Friday, April 6, 2012

Attack of the fur

on a Monday morning James woke up. Water dripped from an unseen faucet. The low howl of the wind traveled along the pipes. Down in the street a dog barked and a car door slammed.
Stiffly James rose from bed. As he crossed the room he saw something that stopped him in his tracks.
His chifforobe had grown soft, white, bunny fur in the night. It pulsed gently in the corner of the room cooing and moving with in itself. It beckoned to him, yearning to feel his competent fingers assessing its tactile merits. Who was James to refuse? He knelt and began to caress the chifforobe. It shuttered all over with delight.

The phone rang. Reluctantly, James answered it.
On the other end of the line a mechanical voice warned him of a vicious fur outbreak. In the event that he was exposed to an out break he was instructed to saw his own hands off. James did not own a saw.
James ended the call.
No machine could understand how soft the fur was.
He had to protect the fur. It could not be discovered there was a fur outbreak in his tenth floor apartment. The authorities would advance with chemicals. They would exterminate the virus.
He rushed into his bedroom and fell on his knees before the chifforobe.
He plunged his rough calloused into the soft white fur.
Oh the sensation! The pulsing appereication of the clean white fur!
It fed off his adoration.

In response to his solicatious petting it spread. It leapt from the surface of one piece of furniture, to another, than to another.
In a matter of hours it had begun to climb the walls.
In another few hours it covered the floors, the windows, and the ceiling.
That night a soft and cuddly death patiently began to steal over James.
It was so soothing, he could not suspect he had become the disease.
He only wanted to be caressed. To respond to the feel, the pressure of warm hands
to spread infinitely outward always growing, always changing.
James was the virus. The virus was James.
Soft downy fur pushed its way through his follicles. It evicted his corse human hair.
The white fur spread quickly within in a quarter of an hour he was covered from head to toe.
His eyes were changing shape, his vision was both narrowing and expanding.
When he leaned against the wall he disappeared completely. His pink eyes blinking were the only distinction between him and the , soft, white, pulsing fur .
His fingers twisted in there sockets, they were changing shape.
He could not keep his hands off himself.
His senses heightened, he could here the tumblers in the lock of the neighbors apartment door.
He crept out into the hall, a light had burned out providing a theatrical twilight.
He crept on his newly fury feet to stand directly behind Jose, a sweaty Latino he had never cared for.
He snaked his furry hands along his arms and biceps, he flinched and struggled. Than inside the glory of acceptance he gave into to the fur.
They cuddled for nearly fifteen minutes, when James strolled away from Jose soft white fur was rapidly covering his skin.
James made his way down the stairs, trailing his rapidly mutating paws along the hand rail: White fur sprouting where his paws had touched.
He burst through the lobby doors and hit the street. He was all impulse one-hundred percent sensation. Only the sensory experience existed for him there was only the currant moment nothing before this exact moment and nothing after. No consequences only movement only sound..................


  1. I imagined myself caressing white bunny fur and watching it grow! Athentic to the senses. Very unique keep them coming.