Note: The story is narrated from two characters’ perspectives. This font indicates that it is being told from Michael’s perspective. This font indicates that it is being told from Matt’s perspective.

A TALE OF TWO MISFITS

By Enigmafur

PT.1

It wasn’t the best of times, and it wasn’t the worst of times, either. It was…the most drab of times. It was early October, and I had just started my freshman year at Merry Plains high school. (The name didn’t help, either.) I hated going there; it wasn’t that I was picked on by classmates, or singled out by sadistic teachers, rather, I hated the repetitive nature of it. During weekdays, I’d go into a trancelike state, hardly conscious of my surroundings, listening, analyzing, writing, listening, analyzing, writing, and so on. Often, I got the impression that my teachers’ ideas of "spicing things up" would be to throw in some (gasp) reading into the sequence, as well. Anyway, it was a Friday evening, the time when I finally found myself free of that horribly dull purgatory of a school. I was walking with my best friend, Matt, to Buffalo Wild Wings (plug) for dinner.

Matt and I had been friends for a decade. As we both made our way through the grades in school, we earned a reputation for being monumentally weird. (So we liked Six-Stringed Samurai…big deal.) We were both non-jocks, as we had virtually no interest in sports, instead, we were intellectuals, but we were different thinkers. I suppose you could say Matt was a romanticist, as he had profound, insightful philosophies about the world, and he enjoyed liberal arts. I, however, was a pragmatist, not being particularly creative, but I was gifted in science and mathematics, at least according to some of my earlier teachers.

We were talking to each other about how much our homework for the weekend sucked.

"I mean, normally, when I’m assigned word problems, I like them, but whoever wrote these has no grip on reality. Since when the hell does estimating the average speed of a kangaroo rat have any application to life?!" I raved.

"I’m just as confused about it as you are," Matt replied. "Still, it isn’t as bad as last weekend."

"Uggghhh! Don’t remind me," I shuddered, opening up what I assumed to be the restaurant’s door. Instead, we found ourselves in the dusty interior of a store, which I strangely hadn’t noticed before. Evidently, we had been so engaged in our conversation that we hadn’t noticed that we had walked into the wrong building.

I glanced around. There were a few shelves of useless-looking nostalgic trinkets and gizmos, and a wizened old man in a black robe sat behind a desk in the corner. Needless to say, the place looked like a ghastly hybrid of a Cracker Barrel restaurant and a pawn shop.

"May I help you two young gentlemen?" he said in a sincere, yet elderly-sounding voice.

"Uh, no, we’re just looking around," Matt said.

I stared at him. Why was he so interested in browsing this creepy shop? But soon, I too felt compelled to "look around" as well. I couldn’t explain why, it just…happened. We both began curiously inspecting the junk on the shelves. Not long after, I realized that I wasn’t just looking, I was searching. But what was it that I was trying to find? Just then, I came across it. It was quite anticlimactic, really. It was a small, black box, about the size of a minidisc player. The only feature on it was a large, red button. Yet, I was enthralled by it, and I picked the box up.

I noticed that Matt was standing nearby, gazing at the box with wonder.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Your guess is as good as mine." I said, shrugging.

"It’s a plot device." It was that shopkeeper again. Startled, I jerked my head around to find that he was standing right behind me. "I can’t exactly explain what it is, but I can assure you that it will be of great importance to you."

I looked at him quizzically. What the hell was that supposed to mean? Still, instead of trying to get him to clarify his previous statement, I felt inclined to do something else.

"How much does it cost?" I questioned. He certainly had one heck of a marketing strategy. He smiled, his eyes twinkling. It was a rather annoying sight.

"I won’t charge you for it. You see, I have no use for money."

"Thank you, sir…" I trailed off, heading for the door and pocketing the device, surprisingly not with my own will.

Matt followed me out. We just stared at each other for a few awkward moments, with equally perplexed expressions.

"That was…weird…" Matt said, stating the obvious.

I didn’t respond. Instead, I continued up the sidewalk, trying to pretend that the last few minutes hadn’t actually happened.

And then the "plot device" vibrated.

"What the…" I said to myself, plucking it out of my pocket. The button on it was glowing. I knew what I had to do. I pressed the button.

It stopped vibrating, and the button grew dim once again.

"Um…What just happened?" Matt asked, walking towards me.

"I ‘activated’ the device, I think." I responded, scratching my head.

"This keeps getting weirder every min-…"

What I saw shocked me. One second, Matt had been approaching me. The next second, he was gone.

He had completely vanished, instantaneously.

Understandably, I began to panic.

"What the fuck is going on?” I shrieked, growing delirious. Suddenly, I felt my consciousness abandon me, and I was shrouded in total darkness.

Words could not describe how surprised I was when I found myself suddenly flying through a dizzying, whirling tunnel of color and light, and I could hear a continuous, but distant roaring.

I frantically tried to come with explanations. Maybe the device had caused some hypnosis-induced hallucination. Or maybe I had fainted, and this was just some intense dream. Or maybe… And then I realized that those "explanations" were flat-out BS. What did I know about hallucinations, anyway? The old geezer in the store had said something about the device having "great importance." This definitely must have been what he meant, although I didn’t quite understand what was so "important" about going into what seemed to be something out of one of Timothy Leary’s nightmares. It was then that I realized that the light seemed to be getting more and more intense, and the once dull roar I heard became deafening. Just as I thought that I was about to die, I heard something that sounded like a lightbulb exploding, only a couple hundred times louder. "Great, I blew a fuse," was my last thought before everything went black.

I "woke up" (for lack of a better term) in a quiet, coniferous forest.

I scrutinized my surroundings. It seemed to be early spring, judging by the patches of melting snow that scattered the place. A deep blue morning sky loomed over the treetops. Also, and most importantly, there were no traces of civilization to be found. Cursing my misfortune, I got up and began a trek in which I had no idea where I was going.

I had hiked for about half an hour when I heard voices nearby. I frantically looked around, but no one was in sight. A few suspenseful moments passed, and I heard the voices again. This time, I was able to trace the sounds to a certain place: beyond a nearby patch of bushes.

As I was trying to wade my way through the thick shrubs, I overhead some of the conversation:

"Look, Rick, you have to get over this ‘fleshy’ fetishism. I know how you love it all, sure, but I’m afraid it’s just starting to really consume your life."

"[sigh] I thought we already went over this before. First of all, it’s a fandom, not a fetish. And secondly, I’m a proud member of the fandom, and I’m not just going to throw it all away!"

I paused, highly confused at the situation. What on earth were they talking about? I peered through the bushes, reconsidering my original idea to bolt into the open and plead for help.

My jaw dropped open. A female anthropomorphic raccoon was speaking with a male ferret-morph as they walked along a path. I had heard about such creatures in fictitious stories, of course, but seeing real, live ones was almost too much for me to handle.

I stayed in that crouched position, pondering whether I should ask them for help, or stay hidden.

"Screw this," I thought. "I’ve traveled through a warp tunnel." (That’s what I had come to call the tunnel of light I had been in earlier.) "What could talking to a pair of furries do to me?"

So I got up, stepped out of the bushes, and confronted them. "Excuse me, but could you please explain where the hell I am, and could you also direct me to the nearest town or city?" I asked, trying to sound calm. (I doubt I did. I was shaking more than a blob of Jello in an earthquake.) The two gawked at me for a few seconds, looking every bit as surprised as I probably did when I first saw them. The raccoon looked shocked, as if Richard Nixon had come back from the grave and was soliciting life insurance at her front doorstep, whereas the ferret looked thrilled, as if he had realized Santa Claus really existed and had just met him in person. He quickly snatched a camera from his backpack and snapped a photo of me. He was also the first to speak. "Welcome to Pine Cone City, Mister Human, sir!" he exclaimed, bolting up to me (Dang, ferrets are fast) and rapidly shaking my hand. Before I had time to respond to this peculiar turn of events, the raccoon spoke up again.

"Rick, just what kind of prank is this? If this is some attempt to impress me, I’m absolutely through with you. Now, as for you," she sighed, turning towards me and approaching. "Get that mask off, and stop playing with me." She then attempted to pull my head, or what she assumed was a "mask," off, and predictably, (as well as fortunately) without success. In her final attempt, however, one of her claws nicked my cheek, creating a small scratch that bled lightly. This new evidence served as enough proof to the raccoon that I was actually real. She gasped, quickly withdrawing her paws from my head.

