When I woke up, the world had somehow turned upside down.
On impulse I released my grip on what turned out to be the ceiling, and immediately fell ten feet to the metal floor, covered in pillows and dog beds, somehow twisting instinctively to land on my feet… all six of them. I looked down at myself in confusion, pausing just long enough to confirm that yes, that sinuous, muscular tail was mine... and then I started screaming. Even that sound shocked me—it was a diesel engine growl, more animal than human, and trying to squash the bellowing only resulted in guttural, bestial grunts and deep rumbles I could feel in my—
Jesus christ, my fur was prehensile.
Jesus christ, I had fur.
I could feel the vibrations through it, minute twitches of the air, which tasted—
...Wow, they kept going, huh. Two tongues. Five feet long. Ten. Fifteen?
There was a tension in them, and I let it loose for a moment, only to startle at the sudden snap, crackle, pop of electricity arcing between the barbed tips of my tongues. And down them. And along my whole body, which was—
I stumbled awkwardly over clawed feet and what might have been hands to the back of the… it had to be an eighteen-wheeler trailer, but felt far too small for that. My back (spiked!) nearly scraped the ceiling, and I caught my head (horns!) on the edge of the doorway before looking out into a barren field. Dusty and dry, flat and orange in the morning sunlight, with distant mirages of lights that may have been a city near the horizon. Turned my head to the side—my neck was so long—and saw other trailers, campers, RVs, vans, a whole caravan of vehicles sprawled out in vaguely-ordered chaos. People were waking up, dozens of them, and some had started moving my way, maybe from the horrifying animal sounds I had made moments earlier.
Who the fuck were these people?
Where was I? What was I?
What the ever-loving FUCK was going on!?
It took me a second to realize one of the people was talking at me. I thought he was still far away, or maybe he was just tiny… he seemed to barely reach my hips in height.
"Apex," the blond man said, hands half-raised in a calming motion. It was his expression that did it more than his posture, though—utterly calm, completely unconcerned. Was he Apex? No, that didn't fit. Was he calling me Apex?
I leaned down—and down, and down—until my face was a foot from his. Instinctively I sniffed the air, and then shook my head at the sudden onslaught of scents invading my senses. Car exhaust, sweat, dust, animals, leather, metal, antiperspirants, plastic, gasoline, hair products, more subtle differences in exhalations and sweat that made me think he was a healthy enough man, although he hadn't gotten enough sleep lately, and the last time he had sex he—
I snorted out, sending his tie fluttering, but his gaze didn't waver. "Apex," he repeated, his voice still calm, still self-assured, still unshakably confident. "It is alright. You are safe here. Everything is fine."
"'Ere ah I?" I tried to form words, but things were… missing. And the animal rumbles that came out of my throat were deep, brutal growls. Monster sounds.
He seemed to understand me just fine, at least. "We are three hours outside of Phoenix, Arizona. The year is twenty-ten. You are among friends here. All of your—"
"No," I growled back, shaking my head, fur whipping around. "No, no, no," I insisted, grateful I could at least say that word without issue even as I recoiled from a year I knew was wrong. The year was wrong. Everything was…
"All of your questions will be answered. Just stay calm. Focus on your breathing and—"
He took a sudden step backwards, a crackle of electricity missing him by inches. It was coming off of me in waves, my fur rippling, changing colors, sickly greens, ugly bruised yellows and purples, deep fuschias. I was a rainbow lightning dinosaur muppet and absolutely nothing made any sense.
I smelled more people, saw them without turning my head their way somehow. A loose semicircle of them, twenty or so feet behind whoever the blond man was. Lots of blacks and denims, sturdy work clothes, caked with sweat and dust. Was it hot out? It looked hot. Didn't feel it, though. I smelled them, practically tasted them. One, covered in tattoos, smelled like ash and charcoal. Another, a smaller woman, smelled like nail polish remover and battery acid. Strange scents, but… almost… familiar?
Their expressions were mixed. Some were afraid, which made sense. Others, like the chemical woman, looked concerned, confused. Some, like the man of burning, looked… sad. Pitying.
More were crawling out of the woodwork, the circus camp behind them, which the trailer and I were at the edge of. Most seemed to be going about their business, although a handful at a time would stop and look our way, at the commotion I was causing. At the lightning storm raging around me, arcs hitting the cracked, dry ground, leaving little blackened craters in their wake.
One particularly enthusiastic bolt leapt out to a nearby truck, which bounced on its suspension, rocking from the impact, starting to smoke. And yet the blond man stood unwavering, unflinching. At most, he would shift his weight slightly, almost accidentally moving out of the way of the crackling energy bursting from my body. Even gravity seemed to react to my distress, my body fluctuating from feeling so heavy I risked sinking through the cracked ground to so light a breeze could have blown me away, all seemingly at random.
"You are okay, Apex. All of this is going according to plan. I promise."
His voice was raised to be heard over the lightning, but it was no more emotional or distressed than his expression. Placid, yet focused. He didn't… he didn't smell like he was concerned, either.
A tension inside me eased slightly, and the electricity faded, save for the occasional staticky pop. My weight settled, feet resting on shallow, blackened craters, but my fur still writhed, animating in vivid, technicolor patterns.
"Hlease," I rumbled at him, begging, pleading, front claws digging deep furrows into the dirt as I clenched my fists, leaning my weight heavily forward, closer to him. "Hlease talk to ee. Who are you? What's wrong with ee?"
"Shh," he said, like he was reassuring a frightened animal—a disturbingly apt comparison—the picture of calm reason. "Don't be afraid. It will all become clear shortly." One hand reached inside his jacket, immaculate, somehow largely free of dust. Only his hair was out of place, and he smoothed it with his other hand as the first pulled out a phone. A few taps with his thumb, and a voice, tinny and small but undeniably familiar, emerged from the device.
"Hey, brother. I'm sure you're confused right now, but I promise: you are okay."
I knew that voice. Slightly deeper, a little rougher, but almost painful in how normal it sounded. A beacon, a life preserver thrown to a drowning man, and I clung to it, leaning my enormous, horned head closer to hear.
"The first thing you should know is this: you are on Earth Bet."