Metamor City - Rebirth
Hey all. This is a little tale I put together for a podcast fanfic contest. I'm not sure if I'm going to win the contest or if the story will be recorded for the show at some point, so I thought I'd post it here since it is a bit on the furry side. The podcast is called the Metamor City Podcast, and you can find it at http://www.metamorcity.com It's a bit of an anthology of stories, though the host (Chris Lester) just finished posting his novel 'Making the Cut' there. Anyway, there's no hardcore yiff action here...just a bit of drama, some transformation, and cuddling. Hope you like it. * * *
Rebirth A Metamor City Fan Fiction Project By Dalan * * * UNLEASH THE INNER BEAST Ready to accept the curse? Feeling the need to shed your skin? Unsure of what will happen? You don't have to do it alone. Empire University Theriomorph Workshop Friday through Sunday in Phys Ed Main Auditorium Trained Peer Counsellors Safe and Secure Surroundings Magical Aid Teams on Station Workshop begins at 7:00 pm Fridays and goes until Sunday at 10:00 pm Sponsored by the E.U.S.U. (Empire University Students Union) * * * The poster wasn't really that spectacular...just some white Bristol board marked up with a black Sharpie. But like so many messages, it wasn't so much the appearance that was important, but rather what was being said. It was this very message that had caught his attention, and which had now led him to this place. Carl McAllister pushed open the door of the Phys Ed building and slowly stepped inside. It seemed so different, being here in the evening. Normally the place was abuzz with students milling about, either fresh from the showers or heading to class. Now, it was eerily silent. Each of his footsteps echoed in the darkened hallway, making this place seem less like a place of education, and more like a mausoleum. He knew there was no reason to fear, but the inevitable tingle of being alone in a big, dark building made him instinctively reach for the yew tree pendant around his neck. He wondered briefly if he would have to get a new one after this weekend, as it not only represented his faith as an ecclesia, but it was also what had kept him human all this time. Unlike many others who came to Metamor City, he had opted not to have an anti-curse talisman implanted inside him. He knew his need to block the curse was temporary. He knew this day would come. Following the poster's instructions, Carl headed for the main auditorium. When he arrived, he felt relieved to finally see he wasn't alone here. A small line of people seeking the same goal as he had formed, and he quickly took his place at the back. A few of the others turned to look at him, some of them offering nods and small smiles. He returned the greetings and patiently waited in silence as he waited for his turn. Amazingly, it didn't take as long as he thought it would. After about fifteen minutes of waiting in line he found himself standing before a rather large ursine theriomorph. He tensed at first, unsure of how to act in front of such a large, powerful creature. However, when she looked up at him and smiled warmly, he instantly relaxed. In that non-human smile, Carl suddenly felt...well...comfortable. "Good evening," she said. "Your name?" "Uh...Carl McAllister," Carl stammered in reply. He reached into his right back pocket and produced is student ID card. The ursine took it and ran it over a portable scanner. "Ok, Mr. McAllister," she said. "Do you have your papers from the Majestrix?" "Oh, right...here." Carl reached into his left back pocket and produced another document. This was a signed declaration from the office of the Majestrix, approving his request to take the curse. Normally dangerous and random, with some manipulation the Majestrix had the power to focus a facet of the curse on a person, altering them in one of three possible ways, depending on the person's choice. For some, the gender-shifting androgyne was the form of choice, while others chose the age ambiguous form of the pedomorph. However, there were those like Carl...those who'd chosen a far more obvious form...one that stood out like the proverbial sore thumb in a crowd. Those who'd chosen the third curse: The curse of the Theriomorph. The ursine reviewed the document briefly, making sure the document was legitimate and that everything was indeed in order. "Ok, Mr. McAllister," she said after a moment. "Everything looks good here...except..." "Except?" "Well," she said. "The form's a bit dated...almost a year old." "Oh that," said Carl with a chuckle. "Yeah...I actually put in my application just after I came to the city." He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "Just took some time to...y...you know..." The ursine chuckled. "Yeah, I know," she said. She knew all too well what Carl was talking about. It was an easy thing to apply to take the curse...even easier to have it approved. However, the actual act of removing the talisman