"See, I told you that they existed," the ferret, who apparently was Rick, said smugly.

"Yeah, okay, now can you please tell me where exactly this ‘Pine Cone City’ is?"

"Only if you let us follow you, and you’ll have to answer my questions about your race."

I sighed deeply, feeling a bit like Clint Eastwood. "Fine."

The journey was long and tiresome. Not because of the hike itself, but because I was being closely followed by an overexcited ferret who was a proud member of the "fleshy fandom," as he claimed about 80 times, and I was asked a question roughly every five seconds. During the walk, I had to explain how I survive without fur, the political state of my world, what my name was, how I got here, when I got here, if I knew about furries before I came here, how old I was, my religion, and so on. As you could expect, I had to firmly draw the line when he asked a detailed question concerning the size of certain human reproductive organs. Also, I learned a little about Xenia, (that was what their planet was called) and that the raccoon, who fortunately was silent the entire journey, was Rick’s girlfriend, Jessica.

After what seemed like ages, we finally arrived at Pine Cone City. It was basically your typical small, wooded village: A bunch of small "ma and pa" shops, a neighborhood of homes, a town hall, and some house of worship that vaguely resembled a church. As I was observing the scenery, I noticed a group of anthros approaching me, apparently policemen by the looks of their uniforms. Swiftly and quietly, they grabbed me before I could protest. Rick, however, noticed, and looked like he was about to say something, until another cop accosted him and pulled him aside, saying something about "police matters."

They dragged me over to an unmarked white van, shoved me in the back, and slammed the doors shut. A guard was sitting in the back as well, keeping me under his indifferent gaze. Although I naturally wasn’t remotely thrilled with being abducted, I found no reason to resist; there was no use in trying to argue my way out of the predicament, and 14-year-old’s usually don’t stand much of a chance against armed policemen. So I just sat there, waiting for the vehicle to come stop. Undoubtedly, this simply wasn’t my day.

After a few minutes of driving, we reached our destination: a hospital. Instead of going to the front entrance, I observed, we drove around to the back of the building, right next to one of the more discreet back entrances. Obviously, the driver had stealth in mind. We came to an abrupt halt, the van’s back doors were opened, and I was escorted into the building. As we walked down the hall, I took a mental note of the absence of any doctors or nurses. It seemed to me that they had cleared out part of the building. But what was with all this secrecy? As I contemplated that question, I was led into one of the small rooms that lined the hallway.

In the room were an ordinary hospital bed and a stern-looking German Shepherd furry who I presumed to be a doctor.

Without further explanation, the doors were promptly shut behind me.

"Have a seat, Mr. Matthew Smith," he said, gesturing towards the bed. I obliged.

"How did you know my name?" I blurted out, ignoring how cliched that phrase was.

"We got the information from one of your fellow…travelers," he explained. "Now, please, Matthew, there is so very little time. In fact," he said, checking his watch, "The Change is about to occur now. Brace yourself, there may be some significant discomfort as your body transforms." I stared at him blankly for a few seconds, pondering what he had just told me.

"What the hell are you talking abou-…AAAAH!" I shrieked as a sudden, sharp pain in my spine vindicated his warning. I flopped down on my back, writhing in agony. The pain slowly spread throughout my skeleton, until I felt it in every bone in my body. After a few more seconds of this horrid pain, something curious happened: the room started to enlarge! I vaguely heard the doctor say something about "to please remain calm" and "my adoptive parent" being there. I paid him no heed, absorbed in my figurative world of hurt, and the fact that the world was slowly beginning to dwarf me. Suddenly, I realized the culprit: everything else wasn’t getting larger, I was getting smaller! I would have felt extremely stupid at that point, but my train of thought was derailed by a new, prickling sensation. The hair on my body seemed to be growing at a rapid rate, and new follicles were sprouting all over me. I felt my vision warp with a new source of pain, this time in my face. My lower jaw and my nose seemed to be pushing out, creating a veritable supernova of excruciating pain. I noticed that they were also merging together, forming a…muzzle.

I could feel most of my teeth recede, and the ones that didn’t reshaped themselves. A paw clasped my hand at that point. I was clearly still too occupied to try to see whom it belonged to, but the pain began to feel less intense. Somehow, I found that paw comforting, reminiscent of the days when my parents would hold my hand when I was given a shot.

But just when I thought the nightmarish affair was over; I felt a sharp sting, right above my buttocks. (Oh sure, laugh, you sadist.) I felt my spine painfully lengthen, stretching the skin with it. Ten seconds later, it had stopped growing, and I felt that familiar prickling sensation surround it. I closed my eyes tightly, waiting for it all to finally come to an end.

A few minutes later, the pain had totally subsided. Nothing could have prepared me for the sight that awaited me.

My body had shrunk in size exponentially. I also seemed to have gotten a little bit chubbier, and I was covered in fur. A light, cream-colored fur covered my stomach and chest, while the rest of my body’s fur was a dark brown with black markings. I put a hand (I wasn’t particularly surprised to see that it had become a paw) to my face, and felt around. Indeed, I had sprouted a muzzle. Also, my ears had become triangular, and had moved to the top of my head. I reached around my back to investigate what felt like a third limb coming out of my lower spine. I had grown a tail.

I whimpered at my bizarre predicament. What the hell had just happened, and why? I turned my head towards whoever had been holding my hand, and saw a gently smiling, female coyote. After a few moments of awkward silence, she spoke.

"Hello, Matthew. I’m Rebecca."

"H-hewwo…" I stuttered, noticing how childish my voice sounded.

A stoic cheetah nurse interrupted the pseudo-idyllic moment.

"Excuse me, ma’am," she said, "but I will have to examine your son to ensure nothing went wrong during the Change."

"Go ahead, then," Rebecca replied. "But please, just be gentle."

"Certainly, ma’am." The nurse scooped me up, lifting me out of my shirt, which I could have used for a bedsheet. I tried to resist, of course, seeing as how I wasn’t actually wearing anything. I felt embarrassed to be naked in front of Rebecca, but there was nothing I could do.

I was carried through the hall into another room, where the nurse began the examination. She started out by measuring my height, (34 inches) measuring my weight, (28 pounds) and doing a reflex test. I was poked and prodded all over, thoroughly inspected for abnormalities, and finally brought back to Rebecca.

"He’s a perfectly healthy coyote pup; nothing’s wrong with him. He seems to have regressed to the age of about 24 months. You’re free to take him home with you, now."

My eyes went wide, and I fought back tears. I had just been turned into a two-year-old anthropomorphic coyote!

"I know you’re afraid, sweetie," Rebecca cooed, picking me up and wrapping me in my shirt, as a makeshift blanket. She held me tightly as we left the hospital. "I’ll explain. Somehow, you traveled to our dimension or, more appropriately, reality. You’re not the first: there have been multiple other incidences of this, but our government has kept them ‘quiet,’ and still continues to do so to today."

"So dat’s why I was captuwed?" She nodded in agreement as we got to the car.

"Exactly. They wanted to minimize the chance of anyone seeing you." She buckled me into a safety seat. [Author’s note: I understand that Matt couldn’t realistically pronounce L’s. However, to save confusion, I will omit this detail in his speech.]

"But…why are dey so wowwied about it?"

"They’re afraid that the sudden public awareness of the existence of your kind would cause mass hysteria and chaos. While I have to say I question the means they use enforce ignorance, I can understand their line of thinking," she said, starting the car and exiting the parking lot.

I was in agreement with her on that point. But there was still one big, glaring question that I wanted answered.

"And why did I tuwn into a coyote?"

"That’s one of the phenomenons which our scientists have yet to fully understand. We’ve come to call it simply, ‘The Change.’ The most commonly accepted explanation, however, is that shortly after arrival, some unknown force changes the traveler’s body, forming it into a shape that our general populace can accept. In your case, obviously, you became a coyote. Also, researchers have discovered that The Change serves as a way to protect those who it affects, as well. Your original immune system would have been helpless against illnesses that dwell in Xenia. However, your new body’s immune system is adapted to defend itself against local viruses. Without this modification, you might have… " She didn’t even need to finish the sentence to make her point.

