In the bustling hallway of the hospital, a white-furred anthropomorphic cat sat idly on a plastic chair, swinging his feet up and down with the enthusiasm of a child on a sugar high. His fluffy tail flicked behind him like an excited little puppy, and his round blue eyes sparkled with mischief. Adorned in a bright rainbow-colored shirt that fit snugly over his furry torso, the cat looked like a walking celebration of fun—like a walking party hat that somehow also had a personality.
His name was Boykisser.
His face, framed by soft tufts of fur, sported a cheeky grin that hinted he could pull off a prank at any moment. His ears perked up, twitching at every sound, and he had a knack for making silly expressions—one moment he’d be wide-eyed and innocent, the next, he’d be pouting like a toddler denied dessert.
“Come on, what takes this so long…” Boykisser thought to himself, his feet still swinging energetically like a metronome set to chaos. He couldn’t wait to see the doctor! “Can’t wait to cuddle—I mean, see him—” he thought again, almost letting out a giggle at his own mix-up.
Meanwhile, the white hallways of the hospital surrounded him with an aura that could only be described as grim, like a sad movie playing in slow motion. The walls were painted a bright, clinical white, but even that seemed to add to the overall dreariness. Every inch of the hallway looked like it had been scrubbed clean by a team of robots in a hurry, leaving it feeling more like a space station than a place for healing.
Fluorescent lights flickered overhead, buzzing softly as if they were groaning at the monotony of hospital life. A distant beeping machine punctuated the silence, sounding more like a disgruntled cat than a medical device. Boykisser’s vibrant energy was like a shooting star in contrast to the dull beige floor tiles, which were as flat as a pancake—and just as exciting.
The occasional nurse passed by, heads down and focused, their expressions serious as if they were embarking on a top-secret mission. They moved with purpose, carrying clipboards like shields, ready to fend off any laughter that might unexpectedly invade the somber atmosphere.
Narrow windows let in a hint of natural light, but it was barely enough to chase away the shadows clinging to the corners. Potted plants tried their best to add a splash of color, but even they looked like they were holding their breath, as if they were afraid of breaking the solemn mood.
Boykisser, with his energy soaring, glanced at the opposite side of the waiting area where another family sat. They looked like a scene straight out of a how-not-to-be-happy documentary. The husband was glued to his phone, fingers scrolling as if he were searching for the next big thing in boredom. The wife, meanwhile, was brushing her daughter’s messy hair with a look that could only be described as both motherly and mildly exasperated, like she was trying to tame a wild animal.
But it was the daughter who caught Boykisser's attention. She stared at him with wide eyes, a mixture of curiosity and confusion. It was as if she had just spotted a unicorn sitting in a chair.
"Hiiiii!" Boykisser called out, waving his paw enthusiastically, his fur practically glowing with friendship.
The little girl continued to gaze, puzzled, as if she were trying to solve a complicated riddle. Slowly, she raised her tiny hand, wanting to wave back, but just as she was about to do it, her mom noticed.
"No! Put your hand down!" the mom hissed, almost like she was conducting a secret operation. Her voice was a mixture of annoyance and embarrassment, as if Boykisser had just offered to teach her kid how to juggle chainsaws.
The husband glanced over, his expression shifting to one of disgust, as if he had just found a piece of old broccoli in his lunch. He quickly returned to scrolling his phone, thoroughly unimpressed by the furry spectacle before him.
Boykisser’s sunny smile faltered, feeling like a balloon losing air. “Relax…” he thought to himself, trying to shake off the awkwardness. “Just another casual furry racism… It’s fine!”
He puffed his cheeks out in response, already plotting a grand comeback. Maybe he should tell a joke or do a silly dance! Or perhaps he could just sit there and channel his inner sad cat, reflecting on how some humans just weren’t ready for his fabulousness.
“Hey! What are you guys coming here for?” Boykisser shouted playfully, hoping to break through the awkward barrier. He added a big smile, shaking his fluffy tail for good measure, just in case there was a chance to win over the tiny kiddo after all.
The husband kept scrolling on his phone, pretending not to hear Boykisser’s enthusiastic greeting, while the wife began giving her daughter a serious lecture in hushed whispers. “We do not wave to strangers, especially that kind of stranger!” she hissed, her tone filled with urgency, as if she were warning against a tornado.
Boykisser couldn’t help but watch them, his head tilting slightly. “Damn, okay, this family’s not silly, I guess,” he thought, feeling like he had just stumbled upon a documentary titled The Serious Family: A Study in Grimness.
