FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

(Content Note: the sexual content in this story is primarily F/F, with fairly brief scenes of M/F and M/M. It is tagged with all to be on the safe side for those who filter content.)

It's late afternoon on a warm spring day in Los Angeles, heading toward sunset as I walk home from work. I'm one of the only ones who does, judging by the mostly empty sidewalk and the cars zipping by beside me on the expansive avenue. Up ahead, there's a crosswalk to the other side of the street, but even if someone was waiting I doubted that the incessant traffic would stop to let them by.

I continue walking, my hi-tops thudding relentlessly on the pavement. My feet are tired from a full day of standing upright at an "ergonomic" desk, but at least the pay I get is decent, and after years of college and struggle it feels good to finally be independent. Of course, that decent pay doesn't quite stretch to a car - yet - but I'm fortunate enough to be able to walk through a reasonably safe neighborhood on the short hike between home and work.

Up ahead is the one major intersection I usually cross, complete with crossing gates for a seemingly unused section of rail. My route goes straight across, but once I head through the crosswalk, I see a group of high-schoolers queued up on the corner to cross the other way, chatting amongst themselves and seeming relatively well-behaved. The clothes they are wearing seem to be some sort of school uniform, and one of the kids, an african-american with a buzz cut, looks especially sharp, almost as though he'd just been on a job interview or something.

The light changes, and the kids cross over and start walking along down a different side street. It takes me a moment and several blocks to realize, but I've apparently been absent-mindedly following along behind them, and I'm now on a completely different path than the one I usually take.

I stop for a moment, trying to work out in my mind how to adjust my route back to where I'm supposed to be headed, when I look ahead to see a crosswalk in the middle of yet another busy street. Somehow, though, there's a lull in the traffic, and I notice a handful of girls, looking not all that dissimilar to the group I was following, crossing the street while talking animatedly to each other. At the same time, though, as I watch them, I get the odd feeling that something about them isn't quite right. When I look at them straight on, they seem just like a normal group of girls, but when I squint at them out of the corner of my eye, something looks... different. What it is, I can't quite wrap my mind around, but it's almost like their outlines somehow look more diffuse, in some way not quite the right shape.

I look around, glancing at the stuccoed buildings and parking lots with wrought-iron gates, my scuffed hi-tops, my on pale, freckled arms, the group of schoolkids that has seamlessly merged together into practically a herd and now looks normal at any angle. I shake my head, trying to clear whatever strange feelings are lurking there. Maybe it's just eyestrain, I think. Too much work, not enough time to relax. When I get home, I know that the only effort I'll make will be to nuke up something from the freezer, and then crash out on my couch. Maybe play some video games if I can muster up some energy.

I walk on, but for some reason I'm still following the herd of kids, even as some spin off here and there to go into the various apartment blocks we're wandering past. I pause again, trying to figure out where I am and how to get back on track, but every time I do my mind seems to go off on some other tangent, about work, or plans for the weekend, or how I could use a vacation, and every time I snap back alert from it, I find that I've begun walking again and have followed the trail of kids somewhere else.

I finally look up, only to watch the kid in front of me, a girl with blonde hair and a school uniform with a knee-length tartan-pattern skirt and pressed white dress shirt, punch something into a keypad, and the gate next to it buzzes as the latch unlocks. She wanders past it and toward an apartment building done up in pink stucco, but the gate closes and locks with a metallic click as I step up to it. I look at it blankly, still wondering why the hell I'm standing here in the first place, my hand absentmindedly punching a code into the keypad as I try to figure out why I'm so spaced-out today. Surprisingly, instead of complaining, the gate buzzes again as it unlocks and lets me in. That, certainly, is a puzzle, as I'm sure I've never been to this apartment block before. Had I somehow unconsciously been looking as the girl punched in the code, and then just as unconsciously punched it in myself? I can't really figure it out, but thats to be the most logical explanation. Logical or not, though, for some reason I'm here... and I realize, oddly enough, it somehow feels like I'm supposed to be here. At any rate, the situation is intriguing enough that despite my hesitation, I enter through the gate and walk over to the building lobby, even as I wonder whether a security guard is going to run up and stop me at any moment. No one appears, though, and the door to the lobby swings open without any protest.

The lobby itself is a little dingy, with faded, outdated wallpaper and an empty main desk. The elevator in the corner at the far end of the lobby, though, is standing open, and the girl from before stands just inside it, looking at me expectantly.

I stride across the lobby and into the small elevator, looking around for the panel of buttons. There isn't one; instead, along the back wall, is a large grid of numbers, each with a corresponding keyhole, apparently some sort of additional security measure. The girl turns and inserts her own key into the hole underneath the number 28, and gestures for me to do the same. I fish into my pocket, but by the time my mind comes to the conclusion that I couldn't possibly have anything that could fit, my hand is already fidgeting with a small, silver key, the end of which looks almost like the club suit in a deck of cards. The metal is flat and blank, without any engraving or markings on it whatsoever. I stare at the grid of numbers, having no idea which one it could possibly fit into, while the girl next to me taps her foot impatiently. For a moment, I consider just walking out and giving up on the whole bizarre mystery of it all, but even as I shift my body to take a step backwards, I have the sudden recollection that the key is for #33. Where the recollection came from, I have no idea at all - this entire thing doesn't make any sense. Still, I can't help but reach up and try the key in the lock under the large painted 33. The key goes in effortlessly, and the lock turns easily to the right as the tumblers correctly engage.

The door to the elevator shuts, and the car begins to ascend, stopping at the next floor to let the girl off before continuing. There's a small glass window in the side, and I watch as the elevator goes up, taking in the rectangular set of apartments built around a nicely manicured courtyard, with foliage and pathways more reminiscent of a city park than an apartment complex. Strangely enough for L.A., though, I don't see a pool, and the walkways encircling the apartments are open-air, with only a small recessed alcove in front of each door.

The elevator dings, but the doors remain shut. It isn't until the panel buzzes a moment later that I realize the key is still in it - I retrieve it, and the doors slide open. I walk onto the balcony-like hallway, noticing that the sun is almost all the way below the building's roofline amidst a orange and magenta-hued sunset. Around me, I notice lights are already on in some of the windows, and as I walk by, I glance in along the few whose blinds aren't drawn. For the most part, they seem normal, but I get a similarly odd feeling when I only glance at them out of the corner of my eye. Something odd, nebulous, not quite right, but I can't quite put my finger on what it is.

I walk along, blinking my eyes and shaking my head, trying to figure out if the odd feeling is actually inside me, or inside the apartments. As I walk along, I notice the numbers counting down: 36, 35, 34...

I almost reach #33, and almost walk right by the window in front of it, but even in the periphery of my vision something catches my eye. Something not odd, but familiar, too familiar... I turn towards the window, looking in, and what I see makes my breath catch in my throat.

Inside, sitting on a couch and apparently watching television, are my parents. The only thing is, they can't be my parents. The man still has a full head of dark brown hair, and the woman has long, supple blond hair that spills past her shoulders. Neither of them have the burgeoning wrinkles and adjustments that come from a half-century of living. And yet... in every other way, their faces are the spitting image of my parents.

I look on, and somehow they don't notice me, or don't react if they do. As I watch, though, my suspicions are confirmed more and more. Their faces look exactly the way my parents did, in their wedding photos, and all of their mannerisms are spot on: the way my mom tosses her hair, the way my dad fidgets with his wrist as though he's manipulating a watch that isn't there. Someone walks by in the background, and I can almost swear the silhouette is that of my brother. But that's impossible - my brother doesn't just reside in another state, but in another country, and my parents live in downtown Seattle and don't have a hair between them that isn't white or grey. Whatever this is, it's insane. And yet, there they are, right in front of my eyes, seemingly undeniable proof.

I pause, taking off my glasses to paw at my eyes. Maybe I'm just making a mistake... but I put my glasses back on and they're still right there, still my parents, still impossible. I pinch my arm, and it hurts. I punch it, in the same spot, and it hurts more. This can't be a dream, right? I mean, dreams can be strange, but... but no. There's no way I could have dreamt the intricate minutiae of my workday before. I know dreams, and the one thing they can't do is maintain resolutely linear - at some point, they skip around, or morph, or change, or do something to mess with the perspective. Given how linear, and mind-numbingly boring the last several hours have been, I can't see how it could be a dream. So, what the hell is going on? Am I so tired that I'm having some sort of waking hallucination? I mean, my job can be stressful, but am I... am I losing it? I put my hand against the wall, and it's not an illusion. I reach over, and I can clearly feel the cold metal and the texture of the paint on the balcony railing. I can smell the spring air, tinged with the unavoidable hint of smog, and I can hear something chirping from the plaza down below. Nothing else seems strange, and everything feels clear, vivid, and not distorted at all. As far as I can tell, this is reality, and I'm not hallucinating, or dreaming, or anything like that. But when I look over, there are my parents, getting up from the couch, like they're frozen in time a decade ago.

I look at them directly, and then from the corner of my eye, and realize that they're the only thing in the whole picture that doesn't look quite right. Glancing at the sky, or the architecture, or anything else, everything looks normal, but from the corner of my eye, their profiles again look wrong somehow. Since I can't look directly at them, it's hard to tell exactly what's different, but like the girls from before, the outlines of their bodies look more diffuse than they should, the silhouettes not quite right. I squint, trying to make out the silhouettes, trying to figure out what's wrong, but beyond what I saw before, the only thing that seems different is that there's somehow something there, something additional that's somehow part of their silhouettes but shouldn't be. I look back, only to see the very normal woman who looks like my mother reach up, and a moment later the blinds closed and my view of the room is obscured.

