Do you remember the first thing you felt? The first emotion you experienced? The first time you had a thought that something was good or bad? You can guess all you want—the comfort of the womb, the fear and surprise of your birth, the love of your mother—but most likely, the memory is gone. It probably never truly existed to begin with. To have a soul is to feel, but long term memory starts long after your existence does.

  I wasn’t like that. One of the many ways I differ from other people, from beings of natural birth. Maybe it’s because my body existed well before my feelings did, before my soul did.

  I don't know how long it existed in that state. Maybe months, maybe a year or more. I was an object, sitting on a shelf with dozens of identical copies, no more aware than a rock buried in the ground. I had eyes but I could not see; ears but I could not hear; a head filled with stuffing and nothing more. I was a body with no soul, a corpse from the moment of my creation. I don’t remember what it was like, of course, no more than you might remember what your body went through during surgery.

  All I knew, at first, was how nice the hand caressing my cheek felt; it was only there for a fraction of a moment, but it was the whole of my experience. I was thrust into a world of confusing sounds and colors with no frame of reference to what was happening, just that the affection being pced upon me by this thing many times rger than myself was extremely pleasant.

  And, just as quickly as it had appeared, it vanished, and I was left alone in the void of nonexistence once more.

  I didn’t mind; I couldn’t, for I cked a mind to care. Eventually, what could have been anywhere from mere moments to several days ter, the feeling of affection returned, from a being half the size as the previous ones but still many times rger than myself. This one brought their nose close to my fur and deeply inhaled and giggled. I didn’t know what either of those gestures meant, nor was I at all curious about them, but I welcomed their happiness all the same.

  Then, they were gone, and with them, the slight bit of awareness I possessed. So it went. Being-after-being arrived and gave me a hint of affection. It jolted something inside me to reciprocate, before fading back into the ether. Each time, I grew slightly more aware of my body, of my surroundings, of my burgeoning mind, until I could differentiate between the many different types of creatures that approached me.

  However, it still wasn’t what I would necessarily consider consciousness, more akin to a fungus or an embryo than even a newborn. I was a vessel for the affection of these strangers, with no thoughts of my own, no desires beyond a subconscious one to feel this comfort again.

  One day, a creature I now know was a girl approached me, and once she id eyes on me, oh, the feelings that rushed forth from her were more extreme than anything I had felt before! It was like the affection I was used to had taken on a higher level, mixed with another emotion I didn’t know yet: excitement. This girl felt such pure joy at my mere presence, and it was the best thing I had felt in my short existence.

  She ran up to me and picked me up, hugging me as tight as her little arms could manage and resting her nose and mouth on the top of my head. Noises came out of her, probably words, but I couldn’t understand her. Sometimes I like to imagine she was prociming her eternal love for me, but who knows.

  The exceptionally pleasant moment shifted as a rger being, a woman, entered my field of view. She looked down at the girl and said something, and abruptly, all of the joy she was experiencing shifted into something much less pleasant. I didn’t even know the very concept of unpleasantness could exist until that moment, my life having had none of it before then, but the sorrow bleeding off of the child overflowed into me.

  After an exchange of words, she started screaming and crying and holding me even tighter, her tears absorbing into my fur. Despite the child’s valiant efforts, the woman, after a second verbal spat, ripped me out of the girl’s arms and dragged her out of the store, leaving me alone on the floor.

  I often think back to that moment. I try to remember what was said, but it’s impossible: imagine trying to remember what someone said in a second nguage before you learned it, it’s all just noise. Instead, I pretend. When I’m feeling more dramatic, I imagine the girl begging the older woman with her to not tear her away from her new best friend, from the being she had already poured so much love onto in the few moments she had known them. The wicked caretaker instead ripping her away from me, for she did not believe she deserved love.

  When I’m feeling more empathetic, I imagine a mother at the end of her rope as her daughter begs for a toy she can’t afford, and is heartbroken as she’s forced to drag her daughter away from it.

  Regardless, the result was the same. My happiest experience was immediately followed by my worst one. I wasn’t even granted the peace of oblivion after I continued to exist in that moment, heart filled with longing. Even after I was out of sight of the girl, she continued to think of me, and her emotions continued to affect me.

  Eventually, another adult human picked me up and took care to gently smooth back and shake the dust out of my fur before putting me back on the shelf, but the feeling of their affection was overpowered by the still present longing. It continued even after the lights around me turned off and people stopped coming by, only fading, along with my consciousness, well into the night.

  The previous routine continued the next day, but even as I fluttered to life under the affection of more strangers, the longing continued. The girl’s sorrow might seem inconsequential to anyone older than her, but it was still real and powerful, strong enough to stain my budding soul. There’s even a strong possibility the moment forged it, but I’m no phantologist1From Greek “phantasm”, lit. “ghost doctor”, commonly used to mean “soul doctor/researcher” after the appropriation of “psychologist” by the mental health community. Everything seemed more numb than it had before, wishing in vain to experience the previous feeling of joy once more.

  I am aware that this seems rather melodramatic, but remember, this was the very first bit of sorrow I had felt in my short life, and there was nothing to really counteract it. Not until a particur boy entered my line of sight.

  The affection he gave off was muted compared to most, just barely enough to awaken me, and mixed with a sense of longing not too dissimir to my own. As I would ter learn, he had recently lost his bnkie and was looking with his parents for a stuffed animal to repce it.

  At that moment, all I knew was that I was face to face with someone whose emotions matched my own.

  With a neutral expression still pstered on his face, he reached out and grabbed my ear, moving it to his nose. I could practically feel my fur tickling his nostrils as he inhaled deeply and smiled, picking me up and walking over to a man.

  At that moment, I understood this conversation as little as I did the previous one, but I was eventually able to get crification as to its contents.

  “Dad!” the boy called out before wordlessly holding me up.

  “Whaddya have there?” The man looked down from where he was pursuing the shelves and notably paused. “...are ya sure you want a pink bunny?” he asked, a funny look on his face.

  “Yeah! It smells like strawberries!”

  An exasperated look crossed Dad’s face as he struggled with a response before letting it go with a shrug. “If that’s the one that you want.”

  The boy hopped in excitement, bouncing me around as he did. I couldn’t help but absorb his positivity, finally washing away the longing that had been haunting me. We left the store not long after, entering a whole new world of sights and sounds I had no idea existed before then: the parking lot. I didn’t even know there were things outside the four walls I had spent my entire life inside.

  We entered a strange object, the family car, and it started moving. I saw the window out of the corner of my eye and desperately wanted to look out, but couldn’t. For the first time, I realized the limitations of my form, stuck facing whatever direction I was left in. In this case, the car’s headrest, as my new friend was rubbing his cheek against mine, inhaling the scent of my ear all the while.

  His affection, despite starting so small, had already grown to surpass all that I had previously felt, save the girl from earlier, and it was able to make up for my unsatisfied curiosity.

  Now, it took me months to even begin to understand the nguage of my new family, and some pretty important conversations took pce in the meantime. So, I ask that you allow me to indulge in a bit of guesswork, for a better narrative.

  While I was still stuck in pce, Dad spoke up. “So, Vic, how’re ya likin’ your new buddy?”

  “She’s great! She smells like strawberries,” he repeated, like it was the most important thing in the world.

  “Ah, so it's a ‘she’. How come?”

  “Because she's pink?” Victor replied, voice raising in confusion. Dad couldn't help but ugh at his son's seemingly inconsistent application of gender norms; he was fine carrying around a big pink thing as a boy, but the pink thing itself was a girl. Got it.

  We arrived at my new home not long after, Victor carrying me inside draped across his shoulder, giving me an excellent view of the street and wn and not a clue as to what y before me. As soon as he entered the house he clumsily held me in front of him and started running as fast as his little legs could handle.

  “Mom! Mom! I got a new friend!” he called as he ran through the house, my view bobbing up and down as he utterly failed to hold me steady until suddenly I was face to face with a grown woman.

  “I see that! They’re very cute,” she said, reaching out to fiddle with my bow, which I wasn’t even aware I had until then. “Do you know what you’re gonna call it?”

  Victor’s voice hummed in deep thought for all of five seconds. “Oh oh! I know! I’m gonna call her Pinky!”

  A series of giggles erupted from just out of view while Mom and Dad awkwardly chuckled. “I think you should name it something else sweetie.”

  “What? Why?”

  Mom sighed. “Because.” The exchange continued, a childish back and forth until she put her foot down. “Victor. Change the name or I’m picking one for you.”

  He harrumphed, stomping his foot in indignation, but eventually gave in. “Finnne-uh.” He got lost in thought once more. “…Strawberry?” he finally suggested, with an incredible amount of creativity. His parents didn’t have any problem with that, so unbeknownst to me at the time, I was finally christened.

