“Girl, just type out your phone password on the computer,” Gwen giggles from her spot on the couch next to me. I’m trying to use one of my paw pads (not toe beans, thank you very much Gwen) to type in my phone’s password with very little success, and my hubris demands I not give in to Gwen’s suggestion. This is my phone. Who cares if Gwen had to bring it out for me and sometimes has to hold it still? Who cares if I can’t unlock it with my thumbprint anymore, both because I no longer have fingerprints and because I no longer have opposable freaking thumbs.
I shoot her a clipped hiss, she giggles harder, and I keep trying. Unlocking my phone… it feels like something I have to do. If I can do it, then I won’t have lost the ability to do most things I could have when I was… when I was human. Even if it’s a struggle, if I can operate it, I can learn to operate it better. And if I can use a phone as a cat, then I can definitely learn to do other things.
The issue is that my paws are not made for typing, and half the time the screen doesn’t even register having been touched.
Five minutes (and more than a few hissing fits) later, it’s unlocked.
Gwen, ever the helpful best friend, says, “Want me to remove your passcode?”
I’d had to make my phone show me the characters as I’d typed in my password, which is a mix of numbers and letters. That, combined with my abysmally slow typing speed, meant that Gwen now knew my password and could, mercifully, remove it. I give her a mrow of approval and repeatedly lift my front paws up and down impatiently, kneading the sofa as she removes it and then places it back in front of me again.
Getting her to understand I had wanted my phone was easy enough. All I had had to do was run into my room, hop up on my bed, and place a paw on my phone where it was still charging on the nightstand while meowing incessantly.
Now… the messaging app. Opening it is simple, as is navigating to my texts with Tav. I could force myself to try typing again, but I’d rather not hit send by accident halfway through writing her a text. There’s one unread message, and a bunch more shit in my notifications bar that I ignore. I focus on the unread message, because it’s from Tav. Sent an hour ago, it says: still up for gaming tn?
Gaming is basically just code for drinking and trying to play a couch co-op together, and then retreating into her bedroom after we’re both drunk enough. I’m not sure why we always drink, and I’ve suggested playing sober a few times, but Tav didn’t seem to appreciate the idea. Besides, it was always her supplying the alcohol, and she was good in bed, and I got the sense that forcing the issue wouldn’t lead anywhere good.
I let out a depressed mew and look to Gwen with pleading eyes, trying to send her my brain signals.
“What, you want me to text your girlfriend?”
She’s not my girlfriend! And I can’t even say that! And Gwen knows this! Fucker.
Cheeky, but still a fucker.
I roll my eyes and nudge the phone towards Gwen with my nose, meowing at her until she picks it up.
“Okay, geez, I’ll text her. What do you want me to say?” she asks, smiling at me reassuringly.
I blink at her.
“Oh, right,” she snorts. “Um, I can cancel for you?”
Oops.
I am now realizing I never thought this far ahead. I have no idea what I want to say to Tav. She’s just… she’s so cool. Canceling feels lame when you’re doing it to a pretty goth girl that you’re scared of scaring away with feelings. I guess it isn’t like we could do anything now because of the whole cat thing, but I… I like this girl.
Huh. Wait a sec.
That’s… weird—I’m… not really thinking about Tav in that way right now. The reason it’s weird is because I usually am. She’s really good in bed and really cute. Come to think of it, I haven’t really thought of her or anyone in a sexual way for the entire day. Sure, I was preoccupied with an unexpected species change, but my brain (oh gosh my brain is different but I’m still me I think okay no stop thinking about it) is usually so hopeless that the Thoughts pop up out of nowhere, regardless of what I’m doing. Honestly, thinking about sex is a little gross right now. Even the thought of kissing someone—as a human—isn’t appealing. I… I don’t want that kind of intimacy right now. I… just want cuddles and head scratches and to be pet.
…
…
…
Okay, did becoming a cat turn me ace?! Did becoming a cat kick me out of the lesbian club?!
What the fuck!
“Alice?” Gwen prompts curiously, stroking the side of my head gently, and I realize I’ve been quiet for way too long. “Are you wanting to cancel?”