and letting the magic do its work...well...that was something different entirely. She tapped a few keys on her computer before writing down ‘Section B-13' on a piece of paper. "Here you are," she said, handing the paper to Carl. "Just head down there," she pointed toward a gap in the partition walls behind her, "and follow the signs." "Thank you," Carl said. He took the paper and proceeded behind the admissions desk. The moment he crossed the threshold of the partition wall, he instantly felt like a rat dropped into a maze. Even after the first left turn, he was surprised to see that there seemed to be no openings in the walls. Given the lineup he'd been in, he figured he would have seen at least one opening...one room where someone was sitting or perhaps even now undergoing their transformation. Yet, there seemed to be no rooms at all. Only taped up signs of white paper marked up with black marker offered any contrast to the dark taupe upholstery of which the partition walls were composed. The signs said little more than 'Section B' and showed an arrow, indicating the direction Carl was to go. He shuddered, feeling even more like a rat in a maze than before. Finally, after feeling like he'd been going in circles for an eternity, he finally spotted an opening in the wall...an opening that actually led into a small room. He stopped before it and looked at the paper sign beside it. The sign read 'B-13.' "Finally," he said softly as he stepped inside. His initial excitement and courage that had brought him to this place was beginning to falter somewhat, turning into impatience. He wanted to get this over with before his head of steam faded yet again. Hells, if it hadn't been for that phone call earlier... A sound from behind him caused Carl to turn quickly. His eyes widened first in shock, then in understanding as the opening through which he'd come slowly began to close. That explained why he hadn't seen any of his predecessors during his journey here. They'd already found their rooms and were all tucked safely inside, effectively cut off from the outside world until their changes had run their courses...and they saw the world through their new, bestial eyes. Carl watched the wall until it finally closed fully. He wondered briefly if the signs he'd seen on the way here would magically change for the next rat sent down the maze. Of course they would, wouldn't they? It only made sense...magic doors...magic signs. He grasped his pendant tightly, more out of some childish reflex than anything else. When the partition finally closed, Carl seemingly snapped back to reality. He loosed the grip on his pendant and turned back toward the rest of the room. It was furnished simply enough: A cot, nightstand, two chairs, and a full-length mirror attached to one of the walls. He noticed that upon the cot lay what looked like a pair of shorts and a tank top. Curious, he picked up the shorts and held them up before him. There wasn't anything really spectacular about them. That is, until he tried to stretch them. To his surprise, the material in his hands was impossibly resilient, stretching easily as far as his arms could pull them. When he released them, they snapped back to their original shape. Of course; it stood to reason. Depending on the form a new theriomorph took, one's wardrobe could actually cause injury. Carl quickly stripped off his shoes, socks, jeans, and underwear and donned the shorts. They were snug, but thankfully not too form-fitting. Even though he was alone, the thought of walking around in something overly revealing was uncomfortable to say the least. He snickered at his own modesty. Gods...if his mother could see him now... He was about to reach for his shirt when he heard a sound. He turned and noticed that the partition wall was beginning to open. He gripped his pendant once more, assuring himself that it was still there and that his impending change hadn't happened prematurely. His head cocked to one side as the form of a young woman entered his room. The white nurse's uniform she wore seemed to glow in contrast to her russet fur. Carl blinked. He recognized that particular vixen. "Sh...Shara?" he asked. The vixen's head turned swiftly towards him, her amber eyes taking a moment to scan and assess him before widening in recognition. "Carl?" she asked. She glanced down at the clipboard she was carrying and smiled. She'd been in such a hurry to get to her assignment for the weekend that she'd never bothered to look at the name. All she saw on the paper at first glance had been 'B-13.' Underneath that she now read: Carl Adam McAllister. "Oh my gods," she said, her muzzle breaking into a grin. She closed the distance between the two and tightly embraced Carl. He returned the embrace, letting out a long, laboured sigh of relief. "What in Eli's name are you doing here?" she asked as they pulled away to face each other. "Pretty obvious," he said with a smirk. Shara Dougan looked at him