  The rest of the day was rather uneventful, which allowed me to adjust to the situation I found myself in. Dinner found me alone on the couch, staring at the wall, listening to the noises of the conversation in the background. Once the meal was over, Victor plopped me on his p in front of the TV, hugging me while the confusing colors pyed in front of us. Out of the corner of my eye I could see the source of the earlier giggling: a young girl, who I would ter learn was Victor’s slightly older sister, Sophia. We sat there for who knows how long, and even though I couldn’t understand any of what was happening, a wave of simple comfort still washed over me, like this was what I was supposed to do.

  Even on that first night, when bedtime rolled around, Victor held me close until Mom came in to tuck us into bed. She sat and read him a story about a stuffed rabbit that came to life because their owner loved them very much.

  “Do you think that’ll happen with Strawberry, Mom?” Victor asked, a twinkle in his eye.

  She smiled. “Well, if you love her enough, then maybe it will.”

  “Then I’ll make sure to love her lots and lots!”

  Mom ughed and kissed him on the forehead. “Good night Victor.” She got up to leave, but he called out to her before she could.

  “Mom, you forgot to kiss Strawberry good night!”

  She chuckled and shook her head before complying with his request. “Good night Strawberry.” Then she was gone, along with the lights, and Victor soon drifted off to sleep, his cheek resting on mine.

  However, I was still awake. The only things I could see were the ceiling and part of my new friend’s face. For the second time that day, I felt a desire to move, this time to see the whole of him, but as, I could not. I sat there, staring, for hours.

  Why am I still conscious?

  The thought didn’t come to me in words, as I did not know any, but the general sentiment came all the same. I had never questioned the way my existence worked before, but the routine breaking was confusing in some primal way. I was alone, more so than I had been in the shop most of the time, but I was still there. Before I could find an answer, Victor moved in his sleep and was no longer holding me. Even though he was right next to me, I missed him a bit; and once more my consciousness left me with a feeling of longing.

  When I next awoke, Victor was partially dressed, still missing a shirt. “Oh Strawberry! I forgot about you!” He hugged me in an apology and finished getting dressed before carrying me out of his room. Any remaining questions swiftly left my mind as it was overwhelmed by the excitement of the new day.

  That day established a new routine. He would drop me in his favorite seat as he went to breakfast with his family, but the second it was done, he would pick me up and carry me through whatever he had pnned for the day. We would watch TV together, Victor propping my head up but often unthinkingly letting it fall. I rarely minded; being with him was enough (and I could still hear it).

  He didn’t py with me like he did with his other toys; in fact, he would often pose me to watch him py with them or when he was having fun in the yard. My role was to provide comfort, and that was good enough for me. I would, however, “act” in whatever role was wanted from me whenever he would py with Sophia. Oh, we would go on so many adventures together! And not just pretend ones either; he took me everywhere he went, much to the consternation of his family. He often had to leave me in the car, which was disappointing but I appreciated being included at least.

  More upsetting was when he took me with him but had to momentarily leave me with his family for one reason or another. I could feel their annoyance, and it almost felt like they were annoyed at me just for existing. Thankfully, Victor would always rescue me before too long.

  As time went on, I started to notice some more changes in myself. Every night, I would remain conscious for longer and longer, until after a mere week or so, I stopped losing it entirely. Again, I’m not a phantologist, but I believe I had absorbed enough emotional energy to persist in the times everyone was unconscious. This was a double edged sword for a bit; no longer dying over and over again was unquestionably positive, but it left me with nothing to do for hours. After another few weeks of this, I started dissociating out of boredom, and was able to achieve something akin to a sleep state, and over a longer period of time, I could eventually reach it with a sense of regurity.

  More importantly, after some months, I started to absorb some meaning from the noises my family would make. It started with the ones they would use to refer to each other: Victor. Sophia. Mom. Dad.

  Strawberry.

  It delighted me to hear them refer to me, even if I didn't know the full context. Slowly, I learned more and more phrases. It took me an embarrassingly long time to understand that “I love you” wasn't equivalent to “goodbye”. I still regret how many of Victor's simple decrations of love I missed out on because of that.

  However, it was almost as much of a curse as it was a blessing. The more words I learned, the more complicated my thoughts became, but even though I could understand the words, I could not use them. I started to envy my family, envy how they could communicate their thoughts so effortlessly while they would never hear mine. Every conversation I was in was hopelessly one sided against me. Still, I longed for them, longed to have someone's thoughts given to me, to be trusted with secrets no one else could know, my lips forever sealed. But, as time went on, they would happen with less and less frequency.

  Ah, I seem to have gotten ahead of myself a bit. Let's rewind, to where I could only understand simple phrases and love was an emotion and not a word. Summer came to a close, and Victor had to go back to school. He proudly carried me to the door on his first day of first grade, not thinking anything was wrong with this until his parents stopped him.

  They tried to let him down gently at first. “Hey sport, are you sure you wanna take that?”

  But he didn't get it. “Strawberry? Yeah!”

  “Sweetie, I don't think it's a good idea.”

  “Wh-why?” he asked, confused and already getting upset.

  “Well, we're just afraid you might lose it, or…” they didn't have the heart to finish the thought.

  “I'm not gonna!” His parents sighed, and instead of pushing it into a fight, dropped it for now. Thus, he perched me on top of his backpack and went out to wait for the bus.

  The bus ride was… overstimuting. So many small children packed into such a confined space would do that. Victor held me tight throughout, not saying much to anyone. I tried to comfort him the best I could.

  School was better. Yes, there were many more children, of many ages and species, but they were much more reasonably spread out. Victor introduced me to his cssmates; well, his human and other humanoid friends at least. When the only talking animal in the css, a golden retriever bitch named Gu2Gu is a Sumerian dog goddess. The extinction of that culture broke a connection to any existing group of humans, which led many talking dogs to revere her as opposed to other, simir deities., expressed interest, he kept her away. Something about “knowing how dogs get around toys”. In his defense, Victor was only six at the time, so was totally oblivious to what the comment implied, but even though she didn’t compin, I could tell as the puppy slunk back to her modified seat that she was hurt by it.

  Css itself felt like a more involved version of watching TV. At first Victor would sit me to watch the front of the css, but inevitably I would find myself shifted into his p or off hand as he got lost in his work. Oh well; being close to him beat seeing the board anyways.

  We adapted to the new routine quickly, not that I had much of a choice in the matter. His parents, seeing that nothing came of me tagging along, dropped the subject, so I was free to come with. For that first month or so, I was living any plushie's dream. Weekdays spent going to school and pying with Victor and his cssmates. Evenings and weekends watching TV and pying with Victor, Sophia, and occasionally their friends, and nights spent cuddling with my best friend.

  It was the best things would be for a long time.

  It’s kind of funny how much a single little mistake can change things. There was an assembly right before the end of css, and everyone was told to get their stuff ready to leave as soon as it was done. For whatever reason, when Victor went to bring me with him, the teacher made him put me with the rest of his things. He didn’t have time to put me in his backpack, so he just put me on the edge of his desk. Too close to the edge, as I soon slipped off after the room was empty. I wasn’t upset, per say, but I did miss him already in the total quiet and emptiness of the abandoned cssroom.

  When the assembly was over, the students only had a few minutes to gather their stuff before leaving. Most made a mad dash, grabbing their bags before running out. Victor was no exception. He ran in, grabbed his bag… and left.

  Without me.

  I immediately started to panic. It was like the girl all over again, I was being abandoned, I would never be loved again, I would lose consciousness and never be thought about ever again—

  My wordless spiral was interrupted by a wet nose touching me. Gu was sniffing me and looking around. “I guess he forgot it…” I heard her mutter.

  As ashamed as I am to admit it, this just increased my panic further; she was a dog, and Victor said that dogs did something to toys. When she picked me up in her mouth, I thought for sure I was a goner, but instead of chewing me apart, she gently carried me over to the teacher.

  “Ey mm, Eeor oro he oy,” she said around my body.

  The teacher looked down in surprise, taking a second to interpret what she was saying. “Oh! Thank you for bringing this to me Gu. I’ll make sure Victor gets it back.”

  The puppy wagged her tail in excitement at the praise. “Could you tell him I found it? I don’t want him to think I wanna hurt it.”

  The teacher smiled down at her. “Of course dear. Now run along, the bus will be leaving soon.” She did just that, picking up her own bag and trotting off, her skirt waving like crazy between the kick of her legs and the wagging of her tail.

