User:JonBuck/Changing America
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{{#ifeq: User |User| Changing America: A Paradise Story | Changing America: A Paradise Story}}[[Title::{{#ifeq: User |User| Changing America: A Paradise Story | Changing America: A Paradise Story}}| ]]
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{{#ifeq: {{#ifeq: User |User| Jon Buck | Jon Buck}} | |
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Author: [[User:{{#ifeq: User |User| JonBuck | JonBuck}}|{{#ifeq: User |User| JonBuck | JonBuck}}]] [[Author::{{#ifeq: User |User| JonBuck | JonBuck}}| ]]
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Author: {{#ifeq: User |User| Jon Buck | Jon Buck}} |
Author: [[User:{{#ifeq: User |User| JonBuck | JonBuck}}|{{#ifeq: User |User| Jon Buck | Jon Buck}}]] [[Author::{{#ifeq: User |User| Jon Buck | Jon Buck}}| ]]
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March 15, 2010
"Lousy smarch weather!" Richard growled, shaking his fist at the storm. It couldn't decide if it wanted to snow or rain. The fedora-wearing tiger slowly maneuvered the '88 Jeep Grand Wagoneer that was their friend Mike Dane's wedding present. His new wife, Serena Sobel, looked worriedly out at the icy eastern Massachusetts weather. She was still in her red Chinese-style wedding dress and understandably didn't want to ruin it. Her grandmother had made it.
"I'm telling you we should've gone home first, husband-of-mine. You could've carried me over the threshold," the clouded leopardess said. "Through the dry garage."
The reception at Rooney's had gone late. It was full of bartenders, so Serena had gotten into an impromptu competition on who could make the best cocktails, both simple and complex. Liquor and catering provided by the owner of her workplace, the coyote Chuck Polinsky. She hadn't had any herself. At maybe 130 pounds, since her Change she'd lost most of her alcohol tolerance. She enjoyed a beer every now and again, but had sworn off the hard stuff. Even her beloved tequila.
"I know, my loving wife. I know. I just didn't want to waste any time," Rich said. He reached out with his free handpaw and stroked her near shoulder. "Don't worry. I'll stop under the portico at the hotel. I'm more worried about all this crap the Jeep's been painted with. I don't think I've ever seen so much soap and silly string."
The "Just Married" written in soap on the back window had washed off half an hour ago. The storm had worn away much of the decorations, leaving only a few sad streamers tied to the roof rack. The Grand Wagoneer's rebuilt V-8 growled harmoniously as Richard maneuvered the newly-"reFURbished" SUV on the icy evening roads in the Berkshires.
"Maybe we should've waited until June for our honeymoon," Serena said, examining her clipped, red-polished claws. "Or even May."
"Either I took the assignment now or my editor was going to give it to that pissant moron Alan Parks." He extended his sizable claws, baring his canine teeth. "Damn fool can't report his way out of a paper bag, let alone cover the Change on a national scale! How the hell did he dodge the last round of layoffs?"
"That's the guy who likes to use that laser pointer around you, isn't it?" Serena said.
Richard nodded. "That's him. If I'd had better self control the first time..."
"It was your first day back at work, honey. Besides, we're cats. Chasing and pouncing things is what we do."
The Bengal tiger snorted. "I hope he turns into a rabbit. Then he'll think twice."
The TomTom GPS stuck on the windshield lit up. "Turn right at the next stop light in two miles, then you'll be at your destination, fool!" Mr. T ordered. As they closed in, the furries felt the telltale tingle of entering the Lenox Bubble. A warning helpfully flashed on the GPS also. Some people still liked to avoid the Bubbles. Some furries still didn't want to expose themselves, and some humans wanted to avoid seeing them. Both groups were in the minority. Inexplicably, in Serena and her husband's view.