quizzically for a moment, but then giggled when she realized the absurdity of her question. There was only one reason Carl would be here, and for that she was overjoyed. She had known of Carl's intentions not long after they met. They were classmates, both lumped together with hundreds of other first years in that first cruicible of higher education known as General studies. From their common foundations, these students would eventually branch out and pursue their own specialities. For now, though, they were all the same...well, academically, anyway. Carl and Shara were by no means an item, but they were close friends. At first, he had been reluctant to admit to he his intentions of taking the curse, mainly because he didn't want her to think he was simply trying to get used to being around other theriomorphs. Thankfully, when the truth of his intentions finally came out, she had been not only understanding, but became the very fountain of information he didn't originally want, but ultimately needed. "I'm so glad you're here," she said finally. "You finally worked up the courage." Carl nodded. "Yeah...I figured now's as good a time as any." At this Shara cocked her head slightly. There was more to that statement than Carl seemed willing to let on. She knew eventually he'd tell her though...he had to for his own sake. But for now, she had a job to do. "Well," she said, "let's get you settled. We've got a fair bit of ground to cover here." The two separated and as she moved to one of the chairs, Carl sat down on the cot to face her. She put her clipboard in her lap and quickly scanned over the first page. "OK," she said. "So all your paperwork's in order...ID...papers from the Majestrix...medical...yep." She turned the page on her clipboard. "So you realize," she began, still looking at the clipboard, "that this is permanent. There's no amount of potion or magical remedy that can reverse the curse once it's taken hold. Once you take off that pendant and the curse takes you, that's it." Carl snickered almost nervously. "You make it sound so ominous," he said. "Maybe," she said. "But consider this: You've had the Majestrix's blessing for close to 7 months. At any time you could have slipped off that pendant and gotten it over with." "Right." "So why haven't you?" "I..." The importance of her question hit Carl with the force of a troll's club. "Because I was...wow..." He rubbed the back of his neck. "It really is that ominous, isn't it?" Shara nodded gravely. "You'd be amazed how many people instantly regret taking the curse the moment they first look in the mirror." She gestured to the wall. "Some cry, some scream, and some even get violent." She shuddered. "That's why this workshop exists. We're not here to talk anyone into or out of taking the curse, but to help them make their own informed, definite choice." "Even then?" Carl asked. "Do you still get..." Shara nodded. "Even then," she replied. "Two months ago someone came here and let the curse take him. He transformed into a wolf, and was so horrified that he lashed out at his counsellor. Both of them wound up in the hospital for weeks." She sniffled. "Two days after he was released, that wolf threw himself off the top of a building. He couldn't take what had happened to him, and had no one to blame but himself." "But I thought a theriomorph could stay in human form if he or she so chose," said Carl. "I mean sure, you have to change back some time, but..." "It's not that easy," Shara interrupted, raising her hand. "Yes, we can assume human form, but believe me, after spending even an hour in your new form, changing back is like sticking your head into a plastic bag." She noted Carl's puzzled look. "The change is more than cosmetic," she tried to explain. "The entire world seems to open itself up to you. Your senses feel like some kind of cover's been lifted off of them, and everything seems different." "Kinda like a drug," Carl said, trying to come up with a credible analogy. "Close," she said. "The moment you change back into human form, it's like putting that cover back on all your senses. It can be as frightening as the initial change. Then of course, there's the time you have to spend as a feral in between changes...that's not exactly fun either." "Does it hurt?" Carl asked. "The change, I mean...is it painful?" Shara thought for a moment. "Not really," she said. "Think of it like going to the dentist. They shoot you full of Novocaine, and even though your brain is screaming that you should be feeling pain, your nerves don't register it. That's why so many people tend to sleep through their first transformation. Psychologically it can be a bit more than disturbing to watch your body change and not really feel it." That explained the cot to Carl. He wondered briefly if he should have brought something to help him sleep tonight. Of course, with Shara here, perhaps it wouldn't be so bad. He trusted her, both as a counsellor here, and as a