"But why am I a toddler?"

"That’s another universal aspect of the transformation: in all the other incidents, the travelers, like you, regressed to a very young age. No one can understand this either, but it is assumed that its meant to give them a much longer time-and a much better chance-to adjust to their new lives. Apparently, it works--so far, all of the reported ‘victims’ have said that they greatly prefer their new lives over their old ones."

I fell silent. While I still was disoriented by my transformation, there wasn’t anything more I was particularly curious about. We both didn’t talk until we pulled into another parking lot. Looking out the car’s window, I could see that we were next to a red-bricked store. I tried to check the sign on the front of it, but I quickly realized that it was in a completely foreign language. Before I could ask about what it said, Rebecca stated, "I’m just making a quick errand to the pharmacy. I'll need you to come with me."

"Okay," I said, beginning to wonder why we were here. She unbuckled the safety seat and carried me out of the car.

The inside of the drug store was just about the same as a human-run one. Same aisles of generic products, same generic floor tiles, and the same generic, nauseating easy-listening muzak playing quietly in the background. Rebecca picked out a shopping cart, and strapped me into the top platform that is intended for small children to sit in. I greatly enjoyed riding in that cart, much to her amusement. She started out by picking up a few random supplies which didn’t concern me, and moved down the aisle. She kneeled down to grab a box and put in the cart, and I got a closer look at it. Any moron could’ve figured out by the pictures on it that it was a box of, heaven forbid, diapers.

It probably would’ve been obvious to Rebecca that I didn’t agree if I hadn’t tried to speak. I had a disgusted expression, and I was squirming like crazy.

"Wha…? I’m potty twained!" I pleaded.

"I can see why you’re uncomfortable, Matt," she said, taking a box of baby wipes and a large bottle of talcum powder. "If you can prove to me that you’re really "potty trained," then you won’t have to wear them. Otherwise, for your own sake, I’ll have to put you in them." I ignored a random flash of déjà vu. She didn’t sound angry, rather, she just sounded sincere.

Deciding there was no way around this, I submitted.

"Okay, ‘Becca."

She maternally smiled at me. "Thank you." She finished picking out the supplies, and headed towards the cash register. To the employee who was running the register, it must simply looked like a caring coyote mother buying baby supplies for her pup, who was…dressed in nothing but a blanket, which bore a strange resemblance to a white t-shirt. But, evidently, the cashier didn’t catch this little detail, seeing as how the only thing she said about me was that I was "very cute."

Rebecca unloaded the contents of the cart into the trunk of the car, and we were on our way once again. I realized that I was absolutely exhausted, and I found myself falling asleep, lulled by the motion of the car.

I suppose at this point you half expected me to say something like, "I woke up, and I was shocked to find out that it hadn’t all been dream." Are you kidding me? I wasn’t even remotely phased to wake up on a couch in Rebecca’s house. Instead, I was startled to find a large, wet, yellow spot covering the part of the t-shirt that rested on my crotch.

"Okay, take it easy," I thought. "There must be a mature, calm, and reasonable way to deal with this. Keep breathing, but just don’t-…"

I burst into tears. Almost immediately, Rebecca came to my aid.

"What’s the matter, honey? Did you wet yourself?" My soaked T-shirt gave her a silent answer.

"Oh, don’t cry about it, Matt. Here, let’s get you cleaned up and dressed."

I got out of my shirt, knowing that I would never wear it again. As she guided me upstairs, I noted that I could still walk, but it was a bit more awkward than before, especially while trying to ascend the stairs. She led me into a heavily decorated nursery, stopped at a small, padded, rectangular table, and gestured for me to come closer to her. Apprehensively, I sauntered over to her, my head hung in shame. She picked me up and laid me down on the table, whispering quiet reassurances.

With the grace and skill of a renowned chef preparing an exquisite gourmet meal, Rebecca began by cleansing my crotch with a baby wipe, and I winced slightly at how cold they felt.  She quickly applied some diaper cream and talcum powder, then pulled a white, disposable diaper out of the package she had purchased earlier, lifted my legs into the air, and slid it under me.  She turned me over, threaded my tale through a small elastic opening in the back, turned me upright again, and pulling the front of the diaper up between my legs, taped it up tightly.

"There. It’s all done. That wasn’t hard, now, was it?" She said soothingly.

"I guess not," I said, still feeling slightly embarrassed.

Rebecca went over to the closet and retrieved a plain, powder-blue sleeper.

"But, Becky, I can’t weaw that!" I objected feebly.

"I’m not forcing you to wear it, Matt. But if you really want to be in just your diaper around the house, well, that’s your decision."

I saw her point. I could not wear the sleeper, and constantly be painfully reminded by the diaper that I was no longer a teenage human, or I could just wear the darn thing and get to ignore it as best as possible.

"Fine, I’ll take the sleepuw."

"I thought you would," she said, grinning at me. I let her dress me without further protest. After slipping me into the sleeper, she zipped it up and set me back down on the floor.

"C’mon, I’ll show you the rest of the house," she said, patting my back.

Rebecca’s house wasn’t anything amazing, but that didn’t particularly matter to me. What did matter, however, was that seemed to be decent place for her to live, with two bathrooms, two bedrooms, a kitchen, a living room, a basement, a laundry room, and a small office. After the brief tour, she asked, "So Matt, what do you think?"

"I like it," I said. My statement was punctuated by the rumbling of my stomach. "…And I’m hungwy." Rebecca chuckled and led me to the kitchen.

She strapped me into a highchair, and walked over to the oven. My heightened sense of smell told me that something good was cooking. Random images of rare steaks, pork chops, and bacon cheeseburgers began to flash in my mind. I noticed that my mouth was open, and my enlarged, pink tongue was hanging out. Man, was I starved!

After what seemed like and hour, (Einstein was right about relativity) Rebecca opened up the oven door, and pulled out a roast chicken. I could hardly believe my eyes! It seemed that becoming an anthropomorphic member of the canine family had also given me a craving for meat.

I was salivating as Rebecca prepared the food, cutting herself a portion and chopping up pieces of the roast into tiny pieces for me. Once she had brought a plate of it to me, I immediately dug into it, not even using my paws.

"Hold it there, you little predator. Don’t forget these," she laughed, handing me a plastic fork and knife.

"Oops, sowwy, Becky," I said, blushing and taking the silverware.

"It’s fine, I just didn’t want you to choke on anything."

I continued my meal, eating much more slowly now. A few minutes later, I reclined back in the high seat, finished with my meal. But then, I realized that there was yet another problem: My throat was parched.

"Becky?"

"Yes?"

"I’m thiwsty."

"No problem. Here, I’ll get you something to drink. She went over to the cabinet, and got a plastic "sippy" cup. She promptly filled it up with water, and handed it to me.

It felt strange to be drinking from a sippy cup, but I didn’t complain. I drained the cup in three seconds flat. By then, Rebecca had finished her dinner, and was starting load up the dishwasher. I helped her out a bit, and we both walked into the living room when we had finished the chore. We laid down on the couch, and Rebecca spoke up.

"Oh, yes. Matt, I never did get to ask you about yourself. I figured that we might as well spend some time tonight to get to know each other."

"I can’t say too much about myself," I said slowly. "Even I don’t know myself vewy well. But I was weally bowed with my old life. Just about no one cawed about me, and I was ignowed. The only pewson I twusted was Michael Petewson, my closest fwiend. But now…I don’t know if I’ll evew see him again…"

I felt my eyes water, and I let out a soft sob. Rebecca silently stroked my headfur for a few moments while I cried, then said softly, "I know what you’re going through, Matt…I’ve lost someone I cared deeply about, too."

"What happened?" I inquired, sniffing.

"I used to be happily married to my now ex-husband, Jack. He studied interdimensional travel –the kind you experienced- for a living. He was fascinated with the entire topic. He told me all about what he knew, but only once I had taken a mandatory pledge to not discuss it with anyone else without the government’s permission. That’s how I knew so much about the phenomenon when we were talking in the car earlier today. Three years after we had married, all was going well. I had been pregnant for seven months, and…" I could see tears brimming in her eyes. "…Then I had a miscarriage. I was depressed for some time afterward, but eventually, I recovered, and Jack and I attempted to have a child again. But, we soon discovered that it was hopeless: Somehow, I had been rendered infertile. At first, Jack was sympathetic, but as time went on, he began to act as if it was my fault, and he left me. I’ve never seen him since." A few silent tears had fallen down her cheek while she was talking, and she seemed to be pretending not to notice them.