  As soon as all the students were gone, the teacher called home to inform them of the mistake. I sat there, staring at the wall while she graded papers in her room, a little fluffy ball of anxiety. The longer I sat there, however, the more pain started to bleed into resentment. How dare he leave me, forget about me, abandon me? Did our time together really mean that little to him?!

  …Between this event and the number of haunted dolls there are out there, I wonder if us toys are just uniquely susceptible to feelings of abandonment and resentment. Only about an hour ter, just as the teacher was wrapping up, Victor and a very exasperated Dad came in. I could tell that Vic had been crying, and as soon as our eyes met, he started again as he ran up to me, wrapping me in the tightest hug I'd ever been in and bthering my name over and over again. The second he made contact, all of the anger I had been feeling washed away. He was here now, and he was upset, and it was my job to comfort him.

  It's ok, I wanted to say, more than any other thought I ever had before. I forgive you. And, as soon as the thought was formuted, he calmed down, sobs turning to sniffles as he buried his nose in my head, inhaling my scent. I like to think he picked up on my thoughts somehow.

  Taking his quieting down as a cue, his teacher turned from her hushed conversation with Dad. “Now, Victor, I wanted to let you know that Gu was the one who found your friend here after you left them behind, and she brought them to me straight away to make sure you didn't lose them.”

  He sniffled again. “A-and she didn't chew her up?”

  “Victor,” Dad groaned. “You can't just say things like that.”

  His teacher was more productive. “Now, Victor, that isn't a very nice thing to ask. I can assure you that she treated your toy very nicely. Did you say something like that in front of her?”

  His silence spoke volumes, and Dad cussed under his breath.

  “How about tomorrow you thank Gu for taking care of your toy and apologize for what you said to her?” his teacher requested, and he sheepishly nodded his head. “Good. Have a good evening Victor, I'll see you tomorrow.” One exchange of thanks and farewells ter, and we were off.

  During the car ride home, Victor kept petting and kissing and hugging me apologetically. The mood was a bit somber, even on the part of Dad.

  “Hey Vicky,” Dad said, a hint of sorrow in his voice. “So your teacher and I were talking, and we… think you should leave Strawberry at home from now on.”

  “What!?” Victor excimed, and I could feel his heartbeat rising in a panic. “But—”

  “This isn't a punishment,” Dad said, cutting him off. “It's just, well, this isn't the first time you've left something behind, and next time you might not have a friend there to help you out. You don't want to lose Strawberry, do you?”

  Victor's panic gave way to a resigned sadness. “No… but who'll I spend time with at school then?”

  “That's what your real friends are for.” My heart sank at his words.

  “Strawberry is my real friend!” Victor cried.

  “You know what I meant. A friend you can talk to.” Victor didn't have anything to say to that, crossing his arms and peering out the window for the rest of the drive.

  That evening was fairly normal, the trials of the day quickly forgotten by a child and enough distraction provided to keep my mind occupied. The night, however, was much worse for me. I couldn't sleep thinking of what Dad said. Leave me home? Force me to be away from Victor for so long? It was awful to think about but I couldn't think of anything else. Was that my future from now on?

  The next day proved it true. He tried to take me with him, but as soon as Mom reminded him of the previous day's conversation, he reluctantly handed me over to her and left without me. Mom pced me in his room, and there I sat, alone except for his other toys.

  Despite what you may think, there is no inherent connection between us toys; we all seem just as dead to each other as we do to humans, and have no way of knowing how developed our souls are. Even if we did, since I was the favorite, mine would certainly be the most. So, I was alone, with nothing to think about other than how much I missed him.

  He was upset when he got back home; the day was rough without me there. Damnit, my job was to give him comfort, but I couldn't do that when he needed it the most! Still, he had me now, and I didn't leave his arms at all that night except for when he used the bathroom; he even held me during dinner and while brushing his teeth.

  The next day was the same, and the next, and the next, and then the week was over. The weekend was a brief respite. Gu actually came over; I guess the apology went well. I liked having her there. She was fun and energetic, especially now that I knew she wasn’t a threat. We even pyed together!

  But, the weekend was soon over, and the suffocating quiet of the weekdays returned. At least Victor was less and less upset every time he got home; he was getting used to me not being there. That was… good, I supposed. And hey, at least we would still be together whenever he wasn’t at school right? He even brought me back a couple times, whenever he had a major test. So, as the weeks turned to months, I slowly got used to the new routine.

  When summer came around, I was so excited. We could be together everyday again! And we were, most of the time, but when the family went on vacation, Victor didn’t want to risk losing me in a pce he could never hope to find me again, so I was left in the hotel room the whole time. I liked that he cared enough to think about that; or at least, that’s what I told myself as I sat there, alone, in a strange pce.

  Months turned into years, and slowly, oh so slowly, he took me less and less pces, left me at home more and more until, before I knew it, I stopped leaving the house altogether. Well, at least I was still his companion at home, not quite as constant but still quite persistent. In fact, our py hardly changed at all. He might not have needed me for comfort as often anymore, but I was still his friend.

  When he was ten, we all gathered around the TV to watch the New Year's ball drop. It was only the second year he'd managed to stay up the whole time, and when the ball dropped and his parents kissed, he grabbed my face and kissed me right on my string mouth.

  Even if I couldn't sense that it was a fit of goofy spontaneity, I would've been able to tell from his ughter after, but oh, in that moment, I couldn't help but pretend it meant something more. I had never considered it before, but in my childish mind, I thought that if we somehow became like Mom and Dad, I wouldn't have to worry about him outgrowing me.

  As, it was not to be. Even though I could swear he hugged me tighter that night, it was right back to our regur routine the next day. However, it did have one long term impact: it gave me hope. Instead of spending my time alone trying to hold onto the past, I could pn for a future. Sure, I knew it was just a fantasy with no chance of happening, but I held onto it for dear life.

  Not long after, it was spirit week at his school. Every day had a different theme, and it varied every year. It was amusing seeing Victor dressing in various ridiculous outfits, but I thought that was the extent of it, just like every previous year.

  “Tomorrow’s stuffed animal day, Strawberry, so sleep well tonight for your big day.” He giggled a bit as he snuggled up to me, having outgrown thinking that I could actually understand him, but I held on to every word. It was so rare for him to talk to me directly anymore, and to promise me something like that? Despite his request, I was so excited for the next day that I didn’t “sleep” a wink that night; not that it mattered, since I couldn’t feel tired.

  Everything was going so well. For once, his parents were actually excited to see him taking me out, and the bus, while just as noisy as always, was filled with other plushies. Css too; while not every student had one, it was a solid majority. Even the one student I wasn’t expecting to have one: Gu had a well worn plushie of indeterminate shape, with loose sitting legs and no ears.

  “Hey Gu!” Victor called, moving to sit next to her specialized seat. Apparently they had gotten closer than I thought in the time I’d been away. “Who’s your friend there?”

  “Hey Vic! Oh, I never really gave them a name.” She looked like she wanted to say more, but was holding her tongue for some reason. “I recognize Strawberry though. I was starting to wonder if you’d lost her somewhere else.”

  “Hey, that was years ago! I was just a kid then.”

  Gu giggled. “You’re still a kid.”

  Before Victor could respond, a boy in the corner of my eye spoke up. “‘She’? Why’d ya make it a girl? Do ya like, make out with it or something?”

  “What? Ew, no!”

  I could feel my heart breaking. Not at his words, at least not just at them. I could feel, as he spoke to them and gnced at me, a sense of shame start to overcome him.

  “Then why's it a girl?”

  “Well, um, because it's pink,” Victor said.

  He never called me an “it” before.

  “Why'd you get a pink stuffed animal? Are you gay?”

  “Percy,” Gu warned, a literal growl escaping her throat.

  “Well, I was a kid, and I liked how it smelled,” Victor replied regardless.

  Percy leaned over and smelled me. It felt wrong. I didn't want him anywhere near me but I couldn't do anything.

  “Doesn't smell all that special to me.”

  “Well she used to smell like strawberries,” Victor said.

  Used to? I hadn't even noticed that I had stopped, but I had gone through years of scent erosion.

  “You named it Strawberry because it smelled like strawberries?” Percy ughed. “How—”

  “Shut up!” Gu snapped. “Goddess, why do you have to have to be so annoying all the time?”

  “Gu,” Victor said softly, sliding me under the table. “Let's just drop it.”

  He was ashamed of me. I could feel it. My job, my role, my very purpose for existing, was to provide him comfort, but I failed, spectacurly.

  And here I thought he could love me.

  The day ticked by agonizingly slowly. Victor kept me under his desk, fiddling with my ears instead of holding me. At least he took me with him when it was time for lunch, sitting me on the table and feeling less upset now that Percy found some other group of kids to annoy.