I don't know what to think. Maybe I have just gone completely crazy. Maybe the people behind the window are some totally random couple who are now on the phone to the police. At the same time, though, strangely enough, I almost seem to remember this place now. It feels strangely right, strangely like... home. But at the same time, I'm almost sure I've never been here in my entire life.

I reach my hand into my pocket and fish out the blank silver key, turning it over and over between my fingers. If I'm crazy, then how in the hell did I have this key? How did I wander in here like I've been doing this all my life? Looking back, even the walk along the balcony felt familiar, like I'd traversed it hundreds of times. But... this couldn't possibly be my home. Could it? I was sure that I lived in a different apartment, somewhere else in the city, although all of a sudden I couldn't quite picture what it looked like in my mind. Maybe it was somewhere I had lived before, maybe it was something I'd seen in a movie... everything seems muddled all of a sudden, and all I want to do is to get home, to #33, collapse onto the couch, and wait for the world to start making sense again.

I walk forward, into the little alcove, the air seeming to shimmer and pulse around me like the day had been baking hot, but in reality the air is beginning to feel a little chilly. Maybe, maybe I'm ill, I wonder as I slide the key into the lock on the front door and undo the deadbolt. The door swings open, but the room inside looks like it's being displayed on a failing cathode-ray television, wobbly lines sneaking up and down its edges. I definitely need to lie down. I can see dark vignettes sneaking into the periphery of my vision, the world sparkling oddly as I step through, and I stumble as my body wobbles and I worry that I'm going to black out before I cross the transom. One more step forward steadies me, though, and as the door slams shut behind me, the fuzziness in my head begins to rapidly clear.

The world stops spinning, and while I still don't feel quite right, things seem to be getting back to normal. For the life of me, I can't figure out why I was feeling so weird about the world earlier. Looking around, I easily recognize the familiar surroundings of my home, of the place that I've lived since childhood. And yet... isn't if different, though? What about the other place in my head, some lonely apartment that I'm for some reason vaguely familiar with? It feels important for some reason, but I can't recall why it should be. After all, how could it? I'm certain that this is the place I've always lived, and as I think about it, I can easily recall memories of growing up here - of bouncing on the couch as a kid, huddling around the tree we'd set up in the corner and tearing the wrapping off presents on Christmas morning. It seems almost inconceivable that for a moment, earlier on, I somehow didn't recognize it at all. At the same time, though, what I thought I remembered before walking in the door is beginning to seem almost surreal, my recollections still very vivid, although filtered through a strange lens in a way that makes them seem not quite right.

When I look around, though, everything seems to be as it should, whether I look at it straight on or from an angle. The abstract pictures are still there on the wall, the widescreen TV set we got a few years ago, my feet navigating the rooms like I know them by heart, which only adds to my certainty that this is, in fact, where I live. The dining room looks like it should, with a neatly-set table for four, and my dad looks pretty much the same as he always has, just taking his seat at the head of the table. Sure, he's a little older than when I was a kid, but overall he hasn't changed much, his sparkling jet-black eyes flicking towards me above his short muzzle. The black, glossy fur on his head and neck is impeccably well-trimmed and brushed as it always is, accented by the twin white stripes running along the top that accent his regal, mephitidous mien.

As I look at him, I experience a strange moment of dissonance as a particularly vivid recollection from before flashes across my mind. The image, ostensibly of my parents, suddenly jars with what I could swear I'm familiar with: a picture of two familiar people, but with puzzlingly bare skin, and the only thing that comes even close to fur resides solely on top of their heads, and even then not so much in the case of the man. Still, I can't shake the feeling that their strangely flat faces are somehow familiar, that I must have seen them somewhere before... but surely that can't be possible, can it? I can't recall even seeing any person who looked at all similar in the school texts I remember, or even anywhere online. And yet... and yet that isn't all of it. Another image from before flashes by, of me looking down at my own bare skin, little dark patches scattered across my wrist...

I blink, my head beginning to swim again as I try to wrap my head around two different sets of people that I could swear were both somehow related to me, both somehow... me? But how could that possibly make sense? I reached up to rub at my eyes, my hands first moving to brush away a pair of glasses that I could have sworn existed, but were no longer there. As my head clears, though, I look back at my hands - and, as I expect, they're covered in the dark, glossy fur that's supposed to be there, a blunted vestigial claw resting at the end of each finger. After all, as I knew from the evolutionary history course I'd taken last year, our distant ancestors were the most noble of animals, a subsection of mustelids that had been given the honored classification of Mephitidae, which I thought meant something in some ancient but nonetheless important language. I tried to imagine what sort of strange creature could evolve to become something like the people who occupied the images in my mind, but the closest thing I could come up with was one of the odd, pink-skinned amphibians I'd studied for a report in Biology, and I couldn't imagine wanting to be evolved from something disgusting like that!

Wait... Biology? History? Those were classes I'd taken in... high school... before I could figure out why that was so odd, though, my father's greeting distracted me from my train of thought.

"Ah, there you are! How did your study session go?"

Study session? Hadn't I been... at work? I tried to remember, but for some reason that part of the day is vague in my mind, and the notion of a study session with a few of my friends seems somehow more right that the other recollection. I paused, trying to reconcile them. Certainly, I could remember the walk home, the group of of kids my age from that private school down the road from mine crossing the street ahead of me, their puffy tails bobbing almost in unison behind them. And there had been that one kid, with the perfect jet-black fur, crisply-ironed uniform, and rugged, perfectly skunklike muzzle that I'd wanted to talk to, but for some reason hadn't gotten up the courage. Wait... was that right? I felt like I could almost remember a different version of the kid, how when I looked at him out of the corner of his eye the shape of his face was somehow wrong, and the silhouette of his tail was somehow missing...

I hear my dad clear his throat, and I glance back from where my eyes had drifted to note a look of concern spreading across his face. "Didn't you hear me? I have to say, you look a bit off... are you feeling all right?"

"Um, uh, yeah, I'm fine... it's just been a long day, and I'm pretty tired First school, then studying for hours for the..." What was the thing called again? I could remember reading over endless practice questions for it, when I wasn't somehow simultaneously standing in front of an odd-looking computer on a weird, tall desk. It was called... it was... "the ARC exam, yeah. I think I'm definitely getting the hang of it."

As I speak, my voice sounds for some reason like it's a bit odd, and I also clear my throat, wondering if I am in fact coming down with something. Aside from the strange recollections I had while walking home, though, I don't really feel out of sorts. In fact, I think that I feel perfectly normal, aside from the small, crazy portion of my brain that's yelling that I'm not supposed to have fur, but I just can't see how that would make any sense.

"I'm glad to hear you're doing well, although I can't say I'm surprised. Schoolwork is something I've never had to worry about with either of you. I'm sure you'll ace the test next month, and then you'll be set for whatever college you apply to." Apply to college? But... I could swear I've already been... Before I can think more about that, though, my father continues. "Mindy! Jennifer! Everyone's here, so let's all come to the table so we can do dinner!"

My mom's name is Mindy, true, but... Jennifer? Maybe I just heard wrong, and he was calling for Jonah, my younger brother. But even as I think that, it doesn't seem quite right, either. I mean, I know, I'm almost sure... but the name Jennifer in very familiar too, someone that I'm sure I'm even more familiar with. The two of them, though, are strangely muddled together in my mind, and suddenly I feel even more nervous and confused. I steady myself on the back of the chair before pulling it out, as my mom and Jennifer walk into the room through the arched kitchen doorway.

My mom looks normal, with fur just a shade lighter than my dad with hinted highlights of midnight blue, and the slight tilt to her muzzle that gives her a perpetual gentle smile. There's no portly, energetic guy named Jonah, though, and I almost wonder if I'm confusing him for someone else. After all, Jennifer's always been my sister, right? And she's a far cry from whoever Jonah is, for sure - slim, petite, with sparkling eyes and a cute muzzle that's usually sporting an impish grin. All that, of course, is complemented by fur that mixes our dad's glossy sheen with our mom's subtle blue highlights, a luxuriously curved puffy tail that definitely turns heads, and a figure that mixes in slim athleticism with just enough subtle curves to keep them riveted. In short, then, she looks a lot like me. And why shouldn't she? After all, she is my identical twin...

At that realization, though, the other set of experiences flashes through again, and again I can't quite figure out what's going on. I mean, wasn't I... a guy? I could have sworn that... but no, how could that make sense? Who could possibly think that I looked anything like a guy?

I glance down at my chest. I mean sure, my breasts aren't exactly the most prominent ones ever, but it's not like I'm flat-chested either - they're decent enough, probably B-cup or close to it, and curve out nicely beneath my shirt. With the way I look overall, there's more than enough to like, I think, that they're not exactly a liability. And sure, from the front, my hips look somewhat slim and maybe even slightly boyish, but from every other angle, there's no mistaking that I'm a... girl...

I sit down hard in the chair, harder than I intended, as the shock of that realization causes everything from before to come flooding back, more vividly than ever, and suddenly everything in the entire world seems wrong. I mean, this isn't just crazy, this is... beyond crazy, beyond any sort of sense, and into the realm of the completely surreal. I know who I am, dammit! My name's Jacob Amrevnos, I'm a guy in his late twenties who works his butt off in an office park just off of downtown, and I've had more guys offer to blow me unsolicited than girls who've even offered to show me their tits. I'm a few night classes away from an MBA and a promotion, the only skunks I've ever seen were in a pen at the zoo, and while I've been known to have a beer or two after work, I've never - and I mean never - done anything harder than that. Not weed, not hard liquor, nothing. So there is no possible way that this is just some sort of bad trip or something. Which meant that either I was so sick that someone should probably be calling 911 for my slumped-over form at work any moment, or that something had just happened that I knew to be impossible: somehow stumbled my way through to this apartment, walked through the door... and now I'm supposed to be... what? Back in high school, again? Only this time I'm a girl instead of a guy, instead of being a regular person I'm some sort of skunk... thing... and with my same parents, except they're skunks too, and a twin sister instead of a younger brother. It was almost as if, somehow, I'd gone through that door, and stepped into some strange, distorted mirror image of my world where things were somehow the same and yet impossibly different. Even more than that, though, I hadn't just stepped into another world, but into the life I'd been living there... and, apparently, the body I'd been living it in. I know that such a thing doesn't make even the slightest amount of sense, that it's the stuff of science fiction rather than modern reality, but it's the only even vaguely plausible explanation I can think of.