Am I? I can’t exactly go to her dorm on my own, but Gwen could give me a ride… and… and then what? Have Gwen explain that Alice is gone, but not really, and yes, she’s a cat now, don’t worry about it, we recommend getting high to cope with it?
I… wish I could just be human again and go hang out with her, even if it would be platonic. She usually has a lot to say before getting wasted, and most of it is actually interesting to me, though that’s likely because she gets so animated when she talks about her interests and it’s just nice to see her being herself and full of joy. She’s studying computer science, and I once listened to her rant, angrily, about the boys in her class for five whole minutes with a stupid gay smile on my face before she trailed off and suggested more vodka.
Ugh, why can’t I just be human again?
I guess I haven’t really tried to turn back into one other than when I fell asleep earlier, and even then, it wasn’t an intentional nap or something I gave much thought to. I’d only barely been thinking about whether or not sleeping again would change me back, never actually bringing it into conscious thought because I was too scared to think about what would happen if it didn’t, or… or… or something! Shit, I’m gonna spiral.
I stand from where I’d been lying on the couch, and arch my back to stretch, flexing my claws and resisting the urge to sink them into the fabric of the sofa. After I’m done stretching, I walk closer to Gwen and rest my head on her lap, immensely grateful for the head scratches when they come. Thanks, Gwen. I love you. You’re the best.
I’m purring again, but I try to tune it and everything else out and focus on being human again. That’s the only thing I can think of that might work. I doubt it will, because it’s the kind of shit that happens to superheroes and other fictional characters with powers of some sort, especially changelings, but it’s all I’ve got. They usually just focus on something inside themselves, or will a change into existence in some other way.
Maybe I can too.
As I try to focus on “being human” or whatever the shit it is that I’m doing, my brain keeps swamping me with information and questions I do not want to think about. Questions such as:
How am I still me if my brain is cat-sized now?
Why didn’t I try to do this sooner?
Why did I get high instead of acknowledging this?
What if I can’t turn back?
What if Gwen stops taking care of me?
What if I end up on the streets?
Stop thinking, Alice. Just. Stop. Thinking. You’re purring, you’re safe. Gwen is with you. You love each other and take care of each other. You are content, you are safe, you are enough, you are safe, everything is okay, you’re not in any danger, no one can hurt you, you have food, you have warmth, you have love, you—
Poof.
“ALICE?!?!” Gwen screams, and I get a knee to the schnoz as she jumps up off the couch.
Wait! I get a knee to the schnoz! My human schnoz, my freaking nose! IT’S BACK! I’M BACK! Holy shitballs, I’m ME again!!! “YES!” I cry out, coughing and gagging out a freaking hairball. It lands on the floor with a wet splat, but I don’t care! I’m ME!!!
“Alice?!” Gwen repeats incredulously from where she landed on the floor. “Holy shit! You’re back!!! And naked!” she laughs, running over to tackle me backwards onto the couch, instantly enveloping me in a crushing hug. I don’t even care about being naked—it’s nothing she hasn’t seen before, and my modesty means nothing compared to having thumbs again. Oh, my sweet babies, how I missed you so!
Eventually, Gwen lets up a little on the hug and is now basically straddling me, staring down at me with tears in her eyes and a dumb, happy little smile on her face. She’s cute, but we tried it once and it ended up being silly and weird. I’m glad we’re still friends, I’m glad she’s here, and I’m… glad I’m… human again.
Yeah. Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?
“Can I get dressed?” I try to giggle, but it comes out as more of a chuckle, deep and wrong and not what my voice should be, but it’s fine, I’m human again, I can deal with it. My voice training will fix it all up eventually.
“Yeah, yeah, ‘course!” Gwen says, and she gets off of me. When she stands, however, she shrieks, and I stifle a laugh as she gags at the sight of my hairball stuck to the bottom of her foot. “Alice, what the fuck,” she deadpans.
I can’t hold it back anymore and bust out laughing, free and shamelessly nude and feeling just pure fucking joy as I take in the sight of her hopping around on one foot. “Here, here,” I snicker, and pluck the hairball off her foot. I feel like I should find it gross, but it isn’t, it’s just hair and spit and bile. “I’m gonna toss this and put some clothes on and then… shit, should I still hang with Tav tonight?” I hum, mostly to myself.
