? Yeah, I got that. How do you deal?"

"Well, it's kinda natural for me, you know, as a human? Besides, I think my mom would have been a little put-off by full-body hair on her baby boy." I idly traced a finger along the side table checking for dust.

"Fur, not hair, and why? My mom loved it," he snarked.

"A muzzle only a mother could love," I quipped. He stuck his tongue out.

"Ugh. You lick your balls with that tongue?" I rolled my eyes.

"Jealous much?" He curled his tongue up over his nose in a luxuriating gesture. "I prefer others to do it for me, though."

"TMI, TMI!" I exclaimed as I ran back to the safety of the kitchen.

An hour and change later, the sun had gone down, the candles - dozens and dozens of them - were lit, the food was displayed, and the guests were arriving. Joseph, of course, was in the shower, and would be there for the next half-hour, I was sure. If there's one thing I can't stand, it's being at a party where I don't know anybody. Double goes for a party I'm throwing where I don't know a soul.

See, Joseph does his best work, in his opinion, when he comes up with the bright ideas, and gets other people, namely me, to carry out his vision. So I designed the invitation, complete with incantation in verse and written in maroon ink on vellum, to give an exotic vibe to the event; one that was carried through in the decors and lighting scheme. Joseph wanted to have a séance for his 30th. But then he wanted everyone he knew to come. Vanity and the need for a big splashy 'do won out over the esoteric appeal of contacting the dead with a ouija board and 6 of his closest friends.

So we now had about 30 people in a room built for 15, and cocktails - who am I kidding - booze was flowing liberally. I would come to regret and be grateful for that.

It seemed like hours passed before Joseph showed up to his own party, dressed in a flowing white kaftan - he was really playing up the mysterious nature of the theme. Funny, I thought, I was going to be performing, and he was upstaging me already. Oh, well, it was his birthday, after all.

"Hon," I pulled him aside, "I need to see who wants to participate. I don't want to induce in front of everyone. It could take too long, and besides, somebody could go under in the audience. I don't want to deal with that."

"So you want to ask for volunteers now?" he asked.

"Yeah, if you don't mind. I want to take them in the other room and get started."

"OK. Well, I'll introduce you, and then you can say a few words and select whomever you want."

He strode out through the crowd, and stepped up on the circular staircase that sat in the center of the far wall. Even up three steps, his rusty head barely bobbed above the assembled menagerie.

I know, that's a loaded word. It's not as bad as 'zoo,' but still not really one I should use. Now don't get me wrong, I love furs. I wish sometimes that I had been born a fur; it would have made my life easier in many respects. And I am the furthest from a speciesist that you will ever meet. But I'm also honest, and many of Joseph's friends were, well, animals. I have never agreed with the hardline human theory that sapiens had a corner on evolution and society, but it's hard to argue the point when you see a two-legged bull with a huge ring in his nose; a terrier that insists on wearing not just a collar but a harness, complete with trailing leash; and a Siamese with a bell around her neck. Add to that some of the, um, earthiest odors I had encountered in a while, and well - menagerie.

I know I shouldn't judge the fashion sense of anyone, and they say you can't judge a book by its cover, but furs had fought for hundreds of years to escape comparison to their non-evolved progenitors; only to wind up embracing everything from which they once sought to distance themselves? I sighed and shook my head. The Siamese did look really cute with the bell, though.

"...and so I'd like to introduce my good friend, and the entertainer for this evening, Phillip."

I was jolted out of my reverie by the sound of my name, and the resulting applause. I quickly recovered, and joined Joseph on the stair.

"Thanks very much. I'm going to go get ready for the demonstration, but in order to do that, I need some volunteers. I'm sure you all know that we're going to be investigating the phenomenon of hypnosis tonight. Has anyone here been hypnotized before?" I scanned the room, both for paws up and for those averting my gaze. Both responses told me much.

Oddly, no paws went up. Statistically, I thought that odd, but didn't have time to ponder the matter. "Ooh, virgins," I leered.

A smattering of titters went through the crowd. "Well, I'll be gentle," my expression looking anything but. More laughter, most of it relaxed. That's the thing with crowds, they act as one, but there's always a few strays in the bunch. All the more reason for inducing in private.

"So, is there any one of you virgins who really wants their first time to be with me?" I kept up the silly metaphor. Find the level of the room, and play to it; that's the rule.

