Chapter Text
Gordie had known for a while that things would likely end up this way. Perched on Benrey’s lap, their tongues sliding against each other’s, and teeth— sharp and dull alike— scratching and biting at lips. She’s not stupid, okay, she was self aware enough to acknowledge that she had a thing for Benrey, and his own attraction was plainly obvious to literally anyone. Gordie knew that, at any point, she could’ve opened up an opportunity for Benrey to ravage her and he would pounce on it without a second thought. So, when Benrey suggested some kind of bet to rile Gordie up even beyond her baseline level of rage when they played Tekken together, she gave it some thought. Asked Benrey what the bet would entail. And, well, if Benrey really wanted a kiss if he won, then so be it. It wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, Gordie reasoned, to give a quick smooch to the guy she’d been having wet dreams about for months. Maybe getting a treat that nice would get him to shut up and behave for a while. Besides, she could be normal about it, she reassured herself.
Except she couldn’t be normal about it. Obviously. The moment Benrey got his final hit in and turned to Gordie with that smug, shit-eating grin, her anger and indignation pulled her out of her seat and threw her onto his lap where she straddled him and wasted no time gripping the soft sides of his face in her hands and biting her way into his mouth. She didn’t want to give him any room to say stupid shit, not when she was so frustrated on so many different levels.
Benrey’s quivering hands would eventually find their way to Gordie’s hips, to the beautiful, pliant fat that draped over them. Gordie felt how taken aback he was by the hesitancy of his movements, and it filled her with a rush of selfish pride. He could call her a virgin nerd all he wanted, and, y’know, she admittedly doesn’t have that much experience, but if anyone was acting like some innocent teenager at prom right then, it was him. She bit at his lip, which seemed to flip a switch in Benrey’s head for reasons completely unknown to Gordie. (Perhaps that was just the moment his brain caught up to what was happening around him. Gordie always thought that was cute— the way Benrey seemed to process things slowly and understand things said to him hours, if not days, later).
Benrey’s grip on Gordie’s sides suddenly tightened, he began to nip and lick back at her, and if Gordie focused hard enough, she could feel the faint pinprick of claws threatening to pierce through her shirt. She broke away to catch her breath, and caught the look in Benrey’s eyes, pupils wide as the moon, a dark haze framing his animalistic yellow scleras. It sent a wave of heat crashing through her. Benrey didn’t waste another second, leaning back into Gordie’s kiss. She felt so drunk on it all that she hadn’t even noticed she started grinding on him until it was far too late. Her brakes were busted. Benrey huffed out a noise into her mouth that she couldn’t quite place, somewhere between a moan and the chuff of a tiger. It made her reflexively shiver. Benrey brought her down harder against the tent in his sweatpants with one hand. It was Gordie’s turn to make an embarrassing noise then. His other hand reached snaked up her side, resting just along the valley between her boob and her ribcage for a moment. Then he bit Gordie’s lip, hard, and slid his palm over her tit, lightly squeezing it. He was showing incredible restraint for how far gone he was. Gordie, completely unable to control herself, broke the kiss and threw her head back, moaning.
Opening her eyes and being met with a view of her ceiling gave Gordie pause. It grounded her, reminded her where she was. Who she was with. What they were doing.
At once, fear and shame wormed their way into her chest. She stopped, shoving Benrey back into the couch. He sunk into the cushions and looked up at her, eyes still stuck in their sickly sweet, rounded expression. Gordie frowned, immediately regretting what she just did, but regretting her brashness even more. Her throat tightened, voice raspy from the borderline tonguefucking she just received when she said:
“Sorry, man. I— I can’t— I’m not ready for this. It’s not— I liked it, I think you’re, um— you’re really great, I think, but I don’t know if— how I feel— I just… I can’t. Right now. Sorry.”
Looking in Benrey’s eyes as he processed that absolute jumbled nonsense was heartbreaking, but Gordie couldn’t look away. Benrey could, though, eventually fixing his gaze somewhere on the wall behind her once everything seemed to click in his head. His pupils reached a size something more humanlike, and his expression remained as impassive as ever. He swallowed.
