(F to Goat)

“BaAaaahh?”

The sound was a strangled gasp, muffled by the girl’s swelling tongue. She writhed on the ground, oversized shirt pooling around her, yet doing little to cover the changes wracking her body. She might have been cute, judging from her receding hairstyle. It was dyed pink, and ironically some of the colored strands clung stubbornly to her increasingly goat-like features.

Cynthia felt a pang of sympathy, reaching out the girl, rubbing her forehead. She’d seen on a show that it would help calm down animals. That was all she could do right now. She could calm down…

“Hllk…” The girl’s neck jerked forward as it stretched and thickened. Her next bleat sounded even less like a girl’s voice, though that didn’t seem to both her nearly as much as her underwear. It was caught embarrassingly between her swelling udder and her new animal genitals. Her trim belly bulged, coarse fur fluffing as it stretched past her shirt’s hem. “BgghhaaAAhaaHH!”

Cynthia rubbed the girl’s forehead with a little more pressure, pausing at the feeling of two curved, hard horns creaking their way from the girl’s scalp. “I’m sorry. I don’t even know your name,” she began, faltering. She faltered because she could know the girl’s name. It would only take a little pressure.

Strictly speaking, members of the Reality Shifter Relief Force were supposed to keep their powers to themselves when off-duty. It was for their safety and for the safety of those important to them… Only Cynthia didn’t exactly have the latter, not after the Lakehill incident.

Just knowing what had happened to her husband and daughter helped to ease the burden. So, even if it was technically off-books, she could just peer into this girl’s memories for a moment, try to glean something about her, anything to help Cynthia find the girl’s family.

It would be easy. In and out, just a quick Minding. She’d just peer into a memory related to the girl’s clothes, and figure out her name. Before the blonde knew what she was doing, she’d already taken a bundle of the goat-girl’s sleeve into her hands, letting her power flow through it…

Does this fit right? I look to the mirror unsurely, wondering if I should call out to the… Is there a word for lady-tailor? There should be. I should Google it later. Still… The shirt goes nicely with the new hair. Maybe I’ll wear it to the park tomorrow.

I mean, it’s not like Bill notices anymore.

I shouldn’t have thought that. He’s nice, good to me. He can’t help it if he’s boring. Ha, no… That’s not fair either. He does good work for the bank, tiring work. And, even if it’s a little shameful to admit it, his job doesn’t really give him the chance to meet anyone else. That’s reassuring, in its own way.

Still… Maybe at the park, I might find that special someone, that makes me feel the way Jia did. I mean… Bill’s nice and all. But he’s no Jia. I should have done better with him. I should have just gone to the damn festival that year instead of…

Cynthia broke herself free of the memory, shaking her head. Her eyes watered a little bit from the small migraine that always accompanied her using her abilities. But it was almost worth it. She had a little more to work on. There were only three local banks. What were the odds that each of them employed a William, or a Billiam, or whatever Bill was short for? She gave the former human a sympathetic look.

Former human? Had she given up on her so soon? Cynthia blushed, a small and guilty smile on her face. “Sorry, but I’m worried this is the most I can do for now. I’m pretty much a RSRF clerk, and…”

“Mleehh-eheh?” The girl tried to lick Cynthia’s hand dopily, her eyes already glazed over, pupils stretching into small rectangles. Her ears twitched feebly, jingling the golden ring around her right lobe. Through the folded, wrinkled fabric of the girl’s shirt, Cynthia could see her hourglass figure fading in favor of a goat’s barrel-like chest.

She seemed less panicked now at least, which was… Something. Though the soon-to-be-goat kept flicking her ear, jingling that little golden band.

The ring… Cynthia’s brow furrowed with the effort of recollection. It wasn’t in the girl’s memories. And if the memory was of her buying the shirt for today… Was there any chance it was more recent? It looked familiar. Something about it felt wrong.

But if it could get her answers, then it would be worth it, right? Cynthia reached her hand out …

Pain. Confusion. Pressure. Everywhere feels wrong. This feels wrong. I try to talk. “Bgghhluhhm.” My tongue is too big. It brushes against my rubbery lip. This all feels wrong.

“Now now, let’s not be like that,” the man coos mockingly. I think it’s mocking. His tone doesn’t sound nice. But he’s smiling?

“Mhhhahhmmmuh...” My voice rattles as I talk. I can feel it in my throat. My body is tight. Too much pressure. Too much stuffed into me. I stumble back. I fall on my purse. I try to remember that it feels like to stand on two legs.

