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_ It's right there, on my bed. _

The other me.

My suit, lying there, flat and empty. Ironically, it doesn't look very realistic like this, which only makes the difference more striking when I wear it.

But…

I'm not so sure I want to, tonight. Not after… what happened. The urge is there, but is it worth it? What if I come back and I am shamed from every possible direction? The “perfect" star of the show, _ Stella _, shockingly revealed to not be so perfect after all. Do I even still have a reputation there? Maybe a bad one.

_ Why am I overthinking this so hard? _

Taking a seat on the edge of the bed, I grab my “costume". These days, it's hard to tell whether this or my current body is the disguise. I was always the kind of guy to deal with existential crisis, but in a joking way, you know? But now? It's become very real, and I'm not sure how to handle it.

Staring at this suit right now… It makes me realize I never got to take a good, long, proper look at it. I was so excited the first time, and then it's been a blur ever since: suffer through work, get home, get in the dragon immediately, have fun at the club. Now that I don't know if I want to go, that feeling of _ rush _ is gone, and holy shit, does it look gorgeous. From this close, it definitely looks more than real; the scales are perfectly sewn together, slotted flawlessly into each other. It feels tough to the touch, but not painfully so, and it makes me wonder if petting a lizard would feel the same. The suit itself is stretchy, and under the scales there seems to be a different layer… like skin? Flesh? And yet, I don't see any seam whatsoever, as if it just… was made by magic. All parts included. Manifesting itself into existence. It's crazy. Well, honestly, it's not any crazier than me literally turning into a female dragon when putting it on.

Part of me wants to know where this thing comes from, and yet, I can't help but feel scared. What if I'm being tested? What if I accidentally got something super ultra top secret from a human supremacy group that is trying to infiltrate anthro circles to better find out how to annihilate them? What if somebody just really wanted to become a dragoness and made this and I robbed them of their dream?

_ What the hell am I even talking about? _

A quick look at my phone to check the time lets me know I am very much late for my “night shift". At this point, though, I don't know if I want to go. I'm just too scared to put the suit back on. At least until I figure out this weird… alcohol thing. Am I even that much of a lightweight? Besides, you'd think dragons would deal with liquor much better than humans, right?... Or maybe it's just my own prejudice. Can lizards even get drunk? Huh…

A ping from my phone; a message from Greta, because I am enough of an idiot to give my phone number to my co-workers despite said number being tied to a cell owned by someone named “Alex Kelio". Hopefully, they don't ever learn about this, or I'm in big trouble. I don't really have the heart to look at what she sent me; I don't really have the heart for anything. Looking at this suit… makes me think about Stella: a dragoness with so much confidence. Is it really me? Or am I using a disguise so I can pretend my actions don't have any consequences?

Another ping. I really should go, but I need to figure out my problem first. How do I even do that?... Wear the suit and get drunk at home instead of doing it at work?... Wait.

This might actually be a really good idea. Or, well, a stupid one if I don't remember the weird shit I'm doing, but at the same time, nobody will be around to see it, and I won't be hurting anybody, right?... Technically, that would be true, but even I have no idea of what I'm truly capable of. What if I start spitting fire? The entire apartment building would be gone in a flash. Can anthro dragons even breathe fire? Maybe that's just a fantasy thing.

_ Oh my god, Alex, focus, damn it. _

Okay. Fine. I think I'll go. But… I have to go without my suit. Everything will be fine, Alex. Nobody's going to recognize you … Yeah. I'm going to have a nice, chill dinner, cool off with a shower, and head out.

Of course the line is as long as always tonight. It's a good thing I got a free pass, because I'm not sure if I want to spend two hours waiting while people complain about how long--

“Woah there, buddy."

A rough shove stops my train of thoughts. Looking away from my phone's screen, I see Rox, giving me a mean stare.

“Gotta wait in line like everybody else, you ain't special."

“What? What do you--"

It takes me a second too much to understand my mistake. An embarrassing second, even.

“Oh, sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going."

Ignore the stares. Ignore the stares.

I walk towards the back of the line, pretending I didn't hear Rox mumbling “Yeah, right" and boot up my phone screen again. I guess now is as good a time as any to check my texts; I don't want to attract attention when I'm inside, and the most awkward thing that could possibly happen would be Greta noticing my screen's notifications. As expected, she seems worried since I always show up on time, sometimes even early. She's so endearing, I swear. This makes me wonder how her little “hook-up" from yesterday went. That deer must've had the dicking of a lifetime. You know, this makes me realize I haven't really ever had any action with any of my co-workers. We're so busy fucking other people we rarely have any time for each other. Thinking about it now makes me feel a bit awkward; can you imagine your stripper colleague hitting on you? For some reason though, I feel like if I had my suit on, I'd probably be a lot more into the idea.