  “You never told me the story of yours,” Victor said to Gu as he set their ptes down. They must have been really close, if he was trusted to bring her food.

  She looked between us for a second, picking up on why he was asking. “There's not much to tell,” she said in between bites of her lunch. “It's just something Mama got me as a whelp. You know, something to snuggle with and chew on.”

  I could feel the gears turning in Victor's head as he struggled with whether or not it was ok to ask the question on his mind. Gu seemed to as well as she ughed and answered it for him. “Yes, I do chew on my toys. MY toys, Mama taught me very well to leave other’s stuff alone,” she said with a pyful shove.

  Victor ughed away most of his previous nervousness, getting the courage to ask a follow up question. “Is that what happened to its ears?”

  “Yep! They felt so satisfying to tear off.” She showed off her teeth, and I won't lie, I felt a bit intimidated, especially when she lunged forward. Fortunately, instead of going after me, she snapped her jaws right next to Victor's ear, miming ripping it off. He ughed and pushed her away, and I could feel how close they were.

  I guess he didn't need me anymore, not when he had friends like her.

  When lunch was over, it was back to being under the table, next to Percy. Despite all my previous excitement, I couldn't wait for the day to be over.

  Even once we were home, the effects of Percy’s teasing still had an obvious effect. He was distant, not hugging me as tightly throughout the rest of the evening or even into the night. It wasn't just that night either. The slow withdrawal that had already been going on, that I hoped had reached its zenith, accelerated. He wouldn't carry me around the house anymore, only leaving me on his bed or where he was sitting. He wouldn't prop me up to watch TV with him anymore, and pytime slowly came to an end. Eventually, after only a couple of months, I stopped leaving his room entirely, consigned to be his sleeping companion and nothing more.

  None of that was the worst part though. No; those were all just symptoms. His affection was drying up, and the increasingly rare times it appeared, it was accompanied with shame.

  He had outgrown me.

  For my part, I pretty much went mad.

  I knew that he didn't even see me as a friend anymore, but my fantasies just continued in intensity until they were bordering on delusions. Doing all the couple things in the movies, being like siblings, friends, lovers, getting married, hell even having kids, they all passed through my mind as I desperately tried to hold onto him.

  It didn't help that I started dying again. It began one day when he was at school; it had been a while since he had acknowledged me as anything other than a tiny body pillow, and I guess the energy finally dried up. I didn't wake up again until he was climbing into bed with me; it could have been that day, it could have been several days ter, and I had no way of knowing.

  In that moment, pure panic overtook me. I knew I would die again, and again, and it would only be a matter of time until I didn't wake up. Victor wasn't just outgrowing me, he was abandoning me. But instead of anger and resentment like I felt all those years prior, I was just… sad. I could have turned into an angry ghost like so many others, but I didn't want to. I loved him, and although I had no idea what form that took, although he didn't love me, I wanted to be with him, not hurt him.

  During this timeless expanse, the feeling that woke me the most was shame. He wasn’t even ashamed of me anymore, but of something else that was still in some way connected to me. I’d awaken when he felt a spark of it in my direction, and he would flip me over, make sure I couldn’t see him as a sense of a feeling I didn’t recognize, something close to agitation, overtook him, for an extended period of time, followed by a feeling of bliss. Sometimes, that bliss would turn into a rare show of affection, and he’d hold me and nuzzle my face like he used to. It was these moments that kept me going, that gave me the briefest sparks of hope in the future.

  After what I now know was about two years of this, I was awoken not by Victor, but by Gu.

  “Aw, I didn't realize you still had that,” she said, poking me with her nose. It was nice to be awoken by something positive for once.

  “Heh, yeah, I never could convince myself to get rid of it.” I wasn't sure whether to take that as a good or bad sign.

  “Well I think it's cute that you still have it.”

  “R-really?” Victor asked, before picking me up and pcing him on his p. He even moved my arms in a little dance, which made Gu ugh.

  “Hey, didn’t we become friends because of that bunny?” she asked.

  “Oh yeah, that’s right! I guess we should say thank you, huh? Thanks, Strawberry.” I could tell he was nervous as to how his words would be perceived, almost irrationally so.

  Luckily for him, she took it well. “Thanks, Strawberry,” she echoed, nudging me again with a ugh.

  I was ecstatic. This was the most affection I’d felt from anyone in a long time, much less two people.

  Now, I’m not a total idiot. I could feel how excited he got when she called him cute and when she ughed at our antics. If he was a dog like her, his tail would’ve been wagging like crazy. Yes, he was clearly in love with this bitch. Surprisingly, I wasn’t jealous; I wanted him to be happy, and if this helped him be happy, then I was all for it. And hey, if this interaction was anything to go by, hopefully it would mean he’d pay more attention to me because of it.

  A jolt of nervousness, greater than I’d ever felt in him, struck seemingly out of nowhere. He held me closer and took a couple of deep breaths. Noises started escaping his throat but died before turning into words.

  “Something on your mind?” Gu asked.

  “U-um…” he floundered for a moment, noises still not nding on anything. “Well, Gu, I, um, you’re a really great friend, and I think you’re really nice, and cool, and iwaswonderingifyouwantedtogooutwithme—” he picked me up and used me to hide his face.

  It was kind of darkly ironic, that I could feel the emotions of people but had no way of communicating them. The stab of disappointment I felt from Gu was highly unexpected. “Uh, like to a movie or something? We do that already, you don’t have to be weird about it.”

  “N-no, l-l-like on a-a date,” Victor managed to stammer out, still hiding his face.

  “Ah.”

  A heavy silence hung in the air, disappointment filling both of them, accompanied by a surge of panic from Victor.

  “Um, shit, I probably should’ve told you this already, but Vicky… I’m into girls.”

  “…oh.”

  Another oppressive silence descended upon the room. “Why didn’t you say anything?” Victor asked.

  “You know, just, I didn't want it getting back to my folks or something.”

  After a third silence, Gu turned around and started to walk away. “I… think I should go.”

  Victor started to panic. “Wait, Gu!” She paused, but didn't turn back to us. “Um, we're still friends, right?”

  “Yeah. Yeah, we're still friends,” she said, but I could feel a mix of hope and unease inside of her. “Let's… just forget this ever happened, ok?”

  “Ok. Um, do you want me to walk you home?”

  She thought about it for a second. “I think I'm good. You might want to walk me to the door though, just so that, you know.”

  “Yeah.” He carefully set me down and held the door to his room for her, following her out. When he got back, I felt his positive exterior colpse. As soon as his door was closed, he colpsed against it, his carefully neutral expression morphing into what I can only describe as pure agony as sobs wracked his body.

  I wanted to comfort him, to go over and tell him that everything would be alright, but not only could I not move, I felt myself slipping. He had stopped thinking about me with how focused he was on Gu, so I was already starting to burn through the earlier emotions I had absorbed.

  Damnit damnit damnit, not now! He needs me!

  Like adrenaline in a dying man, force of will was able to slow the fading of my consciousness but not prevent it.

  VICTOOOORRR!

  In a panic, I used up the st of my energy in what could best be described as a thought scream. My vision started rapidly fading—

  —but was just as rapidly returned. As it did, my eyes refocused on Victor's slumped form. He was still crying, but less intensely, and his eyes were trained on me. With a sniffle, he got up and limped to the bed, colpsing onto it and grabbing me in one fluid motion. For a while, he just sat there holding me, his tears absorbing into my fur as I gdly took his grief and worry.

  When his tears began to run dry, he smoothed down the damp spots in my fur and kissed my head. He looked at me for a second before squeezing me tighter.

  “At least I know you won’t leave me,” he whispered.

  I wasn’t sure how to feel about that, but I did know that I liked the kisses he kept peppering me with. Each kiss brought his lips lower until they were touching mine. It was innocent at first: peck, peck, peck; but the more he kissed me, the more his longing and affection started to mix with that mysterious agitation, and each press of his lips would stay for a longer length of time until he was openly making out with me.

  I didn’t know what was happening when his lips left mine. I don’t think he quite did either; he just wanted an outlet for his frustrations, and what better partner than his old best friend?

  When he was finished, I could feel a wave of shame overtake him, stronger than any I’d felt from him, but he fought through it to clean me up. He actually brought me out of his room when he was done; he needed my comfort. His family was surprised to see me, but didn't comment on it.

  As for me, I was ecstatic. I might not have fully understood what was happening, but this was the most affection I had received in well over a year. And he had kissed me! Really, truly kissed me! Was my fantasy not so fanciful after all? I guess I would just have to wait and see.