friend. If he'd been given the choice of who to be there with him when he finally changed, it would have been her. "What was it like for you?" he asked. He instantly regretted even uttering the words. In spite of their friendship, he knew that question was way too personal. "I'm sorry," he began to say. "It's all right," said Shara. Her tone of voice told Carl that he'd gotten his one and only free pass across the line, though. "Both my parents are theriomorphs...foxes, like me. I took the curse when I was only 6. I was so excited when they told me I could. I wanted to be like them so badly. It always felt strange, being a human with foxes for parents. I mean, no one ever made fun of me...well, not to my face, anyway, but for the longest time I just felt...well...like I'd disappointed them somehow." "Disappointed?" "I thought I was a freak," she said, looking down. "I thought I should have been born a fox, and it wasn't until Mom sat me down one night and explained the curse to me. She and I spent hours talking about what it was like, the pros and cons of being a theriomorph, and that it was my choice whether or not to take the curse." "Wow," said Carl. He felt a slight pang in his heart as Shara told her story. The vision of her as a human child, sitting on her vulpine mother's knee with eyes full of wonder made him smile slightly through the pain. "So, were they there when..." Shara nodded. "Mom and Dad stayed with me the whole night. As much as I wanted to be like them, it was still terrifying, watching my body change." She shuddered as she recalled that night. "I don't remember any pain," she said. "Just the change, and how that veil over my senes slowly peeled back." A tear came to her eye. "They said how proud they were of me afterwards, and I could feel the truth in those words, Carl. I could feel their love for me. It's the greatest feeling in the world." "Yeah," Carl said flatly. Shara noted the sudden mood shift in her friend and snapped out of her revelry. She leaned toward him, placing a hand on his knee. "Carl?" she asked. "What is it? What's wrong?" There was a long, pregnant silence between them before Carl finally let out a long breath. "I don't know if I'm cut out for this," he said. "Why would you say that?" asked Shara. Carl sighed. "I just...I'm not sure if why I'm here is the right reason...if why I had the papers filled out and everything was justified." He rose from the cot, and Shara could sense the growing agitation in him. She braced herself slightly, having a good idea about what was to come, but having no idea in what form it would materialize. "I'm not from here," Carl said, his back to Shara. "I grew up in a one-horse town run less by a mayor and more by Father Harland Velluto. He's one of those stereotypical fire-and-brimstone ecclesia preachers...you know, the kind they make fun of on TV? He preaches with all the gusto and fervour, whipping the congregation up into a frenzy every Sunday and making us all feel like he's a true disciple of Eli." There was a long pause. "But that kind of gusto...that kind of influence...it twists people. When I was 7 I was an acolyte for the church. Me and 3 others were Father Velluto's helpers every Sunday. We lit candles, helped with communion, and stayed afterwards to help tidy things up...or so I thought." Shara bit her lower lip tenderly. She didn't like where this story was heading. "I...I take it cleaning was the last thing on the Father's mind," she said softly. Carl nodded. "We'd all heard the rumours," he said. "All the stories about what he was like around kids, but it wasn't like we had a choice. Being chosen as his acolytes was a great honour back home. Mom 'n' Dad were ecstatic when Velluto chose me." He shuddered slightly. "I thought it was too, until he...h...he..." Carl shut his eyes. Visions of that door locking...of Father Velluto's lecherous grin as he loosened his vestments filled his mind. The physical pain had been unbearable, but nothing compared to the mental anguish that had followed. Shara stood and took a step towards him. "Carl," she said. He held up a hand. "For a year he abused me," he said. "Every Sunday he took away a piece of my innocence and I said nothing. If I had, the scandal would have ruined my family before it ruined him, so there was no one to talk to. The police, the town council...none of them would dare cross him. To go against him was like going against Eli, and in a small town that's a dangerous thing to do." "So why are you here, Carl?" Shara asked, her voice soft. "Why are you, a human, here tonight, ready to take the curse?" "Because one night," he replied. "I finally did speak out. I told my father about what Velluto was doing to me and he flew into a holy rage...but not at him." With a slow exhale, Carl lifted up his shirt and pulled it over his head. Shara let out a pained gasp and her eyes went wide in horror. From the base of his neck to the base of his spine, Carl McAllister's