"You didn't choose this life, but you have chosen to live it this way."

Summary: As a result of an accidental wish, Marc Sobol is transformed from an ordinary man into a feline superhero, the Wondrous Wonder Cat, or Le Merveilleux Merveille Chat. Not only does this change his body, but also his life, the lives of those around him, and his entire world. He learns to accept his new being, but finds later that the wish has many additional unforeseen consequences.
Character art here: http://www.furaffinity.net/full/10342556/

Notes: Rated G. I checked it more than once, and proofed a printed draft, but I'm sure there are more typos I missed. Another story following my favorite TF themes-- like relationships, love, and how a transformation experience can affect someone's identity and humanity. Not my longest, not my shortest. Believe it or not, in all my time writing transformation stories, this is my first about a proper "furry" anthro creature!

Index: It's a long story, so if you don't want to wait there is a TF Index in the PDF file (spoilers)
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Marc the Wonder Cat
by roachqueen © 2013



With most of the furniture moved and bigger organizing jobs like the kitchenware already done, Marc and Heather were finally able to get to the less important and more interesting task of re-decorating. Heather had lots of posters and knickknacks to place, and Marc had made room for them. It wasn't just his apartment anymore, and he wanted to make it clear that this was really going to be their home from now on. Apart from that, he liked her style anyway.

Marc was about five feet, eight inches tall, with shaggy but neat straight black hair. He was somewhat handsome, but only in an average way; his nose was wider and larger than most, and his skin was pasty white and in some places just pink. At 34 years old, there were a few subtle smile lines around his mouth and eyes, but it somehow made him only more comely to his girlfriend.

Heather was 31 and few inches shorter than Marc. She was pretty, with prefect skin and shiny reddish-brown hair, but was also a bit husky; certainly not thin, yet not obese either. She dressed smartly most of the time, and this and her personality more than made up for her size. Her shape was soft and truly curvy in the important places, though she never overtly played up these traits. She was more than enough to please Marc.

They taped up her Fonz poster, her Scorsese movie posters, and some other things. On the shelves of the rooms she put her figurines and collectibles next to Marc's. Some of them, like their Star Wars sets and Ghostbusters stuff matched. Heather also had some figures from the "Wonder Cat" cartoons and movies. She was proud of them too, and said as she took them out, "I found some of these on eBay. They're class 1970s models. Not that the new Wonder Cat toys are bad or anything-- I just like these ones more because they're the ones I remember the most."

"Yeah," Marc picked up one of her stuffed mini plush dolls of "Merveille," its title character. He was a grey tabby cat with a white chest and neck, white gauntlets, pink nose, red cape, red boots, a gold belt, gold forearm bracelets, and a gold headband. His remarkable features were an exaggeratedly long tail-- about two yards long when Merveille was at his 4-foot tall scale-- and two one-foot long wisps of fur protruding from his forehead like fuzzy antennae. "I remember these being around when I was a kid. I didn't have any, but I knew a lot of people who did. I liked all the Wonder Cat movies, but I didn't have any of the toys."

"It's a forty year old series, so everyone remembers at least something about it."

Merveille the Wonder Cat was a comic book series from France called "Les Aventures de Le Merveilleux Merveille Chat," which means "The Adventures of the Marvelous Marvel Cat," though the character was localized for the U.S. and U.K. with "Mervay the Wonder Cat" as the name of the character to differentiate him from Marvel Comics and DC's "Captain Marvel" and to Anglicize the French pronunciation of Merveille, as Mare-vay. It was a success among children and teens, since it was set in a universe where only anthropomorphic animals lived, which allowed for a variety of interesting character designs as Merveille teamed up with fascinating friends and fought against strange foes. Despite its cartoony premise, the illustrations and tone were semi-realistic but still in the fantastical action/adventure comic genre, involving a lot of peril and blood-free violence. It was adapted for animated films and television in various forms over the years, garnering fresh audiences each time, and they eventually added the proper "Merveille" to the English translations. Boys liked it for its action, and girls liked for its cute kitty hero, though many girls like Heather liked it for both.

She found places for most of her Wonder Cat figures among the other objects. Last of all, she took out a jewelry box with embroidered red and gold fabric on the outside of it. She put it on top of the tallest shelf she could find.

"What's in that?" Marc inquired.

"This? It's an old family heirloom my grandmother gave to me a few years ago. There's a neat story that goes along with it." She picked the box up again and opened it before him. Inside, the lid was blue satin, and in soft blue velvet at the bottom of the box was what looked like a small black glass ball with swaths of purple, grey, and copper metallic sparkles inside. It was about the size of a golf ball, and the way it shone in the light, it almost seemed translucent in the center.

"That looks pretty cool," he said. "So what's this story about it?"

She smiled. "I know it's going to sound silly, but apparently it's a wishing stone. You can make a wish on it, and it'll come true."

He gave her a goofy look and smiled too. "Oh, really? Sooo... why aren't you all millionaires ruling the world then?"

"Well, as grandma said, if you have a stone so powerful that it can do that, then you'd better be careful what you do with it, right? So we can only give it to someone who really needs and deserves to use it. But who could that be? So we just keep it in this box, and never wish on it." She laughed. "And as long as no one does that, it'll always be a wishing stone. No one can say it's not!"

"OK. I get it." He took the box and shut it. "So until further notice, we are potentially all-powerful."

"That's right."

"Sounds legit to me." Smirking, he put it back on the top shelf.


1

In the past, their families would've said that they were "living in sin," but this day in age they were just a normal couple, living together. Marc's brother Curtis was completely unbothered by the situation, having had a child with his own ex-girlfriend some years before. Curtis looked like Marc, only a bit older, taller, more handsome, and more successful. Despite that, he initially had terrible taste in women and made the mistake of falling in love with a pretty but emotionally immature and irresponsible woman. His child's mother had more or less chosen drugs over her daughter, and was no longer a part of her child's life thanks to Curtis' diligent work to retain sole custody. Since he was male it was tough to achieve, but Charisse was more than worth it. Now almost four, she was happy and content living with her father. He was sure that although his relationship had been a mistake, his daughter surely wasn't.