A couple of paws shot up. "OK, if you can make your way to the back, I'll be there in a minute," I instructed. Willing subjects are usually best. Less work breaking down walls. But some people have a subconscious aversion to submitting to what they see as relinquishing control. I can't really blame them. I myself can't be hypnotized. Well, I could be, I just haven't trusted anyone enough to let it happen.

'Oh,' you say, 'but you can't be made to do anything under hypnosis that you wouldn't normally do.' Well the answer to that is, 'yes and no.' You see, under trance, I can weave worlds for you. Take you back in time, let you relive your favorite moments of your childhood. Or we can create something completely new - it's all just limited by your, and my, imagination. Want to explore ESP? I've tried it. In fact, it's why I put somebody under the first time. Didn't get too far.

One guy wanted to skydive. Now I don't know if he really experienced what it was like to actually skydive while he was under; but as far as he was concerned, he lived it. How? Well like most things, it's a combination of factors. I created the scene and made it as detailed as possible - really took him through driving to the field, putting on the gear, going in up in the plane...all down to the last buckle and strap.

Then, when it came time for him to experience stuff he had never done - the actual jumping out of the plane bit - I referenced things he did have experience with; diving off the high dive, wind in his face from an open car window, hanging on the bucket swing when he was a kid. It's almost like bringing metaphor to life. And he experienced it all as if it were really happening...albeit all in his mind.

Things get a little different if I want you to have an actual physical response. It just takes a little more creativity on my part.

You see, if I put you under and told you to throw off your clothes and run down the street, the conventional wisdom says you will only do that if you would do it while awake. But that's just the surface. See, I'm the hypnotist, and I know your logy brain wants to be left alone to sleep. So I give it the suggestion that I might leave it alone if it just does one more thing; and then one more thing. And so on.

And if that doesn't work, then I create a scenario where you would actually do what I'm asking you to do if you were awake. Extraordinary circumstance, that sort of thing. What if you were on a game show where you would win $1000 to run down the street naked? How about $1,000,000?

It's like the old joke about the woman who would have sex with the millionaire for a huge sum. She says she will. Then he asks her if she would do it for $10. "What kind of woman do you think I am?" she sniffs. "We've already determined what kind of woman you are," he states flatly. "We're just haggling about price.'

That's me. I just haggle about price. Find the right scenario, I can get you to do just about anything.

And no, before you ask, I've never made someone strip naked and run down the street. I've never even made them squawk like a chicken. Too cliché. And really, I have too much integrity for that.

That, and I had a good friend freak out on me in an uncontrolled situation while under, and it took the better part of an hour to get things right in his head again. My ability comes with responsibility, and though I love sharing it with others, I have limits on what I will do.

But I am not above cajoling an audience to get volunteers. And I'm pretty good at picking suggestible subjects.

Like the wide-eyed lemur that met my gaze but didn't raise his paw. He was just waiting for me to call on him, but didn't have the courage to volunteer.

"What's your name," I fixed my unblinking stare on him. I had been working the crowd since I started talking. The jokes, the questions, the contradictory gestures and words - confusion; one of the best 'silent' induction techniques.

"Miguel," he said quietly.

"Miguel, would you help me give a little impromptu demonstration right now? I promise I won't hypnotize you without your express permission. I just want to see if you would be a good candidate."

A little leery, Miguel moved forward, mostly at the pressing of his friends against him. "Go on Miguel," said his girlfriend, the Siamese.

"Great," I smiled. " I don't want to catch you off-balance, but if everybody could give us a little room here, I think you'll enjoy this." The crowd drifted away from me, and Joseph took this opportunity to fade back into the assembly. I motioned for him to retrieve the initial candidates from the back room, as I realized we would not need them after all. They appeared shortly, and didn't look very happy.

I stepped off the stair into the newly created semi-circle, and met Miguel with a warm handshake, and a guiding hand on his shoulder.

"Miguel, you've never been hypnotized, is that right?" I asked, fixing his gaze again with my own, not taking my hand off his shoulder. Damn. Lemurs don't blink much, do they?

"No," he said, ears flattening.

"That's great, actually," I enthused. "This is much more effective on someone like you. You're perfect."

His ears returned to their usual perked attitude. "Really? Um. OK. What should I do?"

"Well, Miguel, I want you to listen very carefully to what I'm going to tell you. If I could have everyone quiet for just a minute, this will only work if Miguel can concentrate."

The room fell silent, and I began my 'experiment.'

