I bristled, but couldn't quite bring myself to pull away from her touch; instead, I turned my head and brooded – at that, at the thought that there might not even be much I could do about these instincts, and at the reminder of how I'd spent the weekend. (What an absolute fool I must've made of myself…)
"…You knyew, didn't you?" I muttered stiffly.
Nicole gave me a sympathetic look, but couldn't hide a trace of a knowing smile on her face. "Um, myeah," she said. "It was kinda harrrd to miss."
"Why didn't you tell me?" I wasn't quite sure why that irked me as much as it did; it felt like another nagging suspicion that, while she hadn't really been laughing at me the whole time, she might've been in a position to.
She chuckled softly. "Didja rrreally need me to spell it out for you?"
I made to answer, tail lashing, then stopped short as my brain insisted on considering the question first; ultimately, I said nothing. After a moment, she leaned back and folded her arms behind her head; I felt a little disappointed to have her stop scratching, but also strangely aware that, in my current mood, I'd probably hit my freak-out point if she continued. (Was this just going to be my life now…?)
"I tried brrreakin' it to Frank," she said, her whiskers twitching ambivalently. "Couldn't get thrrrough, nyat while…she…was all fuzzy in the brrrain. Nyand then, next morning, she just looks over at me and says, 'It's happening, isn't it?' Still out of it, all huggy with Alex, but she just…put it together, I guess." She shook her head slowly. "I don't think it can stop us from rrrealizing, but…maybe there's some things nya can't just tell people, things we've gotta figure out on our own."
I sat there for a minute, running it over in my mind, the tip of my tail twitching in agitation. Should I have realized? Could I have realized? Would it've helped? Would it have been easier to come to terms with this if I'd still been whacked out on my own neurotransmitters, high enough on the warm fuzzies to cushion my psyche from the shock, or would it have compromised my judgement re: having my gender and species scrambled the way it'd played merry hell with my social instincts, and made me get stupidly into it and do stuff I'd feel horribly embarrassed by later? I shuddered at the thought.
Anyway, with the initial shock long since passed, it'd be silly to continue brooding over what-ifs; for better or worse, I was facing this stone-cold sober.° But it was deeply weird to think about what came next; I'd been worried for so long about losing a battle to retain my sex and species, and that phase was over now. Yet this wasn't The End; there'd be tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that, for decades to come.°° Like it or not, this was the start of a different phase of my life…
° (Random hormonal outbursts notwithstanding.)
°° (Unless I got hit by a bus or something.)
…one where a bunch of things would be different for me, in ways I didn't even know yet, and where I wasn't even sure what I'd be. Okay, Nicole's reassurances might make me feel a bit better; but if I was still me, yet different…was it really up to me to decide who the new me was? Could I handle that, when I never quite felt like I'd gotten the old me together? What if I couldn't figure this out, either!? Could I ever really be okay like this? Should I be? My brain swirled with questions…
Nicole leaned back and shifted around on the couch, letting her tail slip between her legs and assuming a normal human-type posture. (I'd noticed when she hugged me, but we were already the same height; even assuming that part of that was from walking on her toes…) "Anyaway, I was gonnya ask," she said, batting idly at her own tail. "Nyat to prrry, but…how arrre you comin' nyalong?"
"Coming along" was a little irksome – like I was baking a pie or something, not having my entire body remodeled without my asking – but I heaved a sigh and thought it over, trying to figure out where to even start. "…Nyew could say I've 'brrroken grrround,'" I said at last. I felt my cheeks turn a little pink, and my tail lashed at the air.
She nodded. "I figured; Frank was about the same. Mya, I dunniaow if that's a 'condolences' thing…?"
"Hell if I kniaow," I said. I was getting a little fed-up with the vocal tics; I tried to measure out my words, focus on enunciating… "It was freaky to see it in prrrogress, but it's nyat like anything's actually gone…but then people make it such a big deal culturally, and what do I even think…!?" I shook my head, staring into space.