A few weeks after the move, Marc and Heather offered to have Charisse at their house while Curtis left town for a weekend to go to a company training conference in Seattle. Marc and Heather enjoyed having her around, and expecting a small child, they didn't mind that she acted like one. Marc played with her more often than Heather, and she was impressed that he liked it so much.

After an early dinner on the second night, Heather had to go work a late weekend shift at her hospital nursing job, leaving Marc alone with Charisse. She said as she left, "You're a real sweet guy, you know, to be doing this."

He smiled at her, "Well I reckon I could use some experience if I might be a dad someday."

She gave him a fast kiss on the lips. "Eventually," she said with a grin. "Perhaps." She said goodbye and went out the door.

The rest of the evening was uneventful, with Marc and Charisse playing and watching TV. He knew that Charisse liked Wonder Cat, and since she had some newer toys of her own, he let her play with Heather's old Wonder Cat toys; he knew Heather wouldn't mind.

Although the Wonder Cat comic books and movies were meant for older kids, a lot of younger kids liked him too. Who wouldn't love a superhero cat? Even Marc still liked the happy, heroic cat, even if it was a little cheesy to do so. The two of them made a fort out of some books, and played with some of the Wonder Cat toys, having Merveille rescue small green plastic army men from the evil Blackhole Bunny by putting them safely behind the books. Charisse loved it, laughing with delight, especially how animated Marc's voice was as he played with Merveille.

Just after they were done and the last army man had been saved, it was time for bed. Charisse, however, wanted to keep playing. "But uncle Marc," she pleaded as she tugged on his jeans, "Just one more thing, then I'll go."

Marc thought he could reason with her if she wanted to bargain with him. "OK," he said. "I'll show you something really neat. Then I'll send you to bed?"

She nodded. "Yes, promise."

"OK." He stood up and took the jewelry box from the top bookshelf. "I'll bet you've never seen one of these before." He knelt down on the floor and opened the box, revealing the shiny glass sphere inside.

"Ooooh, it's pretty!" She said. "It's so sparkly."

"Yeah, it is." He picked it up from the box. "I'll let you hold it if you're really careful. You promise not to drop it?"

"Mmm-hmm!" She nodded.

He set it in her small cupped hands, and it was much larger to her than it was to him. "All right, Charisse. Do you know what this is? Heather says it's a wishing stone. It can grant wishes!"

"It can?"

"I don't know," he smirked. "Nobody's ever made a wish on it before."

"Why not?"

"Because it wouldn't be magic anymore if you did that," he explained with mock indignation.

"Well what if I make a wish anyway?"

"I suppose you could." He smiled. "Why not you do it now? Wish for something silly."


"Silly?" She giggled.

"Yeah."

"I wish..." she giggled again. "I wish you were Wonder Cat!" She laughed.

Taken by surprise, Marc burst out laughing, loudly. "Now that is just ridiculous!" He laughed again. "Now what would I do if I were Wonder Cat?"

She smiled, "I dunno... help people 'n' stuff."

He was about to say something more when he looked down at Charisse’s hands and saw that the glass ball looked different, as if it was a different color. He moved his head to see if it was just the way it looked in the light, but it still seemed as if it was changing. He squinted and leaned towards it, prompting her to look at it too.

"Unca Mark, what’s that?" The marble was clearly changing color now; its black parts fading away into white, and its metallic shiny bits seemingly merging together and turning silver in color. In a few moments the entire ball was porcelain white, and then seemed to shine and reflect more and more, until the entire ball appeared to be made of silver, as perfect as a polished mirror.

Marc blinked. "How did you do that?"

"I didn't do it, it did it." Marc believed her, and picked up the ball. It seemed like both metal and glass, and looking at it, he couldn't explain even to himself what had happened.

"Hmm," he said. "Maybe we exposed it to the air or something and it oxidized." He rubbed it. "I hope Heather won't mind. Either way, I'll certainly take the blame for it, so don't worry about--"

"Your arm's all fuzzy," Charisse interrupted, pointing at one of his arms.

"Huh?" He looked at his arm, and saw that she was right: there was grey fuzzy on his arm, and though he tried to rub it off, thinking it was dust, it hurt a little to do so. He pulled back his navy blue t-shirt sleeves and saw that it was around his shoulders too. The fuzz was getting thicker, and he could see that there were in fact little hairs growing out of his skin. He shivered. "What the..." He looked at his other arm and saw that it too was becoming hairy in the same manner. "Um..." He stood up, and so did Charisse. His legs felt tingly, and he lifted the legs of his jeans to reveal fur growing around his ankles as well. "Oh Lord." He said evenly. "This can't be happening."

"But it is!" Charisse insisted. "I can see it too!"

He wasn't sure what to say, but resisted his instinct to start freaking out, since the girl couldn't help him if she was scared, regardless of if it was really happening. As he inspected his legs and the increasing fur, he noticed that his clothes also felt looser, like he was shrinking a little. "Oh heck," he breathed. He felt off-balance, and there was some snapping in his feet. Although it wasn't painful, it was disturbing. He stared at his feet, and squinted as he saw them changing shape. His black leather shoes turned burgundy, and then faded into bright red, and grew upwards onto his calf. He gasped with disbelief, and poked at them, trying to get a finger into the shaft of the boot and pull it off, but even scraping with his fingernails he couldn't get in; it was as if the rubbery boots were stuck to his skin. He was starting to panic, but kept it under control. "Oh, I'm in a lot of trouble," he understated.

"What're we gonna do?" Charisse asked loudly, now clearly scared.