"I’m so sowwy…" I would have sounded a lot more serious without that lisp, but I was beginning to grow too used to it to notice.

"Please, don’t worry about it. I probably never should have brought it up, anyway. Besides," she said, checking a clock, "It’s getting late, and I should be getting you ready for bed."

I was about to object, but then I realized that I thought about what she had been through, and decided it would be best to just take it easy on her for the moment.

"Okay, then."

We went back upstairs, and Rebecca brushed my teeth.

"And, before I forget…"

She quickly unzipped my sleeper and placed one of her fingers on my crotch. I almost yelled at her, but just in time, I realized that she was simply checking my diaper.

"Yep. You’re dry for the moment."

That seemed ironically comforting. She zipped me up again, and carried me over to the nursery, which I was beginning to accept as my room from now on. She gently placed me in the crib, and tucked me in a small, blue blanket. I snuggled into it, enjoying how secure I felt in it.

"Oh, and Matt, I forgot to finish what I had to say. So, I was quite upset about how Jack had left me so suddenly, and I had always wanted to have a child of my own. Children being put up for adoption is a very rare occurrence, so that wasn’t an option. But then I remembered about The Change, and I realized that there were many former humans who needed parents. I still knew about some acquaintances my ex-husband knew, and, through them, I found out about a waiting list that people like me could sign up for to adopt ‘Change victims, provided they didn’t disclose their child’s true origins. Naturally, I signed up…And then I met you."

She strode up to me and kissed me on the forehead. "And I don’t regret having done so. Good night, little one."

"Good night, mommy. I love you." I knew what I had just said, and I said it completely on purpose. I really was beginning to love Rebecca.

"I love you too, Matt." She smiled at me, and closed the door.

I woke up, only to find that the traditional aspects of consciousness had not woken up with me. I was still in utter darkness.

"So, this is what it’s like to be awake while asleep," I thought. I couldn’t move, but I could hear voices.
"Great, I’m paralyzed, blind, and I’m going insane. What a lovely combination."

Deciding that I had nothing else to do, I listened to the voices.

"What’s the matter, miss?"

"I’m sorry, Glen, but I’ve never seen a human before."

"Very well, then. Look at him all you want—I doubt that he’s going to move anytime soon."

"Speaking of which, do you think he’ll ever recover?"

"I’m beginning to doubt it. His condition hasn’t shown any sign of improving yet. Still, this is quite an unusual case, so I can’t come to any solid conclusions. His brain activity has maintained itself at an unusually high rate for being comatose, however."

"Oh, God," I thought. "What the hell have I gotten into now?"

I slowly opened my eyes, gazing at the sunlight shining through the window. As I stretched and yawned, my new paws firmly reminded of yesterday’s events. Of course, the dampness I felt between my legs served to be an even more effective reminder.

"Mom?" I called out, cringing at the feeling of a wet diaper. There was a small pause, and then Rebecca came in.

"What is it, dear?"

"I’m sowwy…I wet myself."

"Oh, I don’t mind, Matt. Just be sure to always tell me if you ever have an accident. Besides, I need to get you dressed, anyway."

She lifted me out of the crib and set me down on the changing table, where she untapped and removed my wet diaper, wiped me off, powdered me, and put me into a fresh diaper.

She then picked out a small white t-shirt and beige shorts from the closet and dressed me in them.

"Come down to the kitchen with me—I fixed you some breakfast."

I followed her downstairs, and immensely enjoyed the meal (bacon, toast, and eggs) that occurred afterward. I used to hate fried eggs, but they seemed to be delicious with enhanced taste buds.

After breakfast, Rebecca walked over to the computer room.

"Matt, I’m very sorry about this, but I’ll have to work this morning. I’m a columnist for the local newspaper, and I submit my articles to them every week. But since I submit them via e-mail, I can work at home, but I just won’t be able to with you for a while. In the meantime you can do what you want, but just stay safe. If you need anything, just tell me, alright?"

"I’m fine with that, mommy." I replied, feeling slightly dismayed.

She patted me on the head. "Good. I knew you’d be a trooper about this." And with that, she went into her office.

I thought for a few moments, wondering what I could do. I eventually decided on watching TV. I strolled into the living room, and turned the television on. Immediately, I was confronted with the face of a red fox news anchor.

"On a press conference held on Tuesday, Beta Domain supreme minister James Hob announced that he would cut taxes to, quote, ‘bolster economic growth.’ In response to the announcement, massive protests were held outside the Beta Capital building. Details will be held after a short word from our sponsors."

I took a mental note of the fact that I had a shorter attention span, as I already was beginning to get monumentally bored of watching the news for more than a few seconds. Instinctively, I reached for the remote, and began flipping through channels. There weren’t any stations that were identical to ones on Earth, but I saw some similarities.

As you could guess, I eventually settled on what apparently was some sort of Cartoon Network counterpart. I don’t know whether it was some childish urge, or the fact that iconic renditions of humans were featured, but I sure got addicted in a hurry.

After about a half hour of this, my interest waned, and I fell fast asleep.

I found myself standing in what appeared to be a well-maintained park. I knew that I was dreaming, but everything seemed to have a kind of clarity that dreams don’t have. Obviously, something strange was going on again. I glanced down at myself. Sure enough, I was still a furry.

The park seemed to be deserted, but on closer inspection, I saw a figure sitting on a distant bench. Curious, I got closer for a better look.

It was a man. He seemed too old to even estimate, but his cold, blue eyes glowed with some unknown source of strength. His silky, white hair was abnormally long: it flowed well past his shoulders, and he was dressed in a long, black cloak.

At first, he didn’t appear to acknowledge my existence in any way, but then he turned his bitter gaze towards me. I still don’t know what, but there was something about him that filled me with paralyzing fear.

"Child of Xenia…" he said in a low, powerful voice.

"W-what do you mean? I’m fwom Eawth." I interjected weakly. My babyish voice certainly didn’t help me at all.

"Correction: you WERE from Earth. You committed an act of treason against my world. I refuse to even remotely consider you a former inhabitant of Earth."

"But…I didn’t do anything."

"Insolent brat! Do you actually believe that you were forced into your new life?!"

"Uh, yeah."

Wrong answer. His already scornful expression changed into a one of unfathomable rage.

"You came to Xenia because you had a hidden loathing of your life on Earth. Did you not realize that, in those fateful moments before your departure, you were not controlled by another being’s will, but by your own desires?!"

"Well, I didn’t weally ask to become what I am now."

"You fool! Of course you didn’t directly wish for your fate. The Weaver sees you for what you long for in general; deep inside, you wanted a new start on life, and you never had been satisfied as your life as a normal human."

I was about to refute his argument, but then it dawned on me that what he had said was true. Although I never would have remotely expected the turn of events that led me to my current condition, I always had hoped that I would get another chance at life, in one way or another.

"I guess youw wight, but why awe you so mad at me?"

"You threw away your pride of being human: that’s what I loathe so much about all of The Change victims. You came to despise the world I have created, and the lives you led in it."

"’You’ have cweated?"

"Yes, ignorant mortal, I have created it all. I am the Reaper, the ruler of Earth. I am what all mortals have come to fear: Death. I "reap" souls from their bodies when the time has come for them to be harvested. The Weaver is the ruler of Xenia, and is my opposite: Life. Some day, I will destroy the Weaver, and the pathetic planet that she watches over. And then, all will respect, fear, and worship me as their one, eternal god.

Now, I ask you to repent; abandon your foolish, pitiful new childhood and return to your true life at once, and I might not condemn you to the ranks of the damned when you have drawn your last breath!"

I considered what he had said.

"I could either stay here and risk his wrath," I pondered, "or return to Earth and continue the dreary days of high school, go to college, end up getting a job I hate, and probably die of heart disease."

So, I summoned every bit of courage in my mind, and refused his offer.

"NEVER!"

The Reaper looked so shocked that he seemed like he had just witnessed a brutal murder.

I would have felt quite satisfied at that point, but my dream—or more appropriately, vision, came to an abrupt end.

