Simon lurched out the door.
As he left, he noticed the hulking Snow Leopard with the earpiece who had been standing next to Chesh earlier standing at attention right outside the door. Simon paused, staring at the brawny cat. Something was different about him, though he couldn’t quite place what.
Wait, hadn't the snow leopard been wearing a half-mask before?
Well, the full mask he was wearing (or was it prosthetics?) looked great. Simon swore he was even wearing jade-colored contact lenses. Even the nose had a realistic moist look. Talk about a glow-up!
He hobbled past the burly guard.
For some strange reason, his mind kept insisting the big cat was named ‘Mitch’. Which he was sure was going to result in him referring to the Snow Leopard in the future as Mitch and everyone looking at him like he was crazy. He’d be like ‘Mitch was at your side all night, Clark’ and Clark would be like, ‘who the fuck is Mitch?’
God, his head hurt.
Simon made it into the bathroom just in time to purge his system. For some reason, he swore the vomit had chicken bones-whole ones!-before the water swirled it away, like the kind of vomit a cartoon character would have. Had he hit his head? Simon felt like he was losing it.
He went to the sink and washed his face off, feeling much better.
Then he realized he was wearing makeup. Shit! It would wash off!
But when he glanced up at his reflection, the makeup looked… remarkably intact. In fact, it looked even more vivid than before. The lines were crisp, the coloration even. It almost looked cel-shaded, really cool looking, actually, like he’d pulled off a 2-D/3-D effect.
Simon panted as he inspected his makeup for a few more moments before realizing his tongue was lolling from the corner of his mouth.
Mortified, he pulled it back into his mouth, but he felt super stuffy without his mouth hanging open. Worse, now that he was looking closer at his face, he could see other issues.
The area around his mouth and nose looked swollen, almost like they were bulging from his face.
He prodded his mouth and the skin felt oddly rubbery and a little insensate. His lips were loose and floppy, as were his cheeks, making him look jowly. Worse, as he glanced over the rest of his face, he noticed that there were the heavy bags under his eyes and even his ears looked wilted, the tops folded over on themselves.
Now that he was really looking at himself, his whole head looked kinda droopy and the shape underneath looked… wrong, his forehead sloping backward at a steeper angle. Simon blinked, stepping away from the mirror and shook his head. Maybe he’d used some foam prosthetics earlier and forgotten about it?
That had to be it. Or maybe it was an allergic reaction to the facepaint. Simon was allergic to everything, so it wouldn’t surprise him.
He took a deep breath.
Airway felt clear enough. His head had stopped aching. He was probably just panicking because of the contest and the stress he was under. What he needed was to chill out and relax.
Simon shook his face dry, his lips flapping, then straightened out his clothes. He needed to stay in character as Cool Dog, yo. He fired off two finger-guns at his reflection and swaggered back out into the party.
As he re-entered the ballroom, he saw Chesh walking around the ball, stopping here and there to speak to a group of people.
Directly behind him loomed Mitch the Snow Leopard (if that was his name). Whoever the guy was, he seemed to be taking his bodyguard character seriously, pushing people back and growling at those who wandered too close.
Chesh looked more than a little annoyed with the guy, especially when the hot wolf Chesh was talking to got shoved away when he leaned in for a kiss.
Simon chuckled to himself. Chesh should have known better than to attempt a tryst with someone Mitch hadn’t vetted.
His mind stumbled over that last bit.
Why was he thinking of Chesh as actual royalty? Clark certainly wasn’t a prince, and Mitch was just some guy in a very realistic anthro Snow Leopard mask with an ear piece. But his mind kept insisting it was all real and normal.
He tried to shake off the odd feelings, scratching his nose.
It was longer than he remembered, and when he glanced down at his nose, cross-eyed, he saw it looked more like a hound’s snout or muzzle than anything else. For a second, he thought it was his own nose. But then he noticed how oddly numb and rubbery it felt and relaxed. Just a prosthetic.
Though it was oddly firm for a foam appliance. What had he done in that dressing room? What material had he used for this costume?