“... yeah. i get it. it’s chill,” Benrey mumbled, uncharacteristically quiet. Gordie uncomfortably shifted, guilt bubbling up in her core and threatening to burst. Before she could think of anything to say, anything that could comfort him, he continued. “still sitting on me. let my legs breathe maybe? thank you.”
“Y-yeah. Sorry,” Gordie said, shuffling off of Benrey and standing awkwardly in front of the couch. Should she sit back down? It felt weird to just try to pretend that all didn’t just happen. She couldn’t keep fucking around with him tonight, she felt tears threatening to form, so many messy and painfully confusing emotions welling up inside her. Should she kick him out? She would’ve felt like such an asshole, but…
“i’ll, uh, get outta your hair. seeya,” Benrey said, beating Gordie to it. Still, she didn’t want him to feel like he had to leave, not over her being a baby about something she fully consented to, but Benrey was gone in an instant. Gordie stood still, then ran her fingers through her hair.
God fucking damn it.
Gordie invites Benrey back a mere eight days after that. She really can’t help herself, and, look, Benrey’s kind of her best friend right now. She doesn’t know exactly what that says about her, but it’s probably nothing good. In any case, the whole making-out-on-the-couch fiasco was her own fault. Benrey never asked for anything more than a kiss (barring the many, many times he had prior to that). At some point, Gordie had to suck it up and mend the friendship she deeply fucked up a week ago.
So, that’s what she’s doing right now.
It’s nice, actually. Gordie had worried it would be far more awkward, and it was for a good half hour there, but after that it was like nothing ever even happened. That should probably be a little off-putting, she thinks, but it’s hard to hold onto that thought when Benrey keeps making her laugh like that. Full-bellied laughter that she had been desperately missing, even if it’d only been a week. When he smiles back at her, or better, when she can get him to laugh— that’s like crack, to her.
Gordie… she knows she’s kind of in deep, at this point. She just chooses not to think about it. It’s just friend stuff. They’re just bros, and having a bro who will roll a joint for you and hold it up to your mouth is normal. It’s normal and it’s fine.
They end up just doing this for a while, their standard routine: gaming, eating junk food, watching shitty 100-views YouTube videos Benrey seems to pull from the ether, smoking weed, laughing and yelling… It feels different this time, though. Lighter, flowier, kind of dreamlike. Gordie doesn’t know if it’s just the weed or what, but she feels like she’s on cloud nine. She was initially careful not to get too physical with Benrey as a precaution, but she’s a naturally handsy person. She can’t help it. When she laughs too hard, when Benrey says some particularly dumb shit, when she wants to get his attention, it’s with a hand on his shoulder, a light punch in the bicep, or a kick to his legs if she’s got the angle for it. Gordie’s a little too stoned to analyze his reaction to the kicks, but she thinks she gets the gist— those round eyes are all too familiar. She can’t help it though, especially not when she’s two joints deep, high on endorphins and sleepiness.
That reminds her— she tears her gaze away from Benrey’s face (How long had she been staring at him? Jeez.) and looks up at her clock. It takes her a second to actually read it. She knows how to read an analog clock, okay, but it’s a bit difficult right now in particular given all her status effects. After some unknown amount of time, she parses it out: 4:36 AM. Christ. She hears Benrey smack his lips, somehow so much louder to her than the parkour fail compilation blaring from her TV.
“you know what those hands mean?”
Gordie squints. “... What?”
“pointy lil… lil fuckers on the cock.”
“Clock.”
“that’s what i said, were you listening? you’re fuuucked,” Benrey sing-songs, then laughs in that vaguely menacing, mocking tone of his. Gordie hardly notices, finally feeling sleep creep up on her.
“It’s, like, 4:30 AM. I dunno how it got this late.” She yawns, sinking into her couch, nearly falling asleep before a particularly loud, garish sound effect from the TV’s speakers brings her back. She drags her gaze to Benrey, who seemingly never stopped looking at her.
