FSE

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CHAPTER ONE

Blairsville Stockade

My head throbbed intensely as I awoke. My dreams had been of home, nor of my home in Blairsville. Further south in the state, in the central half, where I grew up on the west side near the Alabama border; in the city of Waco and its lone truck stop, old houses, and far country. I remembered my mom, my dad, and my sisters and single brother. How we grew up together in those single-wide and, eventually, double-wide trailers in the trailer park community. It was poor going, but dad did his best with the trucking job he had, always out and working. He would eventually transition to construction and mom would go back to teaching school. I remembered their faces in my dreams, the quiet serenity of knowing everything was taken care of.

The image of my brother dying on a hospital bed had brought my dream to an end. His gagging, grasping for something, anything to save him from the disease that had racked his body as he choked to death. Choked even as the doctors rushed around and I, in my younger age, had been forced to watch as the monitors had beeped their final time. The dead look in his eyes that still had some form of life, a yearning for the life stolen from him as the cancer had entered its final stages. He had only been in there for a checkup, I had recalled, and then everything changed. Just like right now.

“R-right now?” I murmured, but my voice wasn’t my own. I was laying flat on something, hay I knew, probably cattle hay, and the sting of it was only mildly felt. My head throbbed and the dream of my brother faded as the reality of things settled across my senses. “Where is… right now?”

The question lingered on my mind in the absence of any relevant answer to it. I tasted on my tongue a sensation of something similar to crushed aspirin on the tongue after you accidentally chew it; an acidic taste was on my gums, between them, behind them, stinging and copper-like in taste. My tongue flexed against my gums, and my teeth weren’t normal, that was the first thing I noticed being different about myself. My teeth, and how they were sharper, more canine in texture, inhuman in the size and almost incomprehensibly uncomfortable if I thought about it enough. I lay there for a while, my tongue tasting and feeling my teeth, my mind trying to resolve the obvious conflicts of what was before, to what was now.

I took in a deep breath. I was laying down, this I knew, my mind knew. I felt the hay stinging against my skin—no, something else was there. A barrier, like clothing, but different. My mind tried to resolve the conflict there too, but it just added another layer to the dysphoria that was growing in the midst of my waning consciousness as it drifted from the horrors of my nightmares. I felt different, and my brain was beginning to tell me I was different, but my brain was also in conflict with itself because it knew the human conditions, qualities, and traits of my being should dominate my senses. My body should exist, I should exist normally in that body, yet the body that should exist wasn’t there any longer.

“W-What?” I murmured again, aloud, and once again my ears moved—my ears moved! There was no way that could have happened! My eyes shot open as I uttered, “What the hell!?”

I gasped as I looked upward. I felt my ears move. I gazed up at the overhanging light above me providing me warmth despite the coldness I felt in my body. I noticed it then, near the corner of my vision, my nose was different. I tried to move the muscles to adjust my nose, and in return the visual of my entire nose moving in an odder manner greeted me. It felt entirely inhuman, like I had an elongated snout, and as I tried to think of an alternative for what I was seeing, my tongue instinctively slipped out and ran over my nose. I saw this, saw its length, felt it, and all at once my world flipped upside down.

“What the hell is going on?!” I screamed, though my voice wasn’t my own, prompting a panic as I then slipped on my legs and then immediately fell down. I landed face first into the hay as I realized that when I had tried to move, my legs didn’t move, but all my legs did, and I trembled at this fact. “What is-.. why-.. why do…” I tried, but my voice trailed off as my thoughts, and my brain, went dead. My eyes stared forward, blankly, at what appeared to be a gate that locked me in this enclosure.

My mind was overloaded. My body lacked the response that I expected. Instead, there were too many new signals that seemed to flow into my perception that convoluted what I anticipated there to be. Instead of what I wasn’t able to do at the moment, I focused on what I could.

