"Holy Hell"
Those were the first words of my new life. And I would say they we're pretty justified as well. Why, you may ask? Well that's because I was in what looked like hell.
The surroundings were made of concrete, the only exception being a wall of cage bars. Not to mention I was sitting on the cold hard ground. The glaring lack of bed further reinforcing how fucked I was. I try to take a deep breath to calm down.
*Ugh* A smell that burned my nose made me almost vomit. Looking over to where I thought it might be coming from led me to what might have once been a toilet. Before I possibly find something worse someone yelled at me.
"Move it fuck! It's meal time!" The voice was feminine and gruff, and looking toward her made my brain freeze with a single word, 'dog?'. But this dog was strange, it had clothes and opposable thumbs. It also walked on two feet… This world had furries, Noooooo! And to make matters worse I was even imprisoned by them!
"Hey you! Get your food or not! Last chance!" I quickly stand up and make my way to the bars.
They hand me a dog bowl full of some kind of slop. Not even sure wether it's edible or not I reach out hesitantly and grab it, nearly dropping it when I see my hands.
My hands are grey. Not just that, they are furry and my nails are pitch black. I quickly set my food down, and go over to the toilet grabbing what remains of the silver handle. Cleaning it off with arm, I look at what should be my reflection, only to find a stranger.
The thing looking back at me, looks to be a grey wolf with bright teal eyes. The underside of the chin is a white stained in what looks like blood.
I then start to pull and prod at my face. The reflection doing the same. Each second I hope to god this isn't what I think.
"Oh hell no." I mutter to myself in shock.
"T-This can't be happening t-to me!" I stutter out in horror. Wondering what did I do in my last life to deserve this.
Then before I can spiral I feel it, this gnawing hunger. I suddenly loose all feeling leaving only Hunger. Next thing I know my body is moving on its own to the bowl of food, and before I can stop it I am forced to watch as I eat the disgusting gruel. The smell of which is somehow wonderful.
Not long after the food is gone I regain control of myself the hunger subsiding.
"So that's how instincts feel." Or I assumed that what that was, because my other guesses aren't so clean. Either way I felt helpless to resist. It was a horrifying feeling, to lose control of one's body. Even if it's a body I didn't really want.
I shivered on the cold ground, just thinking about loosing control like that again. Soon enough I started to cry just laying there curled up. Eventually sleep took me into its sweet oblivion.
The next day was thankfully better than the first. At least this time I didn't loose control of my body. Though that meant I had to eat the slop they called food myself. It was expectedly horrible. But it was better than loosing control again.
My fifth day I was brought to the showers with the other muts, as they callled us. The "they" are the supposed care takers of this pound. Yep that's what it was call it, a fucking pound. The irony is not lost on me.
I also figured out a few things from that trip to the showers. One I was young. Two the other muts were also children. Three I was feard by all the other muts. And finally four I had to fight in the "Playground" tomorrow.
It was surprising at first to learn I needed to fight. But looking at the place I'm in, I am not that surprised. It definitely left me with a feeling of disgust as I figured out I had to fight another child. Hopefully I didn't have to fight to the death.
I didn't want to kill a child.
Now the last thing I had to get used to was the digitigrade legs of mine. As if to reinforce my statement, I accidentally stumble as I walk back to my cage. And it was a cage not a cell. A cell at least had a bed.
It didn't take long before I was shoved into my cage by one of the "Caretakers". How they could even stomach the job they did confounded me. They pretty much held children in a cages until they were bought.
I didn't even get to see the person who bought one of children in the cage next to mine. That thought brought me to the fact that my cell was strangely empty compared to the others.
As I had been walking earlier I had noticed the other cages had multiple muts in the same cell. And they even had beds. The only peice of cloth I had were the clothes on my back. And judging by how they looked they had seen better days.
I was slightly jealous of the others cages with beds. Though not entirely, because they were still considered cages to me. That's because they might have been considered cells if not for the fact that up to 7 muts were kept in a cage at a time. It reminded me of the pounds at home. But even they didn't have 7 dogs in a cage at a time.
Suddenly the lights went out and I herd a yell.
"Bed time muts!" Ah I must have fallen asleep before "Lights Out" last time.
With nothing else to do I curl up next to the right wall of my cage. The cold concrete sending a slight chill through my spine.
The darkness and silence left me with nothing other than to think. The memories of the past forcing themselves to the forefront.
It was a life full of monotony. I did the same thing every day, First, get up and get ready, skip breakfast because it wasn't necessary. Second, was to work, typing away at spreadsheets. Third, go home and sleep.
And that pattern was further reinforced by my parents. They told me to be loyal, to work for the company and make my way up. When I finally realized the truth it was too late, I wasn't able to work and pay for school. My parents only leaving behind a simple home for me to live in.
My monotony continued for years undisturbed. That was until, I found YouTube. Soon enough it became my outlet. My way to break my self imposed monotony. And it made me inspired to maybe break out of my cage.
That was until I died. It was just a simple Tuesday evening when it happened. My chest started to hurt. Something that wasn't to unusual for me at the time. But instead of going away after a few moments it intensified.
It kept getting worse and worse until I fell to the ground. I had tried to ask for help but I couldn't voice the words.
And so I was passed by as another crazy person in New York City. That was until my untimely heart attack finally killed me. And the next thing I new I woke up here. In the body of a furry.
"I guess I got something new out of my life." I mutter to myself with a slightly sarcastic tone.
That does bring up the question of what I wanted to do in my new life. Seeing as I probably wouldn't get lucky enough for a third chance.
Thinking for a while, I end up realizing all I can do right now is just survive. My current situation making it impossible for me to actually afford any other hopes. But once I got out of here maybe, just maybe I could dream. Speaking of which I needed to sleep. Taking a moment I calm my thoughts and steady my breathing.