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With nothing he wants to do—or [i]can[/i] do—other than sit and watch the sun set, he decides to pass the time with a cold drink. If only he knew... ", "description_bbcode_parsed": "Sharp in mind, sadly disabled in body, Antonio is stuck at home, confined to a wheelchair and a debilitating growth disorder and bitter over his misunderstood life. With nothing he wants to do—or can do—other than sit and watch the sun set, he decides to pass the time with a cold drink. If only he knew... ", "writing": "Antonio Lorri sat alone, on his back porch, yet again. The eighteen-year-old spent most evenings, even Friday evenings, this way. It's not that he didn't have friends. It's just that all of his friends were developmentally disabled. Their parents always kept their kids home after 9:00 P.M. because they were overprotective.\n\nNot that he really wanted to spend [i]more[/i] time with them. Even Domica Salazar, who had Down Syndrome, just wasn't that interesting to talk to. The others, at various levels in the autism spectrum, were just plain weird.\n\nAntonio grabbed another Pepsi from the cooler, nudging the control on his wheelchair to spin and move forward. He slid the chair right up against the cooler so that he wouldn't have to reach very far, but still his hand fumbled the can. He closed his palm around it, fingers shaking. Taking a deep breath, he tried to relax, managing to lift the can to his wheelchair's cup holder.\n\nHe span back around to look out at the backyard again, struggling to pop the tab. When he finally heard the refreshing \"psssshhh\" he was exhausted.\n\n\"F-fffuuck the-isz.\"\n\nHe took a drink, a practiced motion that wasn't as choppy. He glowered at his backyard silently, watching the rabbits eat the last bit of grass before they huddled off into their dens. One time, he saw a fox. But he always hoped to see deer. Just watching the way they moved, so effortlessly, so smoothly - they could swivel their ears as easily as he could swivel his chair.\n\nThe other kids were all on their phones, tapping away, or playing video games, or going out to drink illegally, and none of those things were things that Antonio could do. He talked in a slurred voice, he trembled, he was poor, [i]and[/i] Mexican, and none of this worked out to get him friends. But the worst thing was that unlike the other kids in his Special Education system, his brain was [i]fine[/i]. He was quick, and clever, and could read quickly, and could tell when other kids were struggling in class.\n\nBut no one knew it, aside from his parents and the teachers. He saw the way the kids looked at him. Did they [i]know[/i] what Ataxic Cerebral Palsy was? No, and they didn't care. He couldn't move well or speak, so he must be a [b][i]retard[/i][/b]. Never mind that Antonio got straight A's. What else was there to do but read and learn? The jokes and jabs were as unimpressive as they were juvenile, but that wasn't what [i]really[/i] hurt.\n\nHe glanced to his left, and his neighbor's house. Angela Nelson, a blonde, thin, cheerleader, he'd had a crush on since he was [i]five[/i]. [b]She[/b] was the one that hurt the worst, but not because she was a bitch.\n\n\"Oh, Antonio, how are you doing today?\" she would ask, in her saccharine voice. \"Do you need any help carrying your books?\"\n\n\"N-no, Ang - \"\n\n\"Your birthday was last week, right? Did you get any cool [i]Star Wars [/i]stuff? I know you love Star Wars,\" she interrupted.\n\nHe liked Star Wars fine, for an eighteen-year-old. He liked to imagine he had the Force, and suddenly everything that was so difficult for him all his life would come easy and effortlessly. But he grew out of Star Wars when he was [i]twelve[/i]. \"Noh, I d-don' haaf p-pardz ennymoa.\"\n\n\"No parties!? That's sad. I love parties,\" she replied with cloying pitch.