I can still breathe, I thought, and to my relief my inward thoughts spoke the same, expectant voice I was accustomed to from before. I can still think, see, and feel. It’s just all different. Different things. I don’t understand.

And I didn’t understand, not one bit of what was transpiring. Neither did my body, apparently. I settled, breathing, letting myself adjust. The more I did, however, the more a sense of unease washed over me.

I’ve got to try again, I thought, trying to motivate myself. Think. What happened before? What do I remember?

I closed my eyes to recollect. My memories were awash with brief glimpses of a white, pristine room surrounded by clear medical curtains, and the beeping of equipment beside me as I was hooked up to IV’s and other sensors. I had been through the thick of COVID before, I knew, and I was familiar with the situation I had been in. I was in and out of awareness, but the doctors in their gowns were a constant.

“Mr. Thompson,” the doctor said as I relived the moment. Her voice was melodious and alleviated much of my tension. “We’re going to have to keep you in here longer, okay?”

“Okay,” I managed, but my own voice was hoarse, broken. There was a look of sympathy on the doctors face, I could see it even through her mask. They cared, she cared, and that’s all that mattered. “How’s Mr. John?”

“Mr. John is being kept in critical right now, Mr. Thompson, but you don’t need to worry about him. You need to worry about yourself, okay?”

“Okay,” I repeated. Mr. John was a fellow trucker, a friend of mine who lived near where I did. I remembered we had come in together.

The doctor tweaked something on an IV, then produced a syringe. I briefly glanced at it through my weary eyes. She didn’t say anything when she stuck me with it. My consciousness faded a moment later.

My eyes opened again. That was the last thing I remembered. Maybe they stuck me with something? I ventured to think, but that didn’t make sense. The Curse Virus, Curse Flu, or whatever you wanted to call it was said to have side effects including bodily deformations. The doctors stated explicitly we had the Curse Virus. So this must be the side effects, I considered as I tried to at least flex my toes and feet.

They felt strange, bigger, weighter. I tried to move my head down and it was then that, as I raised my head, my eyes glanced upon the full horrors of my transformation. I didn’t scream, I didn’t run in shock, I didn’t shiver and shut down. Instead, I blankly stared.

My body was covered in a fur of brown, almost chestnut colored hair. As I looked, my arms were now forearms, extending from the shoulders of my upper barrel and down almost like a feline or canine extremity. I had an expanded mid-section, like you’d see in a docks, and my legs, now hind legs, were formed in much similar fashion to a canines, including the digitigrade knees. I watched as I instructed my toes to move, and the toes I watched, the clawed appendages along the strange alien hind-paw, moved and flexed accordingly.

And I had a tail, I noted, as my eyes drifted further back. One thought on it saw the appendage move; my tail was thick at the base matching my body, and shrinked in size the further down it went, and it moved with some dexterity to it. The tip of which, the last quarter of the tip of the tail, had a fluff of fur similar in fashion to something you’d see on an equine; brown chestnut fur blocked the tip of my tail as it swung and gently moved.

A wave of dysphoria washed over me as I again tried to move my hind leg. It did move, but my brain refused to believe it was mine—or rather my brain refused to believe it was a body of all belonging to it. My head whirled and I closed my eyes, bringing a forepaw up to cusp gently my snout. My snout! I rubbed my paw over it, feeling the length, the velvet lips and my almost draconic nostrils on either side of the tip. I moved my paw across the rest of my face, the snout merging into it, and I felt the bones of my new head underneath, including the eye sockets on either side of my head. Thankfully, I at least deduced, they faced forward, which meant I was a predator species of some kind.

Why did I find relief in knowing I was a predator? I wondered as the dysphoria began to gently subside. My eyes opened again and, despite revolting thoughts otherwise, my brain didn’t protest as I glanced over my body again. Oh, I have a mane!