“Just—hrrk—get rid of your damn hairball, you freak,” Gwen grumbles, still hopping on one foot and “walking” toward the bathroom to, I assume, wash off my hairball’s residue. I don't really like her calling me a freak, but I know she doesn't mean anything by it. I'll bring it up if she says it again.
“Whatever!” I laugh joyously, and a while later Gwen and I are both back on the couch, cuddled together while I debate over what to text Tav. I’m wearing the same clothes I’d been wearing to bed the night before, green plaid lounge pants and a black Def Leppard crop top that’s meant to show off my chest, but estrogen hasn’t really given me too much in that department.
“Just go,” Gwen suggests after a while spent in silence. She doesn’t sound like she means it. “You could use her, ah, specialities after the day you’ve had.”
I punch her in the shoulder playfully, and snuggle closer before shaking my head. “I don’t really want to, I don’t think. Just…” What do I say? That my sexuality got tampered with? “…not feeling up to it tonight. I could still go game, though. D’you think she’d be okay with that?”
Gwen shrugs, which is fair, because she knows Tav even less than I do. I think, at this point, I’m probably just looking for an excuse to go over and get drunk, even if I maybe shouldn’t after the night Gwen and I had yesterday, as well as our morning today. But, if ever I was going to have an excuse to drink, and a good one, I think turning into a cat probably qualifies.
“I think maybe we should talk about you being human again?” Gwen asks hesitantly. “Like… I know avoidance is your best friend, but this is kind of important? Also, you feel really warm to me right now, like you’re maybe sick or something.”
I sigh, and wrap my arms around her bicep. “I feel fine, promise. Physically, anyway. And… you’re probably right, but I just… what is there to even confront? Am I going to wake up as a cat again? I know how to turn back now, I think, and all it takes is me feeling safe.” I wanted to add that it was easy, but the words wouldn’t come out for some reason. “I just kind of want to forget today.” With alcohol. Lots of alcohol. I wish I wanted sex, because it’s easy to shut my brain off during that, but I still don’t. Maybe that’ll change after a good night’s sleep? “And if I hang with Tav, that’ll be easy.” Easy to forget that I didn’t dislike everything about being a cat for a day. Easy to avoid thinking about that and what it might mean for me. It’s probably normal, though. I’m sure lots of people wish they didn’t have to deal with the world for a day.
“I won’t stop you,” Gwen sighs, “but getting drunk and blurring all your real thoughts with fantasies of your pretty goth girlfriend won’t help you deal with today or all of your other shit.”
I don’t bother telling her I’m not having any fantasies about Tav, and that I haven’t since this morning.
“I know. But I don’t know what else to do,” I say, standing and grabbing my phone. I shoot Tav a text: omw.
Turning to Gwen, I bend down, hug her, and say, softly, “Thanks for today. I don’t know what I would have done without you. It means a lot. I’m… sorry. I just… I gotta go not think anymore, okay?” I pause before letting go of the hug. “D’you wanna come? I could ask her. Or I could stay here. You took care of me all day and I’d rather skip out on Tav than have you feeling bad.”
She snorts. “No, I’m fine,” she says, and I think she means it, at least mostly. “If you’re out tonight, I can Tinder someone and fuck the Cody away.”
I debate telling her that that doesn’t sound like the healthiest thing in the world, but I’d be a hypocrite if I did, so I don’t.
I nod, and squeeze her a little tighter.
She sighs again, but acquiesces and eventually lets me go. She has a look on her face that I can’t really figure out, but I trust her if she says she’s okay. We don’t lie to each other like that. Ever.
…shit, I totally need to tell her all about how the cat thing has left me feeling. Shit shit shit.
I can do it tomorrow, though. Yeah. Tomorrow.
I tell her I’ll be back in the morning, pack a few things into my oversized purse, grab my keys, and head out to go see Tav. She’s in the same building as us, which is really nice. The weather has been getting colder now that it’s October, and I wouldn’t be able to walk around outside in slides, lounge pants, and a crop top for long without freezing my ass off.
I take an elevator up to the third floor of the dormitory, scowl at the harsh white lighting and beige walls and ugly brown carpet, turn right, and then I’m knocking on Tav’s door.
Let’s do this.