Upon realizing that, there's a part of me that all of a sudden can't help but be curious about what's just happened, and there's certainly still a part of me that thinks all of this is just a completely normal day in my life, and that the part of me who thinks I'm some sort of weird, furless guy is totally nuts. The part of me that I'm most aware of now, though, the part of me who knows I'm still Jake, is the part that's tied into the surge of adrenaline coursing through my - or at least, someone's - body. That part of me is torn between freaking out, and finding a way to subtly reach down and tell for sure whether my penis is really gone. There's not a lot I can do, though, given that the rest of my family is sitting down to eat, and they're certainly going to react if I just get up and bolt. Even so, though, if the door is somehow the key, if I just sprint for it I can be back out, and back to my normal life, before they can react. Or, maybe, there's an even better way...

I mime feeling around in the front pocket of my pants, although I don't quite manage to muster up the courage to reach over further. "Huh, I though I put it back..." I look back up. "Um, I think I might've dropped my key out in the entryway as I was coming in..."

"Oh, you probably just left it in the lock," Jennifer replies. "I must do that, like, at least once a week. I mean, I know we're like bright and everything, but we can both be kinda scatterbrained sometimes. Especially this time of the month, anyway..." She moves as though to get up from her chair. "I can go grab it for you, if you want-"

"No, I forgot about it, so I'll take care of it myself." Jenny shrugs and scoots her chair back in, her tail dipping as it wraps around the chair's back. I get up, trying to fight the sense of how familiar this all is, how this is where I belong, and point my body towards the door. It's just a few quick steps back through the living room and entryway, a turn of the latch, and I'm through the doorway and onto the balcony.

There's no flash, no jolt of vertigo, no sense of shifting, nothing. The building's the same, exterior light beginning to flick on over the walkway railings as the last glimmer flashes away into the twilight. I look down at my hands, and they're still covered in the same black fur, with the same odd blunted claw tips on top in place of my fingernails. I glance behind me, and the big, fluffy skunk tail that I wanted to deny existed, wanted to deny feeling, is beyond obvious. This isn't some elaborate costume, either - the tail curves over towards my side, somehow operating instinctually, and when I reach out to touch it, I can feel the sensation moving along it like it's just a natural continuation of my spine. I realize, looking down, that I'm not even wearing the same clothing - while it had seemed normal before, instead of the slacks and polo shirt that I was sure I'd worn to my job, what I'm wearing now looks more like a babydoll t-shirt, its cream color contrasting nicely against the fur, and a pair of jeans that look like denim but seem to be made out of something stretchier and more form-fitting, sitting lower on my waist than they should, and hugging my body, especially in front, in a way that reminds me what I'm missing.

I realize, though, that it's not the fur I'm talking about. It's my fur. My body. Whatever the hell happened with the doorway, it's not working in the other direction. I realize, with a sinking feeling, that there might, in fact, be no way back. That this is the world I'm in, now, the body, the life of someone else... someone else who is now me. My experiences, my life, might now only be memories of a time and place that never was, and my family, my real family, the brother that I haven't seen in years, who I miss dearly, and who I may never, ever, see again...

As I feel myself choking up with emotion, the reality of the situation really begins to sink in - along with the realization that I've already been standing out here longer than I should have been if I'm just retrieving a key, and since I didn't revert by going back through the doorway, there's nowhere to go but back inside... and if I have to do that, I'd rather not go back to a family that was wondering what I was up to out here.

"Found it!" I yelled back through the doorway, and I reached inside my pocket in case I still needed to prove it - the silver key was still there, just like it had always been. I close the door and quickly walked back to my place.

"Sorry about that - I must have dropped it when I was putting it back in my pocket, and it fell into a crevice on the doormat and got wedged in weirdly so I had to dig it out."

My dad glanced over at me. "If you were digging around like that, you should probably wash up again before eating, yes?"

"Oh... yeah, of course." Since I haven't even had a chance to pull the chair back out, I remove my hands from where they've been resting on its back and head into the kitchen to scrub up. As I walk, though, my mind continues to race, as I realize what's about to come next - dinner, and conversation, and for that I need to know about my current life as a high school student, not the one I've just left as up-and-coming middle management.

I run my hands (paws?) through the warm water in the sink, lathering them up as I try to access my new set of memories and figure out just who, exactly, I am. Obviously I know the basics - I'm in high school, and still living at home with my family: two parents with the same names, and a sister named Jennifer. And my own name is, is... well, Jake, but that wasn't the one I was looking for. I'm supposed to be... Stephanie! Yes, Stephanie, that has to be it. Or Steph, as I remember my sister tends to call me.

As I wash up, I try to remember more, and mostly succeed - where I go to school, the names of some people who I think are friends, along with one, a boy's name, that makes me feel something that I can't quite figure out. I remember relatives - mostly the same - and the general layout of my neighborhood, including some of the places I used to play when I was growing up here, and some of the places where I still hang out from time to time.

As I dry my hands, though, remembering more and more, I can feel my perspective beginning to shift. As I recall more about Stephanie's life, it begins to feel more and more normal, more and more like my own. By the time I head back to the table, I don't feel like I'm some interloper trying to pretend I'm Stephanie, I feel like that's actually who I am, and that this is a normal day in my normal body.

At the same time, though, it doesn't feel like my consciousness has changed, or that I have multiple personalities and that I'm shifting between one or the other, exactly. It's more like I'm the same person I've always been, that my essence and basic personality are essentially the same, but that I somehow have two frames of reference: two juxtaposed and mutually exclusive views of reality, and a set of recollections that are inextricably tied to each one. It's simply that the two frames of reference, when reconciled with the world that's in front of me, leaves me with a frame that's conflicting and wrong, and another that meshes perfectly with the current reality. Because of that, only one makes sense, and in order to resolve the dissonance in my brain, I have to accept the premise of the one that actually works.

It seems that when I accept that frame of reference, though, that it truly becomes my own perspective; it becomes who I am, as confusing as that sounds. When the shock of the dissonance between the two caused me to flip over to the other perspective, I felt like I actually was the person called Jake, and now that things have stabilized, I feel like I'm Stephanie again, back to the way I'm supposed to be. I almost wonder if I could flip back and forth at will, but because the Jake perspective feels so alien to me now, and wants to be in an alien body, I think it makes more sense just to go with the perspective that I know to be real, that I know is me, for now. In any case, it's not so much that the Jake perspective is gone, but just relegated to somewhere else in my mind, pushing through occasionally but otherwise letting me be.

When I sit back down at the table, everyone else has already served themselves, and I eagerly cut myself a slice of the meatloaf sitting in the center of the table and dig in. We eat in silence for a few minutes, everyone sating their hunger instead of their desire for conversation. As I eat, though, the Jake part of me pushes through with a thought that's more puzzled than snide: how in the world am I wolfing down a giant slab of meatloaf, like it's something I do every night, and somehow manage to stay skinny? I know the answer, of course, as soon as I think it, and almost wonder if I should think the answer in reply. That wouldn't make sense, though, as it's not like there's really another person in my mind - all my thoughts are my own, it's just that with the additional view of that perspective, I seem to be occasionally viewing certain things through that lens, which causes me to question them instead of taking them for granted like I usually would.

Once we've all sated our immediate hunger, as though on cue, my dad turns to Jenny and asks how her day was. She goes briefly over her classes, although they don't seem to match of with my own recollections - which makes sense, of course, as I remember that we go to different schools. My mom had been concerned that if we were together, people wouldn't be able to tell us apart enough, and that we might not have the opportunity to develop our own individual personalities. As luck would have it, though, the street running by our apartment building had actually been the dividing line between the student pool for two separate high schools, so it had been easy enough to send one of us to each.

Jenny's day, of course, was about what you'd expect from a high schooler going into their senior year - a good stack of classes, most of them College Advancement-qualified, followed by her track practice and a different study group across town. I remember she's been studying for a slightly different aptitude test - the SMAV, I think, one that puts more emphasis on core subjects and that's a little more straightforward, hence why it's taken by more people. The other test had sounded more interesting to me, though. As I think about it, the other perspective intruded for a moment, and for a second I wonder why the tests aren't called something like SAT or ACT, although the acronyms seemed to make even less sense than the real ones.

Dad asks me about my day next, and now that my perspective is more or less back to normal, my memories of the day come to me easily. It had really been a school day pretty much like any other, paying enough attention in class to look studious but not quite enough to tempt a teacher to call on me, occasionally staring out the window and daydreaming, or staring at a boy in class I'd seen practicing with the baseball team and wondering what he'd think if I approached him between classes. I'd gotten distracted by something, though, and it hadn't happened. I'd eaten lunch with with my usual group of friends, not exactly the really popular crowd, but more academic-track girls I could talk to and gossip with without it feeling like my brain was trying to escape my skull. A couple more classes, including an art-elective one that was actually halfway fun, and then I'd headed down to the pool, changed, and put in a couple of solid hours of swim-team practice. It had been pretty good, in fact - I'd managed to shave a quarter-second off my hundred-meter time over the last few weeks, and would probably qualify for the upcoming inter-school competition. After that, I'd headed to my study group, where we'd blasted through our homework and spent an hour or so doing more flashcards for the exam. And then, of course, on the way home I'd come across that skunk... and that, oddly enough, was where both the perspectives in my head had begun to somehow converge.

