TF (animal)
Steven was staring. He knew it was wrong, but hell, she was such an amazing sight. The train carriage was pretty empty, but he was sure the few people in it were staring just like him.
The woman opposite looked up from her book suddenly and he flicked his head away. But when he looked back, she was staring right at him now, with a little smirk on her face.
She leaned forward. “I’m 32 per cent.”
“Uh, okay,” Steven said nervously. “That’s cat, right?”
“Uh-huh.” She looked incredible, her head and shoulders lightly furred in grey, her nose upturned, her eyes slitted like a cat, and her ears … The folds of her ears jutted out of her chestnut brown hair.
He was staring again. Once more he tore his gaze away from her, only to look back immediately. “Sorry. It’s just …”
“I know, I know,” she laughed. “Don’t worry, I’m used to it. DNA mixing is still new and people don’t know what to make of it.”
“How long ago … ?”
“Three months. I’d been thinking about it for a year, though. Finally plucked up the courage.”
“Any regrets?”
“Are you kidding? Sure, I regret not doing it earlier. Being part-cat, it’s … I feel like I finally found my real me.”
She looked so damned happy.
“Well, you look wonderful, if you don’t mind me saying so.”
“Thanks.” She beamed. Steven almost thought he could hear her purring.
“To tell you the truth,” she said, “I’m thinking about going back. Going up a bit. Maybe 50 per cent.”
“Wow. That’s … a lot of cat.”
“Yeah. I don’t know how much more I’d want to go. They say when you get up to 75 per cent, you get a tail. I don’t know how I’d deal with that.”
“So, up to 50 per cent … what would that do?”
“Well, my hair would probably go,” she said matter of factly. “My skull would be more cat-shaped. Probably my nails would be claws.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Rough tongue, too. They say you get enhanced hearing, but the down side is your eyesight is restricted in the colour spectrum. And whiskers, of course.”
“Oh, whiskers.”
“Yeah, I think I’d look cute with whiskers. But the big thing is more fur.”
“Okay. More fur.”
She actually winked at him. “Fur all over. Well, here’s my stop. Nice speaking with you!”
She collected her bag and made her way out of the train, moving with grace and elegance in a …
Feline way. Feline was definitely the word.
Fur all over.
Well.
*
“Steven, talk to your sister,” his mother yelled down the phone.
“Why? What’s wrong with Tara, mom?”
“She wants to turn into a snake! It’s ridiculous!”
Once he’d hung up, Steven dialled his sister, sighing.
“So what’s this about being a snake?”
“Hey, bro! Mom called you, huh?”
“Right.”
“It’s not about turning into a snake. Not all the way, anyway.”
“Uh-huh. What’s the percentage?”
“Twelve.”
“Jesus, Tara, DNA mixing … it’s new, and they don’t know all the facts …”
He could hear Tara snort. “DNA mixing has been around for almost two years, thousands of people are doing it, and so far there’s been no problems. You think I didn’t do my research?”
“Okay, it’s just … it’s not normal, you know that, right?”
“Normal? What’s normal? I remember seeing someone with stretched ears when I was a kid and mom almost puked when she saw them. It seemed so over the top, so punk. Now I see 13-year-olds with one-inch tunnels. Or tattoos - I was at the beach last weekend, and I swear I was the only woman there who didn’t have a tattoo. I tell you, Steven, one day - and one day soon - mixing your DNA with animals will be as normal as getting a haircut.”
“Okay, okay. I get it.”
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to lecture you.”
“Did you give mom the lecture too?”
“Ah, what’s the point? She’s just going to have to learn to like it.”
“I guess.”
“Besides, you’re both too late. I had it done on Tuesday.”
“What? You did it? You’re part snake?”
“Yup. And it looks amazing.”
Half an hour after Steven had hung up, a message pinged into his phone.
A photo from Tara.
She looked much the same, except for the light patina of scales that covered her shoulders and arms.
Tara was right. It looked amazing.
*
“Parrot,” Barbara said. Steven stopped lifting his beer to his mouth and stared.
“Really?” he said to his co-worker. “You want to be part-parrot?”
“Sure, why not? They look cute.”
“I was thinking I’d like to be a dog,” Hugh said from around the table in the bar.
“Me too,” chimed in Jonathan. “Maybe a golden retriever.”
“Yeah, I was thinking labrador.”
“But …” Steven looked around at the group. “Would they even let you go to work like that?”
Barbara shrugged. “Mylene in human resources has a septum piercing and they haven’t made her take that out.”
“Being part-parrot’s a little more extreme than a septum piercing!”
“Chill out, Steven, it’s not like we’re talking about having a beak and sitting on a pirate’s shoulder. I’ve seen women who are 7 per cent parrot and they have the most incredible hair - like red and green feathers.”
Jason from accounts was getting nervous as the talk grew more heated and now he butted in. “So, how about those Red Sox, huh?”
They all silently agreed to change the subject and moved on to sports.