back was decorated in a roughly-drawn approximation of a yew tree...the symbol of the ecclesian faith. Shara's eyes could see the raised texture of the mark, and she could only guess at the utter agony Carl had been in when this had happened. She moved gingerly toward him and placed her hand over part of the drawing. She cringed slightly when her fingers brushed over the raised, ruined skin. There was something dark about this marking...something sinister. "He called me a blasphemer," said Carl, his voice growing in anger. "He and mother strapped me down and while he did this, she waited outside and sang hymns of praise. I...I begged him to stop, but that only drove him onward, thinking that if I was marked with Eli's symbol that I'd somehow be cleansed of all the lies I was telling about our 'most holy father.'" "Oh gods, Carl," said Shara, resting her muzzle on his shoulder. "I'm so sorry." She wrapped her arms around him and held him tightly. Carl let out a dry chuckle. "It wasn't long after then that the beatings started," he said. "Dad became a tyrant around the home, blaming me for anything that went wrong, no matter how trivial. Bad day at work? My fault. Mom burned dinner? My fault again. I could breathe the wrong way and he'd take a strip off me." Shara let out a soft growl as Carl continued. "The second I graduated from school I caught the first transport here," he said. "Unbeknownst to them I'd made all the necessary student loan applications, and took all the aptitude tests when I turned 18. I...I wanted to start over again...bury my past back there...start with a clean slate." "Carl," she said. "Taking the curse...it's not going to erase your past. Sure, it'll give you a new look, but you'll still be you." "I know," he said, his voice now sounding weary. "That's what I tell myself every time I get the stones to come here and do this. I build up the determination, reach for the pendant...then realize that I'm just being stupid. I'm fooling myself." "Have you thought about getting this removed?" Shara asked, running her fingers over the scars again. "Whatever Dad used on me," Carl replied, "There isn't a salve or spell in existence that can get rid of it. Even Artax was at a loss." He sighed. "I thought taking the curse would be the best way to deal with it, but it just seems like such a vain reason." "Vain?" "Well...yeah," he said. "I mean what...I want to change into a theriomorph to hide a scar? Doesn't that sound just a little trivial? You took the curse because of your parents and..." "Carl," she said, interrupting him. "Look at me." Slowly, Carl turned to face Shara. "Why someone takes the curse is irrelevant. It's not the reason that's important, Carl...it's the choice. Save a potion from Artax, there's no sneak preview for this...no probationary period. You're either all in or all out. You're here because you want to put your past behind you? That's as good a reason as any to do it." "Y...you don't think it's...juvenile?" Carl asked. "I mean..." Shara shook her head. "Abuse survivors often change their looks to help themselves feel empowered. It could be anything from dressing more aggressively, piercings, body mods, tattoos..." She smiled softly. "And from that empowerment they can start over. Personally, I think what you're doing is the single bravest thing I've ever seen anyone do, but you..." She pointed at his heart. "You have to believe it too, Carl. You have to be right in your heart of hearts that this is what you want." Carl felt a tear roll down his cheek. Wordlessly he wrapped his arms around the vixen before him and hugged her tightly. He managed to bury his face in her shoulder before the sobs came. Shara cradled her friend in his arms as all the anxiety...all the doubt...all the confusion was purged from Carl's soul. She breathed a silent prayer of thanks to Eli. Friendship aside, getting Carl to admit the real reason he was here was paramount to the rest of the weekend going smoothly. Now that he wasn't hiding anything from her or himself, he was more than ready to let the curse do its work on him. They held each other for what felt like an eternity before Carl stopped his crying. Inside he felt like an immense weight had been taken off his soul. He felt stronger somehow...as though finally telling someone about his past had freed him of its grip. Now that someone else knew...and didn't judge him for it...all the pain and humiliation he'd suffered seemed suddenly not so important. Yes, it was part of his past, but that's where it was: In the past. It couldn't hurt him anymore...nothing could. "I...I think I'm ready," he said finally, staring into Shara's amber eyes. "It's time to start over...to move on with my life." Shara nodded, smiling as she wiped a stray tear from her eye. The two separated and resumed their seats on the cot and chair. They locked eyes with each other as Carl slowly reached for his pendant. He gripped the chain with both hands, taking