Leaving out that last part, of course, I relay the general outline of my day to the family, my dad nodding acknowledgment and my mom praising me for my swim-team progress. The only out-of-the-ordinary comment, it initially seems, comes from my own thoughts, as a glimpse of an alternate high-school experience and a sense of wonderment that I can accomplish so much in one day; even with that feeling, though, I get the sense that the academic rigor across both is up to a similarly high standard.

Looking over, though, I realize that Jenny has an odd smirk on her face, and she speaks up when I finish.

"Hmm, weren't you still back, like, kinda late, though? I didn't think your study group went quite that long..."

"Well, it doesn't usually, but we decided to work through most of our homework too since we were already in one of the quiet study rooms, plus we spent some extra time studying definitions and things for the test."

"Uh huh... and you're sure that was, like, all you were studying?"

"What else would we be studying?"

"You know..."

"Jen, seriously! It's a study group. We were studying. That's it." My voice sounded properly indignant, although I felt like I was blushing, and I quickly knew why - as my recollection of my day had been designed to be parent-safe, I had deliberately left something out, and I realize that that something is what I'm suddenly recalling in vivid detail.

There had been a break between flashcard packs, and everyone in the study group had been kind of chilling out and drinking some sodas to stay alert, when the random talk amongst ourselves had turned, for some reason, towards kissing. One of the boys, Evan, had asked with a smirk whether I'd ever kissed another girl - "you know, for practice," he'd said. I retorted, of course, with the obvious turnabout of asking whether he'd done the same with boys. He'd looked all flustered, blurting out something about how it wasn't the same, but I'd called him him on how that was total B.S.... along with an offhand comment that if boys thought that girls kissing was hot, then maybe girls might think that boys kissing was hot too. The conflict progressed from there, and after a few minutes, I managed to get him into a dare: if he managed to convince one of the other boys in the study group to make out with him for a few minutes and let everyone else watch, I'd do the same with one of the girls. I'd thought that, given his and the rest of the boys' nervousness at that suggestion, that he wouldn't be able to pull it off, and I'd be able to call him out for his cowardice. Apparently, though, their desire for seeing girls kissing won out over their discomfort, and after a series of determining coin flips, Evan and the lucky "winner" went over to one of the couches along the edge of the study room and awkwardly put their muzzles together. It wasn't exactly the most interesting show ever, although they did manage to flick their tongues out and intertwine them for a moment to show they were, in fact, trying. As it went on, though, the other guy, Mark, almost seemed to be getting into it, and ended up with one hand under Evan's shirt and another resting just above his ass before he glanced over, remembered he was being watched, and nearly blushed straight through his fur as he pulled his hands away as fast as he could.

They'd met the dare, though, and I knew it was my turn. However, I also knew two things that made holding up the dare much easier. One was that one of the girls in the group, Rachel, who I knew from several of my classes, had also not-quite-but-almost propositioned me when we'd been alone in a classroom working on a group project, and I doubted she'd mind all that much if I made out with her. The other was that, although I didn't exactly wear it on my sleeve, I was just as happy to snuggle up to a girl as I was to a guy; that, and girls were usually cleaner to boot.

I looked over at Rachel, and realized she was thinking along similar lines; when I held her gaze, she smiled and gave me a subtle, shy nod, before lightly tapping the empty space on the couch next to her. I walked over slowly, holding her gaze as my tail bobbed in anticipation, and I'd barely settled down against the cushions when her hand brushed against the fur on my cheek and drew me closer to her. I'd wasted no time, leisurely wrapping my arms around her neck as I let her draw me in, and it had felt natural to snuggle up against her as our muzzles locked together for a protracted kiss.

The memory became somehow even more vivid with the contact, and I could almost feel the thrill all over again as I recalled the moment when her tongue had flicked across mine. After a moment, it had returned to intertwine with surprising sensitivity and dexterity - if I'd known how good she was, I probably would have pursued her offer much earlier. The feel of her kiss was electric, and while I'd been willing from the start, I got into it more and more, and I knew that she was feeling the same. I really knew she was getting into it, though, when she rested a hand on my hip and used it to almost flip me onto my back against the cushions, before clambering over me on all fours and lowering herself down gently on top of me. In a moment we were kissing again, our bodies mostly intertwined, with one of her hands nudging my bra aside to gently cup my breast, running her thumb around the nipple in a circular motion, one that culminated in a light flick of her blunt claw across the tip and sent a little thrill running down my spine.

Luckily, though, or perhaps frustratingly, it hadn't gotten more intense than that. We made out for maybe a minute more, Rachel murring happily between kisses as I gently caressed the exposed fur on her neck and shoulders, before she disengaged with a lick across my muzzle that lingered pleasantly. In a moment, we were both sitting up again and a proper distance apart, although I could see that her fur was mussed and was sure that mine was as well. It was a little bit of a shock to remember that others had been looking on, as I'd been so involved I'd mostly forgotten they were there. The girls were looking at us with a range of expressions, ranging from disgust to puzzlement to undisguised interest, while the guys seemed to be staring at us slack-jawed and almost in reverence. "Satisfied?" I'd asked, in a breathy, slightly dazed voice, and all the boys had nodded their heads in unison.

The show was over, though, and in a moment everyone seemed to have shaken off the whole thing and mostly gone back to normal. Evan and Mark, though, couldn't quite face each other for the rest of the session. Rachel and I were fine, though - the encounter had, far from being embarrassing or uncomfortable, had left me feeling snuggly and warmly aroused in all the right places, and I was happy to let those feelings continue. She seemed to be feeling the same, and we moved back together to cuddle without hesitation, her arms wrapped lightly around my stomach and her muzzle gently nuzzling against my ears as I snuggled into her lap for the next few sets of flashcards. Before we left for the day, she borrowed my phone and programmed her number into it - as I was between boyfriends at the moment, I realized I was seriously considering calling it and seeing what she might next have in mind.

I blink, snapping out of the reverie that had momentarily transported me through its intensity, and hope that I haven't been zoned out long enough for anyone to take too much notice. Luckily, no one seems to be paying much attention to me at the moment, my parents and Jenny talking about a social studies project she's working on. It's definitely lucky, as I realize I need a moment to myself just to regain my composure. Whether it's due to the strange perspectives or not, my memory of what happened seemed far more intense than normal, and I can still feel the emotional fallout from it. Some of it, I'm sure, comes from the thoughts in my head that seem to come from the Jake perspective; which is why, puzzlingly, in addition to my normal feelings, at the same time I feel almost as stunned as the boys were at what, for me, could be considered a pretty casual encounter. Of course, given the thoughts I'd been having when I was panicking as Jake earlier, perhaps it was understandable - somehow, part of me had been a guy who mostly couldn't even get to first base with a girl, so it does seem sensible that when filtered through that perspective, what would have been just a nice makeout session had become an important and powerful experience. It was also that perspective, probably, that seems to be waiting for my body to do something impossible - it takes me a second to figure out, but I'm almost sure some part of me is trying to get an erection in response to my recollection, and for a moment I feel completely confused by the apparent lack of the necessary equipment. I'm also puzzled, I realize, by another reaction that for a moment seems so alien that it takes me a moment to parse it at all. Considering it from my normal perspective, though, I know exactly what it is. While it's not as obvious as what the male response would be, the recollection has the expected effect of rapidly getting me back in the mood. It's not something I can do anything about at the kitchen table, though, and also knowing what time of the month it is, I know how such recollections or fantasies can have a tendency to take hold and occasionally cause... embarrassing results. I try to shove it from my mind and concentrate on finishing my dinner, ignoring the curious thoughts that come unbidden and want me to think more about what "that time of the month" means.

The rest of the meal is uneventful for the most part, and by the time the conversation shifts over to college plans, the feelings of arousal have faded to little more than a sort of warm, comfortable glow. Jenny mentions again that we should go looking at colleges together, and see if we can get accepted to one that we both want to go to. I agree with her, as if we could both go together, it would mean we wouldn't have to deal with random roommates - and, having shared the same room growing up, we knew how to make it work. Plus, according to another unbidden thought, I already knew how un-fun a randomly-assigned college roommate could be - accompanied by an image of another one of those flat-faced, furless people, this one slumped halfway off of a couch, with a stream of drool dripping down from his mouth and a bottle of something illicit in his hand. There was also a selection of crudely-drawn, obscene pictures scrawled on his face with a marker, and from the sense of satisfaction that accompanied it, I got the feeling that I was responsible for them.

As we finish up dinner, I wonder for a moment why we're not having dessert, before reminding myself that we almost never do - apparently, in Jake's universe, our mom has much more of a sweet tooth. My mom gets up to clear the table, and as she does, my dad turns towards me and Jenny.

"I know dinner was a bit late, so it's probably good that you've got most of your homework already out of the way. Your mother and I will most likely turn in early, and you should probably head off to bed soon yourselves. Remember, even though tomorrow's a half-day, it's still a schoolday, and you'll need to get enough rest so you can get there alert and on time."

He hands mom his plate, and I do the same before getting up. As I do, I look over to see my mom turn around to head back into the kitchen. My dad apparently thinks that we've both already turned away, as he only gives the most cursory glance around before reaching a hand out and giving my mom a light slap on the backside. She lets out the beginning of a shriek before quickly muffling it, and hurries into the kitchen with her arms full of clattering dishes, my dad discreetly waiting a few seconds before following her. I realize I feel momentarily shocked by the behavior, although it's hardly the first time I've seen it. Jake's parents, at least, would never have done such a thing. All I really feel, though, is slightly embarrassed, but it's not even worth getting worked up over.