As expected, the line takes forever until I'm finally in front of the ant bouncer again. Well, an hour of standing in the outside evening cold wasn't that bad, at least not as bad as the anxiety his squinting, judgmental stare gives me, as if silently warning me to stay out of trouble when I get to step inside.

Immediately, the booming music pierces into my ears, loud enough to make me wince in discomfort. It only makes me further anxious, and all those people in such close proximity to me make me feel downright paranoid. The colors are too bright , the atmosphere feels cramped , musty, like nobody cares in the slightest what happens around them as long as they can enjoy their own little bubble of fun. The floor is sticky in some places and _ fuckfuckfuckthatstheworst _ every step I take, I grit my teeth to not go crazy from the spilled, half-dried stupid drinks. At least, I can take solace in knowing it's actually drinks, and not… other stuff that may or may not possibly happen in the private rooms. Gosh, that'd be so darn gross.

_ Everything feels awful. It's like all this confidence I had as a dragoness is completely gone, replaced by insecurity. _

_ I feel _ _ so vulnerable, like anybody could just reach out to me and-- _

“Oops!"

I yelp as something heavy shoves into my hips. Looking to the side, I see a bunny— there's only one bunny that girly in the club: Arnold.

“Watch where you're going, friend! Everything alright?" he asks, trying his best to mask his slight annoyment.

“Uh! Yeah! Of course! I'm really sorry-- uhm. Bye now!"

I don't even know if he answers, but I'm already snaking away in the crowd before he does. Relax, Alex. He can't possibly know it was his hot sexy dragoness coworker that got smashed the night before-- yeah. I don't sound the same, I don't look the same, and magic doesn't really exist in this world… I think? The very suit I'm wearing seems to contradict that concept. Then again, cavemen probably thought fire was magic, back in the day. Perhaps the dragoness suit is one of those super ultra top secret government science experiments that are hidden to the common folk, like some conspiracy theorists love to believe.

Thankfully, the bar isn't as far as I thought it was; for some reason even those two minutes of walking up to it took everything out of me, but now that I can finally sit down, calm down and take in my surround--

“Hey there handsome, what can I getcha?"

“Oh! Hey Gret'!" I automatically reply, standing to attention to look up at the hippo, only to see a weirded out look on her face.

“Oh, uh… Hey! How… do you know my name? I don't think I've seen you around before!" she begins, giving her best customer smile, “And trust me I do a lot of rounds around here."

Shit shit shit. I'm an idiot. “Uhm… Sorry! I just… barely come here ever. Can count the amount of times on one hand!" I lie, trying my best to keep my unconvincing joke tone, “... Been a big fan of you."

Her eyes widen in surprise, before she starts looking to the sides, clearly taken off guard. “I--uh! Appreciate the feeling, buddy, but I'm afraid I can't reciprocate! Not quite into the manly types."

“Oh my fucking go-- N-no! That's not what I meant at all!"

I swear this is the most embarrassing moment of my entire life.

“S-Sorry! I really didn't mean to come off as creepy or anything-- I'll just… Y'know, I think I'm going to take a couple of cocktails actually!" I laugh nervously, quickly trying to change the subject. To my relief, she seems to be just as eager to pretend none of this happened and a second later she's off to grab another round of drinks.

Well, I'm sure this at least means this evening can't get any worse. Yeah. Definitely. I embarrassed myself in front of almost everybody already. Part of me feels like I should just get out of here at this point before things get worse, but on the other hand, nobody truly knows who I am. I don't know how long I've been miserable in my own little corner of the bar, but the clink of a glass being put down in front of me brings me out of my rêverie. I can barely look up at Greta before she dashes away to serve the rest of the drinks on her tray. She's working so hard, and here I am, moping to myself instead of doing my job on the scene…

“Wait!"

I call out to her, and she turns around, looking both mildly annoyed and worried.

“I… think I'll get going now," Putting down a few bills to pay for my order, I hop down from my seat. “I'm sure someone as cool as you must have somebody, yeah? You can let her have my drinks; tell her it's on the house!"

I wink at her knowingly before turning around and leaving the bar— gotta get out of here before I regret my brilliant plan, and I can only hope they enjoy what I have ordered.

“Man, what a fuckin' garbage evening."

I look at my reflection in the glass. Looking back at me is a gorgeous dragoness — a stunning woman, one I can only pretend to be.

“You're fucking pathetic. If anybody knew, you'd probably be jailed for impersonation, or something."

Pouring more wine in the glass, I down its entire contents in a single gulp, sighing. I can absolutely feel the buzz of alcohol starting to hit me, and staying focused is getting more and more difficult with each second. I know I set my phone camera to record on the other side of the table, but I wouldn't even be surprised if I forget about it two or three drinks later.

Drunk and sleepy. That's me. One more glass, one more worry that's gone, temporarily melted away by the vacuuming storm that is alcohol. Am I a drunkard? Am I going to become an alcoholic? Maybe I already am. One more drink. My vision's getting blurry— I think I have ten fingers per hand now. That's-- not normal, is it? I can't be bothered to care. Why should I care? Nobody cares about me anyway, so why would I bother?