"Miguel I want you to stand with your back to me, as straight and tall as you can. Let your eyes drift closed. Not stiff, but really straight and tall. May I touch you?" I asked facetiously. My hand was still on his shoulder, steering him into position.

"Watch out for is hands, Miguel!" called a ferret, who had had a little too much happy juice already.

"I'm a doctor," I said automatically. More laughter, and Miguel chuckled, relaxing under my touch. I placed my other hand on his hipbone, and instructed, "Tilt here, dropping your lower spine like...that."

Most people don't know when they're aligned while standing, and Miguel was no different. When someone points it out to you, you feel off-balance. Kinda perfect for my purposes.

"OK. Now Miguel, I want you to stand there like that for a few seconds and just listen to the sound of my voice. Notice how straight and still you are." I removed my hands slowly and backed up one step behind Miguel, our left sides to the majority of our audience.

"Notice how easy it is to just stand there with no fatigue or swaying," I continued.

What a perfect call, I congratulated myself. Miguel was already beginning to list slightly. "And notice that as I say it, you feel yourself beginning to sway just slightly, almost like you're not in control of your body. Odd sensation isn't it? And when you think about it, you can feel your body falling backward all by itself..."

That did it. He flung his arms forward in a futile gesture to grab onto something, while he fell back into my waiting arms, not a foot from him. Applause erupted. Miguel turned in disbelief to me, and my hand was back on his arm. "You can trust me, Miguel. I will never let anything happen to you." He nodded his assent.

When the hubbub died down enough, I asked, "I think, Miguel, you might be a perfect candidate for hypnosis, if you would volunteer. Will you help me out tonight?"

Miguel looked like I had asked him to eat a liver sandwich. Raw. He looked to his girlfriend for support, but she was leaning on the tipsy ferret and making 'go-on' motions with her free paw. "Woo! Do it Miguel, squawk like a chicken!"

Miguel looked at me with pleading eyes.

"I moved closer so he alone could hear me. I kept my voice even and calm. "Listen only to the sound of my voice, Miguel. My voice is calming and soothing, and can help you feel relaxed. You can trust me now, just like you did before. It will be fun, and you will enjoy yourself. Breathe in. And out."

Miguel perceptibly relaxed under my hand, and involuntarily took a deep breath in and let it out. I never broke my gaze with his unblinking eyes. "Do you trust me?" I almost whispered.

Miguel slowly nodded again. The crowd cheered and clapped. I motioned them to quiet down, and I focused on Miguel. Against my better judgement, I knew that he was ready now. We would continue the induction in front of everyone.

"Bring me a chair, somebody," I instructed. Joseph had one there in seconds. "Sit down Miguel, and listen only to the sound of my voice. Breathe in. And out. In...and out."

Miguel's breathing started to become more shallow and more regular. I timed my instructions at first to coincide with his rhythm. That would change in a couple of minutes, as he would begin to follow my rhythm, and fall deeper into trance as a result.

"Very good, very good, Miguel," I oozed. It sounds corny, but a lot of the clichés you saw on TV as a kid about hypnosis are actually based in fact. You do suggest that your subject is getting sleepy. You can use a pocket watch or pendant - though I've never done it.

"Miguel, in a few seconds you're going to notice that your eyelids are getting heavier. It doesn't concern you, it's just a fact. Listen only to the sound of my voice. My voice is calming and soothing and can help you feel relaxed. Breathing in...and out. In...and...out. Your eyelids are very heavy now and drift down of their own accord. Just let them go."

Miguel's eyelids fluttered closed. His breathing was quite shallow and slow now. It was happening.

"Miguel, I want you to listen to the sound of my voice as I count backward from ten to one. With each number I count, you will feel yourself feeling heavier and more relaxed. Ten; drifting down now. Nine; deeper and deeper. Eight; deeper and deeper down and you breathe in...and out. In...and...out. Seven; deeper, deeper. Six; down, down. Five; deeper, deeper, deeper. Four; down, down, down. Three; deeper...deeper...deeper. Two; down...down...down. One."

By now, Miguel's breathing was almost imperceptible. I could feel his breaths through my hand on his shoulder as they came about one every ten seconds; and even then, they were so shallow they only lasted for a second or so.

"You've done very well, Miguel, and you will do better. Listen only to the sound of my voice. My voice is calming and soothing and will help you feel more relaxed. Just let the cares of the day drift away. Your body is so heavy, let it just fall away. You notice that your right paw is becoming lighter, like you have a whole bunch of helium balloons tied to your wrist. It's so light it just starts floating up of it's own accord. Let it go."