"Well, now you know why dinner was so late," Jenny says, and I look over to see her standing next to me.

"Let me guess..."

"Yep. Dad came home a little early and Mom went over to greet him at the door with a kiss. Then she, like, kept greeting him, all the way into the kitchen." Jenny rolls her eyes. "Like yeah, I know our cycles come at the same time, so I know what's going on, but they could be less, like, obvious about it."

"Anyway," she continues, "I guess they moved to the couch or something, since they were there when I came back from our room. They were all like, 'we're just watching TV,' and I wanted to say, 'yeah, like, mom totally watches TV with her panties on the floor and her bra draped over the couch cushions.' Way to be totally obvious, guys."

"Although..." Jenny looks directly at me, grinning. "Speaking of being totally obvious... I saw that look on your face at dinner. You're totally not telling me everything that happened at study group. So, seriously... what did you get up to?"

"Um, er, well... can I tell you later?" I almost wonder if she's disappointed, but at the same time I'm aware we both know that I'll eventually tell her with enough intermittent prodding - after all, the same thing works on her. Being identical twins, and being together so much growing up, we know each other's personality very well, although it's that same thing that makes me worry she'll pick up on the fact that I'm acting a little strange. How do you explain something like that, though? Oh yeah, sis, I'm totally normal, except for the fact that I have two sets of memories, and sometimes think I'm some weird 'human' guy named Jake!

Luckily, she doesn't seem interested in prying into either thing at the moment. "Okay, later, then. You don't, like, have a problem with me taking my shower first, do you?"

I shake my head. "I'll just, uh, catch up on some class reading or something."

Jenny nods and turns around, heading down the hallway to our room. I linger in the dining room for a moment, trying once again to gather my thoughts, although my lingering is cut short when I realize what the muffled sounds emanating from the kitchen are. For a moment, I feel actually squeamish - Jake again, probably - although all I really want to do is roll my eyes, like Jenny had, and get into my room behind a closed door.

As I walk down the hallway, Jenny is already exiting the room and heading to the bathroom across the hall, holding a bundle of clothes and towels to her chest. I enter our room and close the door behind me, mercifully free of distractions for the time being. I sit at my neat desk, momentarily amazed by its lack of clutter, before grabbing one of the novels assigned for CA-English and riffling through its pages. Knowing Jenny, it'll probably take her close to an hour to finish up, giving me plenty of time to do... something.

I continue to flip through the book, but it's actually the last thing I'm concentrating on. With some time to myself, I can't help but think about what's just happened to me. What's really going on? Am I... am I actually somehow two people, two personalities, trapped in the same body? Of course, I quickly realize that there's only one easy way to find out. Like before, I can try to think about Jake, about his past, his memories, and see if my perspective becomes his again. Of course, if it does, I'm not sure how I'll react to everything seeming discordant again... but if I don't, how am I ever going to figure out what's going on?

I try to think about the part of my memories that originate with Jake, and to my surprise, they pop up easily, feeling clear and vivid instead of faded and diffuse. I bring up scenes for his - my? - childhood, our time at college, the few memorable details about the mundane office job. Everything is clean and oddly sensible, and the memories now feel just as natural a part of me as the memories of my life as Stephanie.

However, even after spending quite some time poring through memories, I don't feel my perspective shift at all. I do the same with Stephanie's memories, and nothing changes, either. It's like the two perspectives have somehow fused together... or rather, I realize, the other perspective has come to accept the current reality, either resigning to the situation or intrigued by the notion of being me, and now both perspectives are aligned in agreement. At once, I am both Stephanie, the skunk girl with memories of my life here, and also Jake, the... skunk girl with memories of a strange other world and a fascinating future. I really am just me, the names just labels for subtle aspects of a unified whole. At the same time, though, I can see that it isn't just labels that have fused, but my - our - own thoughts and feelings. It's a strange sensation, with some thoughts coming out of left field, but I can also sense them combining in new and interesting ways.

For the first time today since everything happened, I feel almost relaxed, the turmoil caused by the different perspectives quickly dissipating with their reconciliation. I return to the book I've been mindlessly flipping through, actually reading some of it, and to my surprise realize that I've read it before. Sure, it was in another world, and the characters were described as humans instead of skunks, but as I skim through the sections I realize the plot is effectively the same. In fact, I realize, thanks to the combination, I already have a full college education. For starters, it means that taking the ARC has suddenly become a cinch, whether I study more or not - heck, I could probably test into graduate school, if I really wanted. Or, I could coast through college with the same major as before, with plenty of time to enjoy all the other aspects of college life; that, or I could take something entirely new, and have my pick of jobs with the incredible skill base that would result. Either way, having the ability to go to college all over again, to try different things from this new perspective, was a fascinating thing to consider. Plus, there might even be other benefits - I could rewrite the history of Jake's overly academic time in college, and I - we - could have fun with all the women he could have ever wanted, although probably not in a way he could have ever imagined. And that wasn't even counting what I could do with the guys...

My fantasies are interrupted by the door opening, though, and my eyes glance up from the book to see my sister swing the door the rest of the way open and walk in. She's wearing what she usually sleeps in, a long, cream-colored t-shirt that ends at mid-thigh. I notice, more than I usually do, that the shirt is just form-fitting enough to reveal the curves of her hips, a sight that I suddenly have a great appreciation for. Of course, it's not like I haven't noticed it before, but it never stood out quite as starkly. After all, it's not like I have to sneak a peek at my sister if I want to see something like that; all I have to do, really, is stand in front of a mirror.

I probably stare at her longer than I usually do, but if she notices, she doesn't mention it. "Hey, Steph. Shower's free. Mom got totally distracted from putting the laundry away, so I put both our towels up." She glances over at the clock. "Wow, didn't notice the time. Sorry I took a while in there. I guess it wouldn't be, like, fair to ask you to be quicker, but remember we still have to brush before we go to bed."

"Don't worry, Jen. It's just a school day tomorrow, and it's not like I've got anyone to impress at the moment." Well, except for that boy on the baseball team I've been wanting to talk to. I realize, though, that now I'm not too sure how I feel about that. While I wasn't exactly exclusive to either sex before, now there's definitely a part of me that's much more into girls... although I realize, interestingly enough, that all of my thoughts concur with idly wondering how big his package is.

As Jenny turns to put her previous clothes into the hamper in our closet, I head over to my dresser and slide open the drawer with my underwear. I flip through the panties, looking for what I want to wear, when another odd realization hits me: I am literally running my hands through a drawer of women's underthings, and no one is stopping me. For a moment I feel a surge of guilt, and almost... arousal? Seriously? It's my own underwear! In fact, I'm wearing some of it right now! Of course, as soon as I think that, that starts to seem sexy too. It's weird to be thinking that way, and oddly perverse, but at the same time, I realize that in a strange way, it actually makes sense. If both perspectives are still represented within my own, "new" personality, at the same time everything about my body, and my life, is both beyond mundane and fascinatingly novel.

For a moment, I decide to let the fascinated impulse take over and see where it goes. My eyes roam across the neatly folded rows of panties, before picking up a pair of petite white ones, with slim lines, light pink stitching on the seams, and a small lavender bow made from thin satin ribbon sewn on the front of the waistband. Objectively, they're not that special, just a pair of cotton stretch panties that I got in a five-pack from the local department store, low-rise enough that I can wear them with midriff jeans and not have to worry about interference or tail-ties, but cut in a design that's comfortably snug without wedging or riding up. However, for a part of me, the sense I get is more along the lines of HOLY SHIT I'M ACTUALLY TOUCHING THESE. For a moment, I let that part have free rein, running my hands along the smooth, soft fabric, and marveling how amazing they feel compared to the rough woven ones I - Jake - used to wear. I imagine how it would feel for a woman to put them on, how it would feel against her skin, how it would lie snug against her- which is about as far as I get before I realize how ridiculous this line of thought is from any perspective. I'm a girl. Practically a woman. I'm literally wearing panties as I think this, and it feels the same as it always does - like I'm wearing underwear. I'm almost certain that was how Jake had felt as well. It probably had more to do with the part of me that was now his "guy" perspective - judging from some guys I've talked to, women doing the most mundane things imaginable make them interesting and sexy just because it's a woman doing them.

I notice my sister turning around, and my first impulse is to guiltily drop the panties back in the drawer and drop my hands to my sides. I catch myself before actually doing it, although the sudden nervousness from the impulse makes me slam the drawer a little harder than I mean to. I look over to see my sister staring at me, and I wonder just how long I've been standing in front of the drawer.

"Zoning out again, huh?"

"Um," I stammer, thinking about how to reply, working around the feelings of guilt and panic that I shouldn't be having as I flail about in another drawer for a sleep shirt.

"Yeah, that's what I thought. I've been doing that all day, too. I guess it's probably just 'cause it's that time of the month." She smiles again. "Hmm, I wonder what you were daydreaming about, and just how... _fun _ it was..."

I remember that I still haven't told her about the thing at study group earlier, and I'm sure she hasn't forgotten about it. I mumble something noncommittal, grab the shirt, and hurry over to the bathroom so that she can't pry further. I do want to tell her, about that at least, but I'm definitely worried that I'll blurt something out about... well, everything else that happened after that, and I'm not sure how she'll react yet. The trouble is, we're twin sisters, and sooner or later we end up telling each other nearly everything. If I can just hold off enough until I'm fully back together, though, fully reconciled, than maybe it won't matter.