\n\nBefore he could explain to Angela that he was not, in fact, a twelve-year-old, she was gone, off to her next class. [b][i]That[/i][/b] was the worst. By all accounts Angela was a nice girl, who did in fact enjoy parties (she was at one right now as far as Antonio knew), but she thought he was a [i]child[/i]. She assumed because he had difficulty speaking that he was years behind in mental development, and she'd never bothered to find out that she was wrong. After [i]years [/i]of living next door. She basically never saw a functioning adult when she looked at him, and certainly not a boyfriend.\n\n\"Sh-idt!\" he grunted, one of his best words, as the can fell from his grasp and landed sideways on the ground. He looked around for his parents, but they were already upstairs in bed. The can was leaking onto the wooden deck, but it was weather-stained, rolling toward its grassy fate. Groaning, he ignored the can and spun back around to the cooler for another drink.\n\nGlancing down, he groaned. That was the last Pepsi. There were some Diet Cokes, the drink his mother swore by, and a Sanpellegrino ([b]so[/b] gross), and bottled water. Of all the better, tastier, or livelier drinks... why would he drink flavorless, tasteless, boring [i]water?[/i] Then something caught his glance he'd never seen before. A glass bottle with a cork in it. Reaching down, he found it surprisingly easy to wrap his fingers around the tapered tip of the bottle, hefting it up to read it.\n\n\"P-polishhh...\" Vitamin Water. He didn't bother to read the whole name out loud, reading it quickly. Supposed to help his skin? He wondered how it would taste, and if his mother had bought it in the vain hope that it would cure his Cerebral Palsy. \"O-oh wel...\" he stammered, gripping the cork and twisting it off.\n\nMight as well try it.\n\nOr might as well [i]not[/i]! As soon as he tipped half-an-ounce down his throat, he regretted it. He resisted the urge to toss the bottle, knowing that he wouldn't get it more than a few feet. Instead, he wedged the cork back in and tossed it back in the cooler. It tasted like crap.\n\nAntonio sat there, gazing out at the forest, the sun finally dipping below the horizon. It should have been relaxing, but he felt like he was in a prison. His chair may grant him mobility far beyond his ability to walk with crutches, but it closed so many more doors for him. It...just...wasn't...fair.\n\nHe wanted - no, needed - to see a deer, peering into the milky darkness between the trees. Even though he envied them their simplicity and grace, he felt so relaxed, so at peace... to see them. At least something in the world was truly free. He blinked - was that one?\n\n[i]Creeeaaaak![/i]\n\nHis eyes darted to the sound, the fence to his left. The Nelson's dog, Cramer, was digging at the fence posts again! He was wedging himself into the Lorri's yard by pushing the weakened fence post up.\n\n\"H-hey! gggGet...back!\" he shouted, but the dog didn't ever seem to respect him, or anyone other than Angela. He looked straight out of Lady and the Tramp, the gray dog with the beard, just a little stockier.\n\nAnd that's when it started to happen. Antonio coughed, and his already stilted speech was as good as gone. He tried to call for his mother, for his father, for anyone, but his throat was closed up. He thought he should be choking, but he could still breathe through his nose. He lost control of himself, hunching forward in his chair, his bones starting to churn.\n\n\"Waaaaagh!\" he groaned, startling Cramer, who barked at him.\n\nSomehow, his shirt crept up and covered his head, and everything was dark while he struggled limply. He could feel it all - the tingling, the crunching, his face swelling out, and he knew that he was finally going to die.\n\n[i]It's not so bad,[/i] he realized.\n\nBut soon, the strange sensations stopped. He wasn't dead, and he wasn't even in pain. He [i]was [/i]a little stuffy, his nose pressed right up against his clothing. Struggling again, he managed to push the shift off with just his head, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the...daylight?\n\n[i]I thought the sun went down![/i]\n\nThe forest was as bright as it ever had been, and he could see several trees deep into the gnarled wood. The sky was a dim blue, and the brown house seemed oddly yellow. Then he noticed the giant, gray fur in front of his face.