She blinks. He blinks back.
“yeah?” Benrey prompts. Shit, was Gordie saying something?
“Wh- yeah,” she says. Not her best work, but she’s not firing on all cylinders right now.
“you are fucked, huh,” Benrey smiles. Maybe Gordie’s imagining things, but that one seems a lot more genuine than most she’s seen from him. That’s too enchanting to her for her to really bristle at. Thankfully, her brain finally catches up.
“Shut up. The— it’s so late, you can sleep here, if you want. Dark out. Plus, um, you… You can have the couch if you want, buddy,” Gordie smiles back at him. She sees his cheeks turn pink before he turns his head and coughs some Sweet Voice into his hand and not-so-subtly wipes it on his pants. A glowy, bright magenta pink.
“Pretty.” Gordie’s mouth moves faster than her brain, which is too tired and content to agonize over how she’s acting. In response, Benrey reflexively sings the pink proper. It must’ve come too fast for him to swallow or cover it.
Gordie marvels, mouth open, eyes wide with awe, at the wobbly glowing orbs of pure light and energy float through the air of her apartment. His singing voice itself is beautiful enough to her, but the way the both of them become cast in a warm pink glow just makes her keep running her mouth. “Wow,” she breathes. When Benrey finishes singing, his face is positively rose-red, which he uncharacteristically moves to hide behind his hands.
“god,” he mutters, muffled. “can’t say that shit to me. trying to kill me, asshole.”
“Sorry,” Gordie responds on impulse. She’s not even sure what she’s apologizing for.
Benrey clears his throat, sitting up and looking away from her. His face is slowly beginning to switch back to impassivity. “but, uh, yeah, please? it’s sooo late and scary, can’t walk home. the— uh,” he smacks his lips, “ghoul scientists’ll get me. inject we with, uh, electroplasm.”
“Ectoplasm.”
“huh?”
Gordie shakes her head slowly. “I don’t know why I’m engaging with this,” she says, but her smile is evident even in her voice. “Um, cool, yeah. I don’t want you to, uh, get arrested by the ghost police, or whatever you said.” She rises from her place on the couch slowly on unstable feet. Without thought, she gently tosses the blanket she once had wrapped around her to Benrey. His cheeks glow pink again. “G’night, bud.”
“uh. night night… buddy.”
Gordie stirs. Bleary and disoriented in her pitch dark room, she rolls over to get a look at her alarm clock, which tells her that only about two hours had passed; it’s nearly 7 o’clock. This strikes her as odd— she’s a notoriously heavy sleeper to a fault, but she figures maybe she’s just used to waking up early for work. At least she’s not high anymore, she thinks, before rolling over once more to get at least a few more hours of rest. Then comes the itch.
It’s negligible at first. Gordie barely even feels like allieviating it, too tired for it to seem at all worth it. But the feeling was persistent, growing in intensity, forcing her to scratch at herself— her arms, her legs, her chest, her tummy. She quickly finds herself huffing in frustration, tossing her comforter to the side and contorting to reach areas on her back, scrambling between different areas of her body. Anxiety washes over her. Why the fuck is this happening?! Did the weed not actually wear off and it’s doing weird shit to her? Is this a nightmare? Did she suddenly get bedbugs or something? It’s so persistent, and— when she turns her lamp on and throws her cover off to investigate, she freezes in fear. No, there are no bugs. But there’s hair, so much hair sprouting and coating her all over, coating her in places where she didn’t even know hair could grow. Rich golden-brown and white fur.
The realization all but splits Gordie’s skull in pain, a migraine unlike any she’s ever had. Except, Gordie realizes with a delay, her skull is actually changing shape— muscle and bone growing and stretching, skin being pulled taut to accommodate before expanding to fit her changing structure as well.
So, Gordie does the only thing she can think to do in this situation: she screams.