"I dunno, I just-- just wait." His jeans were sliding off, and his shirt was getting loose. He lifted it over his head and took it off to find more hairs growing on his torso, almost completely fur. His arms and legs had grey fur with grey stripes, like a tabby cat, but the fur on his chest was all white. "Just like Wonder Cat!" he gasped aloud. There was no doubt now that, as strange and impossible as it was, Charisse's wish was somehow coming true. His heart sank and was gripped with fear, which was all over his face. "Maybe... maybe we made a mistake?" He figured aloud. The hair was growing up his neck and face, and it rubbed it with his hands, which were now growing dark patches of skin similar to cat's paw pads, as well as retractable claws. "Oh no," he whimpered. He felt the fur coming in on his back also. “No, no…”

Charisse grabbed the wishing stone from the floor, and saw that it was already changing color again. It went from silver, to translucent, to transparent like glass. The reflections on its smooth surface faded as well, until the entire object vanished from her hands. "It's gone!" she yelled. "We can't use it again! What're we gonna do!"

"It's OK, it's OK Charisse!" He still tried to remain calm so that she wouldn't be frightened, and perhaps also to make himself from having a breakdown. "Charisse, don't worry. This is scary, but I'll be fine." He didn't know that he would be, yet somehow, he actually did believe that he would at least not die of this. Perhaps it was only hope. He felt little pricks of pressure on his face, and realized that he was growing cat's whiskers. They were sensitive to touch, and they brought with them sensations he couldn't identify. Along with them, the short fur on his face was also becoming thicker, filling out into a full coat. His hair, by contrast, became shorter and drew closer to his head.

Charisse saw something swinging behind him. "You've got a tail!" she said.

"Huh?" As he twisted to turn around and look, his loose jeans and underwear finally slipped from his waist and fell to the ground. He gasped as he rushed to cover himself, but he realized that there was exposed: the fur was a little thicker and longer down there and had covered everything. His genitalia had become more cat-like and less conspicuous as well. He was speechless as he stared at his more androgynous appearance. "Oh please," he pleaded to no one. He tried to look at his tail again, and saw a distinctly feline tail behind him, getting longer and longer. With his mind he could make it twitch, but he had no idea what to do with it-- he just wanted it to go away.

He drew in a deep sigh and his throat felt different. There was snapping in his face and skull, as if it was changing shape-- and he was sure it was. "Mmm... Uhnn..." he groaned. His tongue felt his teeth get larger, and the roof of mouth could feel his tongue getting rougher. "Auugh, aaaghh," he coughed. "My face!"Despite the changes in his throat and mouth, his voice was not changing with it. He was cautiously relieved for just a moment. It made sense, since Merveille had more than one voice actor in different filmic incarnations, so there was no single voice to change to.

His voice did sound a little different, but so did everything else in the room. He felt the top of his head, and there were cat ears growing there, getting longer and taller. He pulled at them, and it hurt. "Ears?" There was something particularly weird and demeaning about having cat's ears, and he wanted to scream, but still fought to keep himself calm.

The little girl just started at him now, frightened but also fixated. Marc also realized that he was now standing just about eye to eye with her.

There was more pressure on Marc's forehead, and as he guessed, Merveille's distinctive antennae-whiskers started to grow out of it. As they got longer and longer, his awareness of himself and the room seemed to increase in a strange way, giving his mind a new kind of information he wasn't familiar with. He also felt something else around his forehead, and poked at it. There was something hard and metal on his head. "Is that the circlet?" he asked Charisse.

She nodded. "Uh-huh. It just showed up!" She pointed at his shoulders. "Look, your cape!"

He twisted to look behind him and watched a red ghostly sheet fade in and become a solid silk cape which extended down almost to his tail, with a gold circular clasp fastening it under his neck. Next the gold belt Merveille wore materialized around his waist, fading in from nothing. It was soft and flexible, made of many tiny links which did not pull at his fur. It didn't have a visible buckle. Two gold armlets manifested on his upper arms, one on each side, and they too were made of this flexible golden mail.

Marc felt around the belt with his kitty fingers, but suddenly they felt different, and flared white cloth gloves appeared over his hands in the same manner. He flexed his fingers around, and saw that he could make them extend into pointed claws and retract back to normal soft glove-tips, just like in the comics, where it was said that the gloves were magic and he could make them as sharp as diamond scalpels. It made him nervous to think that he was now armed with weapons.

Finally, he felt something on his tail and saw Wonder Cat's signature gold tail ring fade in too. With a shiver, he realized that nothing else was happening. The wish had been granted. "T-that's it?" he stammered. "I think… it's done now." He swallowed nervously with his new throat and tongue as he took a few steps away from his pile of clothes and pondered what to do next. Looking at the shelves in the room, he estimated that he was a little over four feet tall now, excluding his furry antennae.

He looked around the room for something familiar to ground himself with, but it only made him feel more unsteady. Many of Heather's things were still there, his own were gone, the Wonder Cat figures and books had vanished, and there were some new objects he somehow recognized. He noticed then that the pictures on the shelves in the room had changed also; some of them looked the same as before, only slightly different, while there were also some new ones of Heather and Curtis. Marc himself wasn't in any of them. It was as if he had never existed. Being a giant bipedal cat was one thing, but this was quite another.

He took a deep breath and it felt cold in his throat. "I'm... I'm gone," he mumbled helplessly. Charisse had wished that he "were" Wonder Cat. The verb "to be." Her wish, it seemed, had then made his entire "being" into Wonder Cat, from the beginning. The enormity of this made him feel dizzy. The universe itself had, somehow, it seemed, re-arranged itself to accommodate his new role, while also leaving certain things in place. Such as this apartment and Charisse and Heather and Curtis.

His brother and his girlfriend, together. It seemed so perfect that it was terrifying. He felt as if he might swoon, but in a moment he felt Charisse's little arms, which felt bigger now that he was smaller, hug him tightly.

"Unca Marc, I'm scared."

He hugged her back. "I am too, honey." That was an understatement. It occurred to him that since she had made the wish, she could remember him as he had been before the wish. "Charisse, what do you remember about me? Do you remember me being here, or not being here?"

She was silent for a moment, and looked lost.

