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Have you ever heard of the term "identity crisis" and then tried to relate it to something you know or have learned about? Perhaps, you might think of a cat that fetches things much like a dog, or, a bit darker, someone with schizophrenia. Most likely, my condition wouldn't come to mind, and to be honest, most times I just wish no one ever minded me. My parents say I'm special for who I am and they've been there for me through the roughest of times, but this is never the kind of special anyone ever wants to dream about beyond some lust driven fantasy that lasts just long enough to get their rocks off.

My name is Ashdyn, or just Ash for anyone feeling more nicknamyish. I'm a dusky black-furred feline who loves to play video games, go for jogs and help out around the farm. You might notice my lean figure when you take a first look, not lanky, but well-toned from helping my father do chores around the house and fields. Maybe you'd hear the deep voice, again much like my dad's, rumbling as I laugh at the stories of being thrown off the horses or when I tried so hard to hold my breath for two minutes that I passed out.

What you'd never know is that, between my legs, lies an identity crisis that has haunted my life almost uninterrupted, for the last five years. For all that my body and physiology screams that I'm of the male gender, the spread opening, soft puffy lips, and sensitive clit, matches with determined opposition. I'm the object of every fucked up male's hormone driven dream - an object, fantasy, myth that doesn't truly exist. Except I do, and to my chagrin and misery, the world found out about it in junior high.

Enter one perverted PE teacher. After my parents specifically talked to the school when my mother had to pick up a job to keep the farm going during a heavy drought and couldn't homeschool me any longer, he convinced the board to do nothing to protect me. I was too naïve and socially inept at the time to understand the consequences of changing my boxers in the locker room. But, after being beaten senseless, taken to the hospital with four cracked ribs and a shattered jaw, I grew up quickly. Word traveled around the school at a rapid pace, and within a week, I was the biggest freak and monster the city had ever seen.

I remember hearing my mother sobbing in my room the day I came back from the hospital with wires protruding from my maw and a bandage wrapped around my chest. She wrapped me up in the most intimate hug she could, doing everything to avoid squeezing my ribcage and shook from her tears for hours. Two days later, my father was arrested for assaulting the same PE teacher who had put me in that position. He was released a few hours later and no charges were pressed, but when he returned, he spoke plainly.

"Son, I can't express to you how much I love you, but I do so enough to understand that some things have to be done. I really hoped that we could provide you a safe environment to grow up in and find out who you are, but we all know that dream just died today."

I distinctly remember seeing tears roll down his muzzle. Not that he hadn't come close to crying before, however rarely an occurrence, but this was the first time I'd seen him freely allow it.

"Life can change in one moment, and this is surely one of them. Ash, you're one in a hundred million. You're the miracle the doctors told my wife we couldn't have. We tried for years and, at the end of our ropes, ready to give up, a desperate pregnancy test came back positive and four months later, we had our only cub. We named you Ashdyn, for out of the ashes of the last flicker of our hope, you arose.

When the doctors told us that there was something very peculiar about you, I laughed, telling them how humorous of a statement that was, but when they continued and told us of how, biologically, you were male in every sense, outside of your reproductive system, I didn't know what to say. He said that internally, all the parts of a male were there, except for your penis. Instead, all signs pointed towards you developing a vagina. Your mother and I spoke for days about it, whether it would be fair to you to force this upon you. Maybe it would be better to accept that this was the result of us trying to break the rules and just abort you."

I shrunk back as though I had been slapped in my face, closing my eyes in shame. They had never told me this before. My father stopped talking and the next thing I knew was his soft touch against my cheek, lifting my chin.

"When we took a second to stop and realize how selfish we were being in our pity, I couldn't even believe myself for thinking of such an idea. You were our miracle, our cub, and I'd be damned if anything could take you away from us. We chose to remove all expectations and wait to see what you'd be like as you grew up. When all signs pointed to the fact that you were indeed as male as the doctors said, we began to call you our son, believing you had come to that identity yourself.

Know that your mother and I will always love you, but we know we need to protect you as well. We already settled with the school for enough money to cover our expenses for the rest of the school year. You can stay home, but I've also put some money towards some classes in fighting so you can learn to defend yourself. The world is like an immune system- if it sees something different, it attacks it. You're different, and today you learned that."

Indeed, I had learned that in the harshest way possible. And as I grew up, I also learned that your attackers will quickly lay off after you smash their skull against a concrete wall. However, isolation was no better, and so, desperate to feel loved by someone outside my family, I started looking in places that I should have stayed far away from. By the time I finished high school, I was cold, callous and extremely introverted. Yes, I could defend myself, but the need rarely arose; what I needed was a friend, someone I could trust and would accept and love me for who I was, even including what I had underneath all the clothing.