The bathroom is the same one I've used my entire life: off-white walls, an expansive countertop with dual sinks and a long mirror running behind it, and a shower stall with a detachable handheld showerhead and a shower organizer hanging off the door filled almost to the brim with the various products we use. The vent fan is doing its best, but I can still feel the humidity in the room as I breathe in, and the mirror is half fogged-over. Amidst the steam, I can catch just the slightest hint of a smell, something I recognize as my sister's normal scent intermingled with the light perfume of her shampoo, plus an edge of something that's almost spicy. For a moment, I'm almost disappointed that I don't smell something more alluring, but I know that no one in my family has much of a sense of smell - being effectively descended from skunks, I'm sure that's for a very good reason. And really, it's just the way my sister usually smells, hardly worth taking any special notice - well, except for the added hint of spice, which I know will only increase over the next few days. I'm probably giving off something similar, of course, but a good shower will help with that.

I pull my shirt unceremoniously over my head, tossing it into a corner before unzipping my jeans. They don't just immediately slide off, as a part of me is used to, but they come off easily enough when I tug the sides of the fabric down off my hips and thighs, at which point they're loose enough to shrug off and kick over to join the shirt. I glance over at the mirror as I go to undo my bra, and the fog has cleared enough off of it to get a decent glimpse at my reflection.

As I do so, I feel a shock of almost alien arousal, although it's a feeling I'm fast getting used to. Am I really finding myself that attractive? Not that, objectively, it would be that hard - after all, a girl with an athletic bod like mine, paired with some cute, peach-colored boyshort-style panties and a matching push-up bra that was giving its all, was going to turn some heads no matter what, whether from arousal, or maybe jealousy. I was kind of surprised that any part of me was really interested at the moment, though. After all, my fur was a total mess from a long day, and the hurried smoothing I'd done on the way home hadn't really done much to improve things. In fact, I'd probably have been embarrassed to be out in public if I'd really realized how mussed I'd looked, and my family had certainly been charitable for not commenting about it. That being said, after study group, there had been other feelings dominating my mind beyond concern for how I looked.

Still, there was a part of me that didn't care, that thought I was hot regardless, and wanted to see more. It was certainly a different way of looking at me, but at the same time it felt oddly flattering. Was I really that hot... even like this? Angling myself in the mirror, I tried to strike a pose like one of the elegant models in the fashion magazines I occasionally borrowed from my mom, putting on my most sultry expression and blowing a little kiss at the mirror. With little tufts of fur matted down weirdly or sticking out every which way, it came off to me as a surreal blend of complete silliness and undeniable sex appeal. I tried a couple more, a part of me enjoying it immensely, but when I tried an ass-smack pose, the silliness won out, and I almost broke down laughing. What was I thinking? I'm cute, maybe kind of hot, but I know I'm a long way from the svelte, beyond-beautiful impossibilities that saunter down runways - especially as the mess that I look right now. It's definitely time to clean up.

I reach over and turn on the taps, getting the shower heating up as I strip off my underwear. I take another quick glance before the mirror fogs up again, and beyond my fur being a mess all over, I feel kind of disappointed - and after a moment, I realize why. Here I am, a naked woman, something a part of me has been lusting after for quite some time, and there's not all that much to see. With human women, apparently, since they're apparently all skin and no fur, their naked form shows the clear curvature of their breasts and the complete shape of their nether regions. With a coat of fur, though, there's not all that much to see from me standing there: the pink nipples poking out on my breasts, maybe, but between my legs there's only the vaguest hint of pink mostly hidden behind a tuft of fur. That's what I'm used to, though, and it's hardly like my body is a mystery to me - if I really want to, I can recall the times I used a hand mirror, curious to see what was actually down there. If anything, the results were anticlimactic - it looked, pretty much, just like the illustrations I'd seen in my sex-ed handbook, only a little pinker and squishier and not really all that interesting. It was one of those things that, again, I had rarely thought about, at least until now. I know, given the memories from the Jake side of me, that for a guy it's pretty hard to ignore what's down there, as you're handling it throughout the day - for me, though, unless I'm using the bathroom, or doing the occasional... other stuff, it's pretty much out of sight, out of mind.

I take another look, but a good part of me is fuzzed out on the mirror, which is fogging up again. It means, though, that the shower should be at just the right temperature. I step quickly inside, eager to wash up - I'd had to get to my study group, so I'd only had the chance for a brief shower to rinse off after swimming, and I look forward to a shower that is a little more leisurely... and, for that matter, considerably warmer.

I can feel my muscles relax a bit as I enjoy the warm water streaming across my fur. It's even more pleasant than it normally is, as for a part of me, it's the first time I've felt it. I stand there for a moment, just enjoying the feeling, before I begin to lather up. I can't help but wonder, for a moment, why amidst all the products I can't seem to find any soap, just a bunch of different types of shampoos. Being completely covered in fur, though, what else would I use? And while there were boys who didn't care and used one of those all-in-one products over their entire body - and it showed - I knew from experience that there were different types of fur that ran across different parts of the body, and for each one, I'd worked hard and experimented to find just the right thing to bring out the best in each. It was a bit of a routine - this bottle for head and neck, this one for shoulders and arms, another for tummy and inner thighs - but it was something I'd done so many times that by now I could do it almost on autopilot. I did as much, letting my body take over and perform the remembered motions, happy to have a moment where I didn't have to think about anything. I began to hum a catchy pop song, eventually singing it outright, even as I realized I could somehow recall it in both sets of memories - in one, though, it was accompanied by annoyance rather than happiness. Still, I wondered, just how similar were the worlds in each memory? Sure, one was populated by apes, another by skunks, but there was apparently the same music, the same books, the same art... but at the same time, it was separate enough to the point where I'd lived somewhere else, even had different siblings. How similar, then, was it - and if it was so similar, then why had my other life been so different?

As I think about this, I realize that I've already washed up, and am just finishing rinsing the last bits of lather out of my neck fur. I realize, to my apparently profound disappointment, that I can't remember washing any particular parts... especially, it seems, the area around my breasts and between my legs. That's probably, I think, due to the fact that it's not that much more interesting to wash those parts than anything else. Somehow, I get the sense that what Jake knew about women before this, and about what aroused or interested them, came from porn - one of my previous boyfriends, back in sophomore year, had shown me a few scenes he'd "acquired" from somewhere, and I'd actually laughed at how fake it looked - he'd thought that the women in the scenes had been totally into it, but it seemed obvious to me that they were both bored, and faking it. For me, at least, I couldn't see the interest in just randomly pawing at my vulva, although I also knew that some women, my sister included, had a somewhat different opinion.

I shut off the water, giving my body a good shake with a practiced motion that twisted quickly down my spine all the way through to my tail - it isn't enough to totally get all the water off, but it helps. Swinging the shower door back ope, I reach out and grab a towel, almost rubbing it vigorously around on my body before I catch on and wisely halt the impulse. If I'd actually done that, the static would have puffed my fur up and made me look truly ridiculous! Instead, I take the towel and press it gently against my fur to mop up more of the moisture, wondering what other instinctive impulse will inevitably come from the Jake part of me, and whether I can head it off in time before doing something embarrassing or out-of-place. The rest of the job is left to an industrial-strength dryer, and I enjoy its warmth as I play it across my body, although I have the usual slightly-overheated feeling several minutes later when everything is finally dry.

I pull on the panties and shirt I brought in with me, although for some reason the shirt doesn't feel quite right. The mirror's too fogged up to really check, though, so I simply tidy things up a bit, grab my discarded clothes, and leave the fan to do its work.

I head back over to my room, walking past my sister reading on the bed as I toss my clothes into the hamper. As I do, though, I hear her giggle, and the sound is followed by a light smack on my panty-clad rear.

"Wow, you really are scatterbrained today!" I look around behind me, and immediately see what she means - the shirt I grabbed is just a normal long-ish shirt, and while it covers at least as much as a miniskirt in front, the part in back is tented up around the base of my tail, exposing most of my rear end. I can almost feel myself blushing as I try to pull the shirt down, but it obviously won't work, as my tail is far too long to pull it over. Instead, I pull the whole thing over my head in disgust, and pull on the proper shirt from the drawer; this one has a slit cut in the back, and the two sides drape down around the tail to provide much better coverage.

"Heh, you're just lucky that mom and dad are so busy with each other. This time of the month, a display like that might get you more than just a pat on the butt..." She grinned, and while I knew she was being facetious, I still grabbed a pillow that was sitting on her chair and chucking it at her.

"Jen! That's disgusting!"

"Oh, you know I'm kidding, Steph! Gawd!" Jenny tosses something back, albeit slower, and I realize as I catch it that it's her fur brush. "C'mon, we gotta get to bed, and if we're gonna have time before we gotta get to sleep..."

"Yeah, yeah, and the tails aren't gonna brush themselves." I sit down in my desk chair, but with my legs tilted to the side and my tail fluffing out over the other, providing Jenny access to my tail, and she sits the opposite way so I can get at hers. Nudging her sleep shirt to the side, I start brushing gently at the base, gradually brushing all the strands of fur back in line from their encounter with the dryer - while it's better than toweling off, the tail fur is long and sensitive enough that it's still frizzed out a bit, and always needs some extra taming. Behind me, I can feel her doing the same for my tail. It feels good, as it usually does, kind of like a mix between petting and massage, every so often sending a pleasant, anticipatory shiver through my tail and up along my spine.

"So," Jenny says as she brushes, "you know you're totally not getting away that easily. Are you gonna tell me what happened at study group or what?"

I hesitate for a moment, but quickly relent, knowing I'd be just as frustrated and pestering about it if I'd thought she was holding out on me with something interesting. I go over the story, from the break and the dare through to the after-cuddling, making sure to leave out anything after that, for fear it might lead somehow into the other, much stranger encounter.

"Mmm, that does sound kinda fun," Jenny says as I simultaneously finish the story and start on the fluffiest part of her tail. "I didn't know you were, like, that into girls. I mean, except for, y'know... It's just that you've always gotten with boys before, is all."