Miguel's right paw started to wobble. Then nothing. Damn. Still not deep enough. Well, I was prepared.

"Your right paw is becoming lighter than air and it feels like something is pulling it up off the chair," I said with more intent, while lightly grasping Miguel's wrist and tugging it upward. As I had hoped, just a quick coaxing, and his arm started to float up by itself. His expression darkened slightly as the strange incident registered somewhere in his foggy-conscious mind.

"That's very good, very good," I reassured him. The furrow left his brow, and he stayed placid and motionless, his paw now several inches above his shoulder. "Just forget your right paw and let it be, as you breathe in...and...out...in...and...out."

I went through another countdown, and this time, I could see and feel all tension leave the lemur's body. He was quite deep now. Time for a test.

"Miguel, I want you to do something for me, will you?" I asked softly.

Miguel sat unresponsive. "Miguel, you may answer me just as if you were awake," I prodded, "and you will remain as deeply asleep as you are now, do you understand?"

Miguel nodded and said, a little too carefully and slowly, "Yes."

That's one of the hallmarks of a person in trance state - nearly slurred speech at first. It's like they have to get used to using their lips and tongue again.

"Very good Miguel. Now I want you to see the chalkboard I just put in front of you. Do you see it?"

"Yes," he breathed.

"Good," I complimented, "now take the chalk from the tray and write these three words on the board as I say them. Write the word 'cat.' Write the word 'pot.' And write the word 'pan.' Do you see them there on the board?"

"Yes," he replied, a bit more quickly and normally this time.

"Good. Very good. Breathe in...and out. Miguel, what are the words I asked you to write? You may read them off the board and speak them to me, and remain as deeply asleep as you are now. Miguel what did I ask you to write on the board?"

"Cat...pot...and pan," he slowly articulated. Then, he fell silent.

"Good, very good Miguel. You have done well, and you will do better. I will help you, listen only to the sound of my voice. Now Miguel I want you to take the eraser and erase the two words I tell you to. And as I say it, you will erase words from the board and they will be erased from your mind and you will not be able to remember them. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Good, erase the word 'cat.' And as you erase it, it is erased from your mind. Erase the word 'pot.' And it too is gone from your mind. Miguel, what are the words I asked you write on the board?"

"Pan," he said with finality.

"Was there anything else there on the board?"

"No," he said hesitantly, his shoulder tensing a bit under my hand.

"That's very good. You've done very well."

Miguel relaxed again, and again sat motionless. Now time for the fun stuff, I thought.

"Miguel, in a minute, I am going to bring you out of your hypnotic sleep, but before I do, I want you to remember something for me, will you do that?" I intoned. At this point, Miguel was down far enough that making my voice overly mellifluous wasn't necessary for him. But I found usually that the audience ate it up - and tonight was no exception.

I looked out over the crowd, who had fallen silent for some time. I had almost forgotten they were there. They looked up at me with bright eyes, sleepy eyes, and glassy eyes. Most had found a place to sit - couch, chair, floor. Others stood around the periphery. I decided I needed to explain a few things for those still sober enough to retain the information.

"Our subject here is under a medium level of trance at this point. He is a good subject, and I would like to take him further down so I can show you some of the more fascinating abilities locked in the mind. One thing we've heard of is suggestibility. Well, Miguel is pretty suggestible right now. Watch this."

I turned back to Miguel, whose posture had not changed in the ensuing minutes. "Miguel will you remember something for me?" I asked again.

"Yes."

"Good, very good. Miguel in just a few minutes I am going to bring you out of your hypnotic sleep, but when I do, I want you to remember where you are and how you feel right now, so that you can go back to this state of hypnotic sleep whenever we agree you should, is that alright?" I watched for signs of resistance, but saw none.

"Yes."

"Good Miguel. Now remember this: when I point my finger at you and count from ten to one, you will immediately return to this place - this state of sleep and relaxation, do you understand and agree?"

Miguel nodded.

"Miguel, what is it you are to remember when you wake from your trance state?" I pressed.

"When you point your finger at me, and count backwards from ten to one, I will return here to this place...this state of hypnotic trance." His speech was clearer now, and he spoke with more confidence.