She said nothing, waiting for me to continue; but truthfully, I didn't know what to make of it. Congratulations, me, you've got a furshlugginer vagina, aren't you just thrilled? A brand-new body part you never asked for! A fun new angle on questions of how people perceive you and what they want out of you! A whole galaxy of new euphemisms to feel weird and uncomfortable about, in a rainbow of flavors: twee, crass, cutesy, florid, tittering-schoolboy "clever" – you got it, we name it!
BUT WAIT, THERE'S MORE!!! Order now and you'll also receive a set of breasts and complementary curves! (Sizes may vary. Offer void where prohibited by law. Void offered regardless.) We'll even throw in a rich heritage of associated cultural baggage stretching back to the dawn of history! That's right, you get the reproductive tract, the secondary sex characteristics, and the disruption of your social comfort zone, all for the low, low price of just the entire rest of your life – and it really, really works!
I grimaced and shook my head – how the hell was I supposed to feel about that!? But my fuming was interrupted by Scraps, who moseyed over, hopped onto the couch, and promptly made himself comfortable in my lap. It didn't exactly cure my disgruntlement, but I reached down and absent-mindedly scratched him under the chin. Why do we do this for cats, I wondered? It makes them happy, but there's no guarantee they'll even acknowledge it, let alone…but there he went again, purring up a storm between my legs. Okay, sure, I thought, but it's not as if this is usual cat behavior or anything…
"I just…I can't stop thinking about it," I said, at last. "How it'll all end up. Even if I am still me, I'll be all different, and I don't even know what that'll look like. But my dumb brrrain keeps jumping in with speculation, and then I have to sort out how I feel about that, even if it has no basis in reality…" To say nothing of whether that's even a normal thing to be thinking about, I thought.
"Curiosity's killin' the Kit, mya?" Nicole said wryly.
"More like I've already seen what it can do," I said, "but I have nyo idea what to expect. Is…is whatever I end up as…gonna be the kind of thing that people think of as 'prrretty?' 'Cute,' 'hot,' 'a total bombshell,' any of those things? Would I want that? What do I want to look like, and why!?" I sighed. "I never had to think about that before; now I'm stuck knowing I'll arrive somewhere, but nyat where."
She nodded knowingly. "'S only nyatural, if it makes you feel any better. I had nyo idea how I was gonnya turrrn out, as a teen; all I could do was look at my mom 'n guess. I bet nyew didn't either, didja?"
"No," I said with a groan. Her talking about it in that context made me feel all weird; it'd been one thing with my sister, but hearing it from some other woman I just happened to know felt oddly initiatory, like I was becoming part of a group I'd never belonged to before. "But going through that once was more than enough."
"Mya, can't dispute that," she chuckled, tail lashing slowly; down in my lap, the calico arched his back up into my lower abdomen as he nudged into my touch, still rumbling like an engine. "But…if it helps, that's all more a state of mind than anyathing. Nature plays its part, sure, but 'prrretty,' 'cute,' 'hot?' Those're all how we choose to prrresent ourselves, I think."
Her whiskers twitched, and she gave me a fangy grin as she got up off the couch and padded into the kitchen.° "Whaddya think they sell makeup for?" she continued, rummaging through the fridge. "People try to look a certain way 'cause they want to be seen that way. Sometimes it's 'cause they imyagine other people will like 'em better, sometimes it's that they're trying to exprrress how they feel inside – but it's all prrresentation. Nyathing wrrrong with that, but it's somethin' nyew choose."
° (Our apartments were built in an open-plan style, to save on walls; I could've followed her even without my enhanced hearing.)
I turned that over in my brain as I scritched Scraps's ears. It was weird enough trying to process the question of how I wanted to look; re-framing it as a question of how I wanted to be seen made it a little easier to wrap my head around, but no less confusing to consider. I already had a pretty clear notion of who I was as a person, didn't I? Dry, snarky, detached, a loner, never getting involved, lurking in the background and never quite fitting in with the rest of the world? I could still be that when this thing was done with me, couldn't I?