It was rather dark outside by the time I entered the Chicago pub, getting ready to spend another night drinking by myself to alleviate the pain in my life. When one lives alone, they have to find outlets to release themselves, and mine was alcohol. Sitting down on one of the barstools, I ordered the first of what would likely be a multitude of shots and cocktails. My ears flickered about as I tuned in to hear the gossip and news being whispered by the patrons trying to secretly pass on their juice to their chosen friends. What I was not expecting was to hear a bull get up, then point at me, and yell out loud.

"Hey, look. Is that you, Ash?"

Dean. Dean Sharper, the one who had slammed his fist so fucking hard into my chest that I now wore a metal implant to help support my sternum. I froze in fear, looking into his eyes as he stared at me, as everyone in the bar first stared at him and then me. He was clearly drunk and it wouldn't take much effort for me to subdue him, but it wasn't his size that terrified me, it was what he knew and how much of a runny mouth he had when he drank.

"It is you. HEY EVERYBODY! It's that cuntboy from Burbank!"

My paws clenched so hard around the shot glass that it splintered, sending a shockwave of pain through my fingers as glass cut through my fur and skin. There was confusion on the faces of many of the other customers here, but it never took much for inebriated minds to be convinced. The hushed murmurs began to flow like a stream.

"You better believe it," the bovine boomed as he returned some unheard question. "He's got a fucking pussy in between his legs. I know because I saw it when he was changing his shorts back in our school years. He probably wishes I had done more than just touch it then."

I saw him turn his head again and that's when I threw it, the heavy bottle of Smirnoff somersaulting through the air. Dean turned his head just in time to catch the six pound bottle of vodka right in his mouth, the power of my throw and the weight of the bottle combining to crack him so hard I saw teeth splinter. He was out cold before he hit the floor and I was running out the door before anyone in there could process what the hell had just happened.

There was no sense of direction to my movement, but I just knew I needed to escape. I ran myself ragged, stopping finally when I felt bile rise in my throat. Stooping over, I vomited up what was left of my dinner, not realizing until then that it was pouring rain outside and I had left my coat inside the bar. I hated myself and with no one to turn to, I fell to my knees and cried, shaking in pain as the formerly muted feelings of that horrible day overwhelmed me again with ferocity.

I remembered first the confused yelling of the guys next to me who had just been encouraging me to try out for the football team. Then came the pointing and screaming as I stood in frozen panic and horror with my boxers at my knees. The rush as I tried to get out, only to be surrounded by a huge bull and three of his pals. I vomited again when I felt my vagina quiver in the memory of Dean's hand grabbing it, violating it, making me tremble as he stroked it right before he spat in my face. The blows came repeatedly aftewards, my body breaking along with my soul and confidence and optimistic belief that they'd somehow just accept me.

It wasn't until I felt my coat placed over my shoulders that I realized how cold I was. It wasn't until a paw squeezed my shoulder that my brain registered that my coat hadn't just materialized and it wasn't until that paw drifted away that I remembered I was in an alley at night in Chicago with no idea where I was.

Spinning around, I growled, but only half my lip moved, the growl sounding more like a dying car. I was exhausted from the sobs, but everything within me fought to stay standing, to try and show force to the lightly illuminated figure standing a few feet from me. As I stepped forward, my cold, tired legs gave out and I began to fall, the ground racing up to meet my eyes.

The next thing I knew, I was waking up on a small bed, my head throbbing with one of my eyes covered in cloth. Using the eye that I could, I looked around the dark room, littered with dirty clothes and a few bags of trash, the window sills covered with half broken blinds. Fear came over me, a few scenes in some of the horror movies I had watched coming to mind as I tested out each leg and arm. None of them were trapped, nor was there some sort of collar around my neck. Reaching up, I felt over the bandage wrapped around my head and eye, knowing that I must have hurt it when I fell.

Ragged breathing came from nearby, and I saw a cheetah huddled up in a chair, clutching a thick blanket over himself. The sound of rain still pouring outside made me realize that not much time had lapsed since I passed out. Taking a look at him made me realize that this probably wasn't his place, his jeans and polo shirt soaking wet, pressed to his body. I squinted in pain as a thought suddenly jarred in my mind, the realization that those were the same clothes I had gone to the club wearing. My paws fanned over my own body to find a flannel jacket and a pair of baggy jeans. He had switched clothes to let me dry off and warm up, but that meant he had to have seen...

Maybe, if I was quiet enough, I could slip out unheard, hopefully able to avoid ever seeing someone again who might recognize me and place my face to the fact that I was a freak, some spawn of Satan himself. Stepping out of bed, I took a few tentative steps towards the door, but stopped short when I saw his orange eyes stare at me. Defeated, I hung my head as he looked, no longer feeling indignation, but rather absolute shame for what I was.

"You saw, didn't you?"