Just then, a nearby door creaked open, causing Boykisser to perk up. Out rolled an anthropomorphic fox in a wheelchair, looking about as happy as a cat that just stepped into a bathtub. His eyes were downcast, and Boykisser couldn’t help but wonder if the doctor’s appointment was supposed to be terrifying or if maybe this fox had just come from a bad experience.
Following the fox, a grey-bearded doctor wearing glasses appeared, looking as serious as a math test on a Monday morning. He scanned the waiting area and called out, “Mister Boykisser?” His eyes locked onto Boykisser, who was the last one smiling like a glimmering star in the twilight.
“That’s me!” Boykisser chirped, clearly thrilled to finally be noticed.
The doctor maintained his stoic expression, as if he had just received a very serious memo about the importance of never smiling at patients. “Please,” he said politely, gesturing for Boykisser to enter the room.
Boykisser jumped out of his seat, all too eager.
This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.
----------------------------------------
The doctor chuckled from his seat, adjusting his glasses as he said politely, “I’m sorry, Mister Boykisser, but the minimum requirement for someone to have an anthropomorphoplasty is that the person must have at least 1,500 XP.”
“WHAT??!” Boykisser gasped, his eyes wide with shock as he sat in front of the doctor like a cat that just saw a cucumber.
The doctor continued, “I understand it isn’t easy considering you have only gained… how much again?”
With a huff of annoyance, Boykisser waved his paw, and a holographic display popped up beside him, detailing his health and power stats. The glowing screen revealed “XP: 27” in big, bold letters.
“Right, I’m sorry, Mister Boykisser, but we have given full disclosure on our website and—”
“1500???!!” Boykisser exclaimed, his fur fluffed up in disbelief. “I know surgery for changing a furry's whole body to human is expensive, but—THAT EXPENSIVE?!”
“…Yes,” the doctor replied flatly, looking like he was mentally mapping out his lunch plans.
“But I could buy a spaceship for that price! Or a lifetime supply of catnip! I mean, what’s a little body surgery compared to becoming a fabulous furry star?”
“Trust me, the spaceship will be more useful in the long run.”
“B-but—this is unfair!! There’s no furry who’s that OP to have that much XP!!” Boykisser complained, flailing his arms dramatically like a cartoon character.
The doctor glanced at his watch, looking more bored than anything else. “Mister Boykisser, if there’s nothing more you’d like to ask about the procedure, we may end the appointment.” He stood up, walking toward the door.
“W-wait—what? I’m not done asking! I’m still so confused—” Boykisser protested, scrambling to his feet.
The doctor paused, chuckling softly as he opened the door. “Let me guess, Mister Boykisser. Your next question would be, ‘Is there any promotion for the surgery?’”
“Uhhh… how do you know?” Boykisser blinked, caught off guard.
“This is the 9th time I’ve had the same conversation in the past two weeks,” the doctor replied nonchalantly. “Please, take your time to understand the price, Mister Boykisser. There’s no promotion. I can’t lower the price down. It’s 337,500 Beasties.”
Boykisser’s ears drooped, looking like a sad, deflated balloon. “P-please—is there really no other way?” he asked, his voice softening.
The doctor lifted his hand, signaling that it was time for them to part ways. “Time to go, Mister Boykisser.”
Feeling defeated, Boykisser glanced down at the floor, his heart heavy. “I can’t believe this. My chance of not getting tormented by my furry looks is gone—forever! It’s gonna take forever for me to get that much XP and that many Beasties!”
He slowly walked out of the office, his steps dragging like he was wading through molasses.
The doctor glanced over at the sitting queue and spotted an anthropomorphic capybara with a laid-back grin, lounging in his chair like he was soaking up the sun on a beach rather than waiting for a doctor's appointment.
“Mister Chill Guy?” the doctor called out, trying to get his attention.
Chill Guy didn’t budge. He just kept sitting there, staring suspiciously at Boykisser as he walked away, a relaxed smile still plastered on his face.
“Mister Chill Guy!” the doctor repeated politely, his patience starting to wear thin.
“...I’ll be right back, Doc,” Chill Guy finally replied, hopping off his seat with all the urgency of a sloth on vacation. He started to follow after Boykisser, his chubby legs moving slowly but steadily.
“W-what do you mean—sir—”
Chill Guy waved dismissively over his shoulder, still focused on Boykisser.
“Wait, you can’t just follow him without—” The doctor sighed, was left speechless as Chill Guy strolled casually.