  Once night came, he kissed me on the nose as he tucked the sheet over us. “Good night, Strawberry,” he said, just like he used to. Even with my presence though, I could feel anxiety emanating from him; he was worried about his friend. Believe it or not, I didn't feel any resentment from him. He truly did just want to keep his friend. His sleep came fitfully that night, kept up by his fears and regrets, but I was right there to help soothe him.

  Despite everything, he left me in his room again the next morning. “Have to talk to Gu,” I heard him mutter as he left. As I waited for him to come back, I was ready to be plunged back into the deathly void, but… I didn't. I remained conscious the whole time; either he had given me more energy than I thought, or he was thinking about me. I liked to think it was the tter.

  When he returned, his anxiety had rgely (but not entirely) faded, repced by a near oxymoronic mix of happiness and disappointment.

  “The talk went well,” he said as he sat down next to me. “She just needed some time to think after I asked her out out of nowhere, and, yeah.” He put his hands over his face and colpsed backwards with a groan. “Fuck, why am I so stupid.” He turned to look at me and groaned again. “And why am I talking to a plushie?” There wasn't any venom to his words, and he reached out to py with my ear.

  “Sorry,” he whispered. “About yesterday. I just—I don’t—yeah.”

  I didn’t know why he was apologizing, or why his shame was so intense. Nothing he did with me was at all upsetting.

  He cleared his throat. “So, yeah, apparently she was worried because some guys just pretend to be a girl’s friend to ask them out ter, but c’mon, we’ve been friends since we were little kids. I wanna hang out with her no matter what we are to each other. Does still suck that I had to fall in love with a lesbian though,” he sighed.

  We sat there for a while, ying side by side like a couple in a romance movie. Eventually, he dragged me into a side hug. “You’re a great listener, Strawberry,” he ughed. “Heh, ‘Strawberry’. I should come up with a better name for you.” He was quiet for a bit, evidently thinking, while I was slightly upset; I liked my name! It was who I was, ever since I met him! Thankfully, he soon gave up with a shrug.

  “I’ll think about it ter,” he said as he pushed himself off the bed. He lifted me up and kissed me on the forehead, and I could feel a spark of the same feeling he felt towards Gu the day before, but before I could get excited, it was washed away by another wave of shame. He didn’t show it, smiling, putting me down, and patting me on the cheek before leaving the room.

  The next couple of weeks or so were chaotic. Sometimes he'd take me out of his room for a bit, but some days he didn't even touch me outside of morning and night. Now that we'd rediscovered each other, he was trying to decide what our new retionship would look like. His “agitation” complicated things; he would sometimes do the mysterious action again, but it was always accompanied by the same regret after, which led to him avoiding me for a time.

  It wouldn't be entirely true to say that I didn't have a preference for what our retionship would look like, but as long as it was better than how it was, I would be happy. Even on the days he'd minimally interact with me, he was so much more affectionate, talking to me, hugging me, kissing me. He did keep bringing up changing my name though, but I was slowly warming up to the idea; if our retionship was going to change, then my name changing with it would make some amount of sense.

  Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if things had continued down that path unabated, but we didn't exist in a vacuum. For good and for ill, the outside world likes to interfere at the perfect moments.

  “You guys will not be-lieve what I just heard about,” Mom said as she got home from work. Her eyes flicked to me, sitting on Victor's p, but at this point her curiosity at my increased presence had run dry.

  “What?” Sophia asked, barely looking up from her phone.

  “You know how Cousin Mel moved into that old farm a bit ago?”

  “Vaguely,” Victor said.

  “Oh yeah, the one she bought at an estate sale?” Dad asked.

  “Yeah, that one. Well, apparently an ancient axe just came to life!”

  “What?!” everyone else excimed, now fully engaged in the story.

  “Was it possessed by the old owner or something?” Dad asked.

  “No, apparently it grew a body or something and became a mytu3An overrarching term used to refer to all intelligent mystical or semi mystical beings, from spirits to elves to talking animals; however, talking animal rights groups have been pushing against the application of the term to themselves in recent years.. Mel and Sandra just walked out to the woodshed this afternoon and there it was, leaning against a log. They freaked out obviously, but it didn't attack them or anything, it just asked them if they'd be willing to hire it to cut wood for them. They're considering it but are letting it stay there for now at least. Of course, since it's Mel, she's spent the rest of the day calling everyone in the family to tell them about it.”

  “How does that even happen?” Sophia asked.

  “Sandra looked it up, apparently if there's enough spiritual or emotional energy tied to an object, it comes to life after a century. It's just super rare in modern times since most stuff breaks well before then. Mel and I were talking about what the old owner was doing with that axe to have any sort of that type of energy.”

  “Murrrrrrderrrrrr,” Victor said, dramatically waggling his fingers.

  “Maybe,” Mom ughed.

  The conversation moved on from there, but I wasn't paying attention.

  “An object coming to life, huh?” Victor whispered the exact same thought I was having. Was it really possible? Cousin Mel liked to exaggerate, but that seemed like a bit much to make up full cloth, even for her. That just left one question:

  “I wonder if there's any way to speed that up.” He pulled out his phone and started typing away at it. He ended up staying on it throughout the night, and though I couldn't see his screen, I could feel his idle curiosity evolve into something much deeper. He stayed up in research for so long that he ended up passing out with his phone still in hand.

  When he awoke te next morning, he greeted me with a hug and a kiss. “Morning Strawberry,” he said, and I could feel the spark of what he felt with Gu before, the spark of love. The now expected shame rose up to meet it, but he fought it back with a third emotion: hope. “How do you feel about coming to life?” he asked, petting my head.

  I could hardly believe what I was hearing. Yes, obviously I wanted it! Who wouldn’t? And if he was asking, did that mean he found something?

  “Man, I really should think of a better name for you first though,” he groaned. “I mean, Strawberry’s fine for a toy and all, less so a person.” After thinking a bit, he shrugged and pulled up his nearly dead phone. “Well, people are named after flowers, let’s just look at some pink ones.”

  He scrolled through images on his phone, holding each one up for me to see. “Hm, Rose is a bit basic, Tulip is not really a name, Peony is just kinda dumb. Oh! How about Camellia?” Of course, I didn’t answer, but I didn’t really like it. Maybe it’d grow on me?

  “Hm, let’s put that in the ‘maybe’ pile. Cherry? Same problem as Strawberry. Carnation still isn’t a name, Dahlia is definitely a name but a jerk in my css is called that so no, and hm, Azalea?”

  I’m not sure why, but I immediately felt excited after hearing it. That’s the one! I thought.

  “Azalea. Hm. Yeah, I think that’ll work. How do you like it?” Again, I couldn’t answer, and he ughed and kissed me. “Well, I guess you can ask me to change it again after you come to life.”

  He said it with such certainty that I thought he was going to do it right then and there, or at least ter that day, but sadly I was mistaken. He had much, much more research to do, and he continued with it in nearly all his free time for over a week.

  At least he let me accompany him during it; while he still didn't carry me literally everywhere like when he was little, I was with him during all of his downtime. Thus, I was able to sense his curiosity morph into frustration as he kept going, but his determination never faltered. At least, until he hit a brick wall.

  “Ugh, it seems like it's going to take some serious money or risk to even try,” he pouted. “And like,what if it doesn't work? I don't wanna mess it up and end up hurting you or letting you get possessed by an evil spirit or something.” He sighed, stroking my head. “I guess I'll just write what I've found and come back to it ter.”

  He took us over to the family computer and went to work, muttering as he typed.

  Time manipution, to make the 100 years literally go faster. Problems: extremely difficult, I don't know how to do it, and I don't know if her body would survive it.Anything involving possession. Problems: wouldn't really be ‘Azalea’, just someone else in her body.Homunculus creation. Problems: difficult to acquire materials, and I'm not sure if it would still be Azalea. Best option so far, should list out methods.Homunculus method 1: arrange and chant the names of a particur god, and inscribe one on a vessel's forehead. Problems: requires absolute devotion to that god, not sure if it would work on a non cy figure, inscription would damage Azalea, final result would be mute.Method 2: inject ‘life essence’ into a gourd and leave it to rot inside a vessel. Problems: not sure if it would work outside of the, aha, preferred materials, rotting process would likely seriously damage Azalea.Method 3: inject mix of body fluids from chosen animal into an effigy of it. Problems: don't know where I'd get the body fluids of a rabbit, putting them inside her would instantly ruin stuffing and possibly fabric if it fails, implied to result in feral creation.He squeezed me as he brought his hands to a momentary rest. “I could've sworn there was something else… ah. That one.