As he was inspecting the snout, he noticed his hands were covered in tan and black makeup as well, his nails black and curved, ending in blunt tips. Simon chuckled to himself. Whatever he had done, he’d sure gone all out with this outfit! He’d even put on fake nails!
“Hey Cool Dog!” A familiar voice called.
Simon’s ears perked up and something *thumped* against a nearby chair, making him jump and turn. Nothing was there. Weird. Frowning, he glanced back and saw the stoner bear from earlier waving at him from the patio.
“Come on, bro! We wanna hear another rap!” The bear’s muzzle twisted into a happy grin.
Simon trotted over, pausing every so often when he heard something smack into furniture behind him. When he turned to see what it was, he couldn’t see anything. It was so weird!
He passed by the band, which was still playing. Simon did a doubletake. Wait. Where before, the band had been wearing face paint like those sugar skulls for Dias De Los Muertes or whatever, now there were skeletons playing and singing.
Man, he had to hand it to Mister E. The wire work on those fake skeletons was amazing! He couldn’t even see any wires!
Continuing on, he passed by Chesh and a group of other noble-looking people wearing various costumes, some animal, some not. Nearby was Mitch and a few other burly-looking guys with earpieces. One looked like a robot.
Simon couldn’t see how pretending to be a bodyguard could possibly be entertaining.
Currently, Chesh and his royal posse were laughing. Something about first timers freaking out. One guy had apparently tried to tug his mask off and fell into the pool and… turned into a pooltoy?
Simon furled his brow and shook his head. He must have heard that bit wrong. Anyways, laughing about people freaking out was *not* Cool. Kindness and understanding was the way to go, yo!
Whoa, where the hell had that thought come from? Simon shook his head, his long ears flopping and his lips wobbling as he did. He made it outside and saw the stoner bear standing in a circle with other people in various costumes.
There was something off about them all.
For example, the stoner bear’s mask looked startlingly realistic, and Simon couldn’t recall him wearing bear paws too. He even looked a bit, uh, fatter. Chubby. Paunchy. Kinda cuddly, actually.
Next to him stood a vinyl pool dragon that kinda looked like that one water dragon from the game Hokemon. Priapas, maybe? It could learn Surf. Anyways, for something inflated and plastic, it had a startling amount of movement.
Simon was confident the pool toy was a male. It had this cheery grin painted on its face, eyes unmoving.
Two other party goers were there as well. One was the wolf from before. He looked remarkably realistic. Simon had been sure that the guy had been wearing a half-mask. But now he towered over the others, brawny and hairy. Even had a tail. The other was a boar in a suit.
“Okay, so you know me, I’m Bradley Baer, jock extraordinaire.” The bear said. He gestured to the wolf next to him. “Cool dog, this is Tiny.”
“Hi.” The wolf said, shoulders hunching.
Simon waved. Why was the huge wolf called Tiny… ? Simon’s eyes flicked to the wolf’s crotch and the modest bump there. Ooooh! He was *tiny*. Poor guy.
“Okay,” The bear said, pointing at the stout old boar wearing a suit who stood next to Tiny, “And that’s Monsieur Boardeux.”
“*Miere* Boardeux,” The boar snorted disdainfully, taking a sip from a wine glass. “It’s a pun. To the deer goes the beer, to the sanglier or boar, goes the miere, the barber.” He paused, looking at the confused faces around him. He sighed. “The Miere. You know? The surgeon. Because after hunting a deer you have a beer and after hunting boar you need stitches.”
“Right. Sure. Cool, man.” Simon nodded.
“No one gets it.” The boar drained his glass.
“Bordeux is like, a wine, right? THat’s why you’re…” Simon gestured.
“Finally!” The boar said excitedly. “This one gets it! Yes, *boar*deux!”
“Fuckin’ hoi polloi… “ The person in the vinyl costume next to the boar said.
“Oh, right. This is Draco.” The bear said excitedly, pulling the man wearing the pool toy costume close with eerie ease, as though the man were truly filled with air. “He loved your rap.”