Within a fraction of a second, Benrey appears in her room. Gordie wouldn’t have even noticed him, pained and terrified as she is, if it weren’t for how the smell of the room changed so suddenly along with his arrival. Benrey, in all his wisdom, seeing Gordie’s face elongating, her skin growing fuzzy, tears streaking down her soft cheeks, her chest rising and falling with her hyperventilation, says: “what’s wrong?”
“I don’t know!” Gordie shouts, her teeth sharpening into points. Her canines extend into fierce fangs that glint with moisture. Her nose, now more of a muzzle than anything, is wrinkled in agony. “It fucking hurts! Help, please, Benrey! Help me!” Benrey swallows, nods, and rushes next to her on the bed, inhales deeply, then shoots a strong beam of calming blue Sweet Voice at the terrified woman beside him. Her sobs and snarls give way to deep breaths and sad little hiccups. Benrey awkwardly puts a hand on her back, which she relaxes into. It’s all she can do in this state.
Thoroughly sedated, Gordie watches her legs bend and change, what would’ve been unbearable pain now only a dull ache thanks to the Sweet Voice. Her thighs and calves shorten while her feet lengthen, the skin underneath hardening in places to form pads. Her toenails blacken and sharpen into claws, and she uses what little strength and control she has left to hold her hand up in front of her face, blearily seeing the same process reflected there. Defeated, she lets her arm fall to the bed and she sinks into Benrey, resting her now fluffy head atop his shoulder. She feels him rub at her back. Then there is a pressure at the base of her back, which she shifts a bit to accommodate, and a burst of pain cuts through the sedative as her tailbone rapidly expands into a full, furry tail. Gordie groans, feels the shape of her tummy change ever so slightly, and to cap it all off she feels cute little floppy dog ears sprout on the top of her head.
Feeling that everything has finally come to an end, Gordie brings a hand up to her face to inspect it. Soft white fur, plush pink pawpads, and menacing black nails stare back at her. Anxiety roils in her chest as she can feel the Sweet Voice wearing off. Then, right as she’s about to yell again, she feels a placating hand on her shoulder, and that point of contact makes her worries melt for a moment. Right, Benrey was here for her. How could she forget, with his scent eveloping her senses and his warm body cradling hers? Benrey, who has stuck with her through all this time, who’s kept her company in one of the scariest times of her life— what with the unemployment, gender dysphoria, and PTSD. Benrey, who takes care of her with his Sweet Voice when she has anxiety attacks. Benrey, with his obvious crush on Gordie, because of which he does everything in his power to rile her up constantly. Benrey, who, for all his good traits, has been a nuisance from the moment she met him. Benrey, who could probably do something fucked up like this with all his weird, unexplainable powers. Benrey. She whips her head towards him, baring her teeth.
“You,” she growls. “What. The fuck. Did you do to me?!”
“whuh?” Benrey, for his part, seems genuinely taken aback. He takes his hand off of Gordie’s shoulder.
“I know this is one of your stupid pranks.” Gordie snarls. “Change me back. Right now. Or I’m kicking you out for good.”
“but i— i didn’t, i dunno what’s goin’ on either,” Benrey stutters. “promise, i didn’t do nothin’.”
“I don’t believe you!” Gordie shouts, fully turning to pin Benrey to the bed, drool threatening to drip from her sharp teeth onto his wide-eyed face. She just growls at him for a few seconds while he gulps, obviously at a loss for words. Gordie doesn’t want to hear from him right now, anyways. She sits up. “Out. Get out of my apartment.”
“but—”
“Now.”