  Love: flood object with so much emotion it bypasses 100 year rule. Problems: has the least evidence supporting it, surely I've loved Azalea enough for that. Don't know what else I could do, unless…“I loved her in a different way.” He blushed and stopped typing. “I mean, it's the easiest one, no harm in trying,” he muttered. He steeled himself and sat me on the keyboard. “Goddess I can't believe I'm doing this… Azalea. In order to bring you to life, would you, um, be my girlfriend?” His cheeks were almost the same color as my fur when he asked.

  YES! I wanted to scream. Even if it doesn't work, yes!

  “Well, um, I guess I'll take that as a yes?” he awkwardly chuckled. Still blushing, he leaned down and kissed me. “So, if you're my, uh, g-girlfriend, I guess we should go on a date, huh? How about a movie ter? Wait, no, Mom wouldn't want me to go alone… maybe I could convince her to let Sophia take us and we could pretend that she's our chaperone?”

  That sounded perfect. And I would even be able to leave the house! Oh, I wanted to kiss him so bad; thankfully, he did it for me.

  From that moment on, we were inseparable once more. He would share every single thing he could with me, even some stuff I almost preferred he didn't, but it was the thought that counted. When we’d watch stuff together, he was more attentive to my point of view than he’d ever been before, making sure I got a good look as we watched. Sadly I still couldn't accompany him everywhere he went, but that date and many more did happen, with only some light ribbing from Sophia.

  Of course, he made love to me more often, and I now understood what it was thanks to the things he showed me. The more we did it, the more methodical it became, with better clean up measures and, ah, some enhancements made.

  Despite all this, the magic didn't work. At least, not directly; I could feel my soul getting more developed, and Victor growing more in tune with my wants, but I did not develop a living body. Maybe it was speeding up the process, but an instantaneous fix it was not. That might seem like an absolute negative, but there was a positive aspect to it: after a while, Victor dropped the pretense that our retionship was solely to bring me to life.

  Yes, no matter how irrational it might seem, he was in love with me just as I was.

  However, it did obviously come with challenges. Without being able to, well, speak or move on my own accord, I grew concerned about being an inadequate partner. Part of me almost hoped that he would move on, find someone else who could make him happier than I could, but a rger, more selfish part desperately clung to him and refused to let go.

  The fact that he kept our retionship secret didn't help. I understood why he did, it's a hard thing for others to understand, but try as he might, he wasn't able to fully hide or eliminate the st bits of shame. It hurt to feel, but I could also feel that he was fighting it.

  Despite his best efforts, he wasn't able to hide our retionship from everyone. He was less cautious around Sophia than most, and with each too long kiss, too affectionate hug, and too weird of a pce to go alone with your plushie, I could feel her lighthearted teasing slowly morph into suspicion.

  “Look, Vic, normally I wouldn't give a shit but I feel like I'm going insane, so I gotta ask, are you fucking your plushie?”

  Victor audibly choked at the question. “Wh-why would you think that?”

  I could tell that Sophia already knew the second he answered like that. “Well, maybe it's the fact that you're sixteen and still carry her everywhere, and I caught you snogging her that one time.”

  “Lots of people still have plushies at my age, and a lot kiss them too!”

  Sophia just ughed and shook her head. “We have got to get you a girlfriend man.”

  “I already have one!” Victor indignantly cried; I could feel my heart melt a bit at the passion in him.

  “Plush ones don't count bro.”

  Victor didn't have a rebuttal to this, and instead sank into the couch.

  I wasn't the only one who picked up on how upset he was. “H-hey, Vicky, it was just a joke,” Sophia said, and reached out to touch his shoulder, but like the moody teenager he was being, he shrugged away from her. “She really means a lot to you, huh,” she muttered. “Look, I'm not going to pretend that it isn't weird, but if this is really what you want and what makes you happy, I'll y off the teasing, ok?”

  Victor didn't respond at first, still sunk into his seat, so Sophia followed suit, grimacing and turning away.

  “…thank you,” he whispered, just barely loud enough to be heard.

  She turned back and lightly punched his shoulder. “Anytime.”

  Even though he still kept any pda to a minimum around her, there was definitely a bit of an awkward aura between Sophia and I after that. I was rgely able to ignore it, but it did sting, knowing that she felt that way about Victor and I. On a more positive note, his sister finding out did make Victor more amenable to others following suit.

  “Do you have a date for homecoming?” he asked Gu as the three of us sat together after a movie night.

  “Nah,” she said, lowering her head onto her paws. “Turns out there aren’t exactly great dating prospects for a lesbian dog around here, who woulda guessed.”

  “Well, you could always go with me. Ptonically, obviously.”

  “Hah! I think we both know where that would lead. I’ll pass. I take it you don’t have one either then?”

  I could feel his hands start running through my fur. “It’s… complicated.”

  “It's really not, regardless of your retionship status you're either taking them or you're not.”

  “Eh, I'm definitely taking her if I go, I just don't think she'd count as a date.”

  “What's that supposed to mean?” Gu asked, and I could feel her growing suspicious. “Are you like, taking a friend with and pretending it's a date? Cause tha—”

  “No no no, nothing like that,” Victor interrupted. I just… wow it is not easier the second time,” he muttered. “It's Azalea. I'm taking Azalea.”

  Gu took a second to reconfigure and ughed. “Well yeah, I figured you would. No need to be weird about it.”

  He audibly gulped. “No, like. I'm taking her on a date. As my date. We're dating.”

  Gu ughed. “Aw, that’s cute.”

  “What? I’m, um, not joking or rolepying or anything. I’m a-actually in love with her.”

  “…oh. I guess that’s why you take her everywhere, heh. Um, if you don’t mind me asking, how does that work?”

  “It just kinda does? Like, I take her on dates and, uh, do other stuff with her.”

  “Yeah, but she can’t talk to you, can she?”

  “No… but sometimes I can swear I like, feel her thoughts or feelings on stuff, you know? And for a while I was looking into ways to, um, bring her to life.”

  “You what?!” Gu asked. “Is that even possible? Or ethical, for that matter.” She looked down at her paws as if studying them. “Trust me, it's hard to measure up as a non-human in this world.”

  “I don't know, and I didn't think of that,” Victor answered. “I’d definitely help her through any struggles though.”

  “Even if she doesn't end up wanting a retionship with you?”

  He looked down at me. “Something tells me she would, but hey, I'm still friends with you aren't I? Of course I would.”

  “Yeah, you are. Sorry. Heh, sometimes I wish you weren't a boy.”

  “Sometimes I do too,” Victor ughed.

  “Hah! You should get back to me when you figure it out.”

  “Figure what out?” He cocked his head like a puppy.

  “Don't worry about it, Vicky. Anyways, you said that you were looking into it? Why'd you stop?”

  “Everything I looked at was too complicated, except, uh, the retionship itself, which I guess didn't work.”

  “Complicated how?”

  “Like, with the required steps and stuff? Sorry, it's been a while since I looked,” Victor sighed.

  “Do you wanna go over it again together?” Gu asked.

  “If you're willing,” he said, pying it cool, but I could tell that he was excited at the prospect.

  “Why would I ask if I wasn't willing?” Gu ughed.

  “Heh, good question. If I remember correctly I actually made a doc that had some research notes, lemme see if I can pull it up.”

  As they went through the notes, Gu had to agree with most of his assessments, until they came across the third method for creating a homunculus.

  “Why do you think she'd be feral?” she asked.

  “Just because the source said that it was to create an, um, animal servant. It was an alchemical text, and alchemists are inspired by Aristotle, so I don't think they meant talking animals.”

  A fsh of disgust went through Gu, but she forced it down. “What if you used the fluids from a talking rabbit then?”

  “That, that might work, actually,” Victor said, and began pacing the room. “But won't those be even harder to get?”

  “No,” Gu said with an unexpected certainty.

  “Why not?”

  “Well blood might be harder but you should be able to get most others from fetish sites.”

  “Oh. But like, what are the odds of a talking rabbit having a presence like that?”

  “I, uh, might already know of a certain doe,” she confessed, and I could feel her embarrassment.

  “…do I even want to know.”

  “Ehe, probably not. Still, you would need to wait until you're eighteen to get any, and they're all pretty expensive. And I don't know how this stuff works, but might it end up just turning Azalea into a copy of the doe?”

  “Probably not? The old alchemists were kinda obsessed with making a soul from scratch. I imagine that's why they made this spell when it's just objectively easier to use a regur animal—feral, sorry—for whatever they needed done.” Despite his words, I could feel a smidge of doubt start to worm its way in. “Shame I won't be able to take her as my homecoming date, but maybe I could for prom.”