“This is Cool Dog?” The pool toy asked.
Somehow, the voice came from the pool dragon’s mouth, yet the mouth never moved. It was completely inanimate. But that was impossible, since no human could fit in the small round head and long, slender inflated neck.
“Yo, I’m Cool Dog.” Simon said excitedly. “Uh, if you don’t mind me asking, how are you talking man?”
“I fell in the pool.” The vinyl pool dragon said, as though that was a proper explanation for why Simon could hear him talk through the drawn-on smile on his face.
“... Right. And?”
“Well, that’s why I look like a pool toy.”
Simon cocked his head. A light bulb clicked on in his head.
“Ohhh, you’re talking about your character!” Simon chuckled.
“Well, no… “
It was more than a little disconcerting, talking to an inanimate face.
“He was supposed to be a dragon but he fell into the pool and got turned into a pool toy.” Bradley Bear explained. “The magic of the party. Last guest arrives, the costumes become real.”
The explanation did not help.
“Sure, yeah.” Simon nodded, sure the bear was super high now. “Anyways, what’s up?”
“We wanna hear a rap!” The vinyl copyright-protected dragon said.
Simon felt his face heat up.
How could they put on him on the spot like this? No way he could up with a-With a-What… what the hell was making that godawful thumping?
He twisted behind him to see a thin tail smacking the side of the wall. His eyes followed the tail up to a spot just above his asscheeks. Simon stared blankly at it for a moment. Slowly, he realized that he had a tail.
He had a tail.
When the hell had he put on a tail? And how had he gotten it to move like that? He could feel muscles flexing in his rear. Had Simon been subconsciously wiggling his ass this whole time?
“Hellooo, earth to Cool Doooog!” Bradley snapped his fingers in front of Simon’s long snout. “Come on, rap!”
Simon felt an oddly realitic and dog-like whine escape from his mouth. “But… but I…”
He truly hated being put on the spot like this.
“Yeah, let’s hear it! Tiny grinned, his ears flicking in a very realistic manner.
Simon would have to ask how he’d rigged his mask to do that.
“Uh.. sure…”
“Here, I’ll lay out a beat.” Bradley grinned, bringing up his paws to his muzzle. “Pff-pff-pff-tch! Pff pff pff tch!”
Simon found his foot tapping and his head started to bob.
His mouth opened and suddenly, the lyrics were there, flowing out of his mouth:
"Listen up yo, I'm Cool Dog, here at the ball
Talkin’ 'bout the secret of lovin' in the backyard
No drugs, no sippin' on that lean, I’m keepin' it all
Clean, but when the night is done, oh I’m goin' hard
I’ll find myself a fine man and take him by surprise
Turn my tricks and spread him wide with my size
He'll be screamin' as I hit him with that flow
I’ll rock his world, turn him out like a… bro!"
The circle that had gathered around him laughed and cheered, but Cool Dog-Grrr, Simon!-was super frustrated.
He’d tried to say ‘ho’ there at the end but his body wouldn’t let him and replaced it with ‘bro’! Arguably, the implication was pretty good anyways, but why couldn’t he barking swear? Wait… barking? What the s-sss-Snarl?!
Cool Dog blinked as he realized he couldn’t even swear in his own mind.
“Hey man,” Bradley clapped Cool… *Simon* on the back. “Nice rhymes!… are you okay?”
“No, I’m not barking okay! I can’t say bark, arf, or snarl!” Cool… barking Simon, his name was barking Simon, yo!
“Uh. Right. Okay, work on that in your spare time.” Bradley paused. “You know, cartoon dogs can’t swear, right?”
“Cartoon dogs?” Cool Dog-Grrrr! Bark! Simon!-said. “What the bark does that have to do with anything?”
“Censorship? You’re pretending to be a cartoon dog, so, like, you know, you can’t swear anymore.” Bradley shrugged. ‘Really not my thing. I love getting high and drinking. You probably can’t do that anymore either.”
Cool Dog stared at the stoner bear. He knew he’d referred to himself as the wrong name again, he was Simon, but it was getting tiring correcting himself. What the aroo was the bear talking about?