I woke up with a start. The TV was still on, and there was some ad for a corny television series playing.

"THE PHANTOM MURDERER, ON MONDAY AT 6:00 EASTERN. YOU COULD BE NEXT…"

Rolling my eyes at the irony of it all, I turned it off.

I struggled, trying to fight the terrifying wave of helplessness I felt over my situation. I wanted to move again, I wanted to speak again. I tried forcing with all my will to see past the darkness and find out what in the blazes was going on in the outside world.

It was hopeless. The barrier of black that enshrouded my vision had no physical presence, so I couldn’t just force it aside like a curtain. I wanted to scream, to just finally let whoever seemed to be making the nearby-but-distant conversation that I was alive, not some pathetic, immobile vegetable. But my mind had almost entirely shut itself off from my entire body, and I still had no success.

I could hear the sounds of my immediate environment, but nothing else. I could only wait for my fate to come to come to me.

My state of semi-unconsciousness had buried me alive.

I mentally shrieked and twisted. "HELP! Somebody, get me out of this awful hell! I NEED TO GET OUT! FOR CHRIST’S SAKE, LET ME OUT!"

I felt incredibly fatigued. Desperately, I used the last bit of strength I had left to utter just one name that randomly entered my mind.

I heard myself say,

"Matthew Smith…"

And then I could no longer even hear. The tiny remnant of my awareness seemed to be abandoning me, seemingly for good this time. I desperately tried to reclaim it. I had to stay awake; otherwise there’d be no way to tell if I was still alive. But horribly, inexorably, my psyche escaped my mental clutches, and I bid the world (wherever it was) a last goodbye.

As if on cue, Rebecca came in. I felt strongly tempted to tell her about the bizarre dream I had just experienced, but I elected to not mention it to her right after she had just finished her work.

"Whew! Now that the column’s done, we can enjoy the rest of the day."

The telephone rang.

"Hold on for a second, I just need to answer that."

She went upstairs, and I listened to the ensuing conversation.

"Hello? This is Rebecca Latran speaking."

"That’s right."

"Oh, my God! I’ll be there with him as soon as I can."

She promptly hang up and turned to me.

"Matt, we need to both get to the hospital—fast."

I followed her out to the garage as she continued talking.

"I’m really sorry about how frenzied this morning has been, Matt. I promise that, after this errand I’ll be able to finally spend some quality time with you."

"It’s okay, Mom. But why awe we going to the hospital?"

"A nurse called and told me that another human is being held there, and he just said your name. They want you to come and see if you can help them identify him."

"What do you mean, ‘identify’ him? Can’t he just say who he is?" I asked, unsure if I really wanted the answer.

Rebecca sighed, as if she was just about to reveal some deep, dark secret.

"The human they speak of is comatose—that means he-…"

"I alweady know what it means," I interjected, feeling sick to my stomach. "Go on."

"Anyway, they found him sprawled out in a field not too far from the hospital where you were taken to. Still, they didn’t explain how he said your name in a coma, and they were awfully vague about the rest of the details."

For the rest of the car ride, I had a hideous dread about who "the human" was.

As we walked through the familiar hallways of the hospital, I realized how much more intimidating the building seemed, and I felt my paw instinctively gripping Rebecca’s as we rounded a corner.

We came across an indiscriminate door marked, "Room 401."

"This is the room where they said that the patient was being held in," Rebecca said, knocking on the door.

There was a suspenseful pause, and I heard a voice say, "Come in."

I walked in, and stopped dead in my tracks. There, lying motionless on the bed, was Michael Peterson, my lifelong friend. I slowly approached the bed, wondering if this was all just a terrifying nightmare.

But I as I ran my paw against his cold, lifeless flesh, I was reminded once again that I was now in a world where nearly anything could happen.

"Recognize him?" I heard someone call, completely oblivious to my grief.

"Yeah. That’s Michael James Petewson." I said blankly.

"Friend of yours?"

"That’s wight."

There was a long pause. I wasn’t even looking at whoever was talking to me, but I knew that the enormity of what had just happened was finally reaching them.

"I’m sorry, son. He passed away only a few moments ago."

I didn’t bother to respond. I was wondering whether it was worse to be uncertain about my friend’s fate, like the previous night, or to know for sure that he was dead.

Turning towards Rebecca, I headed for the door.

"You don’t have to leave so fast—you can spend all the time you need with him, you know," the voice called.

"I’m fine. Let’s leave, mommy."

She silently led me to the car, and buckled me in without further comment. But I could tell by her facial expression that she understood and sympathized with every pang of misery I felt about the loss.

My mind sorted through the events of the day as we drove back home. A dream about a sinister figure bent on destruction and death, and a tragic, mysterious death of a friend that not even medical experts could explain.

Things had turned out to be much more complicated than I thought about Xenia.

But as I looked over at Rebecca, I felt a surge of hope. It was distant among my mental torments, but it was still there.

I knew that, no matter what, someone would love me through my darkest of hours, and most grim of days. I knew that she would always be there for me.

No matter what.

Rebecca tried to console me when we got home, but it was no use. It simply was too hard for me to fully accept the fact that Michael was gone. Later on, I was lying on the couch, staring blankly up at the ceiling, when one word entered my head: Reaper.

My spine felt like someone had dumped liquid nitrogen on it. I couldn’t help but wonder: Could Michael’s death have been an act of revenge from The Reaper? My fear became mixed with guilt as I blamed myself for choosing to stay on Xenia, and possibly sealing Michael’s fate by doing so. I condemned myself as a self-interested traitor, a foolish murderer, and a—

Pow. I heard that lightbulb-bursting noise, and I lost consciousness once again.

I regained my sense, only to find myself in a place where they didn’t seem to have much use. I was in a pure white space, and I could see that there was no floor, nor ceiling, nor walls.

"Geez, what is it with this wowld and me getting knocked out?" I grumbled, rubbing my eyes.

"I had no choice. You see, the only way we deities can communicate with mortals is through visions," I heard an unfamiliar voice behind me say.

"Wha?" I whirled around, and saw a beautiful woman, wearing what looked like the opposite of The Reaper’s attire: A pure white robe that seemed to almost perfectly blend in with the empty space.

"My apologies: I didn’t mean to startle you. I am The Weaver."

I stared at her in wonder for a few seconds before speaking up again.

"The Weapew told me about you. He said that he…"

"Yes, I know. He’s been planning that since the beginning of time. Don’t listen to his twisted words: The only thing he loves in the universe is gaining even more power than he already has. Speaking of which, I should probably explain the history of the two worlds to you, as I can tell that you have been very confused about what has come to pass in the last few days."

"Please do so."

"Billions of years ago, The Reaper and I came into existence. Even to this day, I do not know what was before us. But I do know that I can recall the events of that first day as clearly as yesterday; there was nothingness surrounding us, so we decided to fill the void with something other than ourselves. Thus, we cooperated in creating a world. We worked for years straight, yet we never grew tired of the labor, for we are immortal. At last, we had finished the world, and we dwelled in it for a long time afterward. Eventually, we found that the world needed improvement: There were no living things in it other than ourselves. So we got to work once again, and we started out by creating very simple and primitive beings. As we refined our skills, the creatures became more and more complex. Before long, we had set up a complex ecosystem of predators and prey; of carnivores and herbivores.

One day, we completed the first sentient being. We taught it the history of our world, and that we created. We also taught it how to use our powers. It learned far faster than we expected.

Before we knew it, the creature was beginning to loathe our authority over it, and then, it tried to attack us. The Reaper, without giving it any further chances, killed it. It was the first time I saw something die, and I hated death ever since. But The Reaper seemed to take some sort of sadistic pleasure out of the killing, and we found ourselves often embroiled in fierce arguments over our opposing views.

After months of bickering, we eventually settled that we’d continue to make intelligent life, but with limits on their lifespans. Then, we found ourselves in yet another conflict, this time over what the dominant species should look like. I advocated making them in the image of the life we had already created, but The Reaper wanted them in his own image.