"Good, very good," I praised. "And, Miguel, you will not remember being hypnotized. You will not remember this conversation, but you will remember what happens when I point at you and count, and when you wake, you will believe that I met you in the downstairs lobby and we instantly traveled to this room right where you are now, when I snapped my fingers. When I show you the time, you will remember everything. Do you understand and agree?"

"Yes."

"Does anybody have a watch?" I turned to the audience.

"That's so analog, Phillip," Joseph sneered good-naturedly. "How about a cell phone?"

"It'll do," I sighed. Why doesn't anyone get the importance of style?

"Miguel, I'm going to count up from one to ten. At ten, you will come fully awake, remembering what I asked you to remember in exactly the way I asked. One...starting back up now. Two...breathing a little deeper. Three...your right paw is starting to sink down slowly of its own accord. Four...feeling a tingling in your spine that begins to radiate throughout your body. Five; breathing much more deeply now. In and out. Six; your right paw is resting at normal weight now. Seven; your legs are beginning to move a bit. Eight; taking a deep breath in. Nine; eyelids beginning to flutter open. Feeling refreshed and energetic...ten." I removed my hand from his shoulder, and snapped my fingers loudly as I spoke the last word. One little talent I got as part of the non-furry package...I can snap my fingers louder than any furred paw.

The sound made several of the audience members jump. Good...make sure they're awake too. I looked over quickly to Joseph, who nodded and handed me his phone.

"So Miguel, if you will help me, I think maybe we can show some interesting points about the mind tonight. Will you do that?" I continued as if the last half-hour hadn't occurred.

Miguel looked startled. Then he looked confused. Then he started to look concerned. Usually this was followed with questions, exclamations, giggles, and more puzzled looks, as my subject tried to rationalize instant travel.

Miguel, instead, started to panic. "What? But... How? That's not possible, you..." His voice rose in pitch and intensity with every word. I knew this was not going well, and decided to call it off early.

"Miguel, look at the time," I said, showing him the cell phone clock.

"I don't give a damn what time it is, you freak. How the hell did I get up here? And why are you all staring at me?"

Up until this moment, I thought this evening was going well. Maybe a little slowly, but people seemed interested. Now, I saw a possible repeat of my friend's freak-out from years before, and realized that this would not do.

I put my hand on Miguel's shoulder and tried to get his attention. "Miguel, listen only to the sound of my voice. I'm going to count from ten to one..." I pointed my finger at his eyes, a bit too close for him to focus. "Your eyes are getting heavy. Ten...nine...eight."

In theory, that should have done it. That's why I give that suggestion. It's kind of my emergency brake, my get-out-of-jail-free card. If all else fails, I can always take the subject back down, and bring them out again without incident and without suggestion. It's worked countless times. But like I said, my life is complicated.

I didn't really see it at first, the ripple under the fur. It started at the temples, and then continued down the jawline. Miguel seemed to be having a fit of some sort - something that should never be a possibility. I kept saying in a command voice while pointing impotently at him, "Ten...nine...eight..."

People in the room started squirming and voicing concern. Joseph came over to me to ask what the hell was going on, but he never got the chance. As he neared, Miguel's legs went rigid, and Joseph tripped over the extended limbs, falling face-first on the floor, knocking him out cold.

As I was torn between helping my friend and trying to salvage the performance, my decision was made for me; more noticeable changes began occurring to Miguel's face and body. His muzzle began to widen and lengthen, accompanied by a sickening, dry crackling. His eyes began to move farther apart and change from a clear yellow to a fiery red. I stood in horror and disbelief as I stared at something that couldn't be.

Small points began to appear on his forehead, which seemed to have a receding furline. Indeed, a slight cloud of fur appeared to surround him like a foggy mist. The points continued to grow higher; bony structures slicing through weak tissue. The nauseating sounds continued as bone after bone lengthened or shortened, thickened or thinned, all the while rippling and relocating to form...what? What the hell was going on here? This wasn't right, this wasn't possible. I felt physically sick, and had to stagger back to lean on the wall behind me.

Miguel's arms now had shrunk and thinned, but his skin had not. Instead, the now mostly furless skin seemed to drape from neck to tiny claw, and what had marked the point of his elbow began to drop to the floor, elongating the skin further and forming a flap-like projection on either side of his body.