Benrey opens his mouth for a moment before clearing his throat and nodding. In an instant, he’s gone, and Gordie practically feels a part of herself leave with him. His scent still lingers in the air, but not nearly as strong, and she feels a pang of regret in her gut. How is she even going to fix this without him, if it is indeed his fault? She shook her head, tears gathering in her eyes once more. She could worry about that later. For right now, as she feels the soreness creeping back in, she needs to assess the damage. Blearily, she reaches for her glasses on her bedside table and affixes them onto her face. Somehow, even without ears on the side of her head to catch them, they seemed to stay on just fine. She decides to count her blessings and move on from that. She also grabs her phone and puts it in her pocket out of habit. As she moves to hop off her bed, though, she runs into a new problem: her legs. They’re shaped all wrong now, throwing off her balance. At first, she tries to stand on her whole foot, but that feels wrong being so low to the ground and it’s putting pressure in bad spots, so she shifts to her toes, which feels more natural and more alien all at once. She tries her best to balance, a difficult task even with a hand still braced on the bed. Once she finally centers herself, she attempts a wobbly step forward and promptly falls onto her knees. The dam breaks. Gordie begins sobbing into the carpet, tail tucked between her legs. This was going to take a while.
After many more tears and stumbles, Gordie successfully makes it to the bathroom. Taking a breath and wiping her tears on her furry arm, she flicks the lightswitch.
Immediately, Gordie’s stomach churns. Staring back at her is a six-foot-tall dog of a woman. She has a boxy brown head with fluffy cheeks, floppy ears, a long and broad white muzzle, and her familiar head of auburn hair, leading down to her fuzzy chest and her tummy where her shirt hides four small bumps. Her arms are covered in the same brown as her face that transitions to white at the elbows. She scans over her new body, overcome with confusion and grief. Her head starts to hurt, and she realized belatedly how strong this room smells of chemicals. She needs to get out of here, to stop staring at herself. A sharp pain in her leg reminds her that she doesn’t have Sweet Voice to soothe the aches and anxieties anymore. So, she stumbles towards her kitchen for some Ibuprofen and Xanax.
Luckily, Gordie’s gotten a bit better at walking at this point. She’s still wobbly and uncertain, but by using the walls for balance she doesn’t fall once. She opens her cupboard and she picks up a cup, nails clacking against the glass. She runs the tap, rubbing her forehead with her other hand. Once the glass is full, she searches around her medicine stash for the right ones. Once she finds them, she pauses. How exactly is she supposed to take these? Dogs don’t drink the same way humans do. Maybe she could just… try it the normal way and see? So she places the pills onto her long tongue and brings the cup to her blackened lips. Hands shaking, she tips her head back and attempts to drink. It’s a mess. She gets water all over her shirt and she barely manages to take the pills without gagging. She’d cry out of embarrassment, but she’s not sure she has any tears left.
Exhausted, Gordie hobbles over to her couch and promptly flops down onto it, muzzle-first. Immediately she’s hit with the most comforting, homey smell she’s ever experienced in her life. For a moment she can’t quite place it, until she opens her eyes and realizes she’s got her wet nose stuffed in Benrey’s hoodie. Right, Benrey was just in his t-shirt when he came in her room, wasn’t he? He must’ve forgotten it, she thinks, sitting up and holding it to her face, sniffing it like roses. Her fears begin to fade as the scent washes over her. Gordie lays back down, getting comfortable, keeping the hoodie close to her face. For the first time in hours, she feels calm, and she lets the smell of her best friend and worst enemy carry her into her dreams.
Gordie sits back on her knees on her carpet, kneeling in front of the couch, where Benrey grins down at her. He has that sharp-toothed, smug look on his face that he only gets when he knows he’s gotten Gordie good. In one raised hand he holds the end of a leash, and he tugs. Gordie only realizes she’s on the other end when she feels the pressure on her neck, and she lurches forward a bit. Benrey laughs, loud and mocking. Gordie’s gaze rakes down Benrey’s body. He’s only wearing a ratty old white tank top with stains from god-knows-what. Just the tank top. His cock is just out, right before Gordie’s muzzle, and she feels drool accumulate in her mouth. The smell was strong. It was like any other guy’s musk she’s smelled before, but way stronger, and that should’ve grossed her out, but it just made her whine with want. Benrey isn’t even hard yet, seemingly just doing all this to rile Gordie up, but that isn’t exactly new. Benrey laughs again, lower this time.
“c’mon, puppy, use your words. whadda’ya want?”
Gordie just whines again, leaning in to get a taste, before Benrey lightly kicks her in the chest. She growls in response.
