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Somehow, during the night, Chris had turned into a puppet. A puppet made of felt with dark wool instead of hair and, Chris thought, beardhorns really looked kind of weird when they were made out of wool.
He studied himself in the mirror, trying to ignore the muffled laughter coming from the bed behind him. His eyes suspiciously looked like buttons and his eyebrows were kinda scary.
Finally he turned around and stomped back, glaring at the Joey. Not that Joey could see Chris' death glare with his head buried in the pillows, but it made Chris feel so much better. Joey's shoulders were shaking from laughing so hard and Chris really wished he had called Lance instead of Joey.
Lance wouldn't have started laughing like Joey had, Lance would have looked at Chris with a thoughtful look on his face. He would have called some people who knew other people and everything would have been okay, because nothing fazed Lance and he always knew what to do.
Unfortunately, he hadn't called Lance, because who would have thought that dialing with felt fingers was so much harder than it looked.
"You're not helping," he said, still glaring at Joey. At least his voice was still the same. It was only a small comfort, though.
Joey's body shook even harder. "'m sorry," he gasped.
***
It took Chris 37 tries, but he finally managed to get Lance on the phone and when Lance arrived, looking calm and collected, Chris felt so relieved that he ran up to Lance, hugging Lance's legs.
"I'm so glad you're here," he mumbled, pressing his face into Lance's thigh.
"Chris?"
Chris couldn't see, but he knew Lance long enough to know how Lance looked when he used that tone, big eyes and eyebrow raised. Good old, predictable Lance, it was so good to see... his legs.
Somewhere in the background, Joey fell off the bed.
***
After JC's tenth or eleventh "Dude, you're a puppet!" Chris was ready to hit him with a club, drag his body down the stairs into the basement to put him into one of those big industrial freezers. But then JC touched his face and said, "You're so soft! Nice!"
He was smiling his wide, happy smile and this made it impossible for Chris to keep thinking about murdering one of his best friends. After all, he was a big soft softy and he liked JC petting him.
Snuggling back into JC's arms, he started thinking about murdering one of his other best friends -- the one who had rolled under the bed still giggling and laughing -- while he watched Lance doing his thing on the phone.
***
"This sucks, huh?" Chris said, sitting down next to Justin. He put his four-fingered hand on Justin's thigh and squeezed.
Justin hadn't said much since he first saw Chris in his new and improved state of "living." He just sat on the floor, his back to the room, and stared out of the window. JC and Lance had tried to talk to him, but he had just shrugged and Joey's attempts to make Justin see how funny this whole thing was, didn't help either.
"Did you know my nose comes off?"
Justin shot him a dumbfounded look as Chris demonstrated that, yes, he had a detachable nose. Chris shrugged and put his nose back on his face. "Detachable noses are totally overrated."
Justin snorted, but Chris saw that Justin had a hard time not to giggle. He elbowed Justin and grinned at him.
"Dude, you're a puppet," Justin finally said, grinning back.
"And I'm really soft, too," Chris replied, waggling his freaky eyebrows. "You wanna touch me?"
***
The really great thing about being a puppet, Chris thought, was being cuddled by JC. JC would cradle Chris in his arms, Chris' back to JC's chest so Chris was able to see everything around him, and JC would constantly run his hands over Chris' arms and hair. Sometimes he would tug at Chris' woolen beardhorns and grin like a maniac.
Before, Chris had never liked anyone pulling on his beardhorns, but now it seemed oddly comforting. Especially coming from JC.
The best thing, though, were the sounds JC made when he touched Chris' soft felt. He would coo and hum, happiness and pleasure evident in his voice. Chris liked that more than he probably should, but he refused to feel guilty. There was more than enough time for that when he became a real boy again.
If he ever became a real boy again.
Chris didn't try to think about that too much either. He had faith in Lance's ability to find someone who knew someone who knew what had happened to him. Once in a while Lance popped up, cell phone pressed to his ear, asking him inane questions like "What did you eat the night before?" or "Anyone cursed you?" before he left again to do his thing. Chris only hoped that whatever Lance was doing involved turning him back.
Chris wiggled in JC's arms, making himself more comfortable. JC had fallen asleep a little while ago, sitting in the big comfy leather chair, his arm around Chris. That had happened a lot too in the past couple days. Chris didn't mind, there were worse fates than being held by a sleeping JC.
Being in the company of Joey for instance. Joey still hadn't fully calmed down and when he didn't laugh uncontrollably, he wondered aloud what body parts other than his nose Chris was able to take off. His nose was one thing, but Chris definitely drew the line when it came to removing his dick. It may have been made of felt, but it was still his dick.
So, sleeping with JC was nice, but Chris wondered what it meant that he apparently had turned into JC's favorite stuffed animal. Literally.
JC's arm tightened around Chris in his sleep and Chris stilled his movements, relaxing back into JC's body.
"Hey," Justin said as he entered the room, smiling slightly.
"Hey," he replied, waving. "How you doing?"
"Still freaked. You?"
"Still made of felt."
Justin grinned at that. He still kept his distance, not talking much to Chris or anyone else, but he had visibly relaxed somewhat.
Justin titled his head, the glimmer in Justin's eyes changing, becoming darker, more vulnerable. "You're still Chris," he said in a tone that freaked Chris out. Just as if he thought Chris wasn't Chris anymore.
Not that he could blame Justin. It didn't happen often that your best friend turns into a puppet over night. A cute and soft puppet, but still a puppet.
"Yeah," Chris finally said, "I'm still me."
Justin smiled. "Good."