His tail seemed to inflate from within, gaining weight and length, until it was indistinguishable from his body. It was as if his lower half simply stretched from waist to tail tip, with no demarcation whatsoever. Sharp protrusions popped up as if planted at intervals along his spine and continued to the tip of his tail. The cloud of fur swirled around him now, buoyed by the breath from the unearthly howls he was making, as well as the constant shifting of his weight from one outsized, sharp-taloned footpaw to the other. The effect was one of an indoor cyclone, with Miguel, or what was once Miguel, at the eye of the storm.

His skin now had clearly changed from the soft black and white pelt to a leathery, furless hide. It was darkening, too, changing from a neutral gray-pink, to a greenish-grayish mosaic, with the slithery sound of a carapace being shed. All around, the panicked shrieks of the assembled furs tripping over one another to reach the door nearly drowned out the agonized howls of Miguel himself, and the brittle, dry crunching of his shifting skeleton. I remained paralyzed in shock.

Larger now and definitely more reptilian, Miguel fixed an accusing, flame-red eye on me as his head began to elongate further, and his lower jaw became heavy and prehistoric. That such a refined-looking lemur as Miguel could become the fearsome specter I now beheld made my mind numb. It wasn't possible. It wasn't fucking possible. And yet, his forehead now was heavy, his brow a mass of crevasses and prominences above deep-set smoldering eyes.

His nostrils were now enlarging and shifting to their new position on the top of his...snout. His dainty lemur nose pad was now gone, and in it's place an enormous jaw began to open to reveal a set of razor-sharp, tusk-like teeth, pointed this way and that, giving the inside of his maw the look of an unruly, nicotine-stained forest.

The howling had all but stopped, and in its place there came a low rumbling; a reverberation that vibrated the walls and floor as it combined, imperceptibly at first, with a high-pitched shriek like the scrape of metal-on-metal in a cinderblock warehouse. Soon I had to cover my ears, as the screech overtook the low rumble, and threatened to split my eardrums. Miguel threw his head back, and shrieked with such force, that the more keenly eared of the furs who remained dropped to the floor and passed out from the pain, ears bleeding.

The sound seemed to complete the transformation, as the newly-morphed Miguel spread his wings, barely missing my head on the one side, and knocking over two floor-standing candelabras on the other. The candles splashed hot wax everywhere, and one or two of the flames caught on upholstery and clothing and set them alight.

What stood before me was not to be believed, and yet there it was. I was staring agape at a winged dragon, complete with scales, claws and the sulfurous smell of brimstone and...something I couldn't place. It was like a scene out of a horror flick - a bad horror flick. Flames grew higher now from the candles that had been knocked over, and I knew I had to get as many furs out of there as I could. Miguel, it seemed, was beyond my abilities to help.

"Get out of here," I called to the few remaining furs who could still move under their own power. Thankfully, they probably wouldn't remember this in the morning; just a hazy drunken dream. And they wouldn't believe it anyway - who would? "Somebody help me drag Joseph out of here," I commanded.

A cougar who had looked like he might fall down himself, rallied to a sober state by adrenaline, picked up the unconscious fox, and took him out the front door. I looked for a fire extinguisher in the kitchen to try and douse the flames, but to no avail. Somehow the cooktop had joined in the fiery conflagration. Plus it looked like Miguel was busy breathing in with purpose and a wicked gleam in his eye. I knew what that meant.

I leapt over the counter as the first column of flame erupted from Miguel's snout, missing my feet by inches as I sailed through the air. I landed on the dining room table, a heavy, medieval affair of wood and iron fittings, crostini and remoulade flying this way and that. I landed on my elbow with a sickening crunch. There really is nothing funny about that bone, I thought in the chaos. Weird how you can have such a moment of clarity when everything around you is exploding. Yelping in pain, I rolled off the table, with Miguel's wing sweeping just inches behind me.

It was clear to me in those last seconds that Miguel was trying to kill me - maim me at least. For what reason, I can't say. Maybe he blamed me for his current state? Was I really to blame? There was no way I could have foreseen this. I was just trying to entertain a little. Why?

My moment of self-reflection was all the time Miguel needed. I didn't so much see the flame as it hit me, but I-

"-think, Miguel, you might be a perfect candidate for hypnosis, if you would volunteer. Will you help me out tonight?" Joseph asked.

Miguel looked like Joseph had asked him to eat a liver sandwich. Raw. Miguel looked to his girlfriend for support, but she was leaning on the tipsy ferret and making 'go-on' motions with her free paw. "Woo! Do it Miguel, squawk like a chicken!"

Miguel looked at him with pleading eyes.