So, eventually we settled on the compromise of splitting into two different worlds. The Reaper made his own, and called it, ‘Earth,’ and I made my own, Xenia. We never spoke to each other directly since then, but tensions have still been rising. A few decades ago, I noticed that a large portion of your world’s population seemed to be immensely unhappy with their lives in general. The Reaper doesn’t wish to aid the inhabitants of his world, rather, he wishes to simply cause them great misery and pain. It seems that he has lost his power of direct murder, and instead uses his influence to pressure humans into doing his bidding."

I thought about the history of Earth: Wars, massacres, famines, homicides, oppressive governments, and more wars. Earth wasn’t Hell, but it wasn’t a good place to be around if you merely happened to live at the wrong time and wrong place.

"So, I decided to offer them a second chance on Xenia. The Reaper, of course, was outraged when I started doing this. He loved to see as many people as possible suffer, and he couldn’t bear the thought of them being taken away from his own world, and it was—and still continues to be--out of his power to take you and the others back."

"So why did he twy to make me go back to Eawth?" I blurted out, puzzled.

"We gods cannot control the decisions of mortals. We can, however, try to influence you with other methods. For instance, the reason why you felt like you were being controlled in the old man’s shop was because I was subliminally beckoning you to Xenia. Thus, The Reaper tried to beckon you to Earth, since he couldn’t forcibly bring you back."

"Okay, now I get it," I lied, knowing that I hadn’t even remotely absorbed what she had just said. But one does not ask a deity to repeat itself.

She must have noticed, because I noticed a soft smile forming on her face.

"The other reason why The Reaper was so frustrated with the loss of his would-be victims, however, was that all the new arrivals to Xenia obviously knew of the existence of both Earth and Xenia. He treats that fact like a dark secret; he knows that if the two races discovered each other, the humans would grow unruly and rebel against him. So, does everything he can to make sure that both populations are kept ignorant, including even manipulating the Xenian government to keep the entire thing a secret."

"So why can’t you just appear to them and tell them the truth?"

"It wouldn’t be any use. The Reaper has enough influence over them to convince them that the Sun doesn’t exist. But, however, if they are faced with true, physical evidence, there will be no denying of the existence of the human race.

Thus, over the years, I’ve been forming a plan to reunite Earth with Xenia, as doing so will free the people of Earth from the Reaper. I cannot do it myself: as I stated before, it is not possible for me to make direct, physical interaction, so I must find someone to do it for me. I thought I’d never find the right person to do it, but then, recently…"

"ME!?" I gasped. "I’m only two yeaws old!"

She chuckled. "No, not you, of course. You belong with Rebecca; I have looked into her heart, and she will love you and take proper care of you for the rest of her days. You are in good hands.

I will leave the identity of who it is that I have chosen for the reunification of Earth and Xenia a secret for the moment, but I can assure you that you will be overjoyed when you find out."

"Um, okay…" I murmured, pondering what she had just said.

The Weaver and the whiteness surrounding her were beginning to grow blurry. I knew that I would wake up soon.

"Wait," I called. "I still have one last question!"

"What is it?"

"What was with that ‘plot device’ stuff?"

"I was just having fun, okay?"

The white void was replaced by the ceiling of my room.

I was awake again, which was especially puzzling, seeing as how I was dead. I also noticed that I could now detect the presence of—and control—my limbs. But as I experimentally moved my left arm around, I noticed that it kept bumping into a wall. I felt around myself, and discovered that I seemed to be trapped inside a rectangular compartment.

"What the hell?" I thought, scratching my head.

Suddenly, I felt an insane urge build up inside of me that told me that I was very close to finally being free. I twisted and shouted in hysterical bliss, enjoying every movement my muscles made, all the while pounding the walls and generally creating one hell of a racket.

Abruptly, the ceiling of the prison opening up interrupted me. I cringed; it seemed like years since I had last seen light, and now it hurt to see it.

I slowly crept towards the light, and after a few moments of bumping into walls, I had my upper torso out of the prison. Without even trying to look around, I clumsily flopped out of the compartment.

Crack! I fell out and hit the ground, which I discovered to be a tiled surface, with moderate force. Groaning in pain, I twisted around and looked towards the ceiling.

I stayed like that for a few more seconds, and then I noticed a face peer into my field of vision. The face appeared to be half human, and half animal.

I screamed and got on my feet, trying to run as fast as possible. I would have probably escaped had it not been for the fact that I failed to notice that I was running towards a closed door.

After the pain had subsided, I desperately flung my arms out to protect myself from the monster.

"Get the hell away from me, you freak of nature!” I screamed.

It responded with a long sigh.

"I’m not here to hurt you. I simply happened to be passing by when you jumped out of that drawer and scared the hell out of me."

My breathing slowed as I relaxed a bit. "Drawer?" I asked, puzzled.

"Take a look."

I finally took a moment to look around. The room’s walls were lined with unusually large drawers everywhere. I saw one that had been slid open, undoubtedly from my hasty escape.

I was seriously perplexed about just where the hell I was, and then it hit me: I was in a morgue’s cold chamber.

I came close to screaming again. Just then, a few more creatures arrived, all wearing doctor’s uniforms. They looked surprised for a few seconds, but then regained their composure and all of them tried to ask what I was doing alive at the same time.

I raised my voice above the cacophony, and shouted, "Look, I’m just as clueless as you guys on why I’m alive. But if you could please explain to me why I appear to be in a morgue in an alternate reality, that would be great."

They led me out of the room, down a hall, and into a small conference room. They then proceeded to explain that I had been transported to a different world called Xenia, but I had somehow gone into a coma from doing so, and that I had avoided the Change, a mysterious phenomenon that transformed the bodies of human newcomers to Xenia. They also expressed extreme curiosity about how I managed to recover completely from apparently being dead.

After their jumbled explanation was finished, I paused to absorb the frenzy of information that I had just received. I couldn’t quite grasp it all, but I remembered something far more pressing to me.

"What about Matt?" I asked one of the doctors.

"I’m sure you’d be glad to hear that he’s doing quite well. Do you wish to meet him?"

"Hell, yes."

"We can arrange for you to do so. Of course, we must warn you: He doesn’t exactly look like what you remember him as."

"That doesn’t matter to me," I said, but deep inside, I was concerned.

Shortly after, I was escorted into a black sedan. I sat in the back seat, not bothering to make any conversation with the driver. Eventually, we pulled into the driveway of a modest house. I got out of the car, and slowly paced up the sidewalk. A chill ran down my spine as I began to wonder, "Will I even recognize Matt? Will he even remember me?"

I rang the doorbell. I was immediately answered by approaching footsteps, and I gulped.

The door opened, and I was faced with what appeared to be an adult female coyote. As you’d expect, she looked shocked, as most people normally don’t answer their doors to find bizarre extraterrestrial creatures at their doorstep. But she evidently had seen humans before, as she quickly recovered.

"So…I assume that you’re Michael?"

I nodded slowly. "That’s right. I’m here to see Matt."

"You’ve come to the right place: I’m his adoptive mother, Rebecca Latran. You’re welcome to come in. Here—I’ll call him."

I entered the house, and discovered its interior to be nearly identical to that of a human one.

"Matt?" She called. "There’s someone here to see you."

A small coyote toddler, dressed in a disposable diaper and a shirt, climbed down the stairs and paused to look at me. His face was full of curiosity at first, but a fraction of a second later he looked ecstatic.

"Mikey!" He shouted as he darted up to me and hugged my leg, his bushy tail wagging rapidly. (He was far too short to fully embrace me.)

"Matt?" I asked, wondering how my best friend could’ve become this.

"Yep!" He squeaked, hugging me tighter.

I looked over at Rebecca, wondering what to say.

"I think Matt needs a change," I said, gesturing to the yellow stain on the front of his diaper.

Rebecca glanced at the stain and laughed. "Yeah, I guess he does."

Matt looked slightly embarrassed, but amused at the same time. He had accepted his predicament, even though he technically had it harder than me.

"This’ll probably be the only time in my life where I’ll learn a lesson from a baby coyote," I mused to myself. Perhaps living on Xenia wasn’t so bad after all.

But I had a few more surprises, of both the pleasant and unpleasant kind, in store for me…  

Rebecca casually led Matt upstairs, and I followed. I was surprised at how willingly Matt clung onto her paw; apparently, the two had established a strong emotional bond while I was unconscious.

"Rebecca must be the perfect caretaker for Matt, then," I thought as we entered a room at the top of the stairs.