“Less of that, if you will.”

Less of what? I writhe on the ground, unsure of how to stand. It’s like I’ve just been born.

“Better.”

What’s better? I don’t get it. I try to ask, only to sneeze. I can’t even cover my nose. My arms aren’t working right. Snot drips down my swelling upper lips. My tongue licks my nose clean and I see how big my nose is getting.

“See, normally I like to clip these around my new flock’s noses, but for you… Well, let’s just say the RSRF has been a real pain lately. Isn’t that bad? Nod.”

I nod. I don’t know why. It’s hard to understand what he’s saying. My head feels funny. Whatever I was going to ask instead comes out as a slurred “Dhhhuhh…”

“So, I figured, what would happen if I changed the location a little? Wouldn’t it be wonderful if one of those pesky RBRF Minders tried to ‘read’ it, thinking it was yours? Nod again.”

I nod. This is easy. That makes it feel better. Everything feels wrong. I kick my legs a little as he tugs my skirt off. Pressure bulges under my belly. Two soft, sensitive things, like my breasts but… heavier.

“Now. Think very, very hard about becoming a goat. You are supposed to be a goat. You are a goat.”

“BhhAAHaahHH!” Why is there no fur on my arms why is my head so small why are my thighs so thin where is fur where is herd where mate need to bread have breed herd mate bread herd “MmmhaaHHaahhAHH!”

Cynthia flinched back, as if shot. She brought her hand to her head, but instead of placing her palm against her skull, her knuckles rapped against it awkwardly. Tears dewed at her eyes as she tried to blink away what she’d just been.

“BaahhAHH?” The other goat on the ground shook out her head.

Other goat?

Cynthia gulped, looking down to her hand, trying to force her fingers open. It wasn’t working.

A chill trailed down her spine. She knew this feeling. Everyone in the RSRF did, part of training was experiencing a Shift. But those were always physical-only, never mental. Her head was still buzzing from feeling the girl’s brain disintegrate.

Would that happen to her? She didn’t want to be a dumb goat. She whimpered.

Cynthia dropped her hand to her slacks, only for her still-closed fist to uselessly rap against the phone at her hip. That wasn’t good. Could she even call for backup like this? She had to calm down. It was going to be okay. Unauthorized Shifting would trigger an alarm and all nearby agents would get a notification.

Except her phone wasn’t even so much as buzzing.

The goat on the ground nudged at Cynthia’s hand, bumping her muzzle against Cynthia’s closed fist. It was like looking into her own future. Cynthia hiccupped, taking a step back, trying to focus, trying to stay in the present.

She wasn’t getting a signal. That matched some of the other high-profile casts Section 2 was assigned to. Something about a Shifter finding a way to bypass their alerts. Which meant that a response team couldn’t get to any of the victims in time to reverse their changes.

“No, no, no…” Cynthia shook her head, rolling her shoulders as they stiffened slightly. She wasn’t a Shifter, she was a Minder. Base level. Only cleared for high-risk missions when supervised. So what was she supposed to do?

She looked around the park, but there wasn’t anyone around. It was only random chance that Cynthia herself had heard the other goat’s bleating. No. The goat’s. Not the other goat’s. Cynthia was a human. Training said that keeping things like that in mind would help fight against lower-level Shifts.

Because anyone who could bypass RSRF scanners was definitely a lower-level Shifter.

Cynthia rapped her knuckles against her head again. “Focus. There’s still something you can do.”

If she really was fated to become an animal, then she could at least try and take the man with her. “Okay Pixie,” she called out loudly, hoping beyond hope that her phone would recognize her voice.

It chimed back. For the first time since getting the little depression rectangle, she was glad that the company had programmed its speech-to-text.

“Start recording these notes. This is Agent 91A4, Cynthia Warren, describing a potential Alpha-plus class Shifter. This… Might be my last… No. I don’t have time for that. Subject has brown hair. Tanned skin. Accent is…”

She faltered. The unnamed goat’s memories were elusive, like trying to hold onto water. That was all she could remember.

“BaahahhAHhh?” The goat bleated like an idiot. How long until Cynthia joined her? Hopefully long enough to get this out.

“Okay. Just one more time.” Cynthia reached out the back of her hand, focusing on the ring, steeling her resolve, trying only to read the man, nothing of the girl’s thoughts, nothing of the goat’s thoughts. Just. The. Man.