"It's OK if you don't know. Just tell me what you think."

She shook her head. "I remember both, but I dunno which is one is the real one!" She looked upset.

Marc realized then how much of a problem this could be for her growing up. Even as an adult he couldn’t wrap his head around what had just happened to him, but a trauma like this could make her crazy. He held her by her shoulders. "They're both real. It's just that some of those memories are realer than others." He winced at how little that explained. "I know all this is nuts, but..." he went the simple route." But we made a wish and it came true. That's what happened. This is the way things are now, and it doesn't really matter how they used to be." He surprised even himself with his bluntness, having only just now thought of it. All of it was starkly true.

Her eyes became shiny and she sounded as if she might cry. "I didn't mean to hurt you, Unca Marc."

"No, no you didn't," he said reassuringly. "It didn't hurt at all." It was true; the transformation had been painless, and though his body had been drastically altered, he hadn't been harmed in any functional sense. "Besides," he added, "I gave you the wishing stone, remember? I told you to wish for something silly, didn't I?" A weak smile appeared on his feline lips at the bizarreness of it all. "It was my mistake... and..." his voice lowered and the smile vanished. "...and I'm so sorry." It was becoming clearer to him what they had to do. "I'm really sorry."

"Why? What's wrong?"

"Charisse, honey..." He squeezed her hands and stood directly in front of her. "If you're the only person who knows who I really am, you can't tell anybody else. No one will believe you."

"But you're really real, Unca Marc. Why can't I say that?"

"I know." He kept himself calm, but his breath shook. "But if you go around telling everyone that Wonder Cat is really your uncle, people will think there's something wrong with you. I don't want you to make your daddy and Heather sad. I love your daddy and Heather." He really did, and he had never felt it more strongly than now. He swallowed a few times to prevent tears.

"Unca Marc, I love you too!"

"Yes, but when... when I leave here, you're never going to see me again. And I'll never forget you. But I want you to forget me, you understand?"

"No, Unca Marc. Don't go!" she cried out.

"I know it hurts, but--"

In a moment they heard a voice coming from the hallway where the bedrooms were. "Charisse? Who are you talking to? Is there someone there?" The both of them froze. It was Curtis.

"Dad?" the girl answered instinctively. "It's OK. I'm just--" she couldn't think of anything else to say.

Before they could do anything, Curtis came into the living room and saw his daughter standing next to a giant superhero cat. His eyes widened in pure surprise. "Wonder Cat?" What are you doing here?!" Marc thought he really did look as if he'd just seen a superhero in his house.

Marc thought fast. "Well, I uh... there's nothing wrong here, Sir. When things are slow at night I sometimes stop to talk to kids who spot me. Not all the time, just when I can." He shrugged. His voice was no different from before, though as Wonder Cat, he instantly felt some command and confidence in his speaking. It disturbed him a little bit how easily the role was coming to him.

Charisse blurted out, "Dad, do you remember unca Marc? Your brother?" Even Marc was at a loss for words.

Curtis squinted in confusion. "What? Honey, you know that I've never had a brother."

The words echoed inside Marc's skull. I've never had a brother. His heart ached as if the letters drained down into his chest and stuck there sharply. But he still kept his composure, for everyone's sake. "Oh, I see, Sir. I guess this 'Marc' person must be an imaginary friend of hers. It's all right. Kids do that a lot." He looked Charisse in the eye. "You'll have to grow out of it and forget about Marc one day, dear." He nodded. "Even if you don't want to," he added quietly.

Charisse, despite her young age, understood what he was saying, and just nodded back silently. She'd heard what her father said.

"Good." He looked up at Curtis and smiled appeasingly. "She's a nice kid." He gestured towards the family photos. You and your girlfriend must be proud." Marc just had to know about what had happened to Heather.

Curtis smiled a little. "Oh, we are. Heh, how did you know we aren't married?"

Marc looked at Curtis' hands. "Because you're not wearing a ring."

Curtis seemed a bit embarrassed and laughed. "Ah, of course! You're a superhero and detective, after all... Yes, I'm not married but Heather’s just at work right now. She's a nurse."

Apparently, everything was the same, yet different as before. This was all that Marc cared to know. He started walking to the window. "Well, I reckon I'd better be going. There might be people who need me."

"Of course, I understand." Curtis was still perplexed by Wonder Cat's arrival in his home, but was happy to see him all the same. "Here, let me help you with that. It tends to stick." He came forward and opened the window for him, first its safety latches and then turning its handle and pushing it outwards. "There you are, Mr.Cat."

Marc smiled warmly at his unsolicited thoughtfulness, knowing that it was one of the reasons he loved him so much. "Thanks, Sir." He climbed up onto the windowsill. "A good night to you both." He turned his head and looked back at the little girl. "Do not worry about me. I'll be all right-- Don't believe in me. Just believe me." He smiled at her, and let himself fall backwards over the edge.

She gasped and ran to the window.

Somehow, he knew he could do it. All of Wonder Cat's repertoire was available to him instantly, and after falling one story, he arched his back, did a u-turn in mid-air, and shot straight back up again past Charisse and Curtis and towards the sky.

Charisse watched him fly across the half-moon with both wonder and sadness. She believed him.


***

Marc was pleased with the speed and maneuverability of his flight, though he was still frightened with his situation now that he had more time to think about it. He wasn't Wonder Cat, yet he knew how to be Wonder Cat so well, and so quickly. Not even half hour before, he was Marc Sobol, just an average man. It was overwhelmingly perplexing.

He looked for a place to sit down and think alone, and found a cemetery outside the city, empty in the night, with a military equestrian statue atop a tall obelisk among its many monuments. He flew down and landed effortlessly upon it, then crawled underneath the horse and curled up into a ball-- with a decidedly cat-like curl, he noticed.