And I did! It was a beautiful raven-black color, seeming to start at the upper barrel of my chest and neck and encompass my neck within its fluff, moving up to just under my cheekbones and to the back end of my head. I moved my paw through my examinations, feeling every inch, and then I felt my ears and confirmed my earlier observations of myself—I did, in fact, have some long ears, and there was something on the right one, like a tag or branding. My hand continued, and between my ears protruding two sets of horns, I felt the base of either at the edge of the ears, in between each, and extended outward then along the circumference of the edge of my upper skull.

I'm some kind of fluffy dragon, I surmised then, blinking gently, feeling relieved, the wave of gut-wrenching dysphoria not returning. Some kind of branded dragon, I realized, but disregarded it for the moment. I started to close my eyes again, but being the man I had been, a thought crossed my mind. But what about…

I lifted my hind leg to view briefly, checking. Most of it was an equal measure of fluffy, conforming, mane-like hair similar to the raven-black mane I had. I could see glimpses of what I sought, and I felt relieved as I let the matter settle, relaxing again as I exhaled. I still had the necessities, and at least whatever happened to transform me hadn’t taken that away. It was a silly thing to feel relieved in, to be true, as I thought more on it. But it was the only thing that provided some relief that whatever I had become wasn’t something completely alien. I was still a male of whatever species I was now, still could think and remember; I remembered myself as a man, a proper man, and could remember my memories from that time, which in and of itself was a kind blessing.

No, I decided as I thought, the doctor didn’t do this to me. The strange sickness did. I don’t know how, I don’t know why, I can’t think beyond the unreasonable right now. But it happened and, apparently, they stuck me in a cage.

My thoughts were interrupted further as something struck the metal gate. I looked, the structure—or perhaps, pen—I was in was metal, cheaply made but with strong joints, similar to what you’d keep a bull or stallion in. There was no color to it, no paint, it was just sheet-metal silver and not at all unpleasant to see. My pen itself was dirt-floor and had a water trough in the corner that looked fresh. There was some kind of food bowl beside that, enlarged, as if for some kind of large dog. Myself, probably, I mused, with some humor. And where I lay was some fresh, large bedding of hay. I considered the water, all but forgetting the knock on the gate.

I tried again, standing this time as I closed my eyes to not allow my brain to interfere. I used pure will to focus on all my legs, and I managed to balance myself. All I had to do was think when I crawled on my legs. It worked! I began to wobble, but slowly I moved forward, step after step, mimicking what I saw a dog or cat do as they walked—I had at one time a dog myself, but they had passed on well before I contracted this flu. I felt my tail naturally adjusting for balance, and I allowed my head and neck to move appropriately as my brain began to take over accordingly. Most of my actions became natural then, but it wasn’t a complete victory, because I still felt like I was wobbling.

Despite everything, I managed to approach the water trough and scent it. It was then I realized how my smell was so different than before. I can clearly smell it! I wondered to myself. I’ve never smelt water this clear before! And…and I smell the pen, the hay, and the food, and…and something else. That something else was outside the pen, I realized, and looking under the pen gates—which were, again I noted, closed to any outside observation or myself looking out—there seemed to be a shadow of something there.

I didn’t think much of it after staring at it for a moment, instead dipping my head down, my nostrils in the water. I tried to seal my snout with my lips as I sucked in the water and, with some relief I realized, I gulped it down. I closed my eyes, sipping and gulping eagerly my fill of the fresh liquid. Once I finished I raised my head, looking at the food. I smelled again, and it still smelt somewhat fresh, whatever it was, and I moved over to lean my head down to lap at it.

Dog food, I realized, and grunted softly. Had to eat this a couple times before, I mused, remembering my poor life back in the sticks of home, and the times on the road I had nothing for food. Suck it up, it’s food, I motivated myself, lapping and consuming the food in a way that felt natural; my maw opened, my tongue went out, and drew in giblets of the stuff and I closed my maw, swallowing, then repeated. A minute later, I had an adequately full belly. I went back to the trough briefly, slurping another gulp of water before sighing in relief.