in a few deep breaths before slowly lifting it over his head. His heart felt like it skipped a beat as the realization of what he'd just done sunk in. Quickly he threw the pendant across the room before he could change his mind. Involuntarily his breathing began to grow ragged and the panic rose within him. "Lay back," said Shara gently. "Just relax, Carl...there's nothing to be afraid of now. Nothing's going to hurt you here. Just breathe normally, Carl...breathe...and relax." Her voice sounded almost hypnotic to his ears. Her soothing tone and gentle touch made him relax almost immediately. His breathing slowed to a normal, steady rhythm and his heart stopped pounding in his chest. His mind began the delicate mental balancing act between steeling himself for what was to come, and keeping himself relaxed, much the same way a person would when getting a tattoo. Yes it was painful, but if you flinch or tense up, it only hurts more and you risk screwing up the design. While he didn't really know the consequences of tensing up during something like this, it was also something he really didn't want to think about. He ran a hand over his chest, only vaguely aware that it seemed somehow hairier than before. He looked down and his eyes widened. Sure enough, his chest was hairier than before...a lot hairier. He hadn't expected the curse to start working on him so quickly. He ran his hand over his chest again and again, each time feeling the hair...no...fur...on his chest getting thicker. He felt his eyes begin to lose focus and he blinked furiously to try and clear them. Only then did he realize that the transformation was taking hold of him completely. He felt his face begin to push outwards, slowly but steadily taking the shape of a muzzle. He wanted to scream, but feared the consequences of opening his still-changing mouth. He ran his tongue over his teeth and felt them also begin to change. He felt a pressure on his lower back, and Shara helped him roll his shaking body onto its side. Were he not riding that razor thin line between control and insanity he would have blushed when he felt her pull his shorts down slightly, making room for the tail that was now growing out of his spine. As it did, he felt his senses begin to tingle as his mind sensed the new appendage and began incorporating it into his consciousness. Through this still-changing eyes he looked down and saw his feet begin to elongate. He thought briefly about his shoes, and the amount of pain he would have been in had he left them on. Mentally he wanted to cry out in agony, but like Shara said there was no real pain...just an uncomfortable, eerie feeling as his body slowly reshaped itself. He couldn't keep himself from shaking as his upper body began to change. He felt like his chest was being pulled in opposite directions as it broadened. His heart began pounding furiously as it too began to reshape and adjust to a new rhythm. At this Carl began breathing heavily. Something was wrong. She said there wouldn't be any pain, yet his heart and lungs seemed to burn. Faster and faster his heart pounded in his chest, threatening to explode if this kept up much longer. He shut his eyes, trying desperately to block out...to stop what was happening. It was too much...his body couldn't take it. He was going to die before it was over. His father had been right...he was damned...damned to fall to Hell for doing this. Why had he come here? Why had he done this? Why didn't he listen to him? Why...WHY?! Sleep... Suddenly, Carl's heartbeat slowed. He barely registered her touch, but as he was rolled onto his back, his blurred eyesight saw the image of Shara, arm outstretched and her hand resting on his forehead. From where she touched him, he could feel a spreading, calming warmth begin to wash over him, like slowly being covered in a warm honey. His eyelids flickered, and he fought to keep them open...keep them focused on her sweet, smiling face. But as the warmth travelled over his body it was getting harder and harder to do. He could still feel his body changing...muscles and nerves shifting and remapping. His mind was still abuzz as it tried to get a mental grip on its own chaotic transformation...but none of it mattered anymore. Nothing mattered but the warmth...her warmth...her touch. Sleep... Finally, Carl closed his eyes, and surrendered to the Metamor City Curse. * * * He didn't know how long he'd been out. There were no windows where he was...no way to visually indicate if it was still early evening, midnight, or morning. It felt a little surreal for him, normally used to the set schedule of a student, now unable to distinguish what time it was. On reflex, Carl moved his arm to check his watch, The black mark on his wrist looked a bit like a watch, but no matter how much he blinked he couldn't see any numbers. It took a full three minutes before he realized that he wasn't wearing a watch. The black mark on his wrist wasn't a watch...it