Hi. My name's Veronica Kirk. I'm 17.
I live in Springfield, Illinois. My mom is a veterinarian, and my dad runs a security company. There's also my 6-year-old sister, Jodi.
In school, I got decent grades, and I was dating Todd Allen, a guard on the basketball team. My ambition was to become a vet, and follow in Mom's footsteps.
And then, one summer, my life - and my body - changed.
******************************
It seemed like a perfectly ordinary night. Mom and Dad were going out for the evening, and wouldn't be back until way past Jodi's bedtime, so I was babysitting her. It should have been simple: Play a game; then, watch a movie; then, make sure she bathed and brushed her teeth; then, put her to bed. I had done it before.
That night, however, something incredible happened. Something I'm still trying to wrap my head around.
******************************
It started while we were watching the movie. A few minutes before it ended, my feet started itching like crazy. I had no idea why. Did Mom get a different detergent, one I seemed to be allergic to?
I took off my socks, and I couldn't see any rash or anything. But at least my feet stopped itching.
After the movie, Jodi asked, "Can I have a snack before bed?"
"Nothing sugary," I replied, "and no drink." Jodi had a bit of a bedwetting problem, so she couldn't drink anything after supper if she didn't want rubber sheets.
"How about a sandwich?"
"Works for me. Come with me to the kitchen, and show me what you want." I stuffed my socks in my pockets, and we went to the kitchen.
It was there that I noticed it. "Do you hear something clicking?"
"Uh-huh. What is it?"
"Darned if I know. Let's make your sandwich."
As I made the sandwich - more of a slider, really - I noticed that the clicking seemed to stop when I wasn't walking. That seemed strange.
"Ronnie," Jodi said, "it's your feet."
I looked down, and gasped. Those weren't my feet. Okay, they were, since they were at the bottom of my legs, but they weren't supposed to look like that.
Specifically, they weren't supposed to be covered in shaggy white fur. And my toenails weren't supposed to be long, black, and clawlike.
Giving Jodi her sandwich, I ran upstairs to my bedroom. Because my torso was starting to itch the way my feet had. As I climbed up the stairs, I realized that I was walking tiptoe, and I couldn't stop.
In my room, I stood in front of my full-length mirror.I could see why I seemed to be walking on my toes: My feet were now paws.
Stripping off my clothes, I don't know which bothered me more: The fact that my boobs were flattening out, or the two rows of nipples that were erupting underneath them. Then, I realized there was something even worse. My arms and legs were getting shorter. And the fur was rapidly heading up my legs. "What's happening to me?"
"You look like a doggy," Jodi said.
I would normally chase her out of my room, yelling at her for walking in while I was naked. Since I was changing, I had other things on my mind. Like the tail that just shot out over my butt. And the fact that my hands were changing into paws. And the fur growing over my body.
As I dropped down on all fours, my vision went to black and white, my ears grew out and moved to the top of my head, and my face grew into a muzzle. I whined, no longer able to speak.
When it was over, I wasn't the girl I always knew. I was an Old English Sheepdog.   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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