\n\n[i]Yelp![/i]\n\n[i]Why did I [/i]yelp[i]?[/i]\n\nHe was seated in his wheelchair, but it seemed so much bigger, like he'd shrunk half his weight. Looking down, he only saw more gray fur, then, down his belly, he saw his oversized pants hanging loosely around his warped hips. Startled, he leapt from the chair, leaving his clothing behind as he landed flat on his face in the grass. It hadn't even occurred to him that he could [i]leap[/i] in the first place, as realization quickly sank in:\n\n[i]Holy fuck, I'm a dog[/i].\n\nEverything he could see about himself confirmed it. He lifted a wiry hind leg to see his crotch, and instead of his familiar, brown skin and floppy dick, he had a light-gray furred little sheath and two enormous, furry balls. He looked up, startled to find Cramer just inches away, now as big as [i]he [/i]was!\n\nNo, Antonio was as [b][i]small[/i][/b] as Cramer. They were exactly the same height, with the same fur, and the same half-propped gray ears, except that Cramer's mouth was curled up in a toothy growl.\n\n[i]Oh, shit![/i]\n\nAntonio had to jump back to avoid an angry snap from the neighbor's dog.\n\n\"Hey, can't we talk about this!?\" he said quickly, but it came out as yips and barks. Cramer looked unimpressed by this display, leaping forward with his stubby tail held aloft.\n\nAntonio didn't think, he just backed up, hind legs pedaling as he recoiled from the snap of jaws. Hopping backward, he suddenly went [i]thwack[/i] right into the fence.\n\n\"Fuck!\" he barked, backed into a corner against the aggressive dog. A quick sideways glance showed the teenager what he needed to see - the half-open fence post that Cramer had sneaked through. Well, if one medium-sized grey Schnauzer had made it through, another could!\n\nDarting in a quick circle, he dove headfirst into the gap, spinning to reach out with a paw to tug the post back into place. He barely pulled his paw back before Cramer [i]slammed[/i] into the fence post, snapping it shut. There was no way that dog would be able to climb back through the other way.\n\nAntonio took a deep breath, heart racing. [i]This is too much...[/i]\n\nThat's when he realized what he'd just [i]done[/i]. Quick as a wink, he'd scrambled backward, slid through a small hole and closed it behind him, all things he'd never been able to do before. Come to think of it, when he barked and yipped, it may not mean much, but it came out crisp and clear, with no stuttering.\n\nImmediately, he began to run in a circle around the yard, astounded by his sheer athleticism. He was in a world of scents and sounds, though he had to admit the grass looked vaguely yellow. Unbelievable!\n\nIt had to be the vitamin water. That was the only change in his routine. Somehow, drinking that, and seeing Cramer...had...\n\n[i]Turned me into a dog[/i].\n\nHe paused, panting instinctively. What if this was [i]permanent?[/i] In some sense, would that be so bad? But no, as much fun as it was to move around freely, the life of a dog was not something he wanted. But if he did turn back, what would people say when they found him curled up, naked in his neighbor's yard, 25 feet from his wheelchair?\n\nA quick glance and Antonio realized that he wasn't going to be getting out of the backyard without a lot of digging, unless he wanted to brave Cramer. He had to do something, however, and - \n\nHeadlights. A car was pulling in, and he didn't need his perked up dog's ears to hear Angela talking on the phone as she walked into the house. \"The party was so lame...\"\n\nShe was home! He was stuck in her yard! What could he do?\n\n", "writing_bbcode_parsed": "Antonio Lorri sat alone, on his back porch, yet again. The eighteen-year-old spent most evenings, even Friday evenings, this way. It's not that he didn't have friends. It's just that all of his friends were developmentally disabled. Their parents always kept their kids home after 9:00 P.M. because they were overprotective.