As Rebecca was helping Matt onto what was unmistakably a changing table, I tried to resume conversation.

"So, Matt, what were you up to while I was gone?"

"Well, it’s a kinda big stowy," he explained as Rebecca began undressing him. I was yet again surprised, as Matt was showing signs of mental regression with his childish demeanor and reduced vocabulary.

I shrugged. "Hey, well I’ve got all the time in the world, seeing as how I don’t have anywhere else to go."

Matt paused as Rebecca untaped his diaper, and I turned to face the wall.

"Well…"

Matt proceeded to recollect his misadventures since he had first arrived in Xenia. Even though he wasn’t a literary genius, (an understandable shortcoming, noting once again that he had regressed both physically and mentally) I found myself captivated by the long string of fantastic happenings that brought Matt to his current situation.

When he was finished, I realized that I had been so fascinated that I hadn’t noticed the passing of time, as it was now mid-afternoon.

Rebecca was sitting unnervingly still, and her expression indicated a strange sort of morbid contemplation.

"Is there a problem, Rebecca?" I asked.

She turned towards me. "In a way, yes. Matt mentioned the Weaver and the Reaper."

"Well, I know that was one of the more confusing parts, but…"

"No, no—What concerns me is that the Weaver and the Reaper are two deities that form a huge part of Xenian religion, and if Matt has been communicating with them, there’s something really important going on. The second thing is," she said, looking over at Matt, "Why didn’t you tell me about these ‘dreams’ earlier?"

Matt seemed to assume the Xenian version of a classical childhood posture of shame, looking miserably down at the floor, shoulders drooping, and tail hanging limply.

"I was afwaid you wouldn’t believe me."

"Matt, listen to me: No matter what, I will not ignore you or dismiss you. Do you understand?"

"Yes, mommy." He said sorrowfully.

"Now, whenever something’s bothering you, I want you to tell me. You are my son, and I don’t want you to be harmed or troubled in any way on my watch—or anyone else’s."

Matt nodded silently.

"That said, I forgive you." Matt brightened up and said, "Thank you, mommy!"

Rebecca took Matt up into her lap and hugged him.

"You’re welcome, you little rascal."

I watched with amusement as Rebecca playfully tickled Matt, causing him to giggle and squirm. I got up and joined in, gently poking at his soft, padded feet. There was something euphoric about the moment, something that couldn’t be captured in images or words, but memory.

After a while of this we eventually settled down, and I elected that we have some lunch while we planned on what to do next. The decision was unanimous in my favor.

While we were munching on some hastily prepared sandwiches, Matt suddenly stopped chewing and stared apprehensively at his PB&J.

"What’s the matter, Matt? Did you get peanut butter stuck on the roof of your mouth?" Rebecca asked.

"No, I just wemembewed something else fwom the dweam. I wemembew that the Weavew said that you’d have to cawwy out some sowt of quest to weunite Eawth with Xenia."

I broke the ensuing stony silence by sighing, "Why do I always end up with the hardest tasks?"

We spent the rest of the day elaborating about what the Weaver exactly had in mind, and trying to prepare for what the future’s events would bear.

Later that evening, I was lying on the couch, unconsciously scritching Matt’s belly while he laid on my stomach. It was so relaxing for both of us that we fell fast asleep in a matter of minutes.

"Mikey, wake up." I felt the gentle tugging sensation of Matt’s fuzzy paws yanking at my sleeve.

"What’s the occasion?" I groaned, still half-asleep.

"I think the Weaver wants to talk to us again," Matt said uncertainly as I got on my feet.

I blinked to adjust my eyes, only to find out that there wasn’t particularly anything in my surroundings that were worth seeing: The place was pure white, with no visible boundaries.

Suddenly, a white-robed woman materialized out of the blue (err, white) a few meters in front of me. "Quite right, Matthew." She turned gracefully towards me. "I am the Weaver, the spirit of life. I have come to instruct you as to how you will free Earth from the Reaper’s clutches once and for all."

"Wait, wait, wait—I’m no all-powerful warrior. The only strength I really have is AP physical science, for God’s sake." I interjected.

"Michael," she said. "From birth until death, no mortal being truly knows itself. You may understand your bodies, minds, and emotions, but no inhabitant of either Earth or Xenia has been able to truly fathom one’s soul. Indeed, after one passes into the next life, they finally understand who they are, but by then it makes no difference.

There was only one time in which I tried to teach a mortal the ways and abilities of their soul, but it failed, for the mortal only tried to my teachings for mortal goals.

This time, however, I know that I must teach you, and only you, the way to know your own spirit for the sake of saving both Xenia and Earth from destruction.

So please, liberate your mind of what you originally ‘knew’ about your strengths and weaknesses, and open it up to something far more important."

I felt a sense of determination and strength building up in me. I was ready to learn.

As if she could read my thoughts, the Weaver smiled gently and said, "Impressive, Michael: You truly are a natural learner. Now, come before me and kneel."

I slowly paced over to her and kneeled. Part of me felt nervous, but I promptly shut it out and relaxed my thoughts. I felt her place her hand on my forehead, and she began chanting something incomprehensible, but beautiful.

For a few seconds, nothing particularly happened, but then I felt my body’s entire interior start to feel warm as her chant became more and more energetic.

The warmth became a fiery sensation, and I almost cried out in pain, but once again I somehow isolated it from myself. The inner fire became what felt like a furnace, and it seemed as if my inner organs would be incinerated.

But I just shut my eyes, gritted my teeth, and reminded myself that I had to learn.

For the sake of Earth.

For the sake of Xenia.

The Weaver’s once-gentle chant sounded like a full-blown scream, and my pain was reaching its climax.

But just when all seemed lost, I felt the determination building up in myself once again. I threw all I had left of my pain threshold at the agony tormenting me from inside, and refused to give in.

The pain finally ceased, and it left absolutely no trace behind.

I opened my eyes in amazement.

"So that was it?" I asked the Weaver.

She shook her head sadly. "I’m afraid to say that was only the first half of the…introduction. You now know the essence of your soul, but you also must know its name. You must brace yourself."

I uncertainly tried to prepare for it, but my anxiety was starting to take hold of me again.

"Deny your instincts!" The Weaver hissed.

My fear was beginning to dominate me so much that it seemed as if it made it’s own rebuttal in my head.

"Ignore her. What do you think you’re fighting for, anyway?" It jeered.

I inadvertently glanced over at Matt, as if expecting him to tell me the answer. He was staring at me with a mixture of awe and concern over what I had just managed to survive. He struck me as being effectively a picture of innocence and youth, and moreover…

Matt hadn’t said a word, yet he had already given me the appropriate answer.

"I’m fighting for life," I said under my breath. Almost immediately, that precious sense of determination returned.

"I’m okay to go." I said calmly, nodding at the Weaver. She closed her eyes in concentration and uttered, "Mantra."

It triggered some sort of sensation that was like no other. I suppose the best way to describe it would be to call it a rapid expansion of my mind into realms not known to mankind, but I think it would suffice to say that it hurt like hell.

Approximately five minutes of debilitating pain later, it was finished. I felt as if I had a second mind, an entirely new power that would enable me to do things once thought impossible.

"Congratulations, Michael," the Weaver said, a smile returning to her face once again. "Now that you have established control over your own spirit, you can use it—just like a normal human uses their body—to accomplish certain tasks. I can’t show you each and every way to use it, but I can assure you that you will know what to do when the time comes.

But, as for your destination, I will be transporting you back to Earth."

Matt perked up, looking pleadingly up at the Weaver.

"Don’t worry, little one—he’ll only be there temporarily," she remarked. Matt instantly looked relieved.

"Anyway, as soon as you leave Rebecca’s house, you’ll be transported to the exact same spot as you were before you warped to Xenia—That is, right next to the Buffalo Wild Wings store."

It was a historic moment—quite possibly the first time ever that a deity mentioned the name of a popular restaurant chain.

"To complete the quest, you must take a Xenian stone and touch Earth’s soil with it."

"Umm, okay. I just thought that it would be a bit more complicated than that." I said.

Her expression turned grim. "Actually, it is. The Reaper can have humans at his influence in a matter of seconds. He can conjure up illusions, and deceive even the most noble and wise of men into following selfish desires. Expect resistance, and remember: No matter what, do not let yourself be distracted."