My attention drifted away from the performance. I glanced down at my watch - five minutes into Joseph's act. I looked around nervously. Something was odd, and my mind raced to catch up.

"Bring me a chair, somebody," Joseph instructed. Joseph had one in seconds. "Sit down Miguel, and listen only to the sound of my voice. Breathe in. And out. In...and out."

I...had been demonstrating hypnosis at Joseph's birthday party - the very same party where I now stood watching Joseph himself perform. How? My stomach began to tighten as my head began to swim.

"Miguel, in a few seconds you're going to notice that your eyelids are getting heavier. It doesn't concern you, it's just a fact. Listen only to the sound of my voice. My voice is calming and soothing and can help you feel relaxed. Breathing in...and out. In...and...out. Your eyelids are very heavy now and drift down of their own accord. Just let them go."

Joseph continued the demonstration, while I struggled to make sense of the dreamlike awareness that floated in my mind. Joseph's voice was like a drone in my head; a mantra that repeated and drifted in and out of my consciousness.

Miguel's eyelids fluttered closed. His breathing was quite shallow and slow now. It was happening.

Just like it did before.

I had to stop it. I had to act. But how? Who would believe me? Joseph wouldn't believe me and would likely think I was trying to ruin his party because he decided to try out his newfound hypnotic skill at his own get-together. Community college extension classes had a surprising range of courses, it seemed.

"Miguel, I want you to listen to the sound of my voice as I count backward from ten to one."

I became hyperaware of my surroundings. Fight or flight, I guess they call it. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion, and I felt like I was moving through molasses.

"With each number I count, you will feel yourself feeling heavier and more relaxed."

My eyes darted around the room, looking for something - anything - that I could use as a distraction. Something to stop this.

"Ten; drifting down now."

My heartbeat reverberated in my ears, like the rumble of the dragon that was to emerge.

"Nine; deeper and deeper."

I quickly stepped back into the kitchen, my mind frantic now to beat the countdown to certain doom.

"Eight; deeper and deeper down and you breathe in...and out. In...and...out.

Should I hastily announce dessert? Pop a cork on the champagne? I was running out of options and ideas when a simple and subversive idea struck me.

"Seven; deeper, deeper."

I took the dishtowel and approached the cooktop.

"Six; down, down."

God help me, what if I'm wrong? I thought.

Five; deeper, deeper, deeper. Four; down, down down."

I turned on one of the hobs, and threw the towel partially on the burner and turned on my heel to leave the kitchen.

"Three; deeper...deeper...deeper. Two; down...down...down."

The piercing shriek of the smoke detectors rang like the scrape of metal-on-metal in a cinderblock warehouse. Every fur threw their paws to their ears and began to hurriedly file out of the condo. The room was thick with a foggy mist of smoke, which I thought for a brief second hovered around the waking form of Miguel. The lemur was stirring from his near-trance.

Joseph quickly guided Miguel out the door, while I went back into the kitchen to see if I could douse the flames. There was no need. Once the towel burned itself out, there was no fuel left to consume, and the ashes smoldered with deep fiery red points. I smelled...toasted marshmallows? Cellulose, I remembered, and turned off the gas to the burner.

Joining the rest of the crowd outside, I saw Joseph talking to the landlord, and they were trying to call the fire department to avoid the false alarm charge. False alarm, I thought, if they only knew!

I glanced over at Miguel, who was rubbing his temples. He probably felt like he had a pillow stuck in his head. I knew better - didn't I? I replayed the events in my mind, still unsure how or why I knew what I knew. It was all so real, and yet how could it be?

I turned my head to look up at Joseph, who was standing above me with his hand on my shoulder. "How do you feel?" he asked simply.

"Huh?" I said. "I'm fine, why shouldn't I be?" I glanced around the empty courtyard. The neutral gray-pink sunset visible through the balcony aperture revealed fiery points of red picked out like dragon's eyes among the thick, greenish-grayish mosaic of glowering clouds on the horizon. Say what you want about pollution, but the most beautiful sunsets occur right after a wildfire in Southern California. Perhaps its nature's apology for her wanton destruction.

"You don't remember what happened, do you?" Joseph looked concerned.

"What are you talking about?" We'd been sitting on the balcony celebrating my birthday. I had come to town wanting a low-key affair; just the two of us, some appetizers, and good conversation. It was very...relaxing. I took another bite of my shrimp canapé.