Not that he really wanted to spend more time with them. Even Domica Salazar, who had Down Syndrome, just wasn't that interesting to talk to. The others, at various levels in the autism spectrum, were just plain weird.

Antonio grabbed another Pepsi from the cooler, nudging the control on his wheelchair to spin and move forward. He slid the chair right up against the cooler so that he wouldn't have to reach very far, but still his hand fumbled the can. He closed his palm around it, fingers shaking. Taking a deep breath, he tried to relax, managing to lift the can to his wheelchair's cup holder.

He span back around to look out at the backyard again, struggling to pop the tab. When he finally heard the refreshing "psssshhh" he was exhausted.

"F-fffuuck the-isz."

He took a drink, a practiced motion that wasn't as choppy. He glowered at his backyard silently, watching the rabbits eat the last bit of grass before they huddled off into their dens. One time, he saw a fox. But he always hoped to see deer. Just watching the way they moved, so effortlessly, so smoothly  -  they could swivel their ears as easily as he could swivel his chair.

The other kids were all on their phones, tapping away, or playing video games, or going out to drink illegally, and none of those things were things that Antonio could do. He talked in a slurred voice, he trembled, he was poor, and Mexican, and none of this worked out to get him friends. But the worst thing was that unlike the other kids in his Special Education system, his brain was fine. He was quick, and clever, and could read quickly, and could tell when other kids were struggling in class.

But no one knew it, aside from his parents and the teachers. He saw the way the kids looked at him. Did they know what Ataxic Cerebral Palsy was? No, and they didn't care. He couldn't move well or speak, so he must be a retard. Never mind that Antonio got straight A's. What else was there to do but read and learn? The jokes and jabs were as unimpressive as they were juvenile, but that wasn't what really hurt.

He glanced to his left, and his neighbor's house. Angela Nelson, a blonde, thin, cheerleader, he'd had a crush on since he was five. She was the one that hurt the worst, but not because she was a bitch.

"Oh, Antonio, how are you doing today?" she would ask, in her saccharine voice. "Do you need any help carrying your books?"

"N-no, Ang  - "

"Your birthday was last week, right? Did you get any cool Star Wars stuff? I know you love Star Wars," she interrupted.

He liked Star Wars fine, for an eighteen-year-old. He liked to imagine he had the Force, and suddenly everything that was so difficult for him all his life would come easy and effortlessly. But he grew out of Star Wars when he was twelve. "Noh, I d-don' haaf p-pardz ennymoa."

"No parties!? That's sad. I love parties," she replied with cloying pitch.

Before he could explain to Angela that he was not, in fact, a twelve-year-old, she was gone, off to her next class. That was the worst. By all accounts Angela was a nice girl, who did in fact enjoy parties (she was at one right now as far as Antonio knew), but she thought he was a child. She assumed because he had difficulty speaking that he was years behind in mental development, and she'd never bothered to find out that she was wrong. After years of living next door. She basically never saw a functioning adult when she looked at him, and certainly not a boyfriend.

"Sh-idt!" he grunted, one of his best words, as the can fell from his grasp and landed sideways on the ground. He looked around for his parents, but they were already upstairs in bed. The can was leaking onto the wooden deck, but it was weather-stained, rolling toward its grassy fate. Groaning, he ignored the can and spun back around to the cooler for another drink.

Glancing down, he groaned. That was the last Pepsi. There were some Diet Cokes, the drink his mother swore by, and a Sanpellegrino (so gross), and bottled water. Of all the better, tastier, or livelier drinks... why would he drink flavorless, tasteless, boring water? Then something caught his glance he'd never seen before. A glass bottle with a cork in it. Reaching down, he found it surprisingly easy to wrap his fingers around the tapered tip of the bottle, hefting it up to read it.

"P-polishhh..." Vitamin Water. He didn't bother to read the whole name out loud, reading it quickly. Supposed to help his skin? He wondered how it would taste, and if his mother had bought it in the vain hope that it would cure his Cerebral Palsy. "O-oh wel..." he stammered, gripping the cork and twisting it off.

Might as well try it.

Or might as well not! As soon as he tipped half-an-ounce down his throat, he regretted it. He resisted the urge to toss the bottle, knowing that he wouldn't get it more than a few feet. Instead, he wedged the cork back in and tossed it back in the cooler. It tasted like crap.

Antonio sat there, gazing out at the forest, the sun finally dipping below the horizon. It should have been relaxing, but he felt like he was in a prison. His chair may grant him mobility far beyond his ability to walk with crutches, but it closed so many more doors for him. It...just...wasn't...fair.

He wanted  -  no, needed  -  to see a deer, peering into the milky darkness between the trees. Even though he envied them their simplicity and grace, he felt so relaxed, so at peace... to see them. At least something in the world was truly free. He blinked - was that one?

Creeeaaaak!

His eyes darted to the sound, the fence to his left. The Nelson's dog, Cramer, was digging at the fence posts again! He was wedging himself into the Lorri's yard by pushing the weakened fence post up.