But did I want that, or was it just that I didn't know anything else? Why shouldn't I want it? Was it so wrong to not fit in, like they try to hammer into you as a kid? Was I under some obligation to involve myself with the group, to draw attention? Was it a bad thing, to be a loner? I found myself almost instinctively getting hot under the collar, thinking about that – and I felt my tail stiffen up, the fur beginning to puff out. Whether or not I engaged with people was my business, dammit!
But…
…did I like being alone…?
I shook my head violently in an attempt to dislodge the whole line of questioning from my brain. Gahhh, maybe it was less trouble to just think of it in terms of looks after all. But trying to do that just brought me back to everything I'd already been running over in my head…
"…What about Frank?" I asked uneasily. Nicole had fetched something from the pantry, and I heard the soft crack and crunch of the can-opener; the pungent aroma of fish drifted over, and despite being all worked up, I couldn't help turning my gaze in its direction.
She snorted. "Okay, sometimes Nature's just unfair. Girrrl got blessed, what can nya say?" She drained the tuna and dumped it into a bowl, where it mingled with the tang of mayonnaise, then began to blend it with a fork. "'S that what nyew're all moody about?"
"It won't go away," I groaned, cringing and feeling myself redden at the admission. Even if I knew what I wanted, what if I just got stuck with…with something like that, regardless? It might not be likely, but surely it wasn't impossible. Could I even handle that? Was it a thing you could get used to being…?
She padded back over and put a hand on my shoulder. "Kitten, nyanless things take a serious turrrn in the next coupla days, I don't imagine nya have to worry about it," she said, with a sympathetic smile. "By this point, it was prrretty obvious how she'd come out. Nyew're prrrobably stuck down here with the rrrest of us mortals. Here, lunch."
She handed me a sandwich on a plate; some buried kid-instinct still balked at seeing it cut angle-wise rather than down the middle,° but after many years it no longer truly bugged me. (I wondered if I'd ever get that kind of a handle on these instincts…) "Can nyew, uh, have brrread?" I asked, as she tucked into her own. I knew there was some uncertainty around catgirl dietary restrictions, especially for the anthropomorphic types, but I'd never looked into it closely, hoping it'd never be relevant.
° (Even now, I cannot offer a rational explanation for this; it was pure kid-logic that that is How You Do Sandwiches. My mother, in mild exasperation, once cut a square out of the middle as a prank.)
She shrugged. "Nyo harm done nyet," she said cheerily. "Even the kitties can eat it, it just doesn't do 'em any good. The chives're a differrrent story, but I think that's in the dosage."
I took a bite; she had added chives to the mix. It was a nice touch, even if it was the tuna that commanded my attention. Scraps shared the latter sentiment, raising his head off my leg to offer an inquisitive look; Rasputin signaled his interest by resuming the caudal assault on my lower back.
Feeling slightly silly for indulging him, I dabbed a bit of filling out of the sandwich and offered it up on my fingertip, after checking for chives. He licked it clean with his delicate sandpaper tongue, which got me wondering about mine; I hadn't noticed anything out of the ordinary, yet, but it wasn't something I normally paid much attention to. I ignored Rasputin for a bit, but eventually relented and gave him some; Nicole smirked, but said nothing.
Neither did I, for a bit. I hadn't realized I was hungry 'til I smelled the fish, but I hadn't actually had breakfast, what with all the Big Emotional Mess this morning; and having a bite helped take my mind off that, too. I sighed, and for the first time this morning week it wasn't a sigh of disquiet or exasperation. The apartment was warm and comfy, even as oddly-dressed as I was, the midday sun filtered in from the windows, I had food (nourishing and tasty,) a cat was curled contentedly in my lap, emitting a soft, strong rumble, and that was joined by a gentle, relaxed thrumming welling up from within my—
Oh for God's sake. I was purring, wasn't I.