He covered his face with his gloved hands. "This is a nightmare." he said to himself. He knew that it wasn't, but it felt like one. He was still shocked by how fast it all had happened. In only an instant, his entire life was gone, a life he’d thought was only now getting started, with Heather. Just from a strange, improbable mistake. He felt sick to his stomach, and wept quietly. He wasn't angry or bitter, but despite his words of encouragement to Charisse, he was still terrified and heartbroken, for so many reasons. He spoke to himself so that he could hear his own voice. "What do I do now? Be a superhero? Can I even do that?"

What else could he do, anyway? He was a giant anthropomorphic tabby cat with a cape. The thought snapped him awake and he sat up on his bottom. "Oh, heck," he said aloud. "I'm a giant cat with super powers." He hadn't thought all that much about his new body's attributes, and now looked down at his hairy, furry body and his outfit. He tried to pull off one of his gloves, but found that he could not take it off. Since it was a part of his design, and Wonder Cat himself in the comics never had a secret identity; the costume was permanently a part of his body. It just added insult to injury, and it made him feel like a freakish creature. Frustrated, he continued to weep.

It felt as if he was physically trapped in his body. "This isn't me." he sobbed. "I'm not this." But a pragmatic little voice inside himself reminded him that indeed, he was Wonder Cat, whether he liked it or not. Oh yes you are-- just look at yourself. He picked up his impossibly long tail and looked at it, feeling its hairs. It certainly was his own tail, and it was a unique sensation to him, having not had a tail before today. He brought it to his face and used it to dry his eyes, smiling a little. "OK... so maybe I am Wonder Cat?" He sobbed and laughed at the same time. "So I am." He sighed. "But I'm me, too. I'm still 'Marc'" After all, there were Peter Parker and Bruce Wayne. Why not "Marc Sobol?"

He remembered what he had told Charisse earlier. We made a wish and it came true. That's what happened. This is the way things are now, and it doesn't really matter how they used to be. It was harsh, but it was the truth. He was going to have to stand up and deal with his new life eventually. He laid down again, and shut his eyes. Wonder Cat's lair, the S.S. Frederico, probably existed in this world if he did, but he didn't want to go there yet. He didn't want to do anything at all, just for the moment.

The sadness and residual fright remained, and he was aware of the very likely possibility that although these feelings might ebb later, they would always remain a part of him. He could accept that.

***

Some hours later, the rising sun hit his furry face and a cacophony of singing birds assaulted his ears. He didn't forget what had happened to him, and knew from the moment he awoke that he was no longer human. He was slightly disappointed that he hadn't been allowed the luxury of thinking that he was a normal person again for just a few seconds. He sat up and inhaled the cool September air.

Swinging his legs over the side of the obelisk, he looked out across the lots of plots of the cemetery, some with little American flags on them. He thought to himself, All these dead people. Some of them fought for things that truly mattered. If they gave everything they had to give in service to their country, sometimes against their will, then I guess there's no reason why I can't try to make something of myself too.

He flew out of the cemetery and towards the river, where he guessed the Frederico was hidden. It was floating in the air above the river, with its magical invisibility cloak activated. Yet being who he was, he was able to see it and landed on deck. It was the size of a mobile home, making it more like boat than a ship, but it had the look and feel of a classic pirate ship, with big cartoony timbers, round porthole windows, and a large white sail. Marc went below deck, and looked into several small rooms: a kitchen, a dining room, a bedroom, a bathroom, a spare bedroom, and storage in the belly of the ship for all of his magical items and weapons.

While poking about down there, Marc found that he knew what they were and what they did despite having never seen them before, though by now this inherent knowledge was surprising him less and less. They were mostly practical things like magic ropes, bottles which could entrap smoke, gems that detect things, charms to repel certain creatures, a Scarf of Many Languages which could make him omnilingual, and others. They were like the gadgets in Batman's utility belt, except more credible.

He went up to what was now his bedroom. It was cozy, with some wooden furniture and a bed with a blue and pink quilt on it. There was a dresser in there also, with an attached mirror above it. It was the first time he'd encounter his clear reflection, and it took his breath away now that he had time to really look at himself.

It was strangely conflicting for him, in that he wasn't repulsed by his appearance-- Wonder Cat generally had a pleasant face-- but he still wasn't comfortable seeing it in place of his own face. Just like the gloves, he couldn't remove the gold circlet even if he tried. He messed about with his face, lifting his feline lips to gawk at his scratchy tongue and sharp teeth, staring into his green cat eyes and poking at their weird second eyelids, tweaking his whiskers, and such. He sighed, and his ears drooped. "Ohhh..." he said dejectedly. "I'm cute. I don't wanna be cute." He smiled ironically when he saw how cute he looked saying that.

Inside the dresser drawers, he was pleased to find that they were all empty except for some fresh bed linens, giving him room for things of his own later. He sat on the edge of the bed and silently rested his mind for a few minutes. He couldn't very well complain that his new home was like a prison; it was, in fact, a nice place. "I guess... this place isn't bad at all," he said aloud, encouraging himself. "I think I can live here."

What he really meant was, I think I can live.

***

Eventually he figured it was time to get to work, so he got behind the ship's wheel on deck to take it cruising and get a feel for how it worked. He was aware that his job as Merveille the Wonder Cat was to seek out trouble and assist people with problems. He could do this by flying around on his own or walking on the ground, but he could also take the Frederico flying to other cities or countries. The ship could fly much faster then he, and it could carry cargo and passengers if necessary.

Attached to the tip of a torch post near the wheel was a glowing green gem in a lantern casing. The light pulsed on an off, slowly, as if it was breathing. Marc knew, again from his new inherent knowledge, that the more it glowed and flashed, the closer it was to distress or danger. He could also take the gem out of the post and use it on foot if he needed to. He watched the beacon and played "hot" and "cold" with it for a while to see if he could find some trouble.

Not long after, some trouble found him. The beacon started glowing and flashing in an instant, and he looked over the side of the ship with a handheld telescope, also kept on deck. There was a car accident on the highway below involving several vehicles. Marc "parked" the Frederico in the sky (it simply hovered in place if stopped), and leapt over the side. He arrived on the scene four minutes after the crash occurred.