He nodded in reply, but he didn't yell or scream or identify back what he saw, which was a far cry better than what I had expected.

"How'd you find me?"

"I followed you from the bar after the incident with the bull. I was worried you might get lost and grow hypothermic since you forgot your coat."

I stared at him and he back at me, my apprehension growing with each passing second. When he stood up, I snarled, but he just nodded and moved forward, advancing on me until he was just a few feet away.

"You deserve better than this. No one should have to suffer the way you do. Except that bull, maybe."

"I'm a freak, cat. I brought this upon myself for not cutting my own throat open years ago."

His arms were around me in a tight embrace before I could even flinch, but when the initial shock wore off, I found a shot of adrenaline roar through me as I shoved him off. Just because he had possessed enough decency to not let me freeze to death did not mean I was going to be baited in that easily. My wounds had healed over into scars, but at least that kept me aware of what I could not allow happen again. There had been too many moments like this that started out with promise only to leave me in tears when my counterpart's fantasy had been fulfilled and I served no further purpose.

"Don't touch me!"

The overcompensation of the yell still didn't manage to hide the shakiness in my voice as the misery of my life crashed over me. I saw his look of surprise turn into one of pained understanding, as if he knew why I was responding like this.

"Okay, alright. I'm sorry."

"They're always sorry for me, up until they trick me into taking my pants off in the hope that they might actually love me afterwards. I'm done falling for that and I want my clothes back."

"Would you rather I leave then?"

His face was somber and I could see the lines of confusion and hurt etched in along with the pity I felt directed towards me. I didn't want pity, nor did I deserve it. What I really wanted was a high bridge to jump from and some rocks for my body to break on a few hundred feet below. I tried to push that thought back as the cheetah stripped off my shirt and pants, still damp from the rain outside. He disappeared into what I figured was his bathroom afterwards, giving me the loneliness I had become so accustomed to.

Peeling off the comfortable clothes of his, I donned my wet shirt and pants and shivered a bit; so long as I had my coat with me, I'd be fine. Picking it up and throwing it over my shoulder, I slipped my shoes back on and left without a word to the feline in the adjacent room. Home would be a long, wet walk, but at least I could feel safe there, far away from any prying eyes and flaming tongues that did nothing but hurt me on a daily basis. At least today was Saturday, which meant I'd have two days to try and put on my fake smile for work.

The night was still dark and the rain hit me like spikes the moment I stepped paw out the door. Snarling, I threw on my jacket, taking solace in its embrace. With my face to the ground I began the long walk back from the way I had run. Each step felt like a journey of its own, with my heart crying out to go back to the cat who had taken the time to bring me in from the cold after chasing me down from the bar. My mind, though, reminded me of all the times my feeble heart had fallen for much the same trick, the memories of such silencing my heart's pleading in an instant.

I never heard them coming, and with my head down, I never saw them either. I yowled as pain raced through my back when the metal bat cracked against my shoulder blades. The next shot hit me behind my knees, causing me to fall to a kneel. As I looked up, a fist flew by my face and smashed into my muzzle, making me spit out blood as my face wrenched to the side. Before I could even get a word out, I was viciously kicked in the stomach. Falling all the way down, I clutched at my chest as I felt searing pain roar through me. The blows stopped and then I felt paws running over me, searching in pockets, taking out my wallet and phone, stripping off my watch and then pulling my whole coat off.

They left without a word, leaving me in just my shirt and pants again, heaving in pain and terror, too hurt to move myself underneath anything as the rain pelted me. The tears came again, and I couldn't stop myself from sobbing yet again, feeling so hopeless and violated. I had left my comfort zone and now, in these dark alleys, I had paid for it like many other furs before me. Checking my pants with a shaking paw, I felt my back pocket for my keys, moaning when I felt nothing. Even if I could manage to get up, the apartment office was closed this weekend and I would have no way of getting inside.

I recognized then that there probably wasn't going to be a weekend for me to look forward to. The alleyway was silent and it felt like I was being stabbed every time I tried to move my body. Without my coat, the rain soaked through my fur and began to steal body heat, leaving me to shiver uncontrollably in the frigid night air. With every passing moment, I could feel myself grow weaker, my desire to move out of the rain soon morphing into a need to just go to sleep. It felt so inviting, so permanent; it would be a release from all the pain forever.

Fighting it, I drew in one long ragged breath and yelled out to the sky in my rage. My eyelids fluttered and I had nothing left to keep them open. They soon fell all the way down and I lost vision, feeling my breaths slow and my shivering stop. Letting slumber overwhelm me, I let my head rest on the concrete and gave in.

"Ash! Wake up! Holy shit, what happened to you?"

I could just barely hear those words, that voice calling out to me as I lost my last touch with the conscious world, slipping into the void, a place I hoped I would never have to leave.