Why am I so comfortable with this? I wondered to myself, standing tall. My head height made my vision, normally at six feet, allow my perspective a much higher one. Still, the pen gates and walls themselves were much higher. I figured whatever I was now, I must be in some containment facility. I pondered on it, and realized it might be the things I’d do too if I was treating someone who magically transformed into a fluffy dragon. Makes sense, I suppose. Maybe this is the end result of the virus, not that I understand anything happening.

I looked back to the water remaining in the trough. I moved over gently and, instead of closing my eyes and going for a gulp, I kept them open. I was curious as I moved my head slowly where I could see over the trough's lip, the water still rippling somewhat from my previous lapping of it. I saw my head move into view in the reflection and, surprisingly, my brain didn't entirely flip as I noticed the horns, ears, and raven-black mane I had already figured. I saw the tag that was on my ear, large letters numbering five-five-zero in view. The ramifications of this were aloof to me for the moment, so I continued my examinations. I persisted in moving my head upward, and to my perception did finally flip when my eyes came into view.

They were alien eyes, elongated in a way to fit, it seemed, the head they now rested in. Not in a frighteningly huge fashion, but at least bigger than a horse and stretched in a way that made them seem more pronounced. They were slitted, reptilian, and the iris still bore, thankfully, the hazel color of my old eyes. Once I blinked and felt my brain register that they were, in fact, my own eyes, I ventured to move my head fully into view.

The snout was the most pronounced thing. I had felt it before and, similar to my ears, which themselves extended outward from my head similar to a deer and seemed to move of their own accord, my snout already felt familiar. Not entirely, to be sure, as my eyes drifted across the elongated muzzle that seemed a mixture of almost reptilian and canine anatomy. My lips were like a dogs, in a way, with dark velvet bumps that moved from the corner of my long muzzle all around, forming what I considered to be the lips. I opened my lips, watching the flesh move up and down to expose my canine-like teeth, looking more predator than omnivore, though I did recognize my rear teeth as something required to chew plants or other things.

I lowered my lips, tilting my head, and surprisingly my vision began to split as I angled it a certain way. One side of my vision was almost entirely blocked by my snout, but I could still see forward and above the trough. The other was looking straight down into the water at my reflection, clearly visible. Like a form of diplopia, or double vision, and my brain didn’t exactly freak because the information received was according to my perceptions. Though, when I gazed at my reflection, I noticed just how long my muzzle was. I almost look kinda adorable, I thought, being a dog lover and seeing resemblances.

I wonder why I’m not freaking out, I thought, glancing around my pen as I excused myself of my reflection. I was able to stand now, at least in some sense without wobbling, and using my tail to some degree seemed to stabilize myself. My pen was large, comfortable, and obviously created for conditions like myself. I should be freaking out, I decided, but my emotions didn’t comply, nor did my brain. I was calm, unusually so, huffing outward as I brought a paw up into view, flexing the digits. But…..why ain’t I?

I then recalled the bump, or whatever it was, against the gate before. The shadow beneath the gate. I looked there and, to my surprise, there was no longer any shadow. I meandered my way over despite my wobbling frame, I felt myself getting better accustomed to the way I now walked, and I approached the gate. I lowered my head, sniffing again, remembering the odd scent from before. It was still strong, and while I didn’t entirely understand the concepts of being able to recognize differentiating scents, I compensating by using my memory of such past scents to overlay the things I did know; things like food, like water, and like hay and dirt and other foul things I may have loosened in the pen. This scent I smelled earlier, and smelt now, was different.

It smells…smells like cattle, in a way, like a horse smells. I don’t know why I know that, I’ve been around them, sure, but this is more intense, sharper, I thought as I snuffed again and again. Wet fur, almost, like a cat who got stuck in the rain and didn’t clean themselves, like matted fur, like….like….danger?