One the cars was a minivan, crushed so badly that its hood was peeled back and it motor was an incomprehensible mass of metal and plastic shreds. It was clearly disabled, and even if its driver was alive, it could not possibly drive out of center of the road. Any oncoming traffic would have little time to stop. Marc thought quickly, and dragged the minivan out of the road. He grabbed it by one of its back tires, and was surprised with the strength of his grip and the ease of his movement as he floated backwards towing the minivan with him. He was hardly even breathing hard.

As he moved it, he saw two figures through the broken window glass. The driver was motionless and silent, but there was a small blond person in the center row-- a child. Once the car was at the shoulder, he flew to the driver's door, and found the driver conscious, but addled. She was an average-looking overweight middle-aged woman with red hair. A few cars blew past them, going obviously too fast-- they likely would have hit the van, he could tell. He ripped the door off with ease, and tried to extract her, but when he reached down, he saw that her right leg was crushed between the seat and the console of the car, which had been pushed forward from the force of the crash. "Aaaah, my leg!" she moaned.

It was an old Pontiac Trans-Sport. "Worst car ever made!" Marc hissed. He crawled inside the car, and stood on what was left of the passenger side seat. He grabbed the center console, and tried to push it back into place, away from her leg, cracking the plastic of the dashboard. As he felt and heard the internal metal parts bend back, there was finally a centimeter of give for him to remove the woman.

When he dragged her out, the child in the car finally started to scream. "Mama! Mama!" Marc carefully laid the woman in the grass face up a few yards away, and then returned to the van. Its sliding door couldn't possibly work, so he ripped off the back hatch door, and climbed inside. The little boy in there looked at him; he was about seven, and was wearing a seatbelt. "Where's Mama!"

He answered as he came forward to get him out. "She's knocked out, I put her in the grass over there. Are you OK, kid? Can you move?"

The boy nodded, and reached out to him. Marc took his hand and pulled him towards himself, then grabbed him with the other arm and pulled him out. He set him on the concrete, and the boy ran to his mother as soon as he could. "Mama! Are you OK?"

She sounded more collected now, "Yeah Ian, I think I am. My leg's probably broke."

Marc next checked the other car, a blue mid-90s Ford Explorer. Its occupants, an African-American couple, were fine apart from some cuts from flying glass and mild whiplash. They had already phoned for help on their cell phone. Marc returned to the mini-van, and told them that help was on the way. He then made to fly back up to the ship. "Well, I'm glad I could help you two, but I'm off to see if I'm needed elsewhere."

Before he could, the boy jumped forward and hugged him tightly. "Thank you Merveille Cat!"

Taken by surprise, Marc gasped. After a moment he put one arm around the child. "Oh... you're very welcome. This is what I do, after all." Suddenly, his mission was much clearer. He smiled at the boy. "You just be good and do what's right, OK?"

"OK." He answered simply.

"All right." Marc let go of him and stepped away. "Good luck to you both!" He flew upwards and in a few seconds he was on deck again. The green lantern was dim again, and he felt some satisfaction. With a deep sigh of relief, he leaned forwards on a wooden railing near the wheel. He looked down at his permanently gloved hands. "If I didn't have these hands," he said aloud. "I couldn't have saved those people. They might have died." He tugged at the gloves in an aloof manner, not expecting to be able to get them off. It seemed almost funny now. "This is weird, but... it's OK."

He looked over towards the beacon, and saw that it was glowing slightly brighter than it was a minute before. "Charisse... maybe we didn't make such a bad mistake after all?"


2

Thus continued his new superhero career. The acute loneliness and sadness remained with him always, but there was no job more satisfying in the world, and it kept him going. Each time he plucked someone from a flooding rooftop or pulled someone from a burning car or broke the arm of an attacker, the victim was almost always grateful, and often said a word of thanks to him if they were able. There were rude and entitled jerks too, but they were rare. Just a "thank you" or a kind word reminded him that it was worth it, that his accidental transformation wasn't all bad. Certainly Charisse's wish had done more good than a wish for riches or success, as an adult would likely have wished.

In fact, he couldn't have imagined a better life for Heather, Curtis, and Charisse even if he had tried. He occasionally spied on them, looking down into the windows of their apartment from an adjacent fire escape, to see if Charisse was all right, as well as to just be able to see them again. Looking upon Heather was bittersweet. She seemed even more beautiful to him now, and he sorely missed her touch and her company. Yet though he couldn't have her love anymore, he could see that she was happy, and this made him happy too.

Besides, his cat body lacked any obvious sexuality, though he was intact beneath the fur. It had an effect on his mood. He didn't feel "emasculated," but calm. Merveille had always been a masculine and occasionally flirty character, but he was never sexualized in an 'adult' way. Marc was actually grateful that there were no physical longings and sexual frustrations to add to his miseries. It was only one more thing he’d miss.

Curtis was someone whom Marc could not feel jealous or resentful towards. The two of them had always been different, but got along growing up. Curtis was a good man, athletic, older, and slightly more aggressive, less interested in the arts than Marc was. In some ways all this made Heather seem like an ideal match for him; he needed her around, and likely more than Marc had needed her.

Marc was relieved that Charisse appeared to a normal, happy girl. He didn't know if she was forgetting him or not, but as long as she wasn't having any trouble, he didn't care to know. She deserved a mother, and she couldn't have wished for a better one than Heather, Marc thought. Their silly wish had given her a family. He figured that perhaps there was another wishing stone in the world, and perhaps he could find it and wish everything back to normal again. If he did that, however, Heather and Curtis wouldn't be together, and Charisse wouldn't have her family. So he never looked for one.


Occasionally, Marc would have dreams in which he was still a man, as he had been before.


In one of these dreams, he was having dinner with Heather in a familiar Italian restaurant downtown, one he'd been going to with his own family as far back as he could remember. He was talking with her about something, when Merveille the Wonder Cat approached him. "Mr.Sobol," the cat said. "So sorry to interrupt, but I need you to come with me."