*
Steven was flicking the TV remote when he saw it. The new reality series he’d heard about.
It starred a group of C-grade starlets who were bent on revitalising their careers with mixed DNA. The breakout star was one girl who’d been a top model but had never quite made it in movies. Now she’d been fused with … what? Mongoose? Something fairly low percentage, but it had turned out to be enough. She still looked beautiful but the slight touch of animal in her made her look far more exotic. Exotic, and surprisingly sensual.
She’d had a boob job too, and a good one, but it was her face that Steven couldn’t tear his eyes away from. Even when she was having a fight in the pool with a part-mouse girl.
Especially then.
The next day he read she was starring in a big budget remake of The Island of Dr Moreau. There was a photo accompanying the article, one where she was wearing a big smile.
She had sharp little teeth.
*
Assholes.
There was a demonstration against DNA mixing going on near the traffic lights, right outside a mixing centre. The traffic lights he wanted to cross at.
Steven gazed at the crowd of 20 or so, their faces contorted with anger. They carried signs: “100 PER CENT IS THE NUMBER OF THE BEAST”; “YOU SHALL HAVE DOMINION OVER ANIMALS”; “GOD MADE ADAM AND EVE, NOT ADAM AND 24 PER CENT PIG”. That one didn’t even make sense.
“Excuse me!” Steven called. He began to push his way through. “Coming through! Excuse me! Sorry! Need to get to the lights! Aw, what the hell! MOVE, ASSHOLES!”
As he pushed his way through, he caught sight of a man inside the DNA mixing centre, gazing at the protesters. The man caught Steven’s eye and gave him a sympathetic smile. He shrugged his shoulders in a “sorry” gesture.
He was about 60 per cent lion, and he looked incredible.
*
He barely heard her over the noise of the train. “Oh, hey!”
Steven looked up from his smartphone. “Hey!” It was her again, the woman from the train. “Nice to see you. Uh, I see you went through with it.”
“Yup!” she laughed, taking a seat on the train opposite Steven. Her hair had gone, and her fur was much heavier, and her nose sprouted whiskers. They did look cute.
“Actually,” she confessed, “I went a bit further than I thought I would. I’m at 60 per cent now.”
“Well, it really suits you.”
“I think so. I might even get a bit more cat.”
“How much more cat can you get?”
She just looked at him. “Well, 100 per cent, of course. Then I’d be a human-sized cat.”
“Yeah, of course. Sorry.”
“But I was thinking about … 80 per cent?”
“Right.”
“Oh, what the hell, I’m probably kidding myself. Fact is, this thing is like a drug. The more animal you are, the more you want to be. Did you hear about Greece?”
“What about Greece?”
“They’ve got animal islands there now. You can only vacation there if you’re part animal. And you have to be more than 20 per cent animal, too.”
“Wow.”
“You can just take off all your clothes and run around on all fours like a real animal, if you want. My friend’s just come back. She’s half zebra. She says it’s really relaxing. Well, here’s my stop. See you some time!”
Steven wondered just how much cat she’d be then.
That night he dreamed of her, of running his hands through her fur.
*
“I’m bald now,” Tara announced over the phone.
“Wow. Totally?”
“Yep. I’m 36 per cent snake now. Scales all over my face.”
“Uh, sis, you sound a bit weird …”
“Oh, right. It’s probably my forked tongue.”
Of course.
*
He passed Barbara in the hall at work. The red and green feathers did look great.
“Want to go get a drink at lunch?” he asked Hugh.
Hugh shook his head, his big floppy ears waving.
“Sorry, my man, I’m off to the park. Jason’s gonna take me for a walk.”
“Okay, sure. Don’t stop at any trees.”
“Trees! Ha ha! Sure.”
Like I’ve never heard that one before, Hugh thought.
*
Steven saw her again a few weeks afterwards. He was catching the train home from work.
This time she was staring at him. Then she broke into a grin.
“Congratulations!” she said, taking the seat opposite him.
“Thanks,” Steven said, a little sheepishly.
“The fur looks good on you.”
“There’s not that much of it. I’m only 23 per cent. Still mostly human. My eyes aren’t even … well, they’re kinda cat-like …”
“But … they weren’t green before, were they?”
“No, brown. But they changed after I was mixed.”
“They do that.” She was basically a cat in a vaguely human shape now, and Steven wondered what her percentage was now … She must have been at least 80 per cent, and he wondered what was under that long coat she wore.
“You know,” she said. “I just realised I don’t know your name. I’m Mira.”
“Steven.” He held out his hand and she took it in her paw. They shook.
“So, Steven … I was wondering, you feel like going for a drink some time? There’s this bar just for cats that’s opened up, it’s really nice. You’d like it. Very welcoming to the kittens - the new cats, you know? That’s what we call you.”
“Sure.” They exchanged numbers.
As he watched her step off the train, her tail came waving out from under the coat’s hem.
One day, he wanted a tail like that. But small steps. He had so much more cat to be.