I didn’t know why I thought “danger” was a proper word to describe what I smelled. Along with the strange scent, there was something else, I realized. Something primal that my brain was picking up on, that perhaps on a signal this new form sent to it, that it finally registered or perhaps in a primitive way understood. I wasn’t an overly intelligent man, or hadn’t been one, but I did do my research on pets and other things in my life. I was forty-five at the time of the virus and lived a well-earned and struggled life, so I wasn’t ignorant of the world or my place within it. I had many self-taught concepts of biology and animal behaviorisms in mind, mostly from absent side-studies I’d do on the road to keep me entertained, or perhaps from stories I’d read otherwise. This scent I was smelling, however, I knew had an underlying scent of danger.

Not only because of that, but also because my gut told me so, my instincts. I always trusted my gut and it was singing a parade in my mind right now. I slowly backed away from the gate, what I felt like hackles or fur along my neck and body raising. Something primal, dangerous was out there. Something I instinctively knew was dangerous. The reality of my circumstance finally settled upon me like a crashing boulder, crushing the weight of my calmness as my instincts drove me wild. My brain was finally able to tap into whatever it was missing earlier, and my body was reacting to something that I would be a fool to ignore.

The shadow grew larger, closer, and once again the gate gently budget and knocked on its hinges as if something pressed against it. I saw then a snout, similar to mine, but greyish in color, appear as the nostrils flared. Again and again it scented, and then I saw teeth, like a feral dog had found its prey. I felt myself press against the far wall as whatever it was began to thrash harshly against the gate, and growls and roars erupted from the other side. The gate began to buckle inward. Everything about my mind told me to run and to get away as far as possible, but here was another side of me, knowing I had nowhere to run, that demanded I fight.

How can I fight when I can barely stand?! I considered as a low growl emitted from myself, my instincts taking over. I hadn’t been much of a push-over when I was a man. Sometimes in trucking, you fought, and you lost or won depending on the situation, but you always stood your ground for whatever came next. I knew how to fight, but what I didn’t know, was how to fight in this body.

The thrashing against the door subsided as my growls continued, they sounding feral and animalistic, though in comparison to whatever was on the other side of the bent gate they were considerably subdued. The creature on the other side, perhaps similar to me if I deduced correctly, had been roaring like a creature who had found food. Now it simply growled back, I watched as the shadow moved to the left and toward a buckled portion of the gate where it met the wall. It was still latched, or locked, or whatever was mating the gate to the wall, but there was a gap there where a head appeared.

It’s like me! I saw, but it wasn’t like me. Its eyes are white! I further noted. They looked feral, lost of awareness, lost of sympathy or morality. They glanced at me. I growled again, trying for a show, but backed against a wall I knew I looked like a trap meal. What would a dog do in my situation? I quickly wondered, and then I acted.

I barked, but it wasn’t a canine-like bark, moreso a roaring one. I lashed forward despite hobbling, My forepaw striking out with claw, displaying myself as a threat. The eyes of the creature widened and it briefly disappeared. Then it reappeared, smelling, and the eyes squinted as it judged me. Had it seen through my display? I saw a grin then, it repeating my barking roar, and then I heard it use its body to trash the gate. In that instant, the gate buckled completely, snapping from whatever had secured it to the wall, and the gate flung around and into the inside wall with a snap of sharp metal on metal. And then I saw its horrific beauty.

Horrific because the entire creature, similar to me, was a stage larger than myself. It had mottled fur, unkept and smelling of something foul, I realized as I scented the air again. Its eyes were completely void of anything I could recognize as sentient or sapient, glowing a pale white as if blind but not—it clearly saw me, could see me, was aware of me. Her ears, also, were tagless I noted, which at the time seemed odd but wasn't at the highest priority of my mind to investigate. As it moved from its side position to face me, the way it moved was more fluid and controlled then I knew I could do. I was cornered, against a wall, and if I didn’t act I would be considered its food source. I knew this because I could see the ribs along its sides, how shrunken in its skin looked, how malnourished it appeared.

