The morning sun seeped gently into the room; the blinds were aglow and little shafts of unfiltered light slipped in through the cracks. It was cozy and warm – enough that the furnace hadn't even kicked on – and that particular kind of quiet you get on certain summer afternoons, where the silence is almost tangible and the world is on pause. I stirred, yawned, had a lazy half-stretch, and nuzzled back into my pillow, dozing blissfully for another I-didn't-know-how-long. I couldn't remember the last time I'd slept this well;° was this what passed for a superpower, in my new form?
° (Granted, I'd spent long enough futzing with the sheets before laying down that it better have been optimal.)
When I finally roused myself from bed, it wasn't 'til I'd put the coffee on that it occurred to me to wonder what might've changed overnight. Funny; I didn't feel that different, but I'd gotten so used to waking up to significant renovations that I expected not feeling that to be weird…yet it wasn't. More curious than confused, I went once more to the bathroom mirror…
…and that was pretty much it. A last few tweaks – a bit more in the chest, a final draft of my face, my tail just shy of 40" (long enough to drag on the floor, if it weren't busy asserting itself in all manner of positions and attitudes that betrayed my feelings to an annoying extent,) my ears maybe just a tad larger – but, overall, this was definitely the creature that'd gazed back at me yesterday.
I undressed – strange that this already felt so…less weird… – and took stock. Ordinary face, ordinary figure; the transformation had definitely burned and/or reallocated some fat, but it was still nothing that could be described as "trim" or "svelte," and the stomach was…a bit shy of flat. Ordinary fur, even; a gray cat, how striking. Well, it wasn't like I had any specific preferences for what I'd never planned on being…
Yet it still didn't feel as alien as I felt like it should've. For the love of God, I wasn't even human! To a lesser extent than Nicole, but still – that seemed like the kind of thing that should be a Big Freaking Deal, but my gut reaction was more well this is gonna take some getting used to than OH MY GOD, WHAT HAVE I BECOME!? This wasn't the me I was used to, but neither was it…whatever it was I'd been afraid of ending up as. So, I wondered again…now what…?
Well, now I should get my damn shower in, I thought, trying to dislodge the feelings from my brain. I hadn't exactly said I would come along on Nicole's little expedition, but I hadn't said I wouldn't; I was still torn on that, but it was a basic fact that I'd need clothes that actually fit me, and I had a feeling she'd drop in, anyway.
The breast tenderness was finally, blessedly gone; another hint that I'd hit "done." Funny, I reflected, as I soaped up and rinsed off; they were still novel, an object of curiosity, but I didn't find them as…mesmerizing as I remembered. Was it that they were a part of me, now…? Or maybe it was that the left one was a bit lopsided, and I couldn't stop noticing that.
I wasn't sure how big they were or weren't; looking down I felt all self-conscious about their prominence in my field of view, but they didn't seem conspicuously huge in the mirror. I had no innate frame of reference, and I gathered, from my sister's kvetching, that popular media warps perceptions of what's "normal." Well, wherever I fell along that axis, I was stuck with it…
When I'd finished, I got out, towelled off – and regarded the blowdryer warily, after the vacuum-cleaner incident. Still, if it meant not having to wrangle my stupid tail and get the fur all mussed…I took a deep breath, steadied myself, and switched it on. I did cringe a bit at the noise, but it wasn't as bad – though blasting hot air over my fur felt weird.
Unfortunately, it still took forever to dry – the fur was too dense, the surface area too narrow – and I ended up having to use the towel anyway, and finish it off with the blowdryer. My fur felt funny, too – a little thin and frizzy, like when you wash hair that's already clean. Did I actually need to do this every day? But I couldn't exactly skip showering, not in this climate; God, why did bathing have to be a puzzle now…!?
Anyway, I finished, brushed out my hair, and dressed. I wore one of my shirts; going three days without a wash was a bit much for a top I was just borrowing. It was snug around the chest, which was mildly embarrassing, but no longer actively irritating.
I was just finishing my coffee, catching up on forums and webcomics, when there was a knock at the door; sure enough, it was Nicole. (And sure enough, to my chagrin, I was looking up at her.) "Thought it wouldn't hurt to check in nyagain, see if nya had questions or anything," she said cheerily, bustling into the entryway and looking me over. "Figured you'd be prrretty much done by niaow."
"…Seems that way," I said, not really sure how else to respond. Congratulations, you're complete, huzzah, I thought. Do we break a bottle of champagne over me, or something? The only question I could think of at the moment had to do with how she managed bathing with a full-body fur coat, and I doubted either of us were prepared for that discussion.