----------------------------------------
As Boykisser trudged out of the hospital and into the parking lot, the weight of disappointment hung over him like a soggy blanket. He stopped for a moment, staring at the sky-high wonder of Tzorrak Skies, trying to cheer himself up.
From the parking lot, the city looked like a whimsical playground for the fantastically creative. Buildings twisted and turned in bizarre shapes, looking as if they had been designed by a group of giggling kids armed with colorful crayons. Some structures spiraled into the clouds like giant ice cream cones, while others resembled gigantic teapots that had just finished pouring. “I’d love a ride in that one!” Boykisser thought, his spirits lifting slightly at the absurdity.
The sun was shining bright, casting a golden glow on the floating architecture, making it sparkle like a freshly polished trophy. A massive billboard flapped cheerily in the breeze, advertising a new “Furry Fun Festival,” which was basically a great excuse for everyone to dress up like animals and munch on popcorn. “Why didn’t they mention that at the hospital?” Boykisser muttered, imagining himself dancing among the crowds, tail swishing with delight.
As Boykisser stepped out into the parking lot, his phone suddenly rang like a fire alarm, pulling him from his daydream about colorful burritos and silly adventures. He pulled it out and saw a message notification from his landlord flashing on the screen. “Rent due again??” he groaned, remembering he was two months late.
Sighing dramatically, he muttered, “I’ll pay you when I have enough Beasties, Mr. Landlord.”
Just then, a chill voice came from behind him. “I know how to get us 1500 XP.”
Boykisser, startled, screamed and jumped in the air like he’d been zapped by a bolt of lightning. “WHA—”
“Oh—sorry—didn’t mean to scare you,” Chill Guy replied, looking as casual as a capybara sipping a smoothie.
“Wh-what? WHO ARE YOU? ARE YOU GONNA ROB ME? PLEASE, I’M BROKE AS HECK TOO!” Boykisser exclaimed, eyes wide with panic.
Chill Guy chuckled, clearly amused. “No, no, no… I just… heard your conversation with the doc.”
“Oh… well, uh… so…? Do I know you…?”
“There’s an event competition,” Chill Guy said, his chill demeanor unwavering. “If we win, we’ll get easy XP.”
“An event? What event?”
“I need a partner. If we work together, we’ll split the prize.”
“What event?!”
“ChairaCon. Ever heard of that?”
“CHAIRACON??!!” Boykisser nearly shouted, flabbergasted. “You mean that event where everyone… but wait—”
“Yep,” Chill Guy affirmed, nodding like they were already best pals.
“OH DAMN—w-wait, wait, wait! I don’t know you. You just… partnering up with random fellas?”
“Hey, you’re a cat. I’m good at shooting things,” Chill Guy replied casually. “And… we’re fellow furries. That counts for something, right?”
“Yeah… uhh… but… sorry… I’m not really interested… Try asking your friends tho…” Boykisser said, turning away and continuing to walk. What a random offer from a stranger. It might be a scam.
“Hey—you know ChairaCon only accepts duos, right?!”
“B-bye, Mister Capybara,” Boykisser tried to be polite, still walking.
“The prize is 4000 XP and 1 million Beasties!!” Chill Guy shouted, throwing in his best sales pitch.
Boykisser stopped in his tracks, his ears perking up as he processed the numbers—4000 XP and 1 million Beasties. Half of that was more than what he needed!
Boykisser hesitated as he walked away, thinking, But no… this guy might be weird. What kind of guy is desperate enough to partner up with a stranger? Someone who could backstab me during the event… or heck, even after the event! The thought made him squirm a little. But then again, obviously, I'm not going to backstab him… but what if the opposite happens?
Lost in his thoughts, Boykisser continued walking in silence, trying to shake the idea of sweet, sweet XP out of his mind.
Chill Guy let out a sigh. “Can I at least give ya my phone number?”
“Huh?” Boykisser turned back, confusion evident on his face.
“My number. If you change your mind. My name is Chill Guy… by the way.” Chill Guy stepped forward, extending his paw for a handshake.
Boykisser hesitated for just a moment before shaking Chill Guy’s paw, thinking, Well, I guess a phone number wouldn’t hurt. “Sure…” he replied, pulling out his phone again.
“Okay, it’s… six-nine-six-nine-four-two-zero—” Chill Guy began, spelling it out slowly as though he were narrating a dramatic moment in a soap opera.
Boykisser tapped each number into his phone one by one, chuckling at the sheer randomness of it all.
And that, is how their crazy adventure together starts…