The Kemble Inn was a bed-and-breakfast built in 1881, and it didn't have a portico. Pulling his specially-fitted fedora over his ears, Richard flipped up the collar on his trench coat. He refused to use an umbrella, preferring the old-fashioned look from the old detective movies he loved so much. With the collar up, the only thing Serena could see were his ears and striped muzzle. He leaned over and licked her on the cheek. "Be right back, hon. Hold tight."
Serena carefully smoothed down the front of her slick scarlet wedding dress. There were pink roses embroidered by her grandmother down the front. It hugged her figure all the way down to her ankles, with a slashed skirt and bare shoulders. Her hair had been done up in an elaborate Chinese coif. Sure, she could have taken it off before they'd left Rooney's, but she was still hoping for her tiger to carry her over the threshold. "I hate spring," she muttered, folding her arms under her breasts. The Jeep's leather seats were covered in the couple's shed fur. Serena fished a lint brush out of her purse and ran it over her wedding dress.
Sleet pounded on the windows as she waited in the yellow sodium light for her new husband to return.
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Serena made a sour face over Richard's shoulder, looking at the laptop. "What I want to know is, who the hell came up with 'Furpocalypse'. What a ball of cheese."
"Every major newspaper has something like this, honey. Beside, you agreed to write from the 'female perspective' for this thing," Richard pointed out. He sighed and turned away from the laptop. "It was Alan, if you must know."
"Oh, ROB help us. He's not an editor, is he?"
"No. Just another contributor. They're keeping him in New England. This is going to be our first real entry, Serena darling. Any idea how you're going to start?"
There was one obvious topic. "How about fur and Chinese wedding dresses?"
Boston Globe Furpocalypse Blog
Introductions are in order, I guess. I'm Serena Sobel (nee Frost), and I'm a clouded leopards. My 'fursona' as some folks call it is based on a southeast Asian cat that isn't quite a big cat (like my husband is), and not really a small cat (like cougars or housecats). I can purr. My spots look "cloudy' in that they're rather large and irregular. I suppose I ended up one because my grandmother is from southern China. Anyway...
New England winters aren't good for jungle cats like myself. My fur thickened up, but I still needed heavier clothing than, say, a deer would. I still needed a light jacket. At any rate, there are other blogs for furry clothing advice.
I'm here for the female perspective, but I've always been something of a tomboy. But I'll be with you through the Four Corners Tour the Globe has sent us on. Good to meet all of you.
Posted by Serenacat, March 15, 2010, 9:48 pm. (23 comments)
Serena smiled at Richard, then looked back at the screen. "I’m not a very good writer."
"You're doing fine. Our online content editor will clean it up before it's posted, Serena," Richard said.
The leopardess grimaced. "I think I'm done. I was going to start talking about what it took to get my dress to fit right, but..."
"We've had a long day. Write something after we meet the locals tomorrow." Richard stretched, his tongue going curly as he yawned. He had a very impressive set of teeth. Though he was a larger cat, Serena's own canines were almost as long as his. Fully two inches of flashing white enamel. Few wanted to be on the business end of their smiles. Though most people could still tell a friendly smile from an unfriendly snarl.
Okay, honey. Now is the time for Brooke's present. Serena rose out of the desk chair and zipped open one of her three suitcases. "Close your eyes, hon. I have a surprise for you and I don't want you to see it until I have it on."
Smiling like the proverbial cat who caught the canary, Richard stripped down to his fur and then sat down on the bed, hands folded in his lap, eyes closed. "Yes ma'am."
Brooke had given it to her a week before the wedding, wanting to ensure she could get herself into it without tearing the black lace that made her already interesting cloudy spots into more complex patterns. It took a few minutes to get everything arranged right. Just enough cleavage, just enough breast showing to tantalize. There was the possibility that this piece of lingerie wouldn't be wearable after tonight. But that was okay, if it got the effect she wanted.
When she opened the door her tiger's jaw dropped. His arousal filled the room. She sauntered over to him and sat down on his lap, draping her arms over her shoulders, a-purr. "So," she began, licking him on the nose. "What do you think?"
"I don't think I can ever call you Sean again after seeing you in that. You are a lovely, beautiful woman now."