-erdbreedmateherdbreedmateherdbreedmatehungryherdbree-

Cynthia fell onto her side, shuddering, gasping. Her phone chimed twice. Did it stop recording her? She-

Bleat like a goat.

“BBHHHAAAHAHHAH!” Cynthia wailed, swiveling her head from side to side. What was happening? There wasn’t anyone around. Just her and the other goat. But. She could hear his voice. Could remember it.

In the mix of swirling, primal thoughts, he’d kept talking. He’d announced clear, distinct commands that she couldn’t get out of her head. Were they meant for her? For the other goat?

Said other goat seemed a little surprised to hear a kindred call. She trotted to Cynthia’s side, and too late, Cynthia recognized a bright leather purse matted into the grass, that had been trapped beneath the changing girl’s body.

Bleat again. Grow fur.

“Mnngh… Nnhh… NGHh…” Cynthia grit her teeth so hard she thought they might pop. She could feel her pulse in her forehead. Were there veins bulging from her head? Everything was itchy. She wanted to give in. It all felt so wrong. “BhhuhAHH-AHh-ahHH!”

It burst from her like a dam breaking. Fur, so much itching, coarse, thick fur warmed her. Her clothes were a furnace. She squirmed on the ground, struggling against them. Pressure built at the base of her spine, forcing her waistband down, letting her kick her slacks mercifully free. The other goat even helped her, tugging away the woman’s clothes with her teeth.

Other goat. Purse. Cynthia sobbed, brain catching up with what her eyes had seen moments ago. This whole time, the nameless goat’s old life had been lying beneath her. Cynthia didn’t need to try a Minding.

“Behh-ehh-ehh?” The other goat bleated back at Cynthia.

Cynthia’s breath caught as she finally noticed her sobs were all bleats themselves. What was happening? Was her brain already fading? It was like she was watching life in a foreign language, reading subtitles to catch up to words that had already been said. Everything was-

Go into heat.

“HLUK!” Cynthia choked on her tongue as an invisible force punched her womb, leaving her aching, empty, hollow. She needed a mate. Needed to be filled. Need to breed. Need herd.

No. Focus. She panted. Drooled. Everything was fuzzy. Like her.

Pressure built along her back and she rolled onto her elbows and knees, groaning, flexing. She didn’t know why, it just felt natural to. It was working, too. The constricting cloth around her upper body creaked and popped, seams splitting, freeing her hairy body.

The pink goat helped tug those off her too. Had she been told to? Cynthia didn’t know if she wanted to know. She didn’t know if she could think of anything other than that maddening ache between her fuzzy thighs.

Wait. The goat wasn’t pink. There was something on it that was. That cloth thing. Like the one that had been on Cynthia. She should know what it was, right? Every second, she was forgetting more and more, horror flooding her-

Get dumber.

Her eyes crossed. Unfocused. Refocused. Unfocused. A little bit of drool splattered onto her hand. She remembered to close her mouth. Her ears twitched. It was… Weird. She… Hands? Hooves? She looked down, feeling the strange five growths on her hooves clump up into proper cloven hooves, her hooves, that made her happy.

Pink goat licked her cheek and she licked back. That was weird too. Her tongue felt funny. She tasted more than she should the pink goat tasted funny.

Cynthia. Was. Her name. She was Cynthia. She was a human. With hooves. And fur. But a human. Somehow?

Her thoughts hurt. How was she one of those tall furless things? She had hooves. Had…

Pressure between her legs. Good pressure. Building, soft, sloshy, heavy. Her udders swayed beneath her. It felt nice. “Baahahh.” Cynthia calmed down a little. Her little tail wiggled. She wondered-

Forget me.

That wasn’t good. Cynthia worried. Was she forgetting speaking? Those words… They were okay on their own. But what was she supposed to forget? Who was me? It wasn’t her. She knew she had to remember. She was Cynthia. That was important.

“MMhhhehhehh.” She bleated like an idiot Cynthia. But she was still Cynthia, and that-

Forget your name.

was. What was it? She was… No. Not possible. She forgot? But. Harder think with no… Word… For… Name. She had forget it. But need know. Her name. What her name?

“Bahaah!” Pink goat know? No. Pink goat no human. She-

And even dumber. You’re going to be rock-stupid for a goat.

“Mbbahhhah?” Name? “Baaahhah.” Want? “Beehh-ehh-ehh.” Need? Breed?

Pink… lick. Cheek. Nice.

Herd. Ache.

Breed.

“BehhaAhhhH!”