  He ended up skipping homecoming. The next six months were spent saving every paycheck at his new part time job for when he turned eighteen. Although I appreciated the gesture, I thought it was a bit of overkill; surely it wouldn't be a half-year-sary level, and it meant less time with him.

  However, it all seemed worth it when his birthday finally arrived. Victor spent most of it being ferried between prepnned activities, with and without me, only getting time to himself at the end of the day. I could feel him brimming with nervous excitement as he hopped on his ptop and navigated to the rabbit’s shop. Holding his breath, he added all of the relevant products to his cart, not just sexual fluids but nonsexual ones and even hair and nails. He winced once he saw the total, but completed the checkout.

  Honestly, it felt a bit anticlimactic. Several months of buildup for a couple clicks, no different from any other online purchase outside of the age verification. And since some were on backorder, they wouldn't even all get here at the same time! Victor had to order a mini fridge too just to preserve them!

  Thus, it was back to waiting. Thankfully the fridge arrived first, and he was able to get it set up in his room without too many questions. The day the first set of products was scheduled for arrival, almost a month ter, Victor sat waiting by the door until it showed just so that he could intercept it. The feeling of disgust as he put them into storage was genuinely amusing.

  Sadly, the prom date idea was seeming more and more unlikely. He still hadn't found any way to get blood, the remaining items had no signs of showing up anytime soon, and prom was just a month away at that point. Still, he ordered a specially fit dress for me from Gu’s tailor, a beautiful bck one with short sleeves to compliment my fur.

  When prom came without the st ingredients, he was forced to ask Gu to be his official, ptonic date, and she agreed. Of course he still took me, taking care to dress me and doll me up. Most of it was fairly boring, watching others standing around and talking with the occasional dance or snack that I couldn't participate in, but it was all worth it for the main dance. As the lights dimmed, he took me to a hidden corner and waltzed with me. He held my paws in his as he moved, gently swinging me around to the music and looking at me with the purest adoration. When the song ended, he kissed me, and it felt like I was falling in love with him all over again.

  He walked out of there with my hand firmly grasped in his, for once not caring who saw us.

  As fate would have it, the st product from the rabbit arrived ter that same week. It spurred one st jolt of frenzied research in Victor; this whole time he had been gathering items based on a summary, so he pulled up the actual documents. Frustratingly, they all disagreed with each other. The only ingredients they all had in common were blood and a couple of tinctures. Oh yes, the tinctures, a vital part that the original summary conveniently left out.

  “Great,” Victor muttered. “Not only do I still need to find the blood somewhere but I also need to find some ancient drugs. Fuck it, some of them give a different recipe for intelligence so I'll just try and get some blood from a butcher, if it doesn't work I'll just have to try again.”

  He was upset, and not just at the extra work and monetary burden. Like most people who get close to talking animals, he had adopted a pescatarian diet. Even if the animals being sughtered are feral, it's harder to ignore what they could become when confronted with it everyday.

  When he called the closest rabbit farm, he was so distraught that I started to second guess if it was worth it. Sure, none of them were dying for it, but it still felt off. But… even if I was capable of stopping it, I wouldn't have wanted to. Not when I was so close to apotheosis.

  It was a rather interesting conversation, asking for blood from a random farmer. Victor had to agree to carry multiple religious items and arrive in broad daylight to prove that he wasn't a vampire. He left me at home for the trip, and I could feel a depressive aura around him when he got home and put the blood in the fridge.

  When the st of the tinctures arrived, it was time. Victor cleared out a space in the center of the room and id out a series of seven concentric circles in chalk. At aligning points on each circle he id jewelry borrowed from his mother, each with a different gemstone; he even had her diamond engagement ring.

  Then, he carefully measured out a teaspoon from most of the ingredients and combined them in a beaker: tears, saliva, sexual fluids, cut up hair, crushed cw, four separate tinctures, and strawberry puree, just in case. A rgely original recipe following the spirit of the original texts more than the words. To this he added four teaspoons of blood and the secret ingredient that was supposedly responsible for intelligence (although I obviously doubted there was one), five teaspoons of his own essence.

  He turned off the lights, letting his room fall dim, solely illuminated by the afternoon sun, facing away from his room. Finally, he pced a hot pte in the center of the circles and pced the mixture onto it. When the mixture started steaming, he turned the hot pte off and carefully removed it from the circles.

  “Here goes nothing,” he whispered, an even mix of hope and nervousness coursing through him as he pced me inside the circles. Before he continued, he took a moment to appreciate me the way I was. The years had taken their toll. Despite his best efforts, my fur was slightly patchy and off color; my bow was frayed; and my ears and skin and stuffing sagged. I was certainly better off than many other plushies my age, but I was obviously not brand new.

  To him, I was still the most beautiful thing in the world.

  “Last chance for any objections,” he said as he petted my cheek.

  None here.

  Victor smirked and kissed me on the forehead. “Then I guess I'll see you on the other side, love.” Hands shaking and breathing heavy, he took out a syringe, wide as they came, and filled it with the mixture. He took a deep breath and held it as he plunged it into my side. Once he had pushed it all out, staining my stuffing, he jumped out of the circles and watched, still not releasing his stolen air.

  I had never known pain before. Not when I was dropped, or torn, or cut, or sewn, or even when the needle plunged into me, but when the solution seeped inside, I wanted to scream. Liquid agony gushed forth, mixing with my stuffing and spreading well beyond its physical means throughout my tiny body. I couldn't think, I could only focus on the horrific sensation running through me. Soon it filled me from the tops of my ears to the tip of my tail, and just like that, it was over, and I colpsed.

  “Azalea?!” Victor cried and ran over to me. When he lifted me up, we both felt that I was notably heavier, and my head lolled to the side in a way that was impossible before.

  “…Strawberry?”

  I felt weak. I couldn't even begin to think about moving as I id limp in his arms.

  “Strawberry? Please… I don't know, just, something? Please? I-I can't feel you anymore. D-don’t tell me I fucked something up and…” He was fighting off sobs, not willing to give into despair quite yet, but couldn't stop the tears from flowing as he hugged me tighter.

  Summoning every ounce of willpower, I hugged him back.

  He stiffened almost immediately and looked down at me in shock. “S-Strawberry? Did you—”

  A burst of energy overtook me and I grabbed his face and kissed him, my mouth opening for the very first time. He let out a muffled yelp and I withdrew. He stared at me dumbstruck, and I looked him dead in the eyes.

  “I love you, Vicky.” The words that were stuck in me for twelve years spilled out with impossible ease.

  He immediately started crying again, the big goof. “Strawberry, you're—” I cut him off with another kiss, and we spent who knows how long alternating between kissing and crying into each other's arms and confessing our endless love to each other over and over again until he finally colpsed on the floor from the weight of his joy. I wasn't done, but he deserved a break, and I id down on his chest, idly drawing circles in his shirt.

  “You smell like strawberries again.” I could've ughed; that was the first full sentence out of him since I came to life.

  “Do I?” I asked. “It's a bit hard for me to tell, hah.”

  He ughed and wrapped me in a crushing hug. “I like it.”

  “I know you do,” I giggled, and wiggled out of his grip to peck his lips again.

  “So, I guess you do remember your past. Good. This’d be a bit weird otherwise.”

  “Just a bit though.”

  “Yep, just a bit.” We ughed, already growing tired from the emotional outburst. “So, what now?”

  What now, indeed. We had spent so long waiting for this moment that we had totally forgotten that there was a life to live after this.

  His family would have to find out eventually, preferably sooner rather than ter. We hatched a pn to inform them that night. I stayed in our room until everyone was home and dinner was eaten. When they were all sitting in front of the TV, Victor returned, scooped me up even more gently than he did when I was inanimate, and held me behind his back as he walked towards the living room. He stayed hovering just outside the entrance to the room until a commercial break, and steeling his nerves, walked out in front of the television.

  “So, you guys remember Cousin Mel’s axe?”

  “Hard not to,” Mom said.

  Just as she was taking a breath, presumably to regale another tale of their increasingly bizarre misadventures, Victor spoke up.

  “Well, we might have a simir situation.” He held me in front of him. I sat limp for a second, took a deep breath of my own, and lifted my arm in a wave.

  “Hello.”

  Dad screamed.

  “Wha—how?!?” Mom spluttered, while Sophia stared at us.

  “Vic, what did you do?” she asked. Oh boy, the awkward tension was back fivefold, and I refused to look at her.

  “I sped up the process,” he shrugged.

  “How?” Mom asked.

  “You probably don’t want to know.”

  She sighed. “You’re right, I probably don’t.”