"I wanted to rrrun somethin' by you, too," she said, ears turning inward to focus on me. "So, this makes four of us niaow, and I was thinking…what if we had kind of a supporrrt grrroup?"
"Supporrrt grrroup?" I said, mildly annoyed to find myself echoing her trill subconsciously.
She nodded. "We'll prrrobably all have things that take some gettin' nyewsed to," she said, "or even just…stuff we wannya talk about, and we're all rrright next door. We could, nyakniaow, get together for coffee on the weekends, or something? Nyathing crrrazy formal, just a space to chat and, mya, comparrre notes."
For a moment, I said nothing; she stood there, arms crossed behind her back and tail flicking expectantly, that happy-cat smile on her face. My inner introvert was not thrilled at the idea of Designated Sharing Time; it brought back memories of the times, as a kid, where my mother would observe that I "looked like [I was] thinking something" when I didn't think I was, and of never being sure if I was supposed to have been. But I felt awkward shooting her down, after everything she'd done for me…
"Guess it's something to consider," I said, not very diplomatically.
"I think it'd be good for Frank and Alex," she continued. "Havin' nyew there, I mean. I can talk 'cat things' easy enough, but as for 'girrrl things…' I've got plenty of prrractical experience, but I can't help wonderin' if nyew thrrree don't have anyather purrspective that I only kniaow one side of."
"…You really think it's that big a deal?" I said, not sure what to make of the recruitment pitch. Okay, we'd all been male, but only Frank and I were even adults, and I had no idea how her feelings on manhood squared with…whatever I thought about it. Could we even truly relate on that score…?
She made to answer, then hesitated; her ears ticked back a bit as she thought it over. "I…dunniaow?" she said. "Like, I 'get' little boys in terms of wrrrangling them in class, I have a grrrasp on what motivates them, but…guess you'd call it 'teacher anxiety?' I wonder if I wouldn't be in nya better position to help Alex if I could empathize with what she's…he's…? goin' thrrrough."
I had to pause myself, wondering if you wouldn't have to understand people to empathize with them, but she continued. "And Frank…it's hard to get a rrread on her. I think she's puttin' nya brrrave face on it for the kid, but…I feel like there's other stuff goin' nyan, nyand I'm nyat sure she's comfortable openin' up to me about it." She didn't elaborate.
I felt myself start to prickle under the collar; I didn't like getting dragged into other people's drama, and I really didn't feel qualified to comment on anyone's issues. And hadn't she been reassuring me that we'd be fine, probably? Why did we need a support group, then!?
Well, it made sense for a teacher to be concerned for kids; I could smell her worry when she said it. And…it still nagged at me, that feeling of wanting to do something but being unable to…or, well, unable to make myself. But who was I to pretend like I had it all together, to put myself in a position of being anyone's support!?
I sighed, ears ticking back. "Look, I…I'm nyat a therapist, okay? I can hardly sort meown—my own thoughts out half the time."
"Nya don't have to be," she said sympathetically, putting a furry hand on my shoulder. "Sometimes all it takes is bein' nyan-judgemental and willing to lend an ear; helpin' 'em feel like they're nyat alone nyand maybe someone else can rrrelate. I just think we could be that for each other, mya kniaow?"
I gave a noncommittal murr in reply. I felt sure I was too opinionated to qualify as "non-judgemental," and I wasn't at all convinced I could relate just because we shared a common experience. And who even knew what kind of strange, awkward impulses our new instincts would inflict; suppose we got into some kind of…mutual ear-scritching circle, or something? I cringed, even as I tried to keep the weirdly social part of my altered brain from betraying its interest through my ears and tail.
Nicole nodded to herself, and shrugged. "Just somethin' to think on," she said. "Nyand…it's okay if you need the space, rrreally." Then her ears perked back up. "Oh, mya, are you comin' nyalong today? Thought we'd head out arrround the top of the hour."
A glance at the clock on the microwave showed 11:43. I went back and forth on it, wondering if things wouldn't be extra awkward with that question hanging in the air, but…well, were things ever not awkward, for me? "Myeah, sure," I sighed; I'd have to do this sooner or later, and it'd be easier to have someone around for advice on practical matters.
She flashed me a fangy grin as she left. "Grrreat. See you in nya bit."
I took a deep breath, in and then out, as I tried to sort my feelings out. A support group? Let's see if I could even get through a shopping trip first.