"Consider it done, then."

The white mist that surrounded us seemed to creep closer, obscuring my vision.

"Farewell, misfits. I grant you godspeed on your journey, Michael."

As she faded into the mist, I stared thoughtfully off into space, the word misfits echoing in my expanded mind.

"Sounds…familiar," I murmured as the dream finally faded away.

It was early morning, perhaps 7:00 AM, when I woke up. I had a sense of urgency flowing through my veins, and I knew for certain that this was the day. And Matt definitely knew that, too; he hastily scrambled off of my stomach in an effort to let me get off the couch. We approached Rebecca and told her about what had just happened.

She had a strange, but wonderful look in her eyes of concern. I knew that even though I had only met her a day ago, she already had developed a trust in me.

"Stay safe, Michael. We’re all counting on you," she said softly.

"I won’t let you guys down," I promised, but deep inside, I was uncertain. "But," I thought, "What would be the point of an adventure if there was no uncertainty?"

I scooped Matt up with one arm and embraced both of the Xenians simultaneously. They both returned the favor.

***

Just as I was about to head out the door, Rebecca said, "Wait!" and dashed up the stairs. A few seconds later, she returned with something in her paws. "You said that you’d need a Xenian stone to bring to Earth."

She handed me the object, and indeed, it was a stone. It was of roughly and ovaloid shape, and a bright, nearly glowing blue color. Yellow, lightning-bolt-like lines wove around its exterior. It was beautiful.

"Where did you get this?" I asked, marveling at it.

"It’s something my family has passed down to each new generation."

"Wait, wait," I interjected. "Thanks, but this is far too valuable for me to bring along to Earth. All I need is just a rock."

She paused. "Nothing is too valuable for this day, Michael."

I realized that she was right. "Very well, then. I guess I’m ready," I sighed, and accepted the stone.

Matt looked up at me with tears in his eyes. "Don’t go, Mikey," he said, his voice similar to that of a puppy’s whimper.

I paused, looking sadly back at him. I thought about how Matt had changed so drastically since we had left Earth, not in just physical appearance, but personality as well. I realized that Matt was no longer just a close friend, he had practically become my little brother.

I gave him a playful, light noogie on his headfur. "Don’t worry, little guy," I said earnestly. "I’ll be back."

With that, I took a deep breath, and stepped out the door.

I was in a whirling tunnel, a whirlpool that lead into another world, a vortex to another dimension, a cyclone transporting me to another planet. If you could imagine looking down the inside of a tornado that had just sucked up a laser show, you’d have a good idea of what it looked like. It made select scenes from Stargate and Contact look like kiddie coasters.

A few minutes of nauseating twisting and spinning later, it all went dark.

The Weaver had been right: I did come to my senses right where I had been whisked off, right next to Buffalo Wild Wings. But then, I remembered something else that she had said: Expect resistance.

I braced myself for a zombie-like horde of people lurking towards me, bent on tearing me limb from limb. But instead, all I saw were my two parents, who had rounded the corner just a few seconds after my arrival. But another person followed them, and it was…

Matt. Not in his vastly different anthropomorphic form, but human. They stared in shock at me.

"Michael!" My mother said, running up and hugging me. "There you are!"

"Thank God you’re okay, man," Matt said, casual as always.

My father regained his composure and said, "We’ve been worried sick about you! Where were you!?"

I was about to say "Xenia," but then I realized that they’d think I’d gone nuts. Besides, it was a moment not to be tainted; my parents seemed to be showing a kind of concern I’d never seen from them in my entire lifetime.

The entire experience I had on Xenia was beginning to fade from my mind. "Perhaps it never happened, after all, Matt’s still here," I said to myself. "It was far too good to be true. Maybe I was just daydreaming about the entire thing, or maybe I had a concussion and had a vivid dream while unconscious.

I guess it all was because I just felt lonely and wanted to escape from reality."

I was no longer a misfit.

I had finally found where I belonged.

THE END….No, wait a minute!

Just when I thought I couldn’t be happier, immersed in care and concern from my friends, I noticed something that something was wrong.

Something was in my pocket. I pulled out the offending object, and realized that it was Rebecca’s stone!

My parents and Matt seemed equally shocked. But their surprise was different: They seemed filled with horror.

I now had a pretty firm hunch about what was really going on. But I had to make sure…

"Hey guys, what’s the problem?" I asked.

"Michael, give us that…thing!" My mother gasped.

"Why?" I said. "It’s just a rock."

"It-it could be could be dangerous!"

I smirked. "A toxic rock? Mom, we had a geology unit in physical science class. I never came across a volatile mineral that looked remotely like this thing."

"MICHAEL, JUST PUT OBEY YOUR MOTHER AND PUT THE GODDAMN ROCK DOWN!" My father roared.

"No."

All three of them lunged at me, trying to wrestle the rock out of my hands. Indeed, there was no doubt about it now.

"Let’s see how this ‘soul power’ works, then," I thought bitterly to myself, and let the other, more powerful side of myself take over.

Time seemed to slow down to a crawl. Without even thinking about it, I reflexively dodged to the side and roundhouse-kicked my father in the head—while he was still in the air, instantly knocking him out cold. It was just like something out of The Matrix, except a lot less glamorous. My mind flared with rage and disgust at the Reaper, who I now knew to be so hideously evil that he’d feign compassion just for his own ends.

But I didn’t relent, after all, I had no other choice. My "mother" and "Matt" had missed at their attempt to tackle me, and they had gotten back on their feet again.

This time, however, I was on the offensive. I dashed up to Matt at a speed that would have shocked an Olympic runner, and performed a flying sidekick. The tremendous impact blew him off his feet, and he crashed into a brick wall behind him with a nasty smack. He slumped over, motionless.

My mother made a horrible banshee-like howl and frantically clawed at me with her fingernails.

I somehow slowed time down again. I waited until her hands had moved out of the way to swipe at me again, and made my move. Stepping around her legs, I squarely kicked her in the back of the knee, causing her to fall over. But she wasn’t finished: Even though she was lying down on the ground, she still kicked, clawed, and bit, but to no avail. I K.O’ed her with a swift axe-kick to the head, and let time resume its normal course.

I surveyed the unconscious bodies of my parents and my friend. They seemed to be fading away, replaced by entirely different bodies. Where my mother had been lying, there was some completely unfamiliar lady, who didn’t even remotely resemble my mother. My father had been replaced by a random guy, apparently in his early 20’s, wearing a leather jacket and jeans. In Matt’s place was some kid that I knew from my gym class.

I instantly knew what had happened: The Reaper had gained control of several unfortunate pedestrians, and cloaked them in the image of my family and my friend to create the entire illusion. I felt a strong pang of remorse for the passerby’s. They had been simply going about their day, yet they had become pawns of the Reaper’s evil plans.

Still, I knew that there wasn’t enough time for deep thoughts and regret, as the Reaper was undoubtedly going to continue trying to stop me. I ran over to a nearby patch of grass, and touched it with Rebecca’s stone.

Immediately, I could detect that something was happening. Everything seemed calm, but it was that same kind of calm that one experiences right before a storm. Everyone else noticed it, too: People were coming out of their homes and businesses all around me, all gazing around in amazement and wonder. I knew that it was probably the same way everywhere on the globe, as well as in Xenia. A lone bird in a nearby tree stopped chirping. The sounds of nature ceased as all life knew that the moment, the moment that we all anticipated for thousands of years, had come. We knew that something was about to happen, but no one knew exactly what. But in spite of all the uncertainty, they were not afraid.

The moment seemed to last for hours, although I knew that it was probably only a few minutes. Then, the metaphorical "storm" began. Everything seemed to be illuminated with pure white light, but I never got to see the entire storm.

I was whisked off once again.

***

The world dissolved and materialized again, and I found myself in a place I had never seen before, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out that I was in the Reaper’s lair, or at least a vision of it. I was in a small rocky canyon, with jagged red rocks that echoed with faint, distant cries of pain and sorrow. The sky was in a perpetual blood-red twilight, mimicking the hues of the canyon. At the opposite end of the canyon, about 20 meters away, was an obsidian throne. The Reaper sat there silently, his eyes narrowed with pure hatred.

I slowly paced