Just do like the others, Alex. Fit in with everybody. Be the sheep society wants you to be.

One more drink.

Another.

Again.

More.

More…

The first thing I hear is a loud alarm ringing in the distance. It sounds familiar, but I just can't put my finger on it. My head hurts like hell— I don't think I've ever felt this much pain _ while suited _. *Suited…? *

Shit. The moment the realization hits me, I try and get up, but the top of my horns bump into something. The shock is enough to make me groan, not because hitting whatever-that-was hurt, but because it's only further stirring my hangover. _ Wake up, Alex you idiot. _ Squinting, trying to wait for my vision to stop being so blurry, I look around: it looks like I'm under the table, for some reason. Did I just trip and roll down there? Maybe my phone will have the answer to that… Where is it? Right, the alarm. My phone's alarm… Oh my god. My morning alarm! The one that's supposed to get me out of bed so I can get to work!

“Oh no no no no--"

Crawling out from under the table feels harder than it has any right to. Every step, every movement feels like I have _ tons _ worth of weight shackling my limbs, and anytime I blink I feel like I'm being hit by a baseball bat. Phone, phone… After enough dangerous staggering and hoisting myself up using the table as support, I successfully reach for my cell and stop the alarm. The silence that follows is… divine, for a lack of better words. Like all the pounding in my ears suddenly stops. The throbbing in my head doesn't, though…

At this point, I might have no option other than calling in sick. What time is it…? Half past eight. Great. My shift should have started an hour ago. My boss is so shafting me for this… But first, before having a very uncomfortable phone call, I want to see if my phone's recorded anything interesting; thankfully I plugged it before this whole thing, otherwise it probably would've eaten the whole battery, if it hadn't obliterated all the available space already.

Four hours, twenty-six minutes and thirty-two seconds… That's ridiculously small, but considering I probably got drunk pretty early, hopefully that should be fine. I'm going to delete this anyway, so here goes nothing!

I'm just there, walking back to my seat after setting up the recording— I vaguely remember this part, but anything beyond that is too blurry. One full bottle in hand, one glass in the other, I sit down with a sigh, before pouring in my first drink. Enough to fill two thirds of the cup, letting me play with it a bit, swirl it inside as if contemplating life, before drinking all of it.

God, this is going to take forever. Skip forward, skip forward…

“--personation, or something."

Okay, that was odd. I backtrack a few seconds earlier, finding the beginning of whatever sentence that was:

“You're fucking pathetic. If anybody knew, you'd probably be jailed for impersonation, or something."

I look… saying I look sad in this shot would be a euphemism. I think at this point I probably downed four or five drinks, but judging by the fact I'm pouring another one, I don't think I was stopping anytime soon. Speeding up the boring footage, I yawn, having nothing better to do than count the amount of drinks coming up. One, two, five, ten… Motherfuck, I really went overboard this time. It clearly looks like I'm barely hanging on by a thread, too, looking ready to pass out at any moment— until I throw back my head and let out a victorious shout?

“Auuuuuuuuuoooooh my GOOOOOOD!" whined the past me, putting his clawed hands on the table as if trying to get up. “Finaallyyy… Eugh, I feel like I'm going to throw up-- why why did you drink so damn muchhh…"

That… looks weird. Something immediately feels wrong, but I can't tell what it is. It's not the slurred words, it's not the different tone…

“Gotta figure out now…" the dragoness looks around, before her eyes land straight on the camera. “Ahhh, yes!"

With a grunt, she pushes herself up to a standing position, almost losing balance the second her hands leave the table, against which she readjusts herself.

“Hheeeeyeyyy, Aleeex!" she goes, waving groggily at the camera, “We need to… I gotta… augh, please drink less next time… I gotta figure out how to-- ack!"

Past me yelps, before doubling over out of the camera's field of view— the cacophonic crashing I hear makes me feel like this is probably how I tripped on the floor, and judging by the camera's wobbling then sudden change in angle, it must have fell over; which explains why I found it with the screen facing the ceiling when I woke up.

Skipping through the rest of the recording brings nothing else: just silence, with the camera pointing at the ceiling for the remainder of the video.

“What… the hell was that."

I have to see this again. Gotta go back to… there. When I throw my head back. I looked so lethargic, and yet, all of a sudden, boom, full of energy. What's up with that?

The movements. The voice… I swear, I just swear there's something off in that segment specifically. It's like… It's like _ I'm not me _.

Wait.

The realization hits me like a sack of bricks.

It's like I'm not me.

Rubbing my temples, I try to think back about last night. Nothing. Blank, void, not a single memory. The exact same as what happened in the club the other night… And just like the others said, it was suddenly as if I was somebody else.

Somebody else… Somebody other than me.