“ah ah ah,” Benrey scolds, “you’re not listening to me, puppydog. tell me what you want and maybe i’ll give it to ya if i’m feeling generous.”
“You,” Gordie snarls. “I want you. Please.”
Benrey wasn’t satisfied, though Gordie did notice his dick twitch.
“gotta be more, uh, specific, pal.”
“God damn it,” Gordie mutters. “I— I want to taste you. Want your cock in my mouth. Please.”
“good girl,” Benrey purrs, tugging on the leash, forcing Gordie’s nose onto his balls. The smell is so overpowering it’s making Gordie lightheaded and dizzy. Pliant. “get to suckin’.”
Gordie’s dream is interrupted by a crack of thunder. She blinks awake, and belatedly realizes what just happened. She’s awash with shame. It’s not like that’s the first wet dream she’s ever had about Benrey, but this one felt particularly bad after she kicked him out of her apartment earlier. Right, she did do that, didn’t she? Everything starts coming back to her. The transformation, Benrey trying to help, kicking him out, seeing herself in the mirror. And, of course, her dream, which has left her hard as a rock, she notices with a twinge of fear. If her whole body has changed, did that mean…? It’s not like she could feel a difference at the moment. It didn’t feel any longer or shorter, any thicker or thinner. Once she shifts her hips experimentally though, she realizes it’s a lot more sensitive. She whines. Great.
Burying her face in the couch, and consequently in Benrey’s shirt as well, an inhale makes her all but moan and instinctively grind into the couch cushions. It’s so much stimulation at once that it quickly leaves her panting and whining, but after groaning Benrey’s name under her breath she quickly comes to her senses. She bolts upright into a sitting position and tosses Benrey’s hoodie across the room for good measure. She runs her hands through her hair, choosing to ignore how good it feels to be touched there. Focusing down at her crotch, she glares at the obvious tent in her shorts. “What the fuck is wrong with you,” she whisper-yells, feeling her dick throb and twitch. Anxiety mounts in her chest as she realizes she’s probably going to have to see it at some point— if not now then when she has to piss. Which, she registers with alarm, is going to be soon. Okay, Gordie thinks to herself, it’s really not that different from the rest of my body, right? It’ll be fine. I can do this. So, peeking with just one eye, she lifts up the hem of her shorts and her panties. She can’t see it super well in this light, but what she does see is undeniable. Nestled within her fluffy white belly fur lies a bright red shaft with a soft sheath holding the base, and Gordie nearly screams as she jumps.
She grabs her hair in her hands with frustration, curling in on herself, attempting some breathing exercises to calm herself down. She can’t stop spiraling about it— about her body, how it’s changed so severely, about how she’s never going to be able to go back to work again. She asks herself why Benrey did this to her, especially when he looked so shocked when he saw her and how he petted her shoulder so sweetly and sung for her, and she wishes more than anything that he was here right now to run his broad hands over her back and— god, what the fuck was wrong with her?!
The breathing isn’t good enough, Gordie decides, so she hops back on her feet, nearly falling over in the process. She’s still not used to walking on her toes. Her weird, little furry toes. Still, she stumbles into the kitchen like she’s struggling on stilts and she fills up another glass of water. She doesn’t wanna take another Xanax, not so soon, especially because she doesn’t trust her brain not to present Benrey’s dick to her again if she falls asleep once more. It’s rough going with her long muzzle, and she gets it all over her shirt again, but most of the water gets in her mouth this time. She stands with her hands braced on the counter, thinking for a moment. Try to problem solve. But her mind just keeps coming up empty and all she can think now is that she really, really has to pee. Without a second thought, she pulls down her shorts and panties right there, before quickly realizing what she’s doing and absolutely burning with embarrassment. What the fuck, why here?! Maybe she’s just too stressed to think clearly right now. She tries to brush it off and pads over to the restroom, getting a bit more used to her legs. She braces herself.
