FSE

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Dear Mom and Dad,

I'm writing this to you to say farewell. I'm going to live with the others. Soon, I will grow a tail, and it will be getting hard to stand on two legs to write this. Moreover, my paws barely fit the keys to type this.

I'm going to hunt like a fox soon, with a few of my friends who chose the same. It's not the life you expected for me, but it's rewarding. There's not much connection to your way of life, other than finding a partner, having children, and struggling to stay alive--but isn't that plenty?

I guess I'm not sure whether to ask, but I hope you're proud, that I'm content. Of course, I know you won't be, so I made sure you wouldn't find this til long after you can't recognize me, to try and find me and change me back. I can't let you make this decision for me.

Soon, I'll be completely changed into a pooping, stinking animal, and I have to admit, it's more fun than I've ever had as a person. Part of it is just the fact that I do whatever my body tells me, and it keeps me alive just fine, without there being any social stigma. There'll be no more working sick, or getting up at ridiculous hours when my body's tired to put up with, nor will I have to eat garbage and get diarrhea all the time because that's what the big food corporations can profit from (nor tedious-yet-healthy home cooking, which I do admit I've enjoyed from time to time). I do admit to missing the sense of taste that humans have; eating is still enjoyable, but it does miss that aspect.

I love my fangs, though, and there's something about learning to use my mouth in place of my hands that grows appealing as I write about it. I'm struggling just to get the right keys through the dewclaws that keep clicking the keyboard, and I keep bringing up the Start menu by hitting the 'Windows' key with my left paw. I'm getting someone very competent who works in wildlife rehabilitation, to make sure I can blend into life as an animal--I never had a vixen mother, to teach me how to live as a fox, after all.

I guess I shouldn't remind you of things in the past. Remember that I am happy with my decision. For the longest time, I wanted it to just be like this; where I could run, and play, and be happy, and it's not like I'm dying or anything. You and I won't be able to communicate like humans do, but I've at least got my memories of you, and vice versa. In this message, I've listed an address of a park where I'm going to be reintroduced into the wild. I won't give you photos of me, so you don't try to do anything drastic, but I want you to watch the wildlife in this park--and not just foxes, either. Admire something not-human for me, please.

The truth is, I've known a long time that I didn't fit in among people, and I didn't want it to end selfishly, with some kind of suicide, or shooting. Maybe I squandered some of my creative potential, I'll confess I'm not proud of that--but I am still alive, and intend to live a long and healthy life as a fox. The treatment is going well, and soon I will be able to vocalize beautifully--I can already feel my vocal chords changing, and my face, though tender, has started to set into a perfect muzzle, whiskers, wet nose, and all. The medication I've been taking for pain has helped offset the shift in bone structure, and my hearing has already increased to where I can pick up sounds far outside the human range.

Alright, alright, I'll admit, I've been making an exhibition of the change to some of my followers online... trying not to scare them with how drastically my body has shifted in the last two days. They're liking the tail--that's going to feel good to curl up with, once the fur is fully in. Soon I'll finish the treatment for this evening, and be on my way out to the woods in back to exercise my new joints--walking comfortably on all fours, naked, is a surprisingly sexy experience. There's this tension of wondering where you'll desire to go next, and sooner or later, there'll be a vixen to rut with--a few more months, winter will bring naked, uncompromising sex, without stupid drama and divorces. Look at it this way--child-rearing in the animal world takes a year to our twenty, if that. Bet even you can envy that, considering how much of a headache 'I' was.

It's not all sunshine and lollypops, and I know that there's a good risk of me dying early, due to all the natural challenges of being wildlife. You've got starvation, mange and freezing, attack by a rabid animal, maybe--though thankfully they vaccinate as part of this transformation program. I wouldn't have it any other way though, I'd rather live a full life with some risks. In particular, I really don't want to live to see you both in a retirement home, nor do I really want to have to look back on memories of you when you're gone. I guess some of that I'm committed to dealing with now, since this is kind of a farewell, but I'd rather not make it a long, painful goodbye.

You do have my sister, and she's conveniently not... a weirdo like myself. Try not to think of this as some kind of strange suicide note covered in animal drool.

As an embarrassing last note, sometimes I fantasize that you'll follow in my footsteps. I guess I'm creepy by nature, hah. That 'bite of the werewolf' thing always turned me on, made me smile and imagine changing the world to fit 'MY' design, for once. Don't let other people crimp your style to that same end, though, not even folks like me. I changed to get away from that proselytizing crap.

I love you, Mom and Dad,

-A Fox