"Well, there was the dare, though that's probably not it. It's more that, well, you know how you feel around this time, all nice and warm and kinda ready, and if anyone suggests snuggling up with them it feels like a good idea."

"Yeah, that's probably it. I totally know what you mean. I didn't say anything 'cause nothing really happened, but you know Danny? That kinda geeky guy, I think he was, like, a couple seats next to you at my last doubles match? He was looking kinda nice today, and we were both like really early to our art class today, so I took him behind one of the sculptures and was gonna have some fun with him, but then the teacher came in and turned on all the lights, and I had to pretend I was helping him with his weird roleplaying diorama thing. Gawd! It was so frustrating, you know? At least you got to have some fun..."

"Yeah, I guess," I replied, moving on to the tail tip. I wasn't sure what I wanted to say next, but Jenny quickly chimed in again.

"Hey, Steph?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you feeling all right? I dunno, something just seems... kinda off about you. It's like, you're talking all formal and stuff, and it's kinda creeping me out a little."

Was I? Maybe... but then again, I also suddenly have several more years of education and refinement in my speech, from a perspective that had managed to avoid all the "valley-girl" mannerisms entirely. I can't exactly say that out loud, though.

"Am I really? Hmm... maybe it's because I've been studying so hard for the ARC and stuff. We've been going over English stuff in study group-"

"-When you're not fooling around, at least..." Jen replies, smirking.

"Whatever, you know you'd have done the same! Anyway, we've been all on English, and it's all about sentence structure and grammar, over and over on flashcards. Maybe it's rubbing off on me or something. I swear, I can almost see those flashcards in my sleep now..."

"Heh, really? We're all on math now, and it's not, like, hard or anything, but it's been totally beyond tedious for the last week... There!" Jen says, finishing the last bit of my tailfur with a flourish. I wrap hers up a few seconds later, and she gets up quickly, yawning as she stretches her arms out over her head. Taking a few steps over, she plops into bed, patting my place on it when I don't immediately follow.

The reason for my hesitation is that a part of me, probably the Jake part, is simultaneously incredulous and aroused by the apparently ludicrous notion of twin, teenage sisters sharing a single bed, although I'm surprised that it came up now, as there has only ever been one bed in the entire room. To me, though, it doesn't really seem all that abnormal. About half my friends sleep in a communal bed with their siblings, and it was something Jenny and I had done ever since we were kids. That, and the fact that thick fur, sheets and comforters don't always exactly get along, and snuggling up with someone is a lot more comfortable.

Ignoring the feelings, I sit down on the edge of the bed, swinging my legs over and rolling onto my side, arching my tail up and over Jenny's body to let her spoon up behind me. I hear her moving behind me, and a moment after the light switches off, I feel her snuggle up against me, sliding an arm under mine to rest on my belly as she gives me a warm hug. I feel her relax against me, and I almost wonder if she's going to just fall asleep like that, but after a moment her hand slides down to rest briefly on my thigh before nudging up the bottom hem of my shirt and sliding under it. I can feel myself relaxing under her touch, accompanied by a warm anticipation that quickly builds as her fingers trail down the front of my panties. Her fingers stop just before they would curve over between my legs, resting lightly on the fabric and gently nudging at the fur beneath.

"You sure?" I ask softly, although I can already guess her answer.

"Mhmm. When we're like this, if we don't, y'know, blow off some steam, who knows what kinda trouble we'll get into tomorrow..."

"Mmmm... okay." I turn onto my other side to face her. In the darkness, all I can see is a tiny bit of reflected light glinting in her eyes, but for what I'm doing, sight isn't exactly the most important sense.

"You first?" I ask, and I can just barely see her nod. In response, I reach over, and my hand encounters the soft, supple fur on her belly - her shirt is already up, and as I run my fingers through her fur, I can feel the muscles beneath tensing in anticipation.

I reach the waistband of her panties, playing my fingers across before sliding them down between her legs, rubbing gently along the soft fabric stretched tautly across her mound. I give a few tentative presses inward along the top, to see if she shies away, or asks me to go slower, but instead she just lets out a low, quiet moan and humps back against me. So, more quickly then - something that is more than fine by me, as my own arousal is already making my hips squirm a little in frustration, and I'll need her to deal with it soon.

I bring my hands back up, tugging gently at the waistband, tugging her panties down just enough to give me the access I need. I rest one hand gently on her hip, brushing along her fur as it slides slowly back, while I use my other hand to rub softly up along the one smooth patch of skin on her entire body. I feel along it until I find the soft ridges of her inner lips, tracing them with my fingers as I follow them up to the hood where they meet. I grip it gently between my thumb and finger, pushing the hood down until I can feel the firm nub of her clit resting between them. Ignoring my other thoughts, which mostly consist of odd feelings of arousal in impossible places and variations on "holy shit this is actually happening," I begin to move my fingers around in a familiar pattern, stretching the hood out tightly before using my fingers to roll it around her button in a particular, well-practiced way.

By now, I know exactly how she'll respond. A few seconds in, and her arms are wrapped tightly around me again; a few more, and I feel her try to pull her hips away to lessen the intense sensation. I also know that when she actually does that, she actually feels more frustrated, and my hand on her ass instinctively tightens to hold her in place. Instead of pulling away, I feel her shudder against me, her panting breath puffing against my cheek as I increase the speed of my motion and pull my fingers just a bit tighter together.

I know from experience that this is her most sensitive part, and she usually gives in with just a few minutes of my touch; this time, though, it takes scarcely a minute before her nub retreats from my touch, and I quickly switch gears, as this is the most critical part of it. Instead of trying to hold onto the hood, my fingers push down firmly on it, rubbing intensely with a tight, circular motion. Almost immediately, her thighs clamp down around my arm, and I can feel the pressure of her blunt claws against my back as she lets out a low, throbbing moan that quickly climbs the register. As she shudders against me, for a moment I have a flash of panic as I can't remember whether the door was closed or not, before remembering that our parents are almost certainly even more engaged than we are and won't possibly notice or care.

I feel her mound thrust up against my fingers, her whole pelvis shivering, and judging by the amount of time her body stays tight and shuddering against me before she finally relaxes, I've done everything just right, as usual. As she relaxes against me, her chest heaving, I slide my fingers down, gently massaging along her mound to ease her through the rest of her climax and into a comfortable afterglow. As her inner lips twitch gently against my fingers to her own inner rhythm, I enjoy the sensation of her against me, feeling both intensely close and inordinately proud that that I can so quickly and overwhelmingly please the one person that I care about the most. Well, that and the surprisingly amazing feeling of being able to intimately touch a girl for the first time ever, and not just to touch her, but to do what I did, to feel her literally come around me... Okay, yeah, thinking that is kinda silly - I mean, Jenny is literally the third girl I've touched in some intimate way just today, myself included - but it does feel good to know that instead of having discordant feelings of shock and weirdness, every part of me is happy in my sister's snuggly embrace.

Given the way she just climaxed, I know it will be a few minutes before she will do anything but cling to me and make a soft, happy sounds that seems almost like purring. I move my hand up along her back, gently petting the fur at the base of her tail, while keeping my other resting lightly between her legs. In response, her purring intensifies, and she hugs me to her even more tightly. Tightly enough, in fact, that I can feel my own elbow digging into my hip due to my awkward position. I keep my hand in place, though, knowing she enjoys the close contact, and I keep it there until I feel her hips squirm and pull back as she becomes oversensitive, which I know means she's just about done. I slide both my hands around her shoulders and return the embrace, enjoying the feel of her soft fur and panting, sated body. I just want to... to... somehow flip her over, pin her down against the bed, and fuck her lithe, awesome body until she moans my name and comes even harder around my... phantom, nonexistent penis. I somehow manage to stifle a giggle at the latest absurd thought to flash across my mind, and while I can feel that the Jake part of me is just a little disappointed, I'm more than happy with my current position.

"Hahh... whew!" Jenny says a moment later, her head close enough that I can feel her breath against my neck. "Ohhhh... I so totally needed that. Steph, you are... hahh... seriously, like, the best ever at doing that."

"Mmm... really? You sure it's just me? I mean, if I rubbed myself like that, it would feel kinda okay, but beyond that... you're kinda lucky that way, I guess. I mean, it's not like I've been with a ton of girls, and every one of them but you takes ages before they even feel like they could come - compared to that, getting you there is way easy."

I hear Jenny laugh lightly at that. "Oh, I'm the lucky one? You ask me, you're way luckier!"

"Really?"

"Yeah! I mean, I'm, like, way more sensitive on the outside, but that's not real helpful when most dumbass boys can't even find what they're looking for, and don't know what to do with it even if they do find it! But since your sensitive spots are, like, on the inside somewhere, when you go at it it's like they can't help but find them, so that's way luckier if you ask me."

'Well, I dunno..."

"Oh, c'mon! All mine means, most of the time, is I get to squirm sometimes when my panties rub against me the wrong way, but you... I mean, seriously! Remember that one time?"

"Er... which one?" To which my mind asks, just how much stuff do I get up to on a regular basis? The answer, of course, is... enough, especially around this time every month...

"You know! It was, like a couple of cycles ago, back when you were dating Tommy, remember? That night when mom and dad went out to the show, and we knew we'd be alone, so you brought him back with you after your date. You both walked in, and you were wearing that cute red miniskirt, and your panties were already sticking out of his front pocket..."

"Wow, you... really remember a lot about that..." But then again, so did I, especially since I'd gone most of a cycle without him, and wouldn't exactly mind having him back right about now.

"Well, yeah, because it was fun! And when I say fun, I mean was really, really fun, especially for you. Remember? The two of you jumped on the bed together, and you came right there, just from him putting it in! And then, like, four or five times while you were going at it, at least!"

