9.5 Inches

My lollipop hangs from my slack jaw as I struggle to deal with what I'm seeing. I give myself a quick slap across the face -- which stings just about as it should -- but I don't wake up. Either there was something funny in that last batch of Toot-Sweet Pops, or this is really happening.

Shaking my head like it's gonna help clear this up, I finally snatch the stick in one hand and try to get some words flowing.

"What in the fuck *is* this?!"

"Shhh! Lower your voice!" He pleads with a nervous glance past me.

"I will if you answer me!" I hiss, stooping down to get closer and hushing up enough to avoid drawing undue attention.

"I don't know!" He bleats, half-panicked. "I-- I just-- I don't know how this happened, okay?! I don't know any more than you do, just-- please, Avo, you gotta help me!"

If I thought fluffin'-stuff here was a sight, nothin' could've prepared me for this. He was never a tall piece of cotton, but it's sure a lot harder to take him seriously at his current height of well under a foot tall. And what can I even say about what's become of him? Arms and legs like terrycloth with little drawn-on black hooves. And his eyes -- like glossy little marbles, except they *blink.* God that's gonna haunt my nightmares for a good month or two.

His wool coat looks like it's velcro'd on and I can see the stitched seams running up his limbs. He's bare as the day he was born, so for modesty's sake I guess right now we're probably *both* thankful this model came un-sheared.Poor S.O.B. can't be more than nine inches tall, maybe nine and a half if you count the puffy white coif topping the whole thing.

Cripes, it's like he escaped from a certain pup's toy chest. Sad-sack little lamb looks just like a little kid's toy. I mean, except for the fact that he's fucking *ALIVE.*

And carrying on a conversation.

"What the fuck am I supposed to do about THIS?" I gawk, gesturing at his surreal predicament. "This is some Franz Katfka shit. I feel like I've just stepped into *The Meowtamorphosis."*

He bleats again, flapping his boneless arms in a useless gesture. "How do you think *I* feel?!"

I pop my lollipop back in my mouth, where it meets my canines with a satisfying *clack.* "Not everything is about you, Remmy."

"OH MY GOD, SERIOUSLY?! IS THIS REALLY THE TIME FOR THAT?!"

"What the hell is that noise?" A voice booms.

Oh, fuck.

Heavy footsteps come from the stairwell and I'm *not* ready to explain this. I glance down at the little stuffed Remmy standing in the doorway and his face tells me he isn't either. But the Alpha's on the way and I've got about three second to hide the evidence or risk this little doofus potentially ending up in a real bad situation. I give him a pained, reluctant expression he doesn't seem to understand.

"Stay quiet and don't move," I whisper harshly.

"What? What are you gonn-- WHOA!"

God, he better be fucking grateful for this -- and he can show his gratitude by never mentioning it. Snatching him up in one claw and tugging out my collar with the other, I wince inwardly and make the creepy sheep-doll disappear down my shirt. A brief muffled bleat comes through the cloth, but when the footsteps reach the landing, he wisely shuts up.

"Avo."

I spin calmly on my heels, rattling the lollipop around my teeth with my tongue and bracing my elbow against the door frame. "Hey, big boss."

"I heard a voice," Al asserts, rubbing his face with his enormous white paw. He's wearing boxers and an a-shirt, so I gotta assume our little exchange woke him up. It's about 3 PM, so I don't doubt it.

"Yeah, looks like our resident grazer left his TV blaring," I bluff, nodding my head past the empty doorway and into the darkened apartment beyond. "I figured I'd do us all a favor and just shut it off."

There's a faint wiggling motion under my top and suddenly I clench the lollipop between my molars. *What part of "don't move" didn't you understand?*

Al cocks his head, scratching his over-fluffy chest. Don't mind me, chief. Just enjoying the view. "You went into his apartment? You know he doesn't like that."

"Oh, c'mon," I scoff, trying to ignore the tickling sensation of fake wool against my chest. "I won't tell if you won't."

The Alpha sighs, leaning around me to look into the room. I quickly shut the door, offering a tense (but hopefully convincing) grin.

I fold my arms over my chest suddenly, and squeeze tight. The faintest squeak comes out, but even the white wolf's keen ears don't seem to pick it up.

"He's not home. Besides, the little knit-sweater would be *grateful,*" I insist. "Saved him some on his electric bill."

Finally, Al nods. "...all right, yeah. Just show some discretion, all right? I don't want you going in without his permission next time."

Thank god. "I hear ya, loud and clear."

Just as he's turning to head back up to bed, Al suddenly stops, glancing at me. His eyes trace down from my face, to my shirt, and suddenly I freeze, tensing up. No, come on. Go back to bed! The call of your blankets is more important than this! Getting caught talking to a little doll-warped version of our nosiest pack member is bad enough, but I can't -- I mean I **can't** get caught with him down my shirt! There's no explaining this one!

I'm sweating buckets under his curious glare, watching with a shaky smile as he cocks his broad head to one side. After what feels like an eternity, he speaks up.

"...you stuffing your bra again?"

"*What?!*" I squawk.

"Avo. Look. There's nothing wrong with the way you look. You're a perfectly attractive young woman. You should be proud of your appearance." He shakes his head slowly, in that 'I'm not judging, I'm just trying to help' way of his and scratches at some matted fur on his shoulder. "And I know you might feel a little self conscious from time to time, but really, don't think like you gotta change yourself. Not for anyone."

I haven't blushed this hard since tenth grade. I feel embarrassed for both of us. I'd tell you the truth but -- fucking hell.

I bury my face in my hands. "Oh my god. Chief. Please. Please just go back to bed."

"All right," he grunts, shrugging and backing off. "I'm just trying to say--"

"I get it. Thanks. Really. Message received. Appreciate it."

"Okay, Avo, okay. G'night."

I decompress slightly, reaching at my collar as he heads up the stairs, but just before he's out of sight he glances back at me and I stiffen up like a giraffe with a downblouse fetish.

"They're not even the same size, you know. Just a heads up if you plan on going out like that."

He turns the corner and I collapse against Remmy's door, sighing so loud I'm almost worried Al will hear it and come back. Fuck.

"I thought he'd NEVER leave!" gasps my pint-sized stowaway, surfacing from my collar, uncomfortably close to my face.

"You've got a *lot* of explaining to do," I scowl.

He gulps like a fucking cartoon character and ducks his head down into his wool coat till only his eyes are peering out of it. "Avo, I swear, I was just trying to move to a position where I could breathe! I wasn't trying to like--"

"I meant about why you're suddenly a walking talking doll," I groan, rolling my eyes hard enough to exacerbate my headache.

"...Oh."

What the hell have I done to deserve this?