You either live or die here, David, I told myself, trying to spur and motivate myself. I had survived COVID, and I had survived the Curse Virus, albeit my human body didn’t. But I was alive, could think, was aware, and I’d be a fool not to be able to stand up for myself now. Things began to click in my head about the state of affairs of the new reality I was in. This was both pack behavior and survival, the creature had seen my display and was now standing in the only exit. I was trapped, and had to respond. Now or never, I ordered myself.

And I acted.

Despite myself, despite feelings otherwise, I allowed whatever instinct had allowed me to growl and appear a threat to take over. Something deep, something new residing there, just out of the cusp of my awareness, shared itself with me in that moment. I knew I had to appear to be more trouble than I was worth to this creature to force it to consider something else, and I knew that likely due to it being here, I could very well be the only food source it could find. Which meant that if all else failed, I needed to fight for myself, and despite my hardships of body and acclimation, I didn’t have time to be weak.

I lashed forward and released the most intense roar I could. It came out as a growling roar, and I put all my effort into, stomping my forepaws despite my wobbling stature. Whatever primal force was at the edge of my awareness, it now had control over the instinctual urges of my body and motion, assisting me despite my impairment of conscious mind. The creature, in response, lowered and growled aggressively as it hopped backward in both surprise and defense. I let myself go, then, letting myself enter the animalistic state I wanted to be in. When you’re faced with the consequences of nature, you either respond accordingly, or face the ramifications of your weakness.

The creature, similar to me but not, dared to move forward. I again pounced a step forward, roaring in my way, stomping my feet and now tail, keeping my eyes firmly on it. Mine! I thought, putting words to my efforts. This is mine! Stay away!

It mimicked me, doing the same motions, and then lunged forward unexpectedly. I didn’t have time to think, I only had time to act. I also lunged, feeling my legs finally moving in a way that felt something familiar, my tail moving to balance and compensate for my uneasiness in the quick motion forward. The creature lashed out with a claw and I met it in equal fashion, my claws extending as its own met my forward shoulder. The sting of open flesh and wounds felt intense, but my own claws struck the side of its head in a forceful smack that sent it reeling briefly to the side. We both separated, it forced against the wall with a THUD and I leaping to the side as I hobbled trying to stay afoot. My tail once again moved on its own accord, balancing, and I prayed my thanks to my body's instincts.

The creature looked angry as it lifted its head and body from the metallic wall, just inches away from the water trough. It moved like a dog now aware of the hardship it faced for its meal, its eyes judging as I could see some consideration in its expression. Its fangs and teeth still bore toward me, as mine did toward it. I was no longer an easy kill, I would require effort. It hissed an inhuman sound toward me, moving slowly past the trough and, I saw, toward the food bowl.

This is my chance! I said to myself, unprompted, but I knew the awareness of this open line of escape came deep from somewhere else inside me. It’s moving away from the door!

True to my observations, the thing had scented the food, and considering the deep gouges it had on the side of its head I wasn’t going to be easy to consume. The remainder of my large food bowl, however, would, and it kept its eyes on me as if considering if I would fight for that as well. I huffed out as a dog might, growling as I backed a step. It growled back, but slinked toward the bowl, and the first moment it took its eyes off me I bolted.

I ran toward the door and out, and everything about what I knew was confirmed as I quickly glanced about. My feet hobbling still, but firm thanks to the balance of the instinctive movements of my tail. There were pens everywhere along the interior of this stockade, most, if not all, open and empty. I rounded to face the interior of my pen, quickly noting the grey thing that was similar to me was too occupied with the food bowl. Satisfied I wasn’t the target now, I quickly looked for a way out.

There! I announced to myself, seeing the exterior doors of the stockade at the end of the row open. There was a field beyond it, both concrete and, to my surprise, overgrowth. I didn’t need to consider it, I just needed to escape. Run! I prompted myself, and my body complied, sprinting toward the exit and out of it.

Out into the world I no longer recognized.