  Dad spoke up next, having sufficiently calmed down. “I would ask why, but honestly I’m hardly surprised.” Everyone else nodded along. “I just hope you have a pn on what to do now.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Dad groaned and put his head in his hands. “Of course you don’t. Goddess save me. For starters, what’s she going to eat? Where’s she going to sleep? What’s she going to do with her life? Just be your eternal dependent? Trust me, you’re not going to want that.”

  “I can still sleep in his bed,” I said, drawing their stares towards me. It was at about that moment we all realized I still didn't have eyelids. “I'm sure he won't mind, right Vicky?”

  “Right. And I'm pretty sure she'll be fine with fruits and vegetables? I'll look up what rabbits are sensitive to. I'll… have to think about the other thing.”

  “I will be expecting you to pay for those extra fruits and vegetables yourself, Victor. This is your responsibility now,” Mom said, with Dad nodding along.

  “Of course.”

  We settled in our usual spot after that, a strange sense of normalcy overtaking us despite the drastic change. One that his family didn’t share, constantly shooting gnces my way. Later on, as we were heading to bed, Victor still carrying me, Sophia came up to us.

  “So like, what’s going on with you two?” she whispered.

  “Yes, we’re still together,” Victor whispered back. “And before you say anything, she remembers her life—er, existence before this.”

  She sighed. “Alright. Just… be careful, alright? I don’t want anyone getting hurt.”

  “We will,” I said, and she looked down at me. “Don’t worry. Your brother’s a good person.”

  Victor grew flustered at my praise; combined with the awkwardness of the encounter, he simply said “Yep!” and practically ran into our room.

  Tempting as it is to share what happened next, I feel like that would be best saved for ter. Needless to say, our lovemaking is much more fun now, for both of us. It all felt so much better; I understood why Victor enjoyed it so much, beyond “mere” bonding.

  After we were finished, I felt tired, but in a good way, and was soon drifting off in his arms. It was my first time actually sleeping, which, by the way, is not anywhere as close to death as poets like to make it seem.

  When morning came, it was time to create a new routine once more. Interestingly, in many ways, it wasn’t all that different from before, since I still couldn’t accompany Victor to his job or school. Nor were there many pces for me to go on my own, being just over a foot tall and cking fingers. Maybe in a different world I would be upset at my form, but after over a decade of much worse abilities, it’s like I can’t. I’m too grateful to be able to move freely.

  The main differences were that I was now free to roam the house, to the occasional consternation of his family, and that I needed food. It was extremely surreal, waking up to an empty stomach and having no idea what the feeling was. My first ever meal was apples and lettuce, the greens they happened to have on hand.

  There’s not much to say in that regard; it’s just food, and I grew accustomed to it the same as anyone else would. I’ve kept away from garlic and onions since they affect the blood, but without having an exact copy of a rabbit’s body, I decided to try chocote with many anti poison spells and treatments on hand. Thankfully, I didn’t need them, and I’ve since developed quite the sweet tooth.

  That just leaves our retionship. Perhaps unsurprisingly, it’s been better than ever, what with more possibilities for open communication. He did still try to keep it secret at first, even as he took me to his high school graduation not long after. It was funny seeing the reaction from his friends and cssmates, none of whom except Gu knew the truth. Speaking of, it was nice talking to her directly. She was probably the person I was closest to other than Victor, and we became fast friends.

  But secrets are meant to be discovered, and I was much less cautious than Victor. There's no real delicate way to say that I kissed him right as Dad was walking in the room. We knew right away we'd been caught when he cleared his throat. True to my form, I lept off Victor, and after exchanging a cold look, Dad walked back out of the room. We thought that we had gotten away with it, but shortly after Mom got home, Victor's parents pulled him aside to talk.

  Without me.

  I don't know what all they talked about, but when they came out, I saw that Victor had been crying. I started to run to him, but he took a step back. Mom and Dad exchanged a look, and she bent down in front of me while he dragged Victor away.

  “Azalea…” she started, and sighed. “Jonathan and Victor told me about your retionship, and I just wanted to ask, did you ever feel pressured to do anything with him?”

  “No?” I said, not liking where this was going. “I love him and he loves me.”

  “Aradia,” she cursed under her breath. “I'm not equipped to handle this. I'm scheduling therapy appointments for you two ASAP, and I'm sure Victor is going to want to talk to you.”

  “Ok?” I said, still confused, and she got up and ushered me towards Victor's room, opening the door for me. He was curled up on the bed when I entered; if he noticed me, he didn’t react. I tried to crawl onto it, but couldn’t quite lift myself up, so he finally acknowledged my presence and picked me up, taking me into a hug. We stayed there for a minute, back to our old pattern of comfort.

  “…is this wrong?” Victor whispered.

  “Is what wrong?”

  “This. Our retionship.”

  “Why would it be?” I asked, touching his face, to which he shied away.

  “Because you didn’t have a choice.”

  I shrugged. “Not when I was an object no, but that’s the nature of objects. But I have a choice now, don’t I? You loved me enough to give me one.”

  He smiled, but it quickly faded. “Maybe, but was it just inertia? Would you have agreed to it if I only asked you after?”

  “Yes,” I said, not a doubt in my mind. “I love you, after all.”

  His frown deepened. “Well, that’s the thing. Your emotions when you were an object, they were a reflection of mine. That love you felt… it came from me.”

  That took me back a bit, and I had to sit there and consider for a while. Was it true?

  “Thinking back, it does make sense, but it’s not like you were mind controlling me or anything. Your feelings might have been the source of mine, but they were still real, just as real as any natural ones. My love is real, Victor, and it always has been.” I hugged him tighter, and he reciprocated.

  “I love you so much, my Strawberry,” he said, burying his face in my head. “Thank you. For everything.”

  “I love you just as much Vicky!” I moved my head up and kissed him.

  He ughed and ruffled my fur, but his mood still wasn’t completely positive. “Mom and Dad also said that it was wrong because of how dependent you are on me, and like, I can see where they're coming from, but honestly? I don't especially care. Does that make me a bad person?”

  “Not at all! And it's not like you abuse it. If you wanted to then it wouldn't have made any sense to bring me to life.” I pced my paws over his hands, and he took the hint and grabbed them. “I'm alive because you love me, and it's messy and it's complicated but I wouldn't trade this for anything.” Tears started to well in my eyes. “E-even if sometimes I feel bad about making you take care of me like this o-or stopping you from finding someone else you don't have to worry about as much, I still wouldn't. And maybe that makes me a bad person, but in that case, let's be bad together.”

  “Azalea.” He tightened his grip on my paws and looked me straight in the eye. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I knew what I was getting into and I don’t regret it for a second. You deserve the world.” He kissed me, and I kissed him back just as hard.

  “I love you.”

  We went to bed soon after. We didn’t tell his parents all of what we talked about, but we defiantly held hands whenever we could. They were uncomfortable, but didn’t bother confronting us again. Instead, they made good on their promise to have us attend therapy.

  Therapy proved somewhat helpful, albeit not quite as necessary as his parents thought. We either already new or readily agreed with most of what we were told, but the tips for becoming more independent were appreciated.

  Although, one recommendation Victor fought at first was to do away with the secrecy altogether, that it was doing more harm than good. However, with his family already knowing and most of his friends having lost contact after graduation, it was apparent that there wasn’t really a point. We do still keep a deception in pce though, to the chagrin of our therapist: we tell strangers that I'm a ghost possessing the body of a toy. It leads to fewer questions.

  There was one st strategy that was suggested to us that I was interested in: journaling. Surprisingly, I do know how to read and write, without being taught how; if I were to guess, I would say that the secret ingredient did have an effect after all. Hey, maybe I should see if I can transte stuff, that'd be neat.

  Anyways, the main obstacle was the ck of thumbs. Victor and I have discussed possibly adding some to me, but we're a bit nervous given my unique physiology. Instead, he simply velcroed chopsticks to my paws so that I can type with them. And now here I am writing this, trying to recap everything I can remember before anything else can pop up. This is fun! Maybe I should be a writer.

  I don't know who I'm going to show this to, if anyone. Victor still doesn't know about what happened to me during his middle school years, and frankly I want to keep it that way if I can, since it'll do nothing but cause pain.

  It wasn't his fault, not really. It was just the regur life cycle of a toy pying out, and I'm more grateful that he interrupted it than I am upset that he allowed it to happen. So Victor, love, if you're reading this, please don't bme yourself.

  Well, I think that's everything for now. Man it took me a lot longer to write this out than I thought it would. The future's looking bright; Victor’s applying for an alchemy school, and with me being living proof of his skill, there's no doubt he'll get in. Maybe this journal could even help him! But that's a future update. For now,

  Azalea Strawberry, signing off.