A Shift in Reality

I couldn't blame Mom; I myself recalled with a shiver those magical sensations when I explored my body. I was actually surprised that women ever leave their rooms for anything—I could just masturbate for the rest of my life. I looked back at the TV, which was showing some romantic drama. I wanted to understand more, to find answers to what was happening. Maybe someone already knew the cause of these problems. With these thoughts, I looked at the door with fear. I was scared to see what was happening on the streets and to show myself to the world—a cool football player in tight jeans. But it would happen eventually; I needed to look, and fear was closely bordering curiosity. I cautiously approached the door and cracked it open. The fresh air hit my nostrils, the scent of leaves and freshness.

At first, I was stunned. I didn't yet understand how my eyes had changed. I stood for a minute, taking in the landscape. It was the usual view from my house, but now it was so bright and detailed. What used to be a simple glance at a house was now a complex ornament with hundreds of tiny details. I could see the neighbor girl's toys in their backyard, the interior of their house, and even silhouettes through the curtains of their windows, the cracks in the house's paint. Then, somewhere at the edge of my vision, there was movement. My reflexes swiftly turned my head towards the potential threat.

It was our neighbor Bess, a middle-aged socialite, walking determinedly somewhere in her usual attire—high heels and an elegant dress, as if she were always at some reception. Her tail, sticking out from behind, was swaying vigorously. It wasn't a lion's tail; at first, I thought it was a squirrel's, but then I realized it was a raccoon's, proven by her soft ears. I wasn't ready to explain my gender change, or who I even was, so I hid behind the door like a scaredy-cat. But my curiosity remained, and I watched Bess through the window. She walked past our house, and I saw her tail lifting her dress from behind, exposing her entire butt. But she seemed not to care.

My observations were interrupted by Sydney, the eleven-year-old neighbor from across the street, who ran out completely naked, apparently unable to dress because of the spines covering her back. Even the girl had become a monster; she had turned into a hedgehog, her hair transforming into spines. My sharp cat eyes could make out the spines on her pubic area. Her hands had turned into small, clawed paws, and her face had changed into a hedgehog's snout with a black nose. She stood on the lawn in front of the house, tears streaming down her face, probably having just woken up and not yet understanding what was happening. I wanted to help her, to run out and comfort her, but her mom got there first. A large monkey with obviously human breasts and long arms gently took the little one by the hand and pulled her back into the house.

This was horrible; it was the realization of the scale of what had happened. Strangely, I had only seen women so far. Maybe all the men had turned into women, like me. Although the news anchor on TV was still a man, it was all too complicated. My cat brain couldn't process it all at once.