Marc looked confused, not because he was talking to a giant superhero cat, but because he was busy. "Me? But... I'm sort of in the middle of something right now."

Heather poked Marc's arm playfully. "But it's Wonder Cat, Marc. If he's asking you to do something, it must be important."

With a nod, Merveille affirmed, "It is important."

Standing up, Marc relented. "OK, what do you need me to do?" He gave Merveille his hand, and the cat took it with both his hands.

"Come home," the cat said, as he started walking backwards to the door, pulling Marc with him.

"Wait, what do you mean, 'come home'? Why?"

"You have to come home."

Marc started to resist, but found that the more he tried to pull his hand away, the stronger Merveille’s grip got. "Wait-- Let me go!"

"I can't."

Marc looked down and saw that the fabric of cat's gloves were somehow growing and spreading over his hand, like moss over a rock in time lapse. "Ahhh-haaa!" Marc yelped as he tried to pull his hand free, and in a panic, he grabbed Merveille's forearm with his other hand, but found that this was a mistake when his hand stuck to the fur as well. "What-- s-stop! Let me go!" he pleaded.

"I told you," Merveille said calmly, "I can't." The cat then shut his eyes, and then opened them again, suddenly revealing dark hollow holes where his green eyes had been. He opened his mouth wide next, and it was dark and hollow. It opened wider and it seemed to rip a slit in its chin. With a sound like an opening zipper, the slit go bigger, extending all the way down to Merveille's groin, and in a flash, it stretched open and outwards like a blanket, reaching behind Marc, who screamed in terror. Merveille's arms pulled him closer and the skin enveloped his body, with more seams opening up in the arms and legs to grab onto and consume Marc’s limbs. The head of the skin covered his face like a hooded mask, muffling his terrified screams. "Mmmphh! MMMPPHHH!!!"

He fell backwards onto the floor, and wrestled to get free, trying to grip the skin and rip it off, but his fingers wouldn't obey him, and there were no parts loose enough to grab onto. It only became tighter, almost painfully tight, as the slits in the skin became smaller and coalesced together again. Marc felt like he was being squeezed, and feared that he would be crushed by it. There was so much pressure that he couldn't even feel his clothes between his body and the cat skin, and couldn't open his eyes. He rolled around on the Formica flooring, moaning and crying desperately, his whole body seized with panic. He felt penetrating pressure in his face, and couldn't breathe for a few seconds. A moment later, he could open his eyes. He sat up and looked at himself, now wearing the Wonder Cat skin and costume, and saw also that he was getting smaller, as if the skin was compressing him.

Taking a breath, he found that he could speak again. "No! Stop!" His body shrunk more until the pressure subsided, and it soon seemed to be over. Marc stood up, and felt himself over, realizing that the cat skin was now clearly his own skin. But he tugged at it anyway, in disbelief. "Please come off! Let go of me!" He looked back to the table where he and Heather had been sitting, and she was still there, staring at her iPhone. He rushed over to her. "Heather! Did you just see that?"

She looked up. "Huh?" She jolted a little when she saw him. "Wonder Cat? What are you doing here?"

"No, no, I'm-- You mean you didn't see that?"

Blinking with confusion, she asked, "See what?"

Marc was equally confused. "I-It's me, Marc."

"Who's Marc?" She tilted her head. " I don't know anyone named Marc."

It felt like he'd been slapped across the face. "But-- but-- "

A familiar voice said, "Well if she says she doesn't know this 'Marc' I'd believe her." Marc turned and saw his brother Curtis suddenly sitting on the other side of the table, where he’d been sitting before. Curtis added, "And I've never heard of this Marc person either. I think you should leave."


Marc snapped awake, back in his bed, back in the ship. He was shaking all over, the residual fear from the nightmare still in him. He grabbed his pillow and hugged it tightly. "Heather..." The loneliness in his heart grew like a hole, and it felt like he'd been punched in his chest an hour ago-- literal heartache. Leaning forwards, he buried his feline face into the pillow and cried for a little while, allowing himself to whine as much as he liked. There was no one around to hear it, but that was precisely the problem. Soon he stopped weeping, picked up his tail, and looked at it. He made it twitch. Something about it and its almost silly length almost always made him feel a bit better. He kissed it. "OK. I'm a giant magic cat and I can't do anything about it." He sighed, turned over, and eventually fell asleep again.

Despite these occasional anxiety nightmares and everything else, in general he couldn't be pessimistic or cynical. As cruelly ridiculous as his predicament was, it gave him some comfort to remember that he had been condemned to live this life at the behest of a small child, a completely innocent idea made real. Marc still carried a heaviness in his heart, but it usually made him feel a little better to remember that he had asked her to wish for something silly.


3

One grey, rainy day about two years later, a small personal jet crashed into a tool & die factory . It ignited an enormous flash fire which no OSHA regulations could easily have foreseen, the plane destroying some emergency exits as it crashed. Workers remained trapped inside as the blaze grew, even with the light rain outside. Fortunately, Marc arrived on the scene as soon as possible, and tore an opening in one on the factory's walls to help them escape. Then he pulled out some trapped and incapacitated men, and even put it flame out with the help of the firefighters' chemical flame retardants and hose.

Luckily the weather chilled in the evening, and it started to drizzle. Once it was all done he returned the hose and some buckets to the firefighters parked on the road, and commended them on a job well done. They were similarly appreciative of him. Marc and most fire departments had something of a rapport.

Marc as about to fly off when he heard a voice call to him from across the road. "Merveille Chat! I've been looking for you!" It was a high but mature male voice with a French accent. Marc turned to look and saw an old man with a light yellow telescopic umbrella standing by shiny white Buick. He was short and had thinning white hair, brushed and slicked back neatly, with age spots and wrinkles on his skin. He looked to be about seventy-something, and was dressed in a casual dark blue suit and white collared shirt with no tie, typical of those men who'd lived when all guys always wore suits. The man asked, "You were once a comic book hero, weren't you?"