Positioned in front of the toilet, Gordie closes her eyes and breathes carefully. She’s seen it before, so it won’t be a surprise, but she still really doesn’t want to look at it. She pulls down her shorts and panties once more. She’s not hard anymore, which is good, but her eyes fly open in surprise when she doesn’t feel her clothes graze her dick at all. She looks down past her belly, sees her sheath with the red tip of her cock just barely peeking out from it, and her stomach lurches. Panicked, she swallows, willing her stomach to calm down long enough for her to handle this situation. She reasons that she’ll probably have to aim with her paw— hand. Her hand. The more she looks at the little red head of her penis, the more she freaks out, and before she knows it she’s on her knees, retching into the toilet. Gordie heaves out waves of vomit, each one tearing through her and making her shake violently with it. The fetid puke drips from her maw, from her formidable teeth, into the water below as her stomach is emptied. The force of her heaving combined with the sedative sweet voice was proving to be too much for her bladder to handle. She’s almost too distracted to notice as she begins wetting herself, soiling her panties and shorts, getting the tile floor all wet. Shame rushes through her, and all she can do is rest her head on the toilet seat as she pants, eyes drooping closed. She can’t stop herself, not when she’s feeling so awful, not when she’s so tired, not when she has no clue how she could’ve done this any better. She sobs, wetting her fur with tears and hot urine that flows out of her so strongly and consistently it feels like it’ll never end.
It ends, eventually, and Gordie decides she definitely needs help. But, who could she call, y’know? Nobody knows what happened to her except Benrey, and she suspects it was his fault in the first place anyway. It’s not like she could go to the doctor. She thinks about calling Darnold and asking if he knew how to make an antidote, but she also thinks about what kind of monkey’s paw bullshit one of those potions could do to her, so she abandons that line of questioning. She’s not gonna bother Tommy with this. She’s certainly not gonna bother Joshua’s other mother about this. Gordie realizes with dismay that Benrey really is all she has. She needs to call Benrey and ask him to help her. With everything. Eating, drinking, even fucking pissing in the toilet bowl apparently. She’s so humiliated, but she has no other option.
Gordie fishes for her phone in her pocket and fumbles with typing her passcode in because of her claws. No new texts from Benrey. That’s not too odd, but it still gives her a distinct feeling of dread. She flips the lid back on the toilet bowl and flushes it, resting her head on it as she contemplates what she’s even going to say. It hits her that Benrey’s gonna see her exactly as she is right now, covered in piss and slumped over the toilet, but she can’t find it in herself to care right now. He’s seen her in worse conditions, after all. She’ll take the embarrassment if it means she can get cleaned up and hydrated, fed and taken care of. She thinks about texting him, but knows he likely wouldn’t see that for a while, and she needs help soon before her fur starts to get crusty, she thinks in mild horror. So she sighs and calls Benrey, setting her phone down on the toilet lid on speaker, waiting for him to pick up.
The phone rings once. Twice. Three times. Just when Gordie was about to resign herself to her fate of dying on the bathroom floor of dog disease, Benrey finally picks up. She hears rustling on the other line, and she can’t find a good greeting in her, so she just stays silent. Then Benrey’s voice comes in, far too close to his phone.
“what’s up,” Benrey says. Gordie could strangle him.
“Hey Benrey,” Gordie starts, her throat shot from all her yelling, crying, and vomiting. “I— I need you to come over.” Benrey is silent on the other line, which isn’t too unusual for him, so she keeps going. “I’ll be honest man, I still don’t fully believe this isn’t your fault somehow, but… you’re the only person I have, right now. You’re the only one who knows, and I’m just having a really hard time adjusting, and I got sick, and… I just need someone to— to help me, for a little bit.” She sighs, waiting for Benrey to respond. After a bit more rustling, he does.
“uh, yeah, ok. do i just, come over now, or,” Benrey trails off.
“Yes,” Gordie replies. “BUT,” she starts, “you can’t make fun of me or I’ll kick you out again. I’m serious. Not a fucking word, got it?”
“uh, sure. be there— be there in a jiffy, friend.”
So Gordie hangs up and she waits.