"Well, I uh..." he looked like I had asked him to eat a liver sandwich. Raw. "I kinda did something you told me not to do."

Still confused, I pressed the point, "Well, what?" I shrugged off his hand, which suddenly seemed out of place.

"I just wanted to give you a fun evening..." His tone verged on plaintive, and the hair began to stand up on my neck.

"What did you do?" I commanded.

"I hypnotized you. I just wanted to practice, you know, for class. I thought I could create a cool experience for you. With those anthro characters you like so much. Furs?"

Joseph's Siamese cat took that moment to leap into my lap and curl up contentedly, the bell around her neck jingling as softly as a memory. Some of her shedding fur dusted my dark pants.

"My eyes grew wide. What? What are you talking about? We've been sitting here for maybe 15 minutes, tops, watching the sunset." My eyes flew open wider, then closed to slits in a mock glare. "Oh, I get it...you're trying to put one over on the old guy. Ha. Ha. Very funny." I grinned with amusement at how hard he was trying to dupe me. Nice try, grasshopper.

His expression, however, was anything but jovial. "Phil, you're not gonna like this...and it's gonna take a while for you to get all the memories back, but...well." With that, he turned on his phone and slowly turned the display to me. 7:00pm.

An itch started at the back of my head and grew exponentially until my entire brain was on fire. In an instant, nightmarish visions flooded my mind - countdowns, voices, furs, food, flames...dragon.

My eyes flew open again at the realization. It was all a construct...a guided visualization. But why so dark? This would never be something I would want to experience.

The pain in my eyes was evident, as was the contrition on Joseph's face. We sat for some moments, numb, as my spinning head tried to put the pieces together, and I suddenly became violently ill.

Purged of everything including confusing thoughts, I turned back to Joseph. "I can't believe you did this. Why that? Why so horrible?" I had been betrayed, and I wanted to know why before I left.

"No! No! It was never like that. It was good and happy and fun - I even planned to have you get busy with the fox...you always talked about how furs turn you on-"

"Oh even better - you made yourself the fox! Is that the only way you can think to get me - we're friends Joseph, nothing more." I was moving to leave.

"I know, I never...I wasn't supposed to be the fox - you just got so confused," his voice was at fever-pitch, "and then you wouldn't come out of the initial trance. And when I put you back under you started hallucinating again and screaming. You wouldn't listen to me. I completely lost control. I don't even know how you finally came out of it. I guess with all your experience, your instinct just took over."

Oh my head. "I need aspirin," I said, getting up to go to the bathroom cabinet. My elbow hurt as I got up, and inside the condo it looked like a bomb had gone off. I noticed most of the food lay strewn all over the floor - and was that a burn mark on my pants?

"And you agreed, Phillip," Joseph followed me down the hall. "I would never cross the line like that without your permission. You know I wouldn't. You said I could try, but that you doubted I could do it. You said not to try anything too complicated. I just got carried away... Oh my God, are you OK?" he pleaded with me.

By now, I was exhausted, dehydrated, and I knew that I wouldn't get a good night's sleep in the next week at least. Bah, damnit. Mistakes happen. Unforeseen circumstances. Maybe, in a moment of weakness, as a favor to my best friend, I decided it was safe enough to let him try. Probably thought there was no way in hell he'd succeed with even a light induction on me. I've been doing this a long time, and know all the ropes. I thought I was immune.

So he slipped in under the radar, probably aided by the pitcher of margaritas that now lay on the ground, and probably also courtesy of those rejected drinks my brain couldn't focus enough for him to make a deep enough connection. So in an attempt to make sense out of a chaotic situation, my imagination filled in. Wow, I'm dark I guess.

"Please, please forgive me, Phil. I wanted this to be so cool for your 30th." He had tears in his eyes now, and my heart sank.

"It's OK. Stop it now. It's OK. I'll feel like hell for a while, but I know how to sort things out up here," I said, a bit-overconfidently, tapping my temple with my forefinger. "Let's just forget about it and try to salvage something of this evening, OK?" I breathed in deep. And let it out. "What do ya want to do tonight?"

"Well, I just got a text that a good friend of mine just adopted a new pet. We could go over and play with him."

"OK. That's cool. Sounds low-key and normal. Dog? Cat?"

You'll never guess. Lemur. He named him Miguel!"

I flung my arms forward in a futile gesture to grab onto something. The last thing I saw was blackness creeping into my peripheral vision as I fell backwards. But this time, there was no one there to catch me.