"It's been six months. I've mourned the loss of my old self, Rachel. Same as you have. It's time to move on and be the man and woman we are now. Nobody we meet will ever know us differently anyway." Rachel stood up again. "Now, are you going to take this off me or not? My grandmother was very insistent that we have kids--cubs, kittens, whatever--before our first anniversary. She's the family matriarch and I'd hate to disappoint."
Richard stood up and carefully hooked his claws in the lace, then drew it down slowly, unzipping carefully it as if it concealed the greatest gift of all. "Don't worry, honey, I'll buy you a new one..."
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March 16
Lenox was the home of Tanglewood, where the Boston Symphony Orchestra had its world-famous pavilion. The building had one of the Old Furs, employed there since she Changed in 1995. There were only two hundred and fifty six furries in the world after that year. She also claimed to be one of the first transgendered, though her ghost had apparently gone female early on after she became pregnant. Serena was curious about how that had happened, but the middle-aged red shewolf wasn't very forthcoming about it on the Forums.
She and her bobcat husband were the confirmed longest furry married couple. "We're still waiting for the mass hysteria to set in," she said.
"I wish we had more time for a more detailed interview," Richard said.
"We've been over just about everything since the bubbles burst," Francine Ruiz said. "Here to dispute my claim about being a man? Everybody wants to talk to me about that. I hope the Globe is more tactful than the New York Times."
"Actually, we're here about your job as a sound engineer," Richard said. "You've made Tanglewood into something special."
Ruiz's eyes lit up. "That's the first time anyone's asked me about that. We're on the cusp of a massive change in the way we design acoustic spaces..."
The interview lasted almost two hours. Ruiz had a doctorate in acoustical engineering, but she knew how to explain things so laymen could understand them. But they still needed data. Instead of just a single ear-shape, there were dozens now. And movable ears also changes the equation. To say nothing of expanding hearing ranges and potentially variable decibel ranges for hearing damage.
By the time the couple left Tanglewood it was time for an early lunch. "I'd better turn this into a blog post before we leave. Thank God for 3G wireless. I don't have to worry about finding a Starbucks."
"Welcome to the twenty-first century," Serena said.
The tiger looked up from the netbook he used to take notes. "Would you mind driving the first leg? We have to make... let's see... I think we can get to Buffalo without stretching our endurance. We're supposed to be on our honeymoon, after all. Niagara Falls is supposed to be beautiful in the winter."
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Boston Globe Furpocalypse Blog
Location: Toronto, Ontario, Canada
It might seem strange that a Tour of America makes a stop in Canada. But we have good reasons for this. Our neighbors to the north are very tightly wound into our economy, and they played an important role during the early years of the last decade getting of us together.
They also have a Furry Party--political party, that is. They started it as a joke a few years ago, but it turned into a major factor in their last election. So today I interviewed Winthrop Fitzgerald, a Mountie who traveled all over his country, getting in touch with suspected furs. The Globe Online will post the full interview in a day or two.
Posted by: Richard, March 18, 2:15 pm. (174 Comments)
"Can we please do something about that blog title?" Serena said irritably. After the complete disaster of visiting the Falls, where the spray had crusted them in ice even from a great distance, a warm Toronto hotel was very welcome.
"I'll try, really. But if I know Alan, he'll... well. He'll be Alan," Richard said. There was no Bubble as yet in this part of the city, making both of them more cranky than usual. "You know what? Let me get this interview off to my editor and I'll tell him we're taking a couple days off. No interviews. Just the occasional blog post, if we feel like it."
"Good! After what the border crossing people did to us I want to spend more time here."
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March 21
"No, Ma... where did you read that? Where? No, he doesn't have-- yes, I'm sure. I'm really sure he doesn't. I think I'd know. He's mostly human where it counts. No ba--yes, I'm sure Ma. Geez!" Richard's wife paused to listen in the daily call she received from her mother. The tiger turned one ear toward her. "Yes Mom. I'm really happy. About everything. I still have no complaints about being a woman." Her eyes filled with tears. "I know, Mom. I know. I'm happy I'm your daughter, too. We'll have a lot of fun together when you visit.