was a stripe. It was one of many stripes that sharply contrasted his skin...no...his fur...his orange and white fur. Slowly he moved to a seated position on the cot, wincing as his tail caught underneath him. He moved out of the way, allowing it to come to rest beside him, only dimly aware that he had done so with no real conscious thought. It was as though half his brain was screaming 'HOLY SHIT I HAVE A TAIL!' and the other side was saying 'Yeah...and?' He ran his hand over it, shivering at the sensation. His spine seemed to light up inside as he stroked it. Now he understood why so many theriomorphs seemingly turned to jelly when their tails were being played with. After a few moments his eyes finally snapped into focus. He was amazed at how different everything seemed now. Everything seemed so much more defined, even if the colours seemed a bit duller than before. He felt a little disappointed at the slight loss of colour distinction, but he knew the first time he was able to see in the dark the trade-off would be worth it. I wonder what I look like... Carl looked down at his feet and tensed. They were no longer plantigrade like before. They were now digitrade feet. Instead of walking on a complete foot, he assumed it would feel like he was walking on tip-toes. He was reluctant to rise from the cot, but he also knew he couldn't sit here for the rest of his life. So with an inhale of air and a push, he stood up. He expected to wobble some, and he did. However, he managed to keep his balance as he half walked half staggered over toward the full length mirror. He marvelled at how springy his step felt...as though he were walking on a pair of shock absorbers. He couldn't wait to try running...once he fully regained his proper balance of course. Slowly, he turned the mirror towards him. His blue eyes regarded the tall, broad-chested anthropomorphic tiger that stared back at him. His tail flicked back and forth excitedly, his brain trying frantically to process what his eyes were telling him. He brought a hand to his face...no...his muzzle...and stroked it gently. Like his tail had, the moment he touched his whiskers his brain seemed to explode with a strange, ethereal sensation. It would take some time for him not only to get used to that new sense, but also to learn to use it properly. He took in a deep breath and closed his eyes. Even in this still-evolving state, his mind was able to separate and identify the numerous scents in the air. What he once thought to be mere musty air was filled with dozens of individual scents, many he recognized and many he didn't. Foremost in his mind was an oddly familiar musky scent. His memory searched for when he'd smelled it before, but he couldn't place it. However, it seemed to fill him with a peaceful feeling...tranquil...as though it reminded him of a comforting presence. A rustling behind him caught his attention. He turned, vaguely aware that his ears had rotated to the sound first and saw the prone form of Shara on the cot. Her white uniform lay folded on one of the chairs, and she was garbed in a similar set of clothing as he was. He couldn't help but smile as he walked toward her. As he did, that comforting scent he'd detected earlier became stronger. He realized then that it was coming from her. No longer could he just see and touch her...he could smell her. It was like seeing her in a whole new, more complete way. She'd been right; a veil had indeed been lifted off his senses, and even in these first few minutes in his new feline form, everything that was old and familiar was new again. He crouched by the bed as Shara opened her eyes. At first, she blinked in surprise at what she saw, but soon her muzzle melted into a tired smile. "Morning, handsome," she said softly. "Hey," he said, his ears loving the deep voice he now possessed. "So, is sleeping with your patient part of the deal?" he asked. He helped Shara into a sitting position on the cot before joining her. "No," she said, recognizing the joke. "I should have left after you fell asleep. But after you were fully changed and sleeping peacefully, I thought..." She turned away, smiling shyly. "I thought you'd like having someone to wake up to." She turned back to face him only to feel his hand slowly stroke under her chin. "Thank you, Shara," he said. "For everything. If I wasn't sure before that I wanted this, I'm sure now more than anything. I feel so...new...reborn. And I have you to thank for that, Shara." He placed an arm around her and she moved toward him. They embraced, nuzzling and licking at each other's muzzles. A deep resonating purr emanated from Carl, making Shara murr contentedly. There was still much to do with this tiger in her arms, but for now it could wait. She began to lean back on the cot, taking him with her. They lay facing each other. She ran a hand over his white chest fur and smiled up at him. "Happy Birthday, Carl," she said softly. "Happy Birthday." The End