Furry Life
- Reads 984
- Votes 10
- Parts 8
Warning Sexual and Verbal Content. (You have been warned)
As his eyes opened to find the light of the sun on his eyes, he would get up slowly and looks around his calm room, as he would get up the covers would move and a grey and black stripped tail pops out only to find it being his own, his ears would perk up slowly and he would set his feet on the floor but not feet but paws.
Dustin- hmmm its Sunday and summer, what should i do?
Dustin’s mom- Hun it’s time to eat!
Dustin- ok, I’ll be there in a min.
Dustin slowly moves to his bathroom and removes his clothes and changes to his normal clothes but it seems he has a hole in the back of his pants and his tail is in it moving softly. He turns to leave but finds himself looking out his window. His lips move but no sound is heard and he slowly whispers.
Sign- go away freak boy!
His mouth shivers and he turns away fast to run downstairs running into his mom and giving her a hug of life and nuzzles her close.
Dustin’s mom- Hun what’s wrong
Dustin yelling-LOOK OUT SIDE!
Dustin’s mom slowly walks near the window to look at a big wooden sign says things about Dustin and turns away looking at him.
Dustin’s mom- that not true, its all shit made up and its lies.
Dustin- mom whatever I just want a normal life not like this.
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The boy stood in front of the bathroom mirror, a little too close, his tiny hands pressed against the cold surface. He smiled at his reflection, though it didn't smile back right away. He was used to this. It was always like that-he would smile, and then the reflection would follow, eventually. "Hi, there," the boy whispered, his voice a soft murmur in the quiet house. From the kitchen, the sound of pots clanging echoed, and his mother's humming filled the space. He could hear the rhythm of the spatula stirring in the pan, the sizzling of whatever she was cooking. His father, still seated at the dining table, rustled the newspaper, absorbed in the evening's headlines. "Mom, look, it's me," the boy called out, his eyes never leaving the mirror. He waited for her usual response-a glance over her shoulder, a quick nod of acknowledgment. But she didn't answer. She just hummed. The boy tilted his head, eyes narrowing. There was something about his reflection now that felt different, too still, too patient. "Hello?" His voice trembled slightly. "Why don't you say something?" In the reflection, his own lips parted in silent mockery. But this time, he swore it wasn't him. The boy swallowed hard, his pulse quickening. His reflection didn't mirror his every movement anymore. It was slightly delayed, like it was watching him instead. A whisper seemed to curl in the air around him, soft but distinct. "You're not alone here." His heart thudded. The voice, distant but clear, came from the mirror. "Who's there?" the boy asked, his voice barely above a whisper. His father grunted from the other room, and the boy glanced toward the dining table. His father was engrossed in his newspaper. The boy turned back to the mirror. The reflection was still staring, but now, something more than just the image of himself looked back. "Don't you want to play?" the reflection asked, its smile curling wider, unnaturally wide.
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