"You... you could tell? I mean, you weren't even-"

"Uh-huh. Seriously, it's pretty easy to tell if you know what to look for. I mean, I guess it's hard to tell if you're the one it's happening to, but yeah, it's kinda obvious. Just before it happens, your legs, like, spread out extra and your toes go all curled, and you make this cute little whimper right as it happens that you, like, never make any other time. And really, that time, you were soooo into it, you guys barely even noticed I was there! I mean, you noticed afterwards, and it was really kinda hot just watching you, and I kinda got into it and came while thinking of how awesome it must have felt for you... Oh, it's times like that I so wish that thing about twins being able to feel each other's feelings was actually true!"

She's right, of course. Tommy and I had gone to an 18-and-under club and danced for a couple of hours, and by the time we were heading home I was warm and happy and definitely in the mood. We'd made out quickly in the elevator heading up, and by the time we made it to the front door I'd managed to surreptitiously slip off my panties and handed them to him as an appetizer for what was next. It had gotten him going, all right - before we got to the bedroom door, his hand had found its way between my legs, and almost as soon as we walked inside he'd grabbed my waist and lifted me up. The next thing I knew, I was on my bed, on my back, my miniskirt flipped up, and Tommy's pants were suddenly nowhere to be seen. Then he'd pounced on top of me, I'd felt his warmth tuck in between my legs, and then he hit all of my sweet spots in one smooth thrust and the world had melted into pure ecstasy - ecstasy that hadn't really stopped until he'd finally groaned and half-collapsed on top of me. I can almost recall the amazing feelings even now - even as they cause me to squirm uncomfortably and almost panic, as the memory of the sensation is so alien to a part of me that it's almost incomprehensible. To get past it, I try to remember the feelings again, remembering the specific sensations and trying to parse them in a way that that part of my mind can understand. It seems to work, as the feeling of overwhelming strangeness begins to subside, and instead the intense recollections make me feel warm, tingly, and very much ready. I also feel a little guilty, thinking of my sister having to just sit there and watch while I'd had the most amazing time. If only we were able to share those feelings! Although...

"But, he spent a bunch of time with you too, right? I was lying right next to you on the bed, remember? He was with you for even longer, and after I recovered, I helped you out some too..." And really, even that part of the night had been pretty nice, lying there warm and snuggly and totally sated while I watched Jenny making happy-sounding moans as she writhed against, and under, and on top of Tommy in a variety of positions. I had enjoyed watching her having fun, and watching my boyfriend make her happy too - maybe it was a twin thing, but I hadn't felt even a hint of jealousy that he seemed to be having more fun with her, and it had seemed completely natural to share.

"Well, yeah, he spent longer, and it was kinda nice having him, y'know, inside, but the only time I got off when we were doing it was when you helped! I mean, seriously, I think the only reason he lasted that long is because he was waiting for me to come like you or something. And then when he saw me looking disappointed he wanted to eat me out, but it took his inept butt like half an hour to just barely get me off. I can't say I'm that sorry to see him go..."

I am, of course, but I'm not going to say that now. I mean sure, he'd been a jerk, but he'd also been thick enough, and long enough, and curved just subtly enough in the right direction to hit my spots like no one else had before. Although, I guess Jenny is right, in a way - while he was the best, most any guy will eventually do the trick, usually sooner rather than later.

"Well, you could always go with girls if you wanted to. I mean, they know what to do, and usually they're cleaner and more polite, too..."

"Hmm, I guess... but we're kind of, like, set in the girl department for now, yeah?" She snuggles up closer and nuzzles against my cheek.

"Speaking of which..." Jenny releases her embrace, and a moment later I feel my shirt shift again as she reaches up to rub a finger across the crotch of my panties. I know that she can feel the burgeoning wet spot there, and judging by the way that her hand moves up to slide under the waistband of my panties without hesitation, I know she's aware that I'm more than ready for her.

Her fingers feel comfortably warm as they brush along my skin, running down along my lips until they nudge out to either side around her. A moment later, I feel the sensation of two of her fingers sliding easily inside.

It feels... shocking, and terrifying, and impossible, and amazing, part of me trying desperately to parse the sensation of being penetrated. It was probably a completely alien feeling for a guy, or at least an ostensibly straight one. From that viewpoint, though, what would usually only be a nice, comfortable beginning was now an incredible event all on its own. The feeling of warm, soft layers of something inside me, yielding and stretching and being stroked and rubbed and pressed as her fingers probe deeper, and each subsequent layer seems to feel softer and stretchier and enjoy the touch even more.

It's my turn to hug her, although when I try she puts a hand on my hip and pushes me back over, her fingers twisting through several intriguing places as she expertly rolls me over onto my back. This allows her hand to get better purchase, her fingers sliding in deeper, as her other hand stays firmly on my hip. She knows I have a tendency to squirm away at certain points too, and wants to make sure I don't miss a single moment of intensity.

Her fingers curl in, and up, pressing into something that thrills instantly at the touch. I can feel myself squirm as her fingers rub up against it repeatedly, and it stretches wonderfully as she pushes in harder to massage something that feels even better, and... and I suddenly have an almost uncontrollable need to take a piss, so much so I'm afraid I'm about to wet the bed.

"Sis... Jen, you need to stop, I think I'm gonna pee!"

"Mmm, you know, you always say that," Jenny's voice says softly, a few inches from my ear. "And then..."

Her fingers keep working, rubbing even more intensely, and for a moment I really do think I'm going to lose control and piss all over her hand. Just before I do, though, it's almost like the feeling flips over somehow, and instead of feeling the urge to release, my muscles tense, and I can feel myself somehow clamping down around her fingers. I can feel the tension spread, shooting down my legs and seeming to pull my body like a marionette, before the tightness surges back and seems to form a knot of ecstatic tension right under her fingers, a knot that she kneads, and rubs, and curls her fingers into and around in the most tantalizing way. At the same time, I want to get away from the intensity of the feeling, and have it go on, and on, and on... but then, she curls her fingers just a bit more, placing them just where they need to be, and stroking across that one perfect spot that's so intense it seems like I can feel her soft, gentle touch across every inch of me. My whole body shudders, and for a moment it almost feels like I'm... glowing? Then the knot of tension explodes outwards, into warm, pulsating rhythmic waves of pleasure that ease my suddenly relaxing body back against the bed. The sensation of her fingers is suddenly too much, then just right again, and I feel my insides shiver wonderfully around her several times, relaxing for just a moment before they begin to pulsate in time with my heartbeat. I know she can feel me squeezing gently around her fingers with each one, the most intimate hug I can possibly give her, and through the wonderful sensations I can just barely feel her snuggle up against my side, whispering something in my ear that I can't quite make out as my mind is overwhelmed with pleasure.

For a few blissful moments, my mind is completely blank and indescribably happy. As I begin to come down from it, as the ecstasy sublimates into a wonderful sense of warmth and complete comfort, every part of me is quiescent and happy, even the Jake part - it was an awesome climax to be sure, even better than it usually was, but it was also something even more amazing that I - or at least part of me - had ever experienced before. I catch flashes of his memory, climaxes that were intense, and incredible, and even almost as long, but nothing quite like the one that has just left my body feeling incandescent with warmth, my legs like jelly, and an incredible feeling of throbbing, liquid pleasure between them that lingers comfortably long after Jenny's fingers have left.

When I can finally move again, I pull my legs back together and shrug off my panties, which I know are certainly soaked by now and will become rapidly less comfortable as they cool. I ball them up and toss them into the darkness, hopefully in the general direction of the hamper. I feel around under me, and my sleep shirt is, thankfully, still pretty much dry - luckily it hasn't been one of those occasions where the bed does get wet, albeit with something much different than urine. Still, while those times had been inconvenient, it could have been worse - I'd heard a rumor of a girl that had completely lost it during sex, and had sprayed the guy right behind her...

I feel something soft pelt my face, and something else thump lightly against my chest a moment later. I feel around for them on my chest, and my hands quickly come up with what I quickly realize is a soft hand towel and a pair of panties.

"Thought you might need those," Jenny says next to me. "Sorry if the towel is kinda used, but I had to wipe my fingers off somewhere..."

I laugh a little at that. "Wow, you really do think of everything, don't you..."

"Mhmm. After all, what are sisters for?" She gives me a light peck on the cheek, then thinks better of it and gives me a lingering lick across my muzzle, rewarding her with an extra little shiver and moan from me.

As I regain my composure enough to towel off and pull the panties back on, I momentarily wonder whether they are one of her pairs or mine, before realizing that it doesn't really matter. As I snug them into place, soft and comfortable to complement the similar feelings in the place they press against, I see a flash of light in the corner of my vision as Jenny momentarily activates the light on the bedside clock. "I guess we should, like, get some sleep already. Unless you need to go again?"

"Mmmm, no, sleep is good." I'm already turning back onto my side, and before long Jenny snuggles back up against me, her head nuzzling comfortably against my chest. I wrap an arm lightly around her side before drawing her in close, and I feel her doing the same, and lying there sated, with her against me, feels comfortable and snuggly and... perfect.

I lie there for a moment, hovering between wakefulness and sleep, and for a brief moment I find myself wondering again who I am. From whatever perspective, though, through the eyes of Jake, or Stephanie, or whatever the combination of us adds up to, there are several things that I know for sure: I love being me, I love this life, this family, this incredible experience. I am happy to let one set of discordant memories become a story, or a vision, or some sort of fascinatingly vivid dream, and move forward as who I am now. For me, for Stephanie and Jake together, the few things I might have lost seem trivial in comparison to the things I've gained, the incredible experience I've had so far, and a future in this other world that has never looked brighter.