"H-hey! gggGet...back!" he shouted, but the dog didn't ever seem to respect him, or anyone other than Angela. He looked straight out of Lady and the Tramp, the gray dog with the beard, just a little stockier.

And that's when it started to happen. Antonio coughed, and his already stilted speech was as good as gone. He tried to call for his mother, for his father, for anyone, but his throat was closed up. He thought he should be choking, but he could still breathe through his nose. He lost control of himself, hunching forward in his chair, his bones starting to churn.

"Waaaaagh!" he groaned, startling Cramer, who barked at him.

Somehow, his shirt crept up and covered his head, and everything was dark while he struggled limply. He could feel it all  -  the tingling, the crunching, his face swelling out, and he knew that he was finally going to die.

It's not so bad, he realized.

But soon, the strange sensations stopped. He wasn't dead, and he wasn't even in pain. He was a little stuffy, his nose pressed right up against his clothing. Struggling again, he managed to push the shift off with just his head, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the...daylight?

I thought the sun went down!

The forest was as bright as it ever had been, and he could see several trees deep into the gnarled wood. The sky was a dim blue, and the brown house seemed oddly yellow. Then he noticed the giant, gray fur in front of his face.

Yelp!

Why did I yelp?

He was seated in his wheelchair, but it seemed so much bigger, like he'd shrunk half his weight. Looking down, he only saw more gray fur, then, down his belly, he saw his oversized pants hanging loosely around his warped hips. Startled, he leapt from the chair, leaving his clothing behind as he landed flat on his face in the grass. It hadn't even occurred to him that he could leap in the first place, as realization quickly sank in:

Holy fuck, I'm a dog.

Everything he could see about himself confirmed it. He lifted a wiry hind leg to see his crotch, and instead of his familiar, brown skin and floppy dick, he had a light-gray furred little sheath and two enormous, furry balls. He looked up, startled to find Cramer just inches away, now as big as he was!

No, Antonio was as small as Cramer. They were exactly the same height, with the same fur, and the same half-propped gray ears, except that Cramer's mouth was curled up in a toothy growl.

Oh, shit!

Antonio had to jump back to avoid an angry snap from the neighbor's dog.

"Hey, can't we talk about this!?" he said quickly, but it came out as yips and barks. Cramer looked unimpressed by this display, leaping forward with his stubby tail held aloft.

Antonio didn't think, he just backed up, hind legs pedaling as he recoiled from the snap of jaws. Hopping backward, he suddenly went thwack right into the fence.

"Fuck!" he barked, backed into a corner against the aggressive dog. A quick sideways glance showed the teenager what he needed to see  -  the half-open fence post that Cramer had sneaked through. Well, if one medium-sized grey Schnauzer had made it through, another could!

Darting in a quick circle, he dove headfirst into the gap, spinning to reach out with a paw to tug the post back into place. He barely pulled his paw back before Cramer slammed into the fence post, snapping it shut. There was no way that dog would be able to climb back through the other way.

Antonio took a deep breath, heart racing. This is too much...

That's when he realized what he'd just done. Quick as a wink, he'd scrambled backward, slid through a small hole and closed it behind him, all things he'd never been able to do before. Come to think of it, when he barked and yipped, it may not mean much, but it came out crisp and clear, with no stuttering.

Immediately, he began to run in a circle around the yard, astounded by his sheer athleticism. He was in a world of scents and sounds, though he had to admit the grass looked vaguely yellow. Unbelievable!

It had to be the vitamin water. That was the only change in his routine. Somehow, drinking that, and seeing Cramer...had...

Turned me into a dog.

He paused, panting instinctively. What if this was permanent? In some sense, would that be so bad? But no, as much fun as it was to move around freely, the life of a dog was not something he wanted. But if he did turn back, what would people say when they found him curled up, naked in his neighbor's yard, 25 feet from his wheelchair?

A quick glance and Antonio realized that he wasn't going to be getting out of the backyard without a lot of digging, unless he wanted to brave Cramer. He had to do something, however, and  -

Headlights. A car was pulling in, and he didn't need his perked up dog's ears to hear Angela talking on the phone as she walked into the house. "The party was so lame..."

She was home! He was stuck in her yard! What could he do?

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