“Okay. Sure. I’m gonna check out the bar, yo.” Cool Dog said, walking away from Bradley quickly.
His paws clicked as he walked over to the bar and tried to grab a glass of champagne. His hands were clumsy, but he managed to lift it up to his face. When he tried to drink it, though, he ended up spilling it all over his vividly colored shirt.
“Bark!” Cool Dog growled, wiping at the mess.
“Straw, sir?” A wait asked, handing him a straw.
Cool Dog took it and paused.
Hadn’t he decided just to use face paint because he hated having to use straws? Why the aroo had he decided to wear a prosthetic then? Man, that gap in his memory was sure annoying.
Taking the straw, he sipped at a glass of champagne, then sputtered.
It was so sweet! And citrusy. It kinda tasted like… Surge? He could barely recall the flavor, but it had been distinct. Surge had been big in the ‘90’s. What the aroo?
He checked the glass and sure enough, saw the electric green beverage in the champagne glass instead of, you know, champagne.
Setting the drink down, he looked around and saw Bradley sitting back where he had been earlier, smoking a cigarette. A shiver ran through Cool Dog’s body and he felt an intense urge to give the bear a stern warning.
Cool Dog shook off the urge and hurried over to Bradley.
“Wassup?” Bradley grinned, smoke curling out of his rather moist and bearish nostrils. Cool Dog thought he saw the nose wriggle and flare way, way too realistically.
“Uh, yeah, can I…Ngah! Have a.. Gah! A cigarette?” Cool Dog struggled to even ask the question.
Bradley shrugged and shook out a cig and handed it to Cool Dog.
“Light it for me.” Cool Dog whined. “I don’t know if I can.”
Bradley stood up and pressed the lit end of his cigarette to the tip of Cool Dog’s cigarette. It flared and lit.
Cool Dog puffed and almost hacked out a lung. The next puffs got easier and easier. Cool Dog sucked on the filter. Soon, the smoke stopped tasting so foul and actually kinda tasted sweet.
He found himself sucking on the filter, then running his tongue over it. The smoke clouds started to dissipate. Cool dog reached up and found the cigarette felt thinner than normal. Almost like a stick.
His tongue was sucking on something round and sugary now.
Simon, confused, pulled out… a lollipop. Blue Raspberry, of course. He stared at the former cigarette.
“Whoa, looks like your costume really alters reality hard, man!” Bradley said, standing up and edging away from Simon.
He glanced down at his hand. Cool Dog’s eyes followed the bears, and he saw the fur on Bradley’s hand had flattened and his whole hand was one brown color. The sharp nails had become little tear-drop shaped blunt qeues.
“Uh, I gotta go before I get sucked into your lame cartoon world.” Bradley said, scrambling away.
Cool Dog stared after him, trying to process what he saw.
It was… real?
He began to pant hard, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Holy shit! Holy shit!
Cool Dog touched his face, feeling the rubbery snout and slobbery, jowly mouth he now had. His ears were long, folded over themselves. He caught his reflection in the mirror and let out a realistic yelp of surprise.
He was a hound dog! A *cartoon* hound dog!
Cool Dog wanted to scream or shout, but then… he recalled Chesh laughing about this. He was freaking out. What had he said back then? That it was only temporary. The transformation would only last until after the masquerade was over.
Calming his rapidly beating heart, he felt his tail wagging again. He had a real, live tail. It was all so unbelievable.
Before he had much of chance to process things, the loud speakers buzzed to life.
“Attention! Gather in the ballroom! We’re about to announce this Quarter’s winner for best character!”
The voice was that of Mister E.
Cool Dog watched all the party goers swiftly end their conversations and slowly meander their way back inside. With some trepidation, he followed them in.
Mister E was at a podium that had been setup at some point. Nearby were a few other people, wearing their own porcelain masks. They weren’t featureless, like his was, but it was clear that they were the judges.
Mister E was handed a card. “*Ahem* The winner of this quarter’s Best Costume is…”