"Mom, we're almost to Chicago. Talk to you later. I love you too."
Serena grabbed a tissue and blew her nose. "That always gets me, Rich. Always. And she makes me feel so girly when she says... you know."
"I know, honey. I know. I cried manly tears, myself," Richard said. "It's beautiful when friends and family come around."
"Well, my Dad wasn't about to let Chuck give me away at my wedding. Frankly, I don't mind being my mother's daughter." Serena sniffled and blew her nose again. "I'm girling all over the place. How far to the hotel?"
"Fifteen miles or so," the tiger answered. "Are you okay?"
"I need a few minutes. Honestly, I have no idea where she reads most of this stuff," Serena replied. They drove on in silence for ten minutes. Serena's thoughts turned inwards, as they often did after talking with her mother. She folded her arms under her breasts and hugged them, as if to remind herself that yes, she was still female. Mr. T ordered a few more turns before Richard turned the voice off. She squeezed her breasts harder. "Don't worry, love. These are tears of joy."
"Your mother's trying to make up for lost time. Like me and my Dad when I changed sex," he said. " She's only accepted it for what? Five weeks? Humor her."
"You bet I will," she said. "She said I'm mommy's little girl. She actually said that! After what ROB did to those old family photos, that works for me.
"What's next on the docket? If you'd mentioned, I've forgotten about it. After that debacle in Detroit..." The leopardess grimaced. The Tour wasn't going well so far. Between bad weather and interviews Richard's editor said were boring and irrelevant, the tiger-reporter was getting antsy to find something more newsworthy. After their time off in Toronto, two wonderful days of feline loafing and sightseeing in the winter-clad city, their few hours in Motor City were pure Hell.
Richard smiled. "I've managed to arrange a meeting with a few more Old Furs. Chicago is Ground Zero where furrydom is concerned, you know. The entire city's one huge Bubble."
Boston Globe Furpocalypse Blog
Location: Chicago, IL.
Detroit, Detroit. What can I say about fair Detroit? I feel nothing but contempt in my feline heart. My wife and I had only just checked into our hotel--with a $40 'furry surcharge' no less--when one of the other guests called the cops. Detroit is relatively Bubble-free. So whoever saw us must have a pair of those glasses that can see through the Veil.
No joke. The moron tried to get us arrested for "concealing deadly weapons". Serena and I spent about four hours arguing with this guy. Fortunately a couple of Detroit's Finest gave this first class moron a dressing down.
Unfortunately this isn't the first time this happened there. Facts are, some furs are using their bodies' natural weapons, and the rest of us are paying for it. There's been a dozen deaths in gang wars here from bites and claws. And some idiots gotten some nasty surprises, There's nothing more shocking than a rabbit or deer packing heat.
New bodies putting new twists on old problems. Still, Detroit can kiss my striped ass. Serena and I decided it wasn't worth the hassle, so we're off to Chicago.
Posted by: Richard, March 21, 5:08 pm. (22 comments)
I'm supposed to be writing from a woman's perspective. But you know what? After a few commenters outed me as a transgendered fur, the hell with it. I'm going to write from a me perspective. I am a woman, no matter what anybody thinks. I have the right parts in the right places, the right hormones, and... you know what? Therefore, whatever I write is a woman's perspective. QED.
Posted by: Serena, March 21, 6:10 pm. (48 comments)
"Jesus Christ almighty," Serena swore. "I thought YouTube took that video down. They even got me saying 'do you think these tits aren't real'! Lordy..." The leopardess sighed as she read over the comments to her post. She had begun worrying that she'd never be able to leave her masculine past behind. "That's it. I'm going to stop accepting comments to my posts altogether. People just don't get it."
"One in a hundred will, at least," Richard said. "And who knows how many who just changed sex, like I did nine years ago."