Marc's hairs literally stood on end. "What?" He came closer. "Did you just say what I thought you did?"

"Yes. Do you know what I mean? You used to be in books and movies, yes? But those are all gone?" The man seemed unsure if "Merveille Chat" would know what he was talking about or not.

Marc let him know that he certainly did. "That was... another time, I think." He looked around, and knew there were still onlookers, and rescue personnel here. "If you mean what I think you do, can we talk privately, somewhere else?"

The man gestured towards his car. "We can go for a ride in this. It's a rental, but I'm sure that Hertz will understand if I get wet cat hair in it because I rode with the great Merveille Chat." He smirked.

Marc cocked his head to one side. "Even I know better than to get into cars with strangers, sir."

The man waved on hand in the air. "Ah, of course, allow me to introduce myself. He extended his hand towards Marc. "I am Alain Briand. I'm from France, as you've likely noticed, and I'm a cartoonist. A moderately successful one. But I think that in another place or in another time... I was much more than fairly successful."

The name rung a bell for Marc. A gargantuan bell with quaking vibrations. He took the man's hand and shook it. "I think," Marc began cautiously, "I think you're right about that."

"So we have a lot to talk about?"

Marc nodded. "Yes. But let's leave here first."

They drove to a wooded area and parked before the entry gate of a deserted service road. The man parked slowly. "I've only been to America a few times, and this time I came here looking specifically to talk to you." He turned off the motor and looked at the cat. "Do you know why?"

Rain pattered on the car as Marc cautiously began. "Because... you know something about me?" He wasn't sure what this man knew, or even if he was who he said he was, but he felt that what Alain was saying was true.

"Maybe." Alain leaned back and explained things evenly and plainly. "I don't know what I know about you now, especially since the last two years. What I do know is that I was, for a time, the creator of an internationally successful comic book series which lasted 40-50 years and was about a superhero cat that looked exactly like you. And then one morning, I woke up and all of that was gone. No one I talked to knew anything about any Merveille Chat or Wonder Cat comic books or cartoons, but all knew him as a real superhero that actually existed." He looked at Marc. "Now, would you happen to know anything about that?" His tone was un-accusatory.

Marc needed to rephrase it, hardly able to believe that someone else knew about this. "So... you remember another 'world'... where Merveille Chat is just a story you made up and drew?"

"Yes. I awoke one morning to find that my life was completely changed. I was in a different house, with a different illustration job, yet I remembered both of my separate lifetimes as if each had happened: one with Merveille as an idea I had, and the other with Merveille as a reality. But the former is only a memory now."

Marc remained calm and said evenly, "Yes. I certainly do believe you. That other 'world' did exist, and it wasn't your imagination. And I do know what caused it, too." Marc was initially unsure how to react to this news. He felt guilty to know that his mistake with the wishing stone had directly affected another life besides his own. He'd sometimes wondered what happened to the artist who made Merveille Chat. "But first... well, I'm sorry, Mr. Briand. You must've been very upset for that to happen to you."

Alain was morosely fast and blunt. "No I wasn't. My son isn't dead."

Marc was stunned into silence for a few moments, again not knowing how to respond.

The Frenchman went on. "In the other 'world' or 'time' or whatever it was, I was a different person. I was obsessed with work and ego... I won't elaborate, but some people are good at dealing with success and fame. I wasn't. I neglected my family, Cleo sort of fell in with the wrong crowd, and I had no idea. He became an addict, and died before he was seventeen. In this world, he's now 21 and going to college in Spain."

"I'm glad to hear that," Marc said softly. "Very glad."

"Of course," Alain smirked, "I was also quite surprised indeed to see a cartoon cat I created made real, going around rescuing people, a real superhero. Having my son is back makes it irrelevant to me how crazy this is. Yet I thought I'd track you down out of curiosity. Even sitting next to you, I'm amazed how much you look like how I'd imagined. Are you the same ‘Merveille’ I made up?"

Marc took in a deep breath. "Wellll... Not exactly," he began. "I some ways, I am Merveille, and in some ways I'm not. My name is actually Marc Sobol, and I was once an accountant from Ohio."

Now it was Mr. Briand’s turn to look stunned. "Zut! If you had asked me to guess what you were going to say next, it would've taken me 100 years to think of that!"

"I know!" Marc smiled sheepishly. "It doesn't make much sense to me, either. It's a long story. I'll try to explain it as best I can...." His ears drooped, and he proceeded to tell his story from the beginning. He minced no words, and was very honest about how frightening and painful the shift from his old life to his new one was. Yet he was also wistfully positive about the good he had been able to do as a result, and how much things had improved for his loved ones.

"...Over the past couple years, I've been all right, I suppose. I wouldn't say that I lead a life of torture and misery-- not at all. But... since no one knows who I really am besides me, I feel like the Wonder Cat has silenced me. I'm still here, but I can't... but I'm..." He couldn't finish, and finally started to tear up, for the first time in months. "I haven't spoken to anyone as 'myself' since that night. Not until right now..."

Alain's face softened as he finally felt the presence of the man trapped in the giant cat's body. He got out some napkins he'd stashed in the glove compartment and offered them to Marc.

Marc sat up a bit straighter as he leaned over to take one. "Thank you." He dried his eyes. "I guess I'm just feeling sorry for myself."

"Nonsense. There are a few good friends I made in the other 'world' that I don't have in this. Just because I like my life as it is now doesn't mean I don't miss them. But you've lost everyone who ever knew you."

Marc winced and looked downwards. He was silent for a moment before saying simply, "I still love them."

"L'amour... si triste si malheureux.... But you wouldn't stop loving them to make it stop hurting, would you?"

"Never." He looked at Alain. "Of course not."

"Indeed. It was that way for me after Cleo died." He took one of Marc's hands and looked at him intently. "I haven't forgotten that feeling even now that I have him back. I've been saddened but greatly humbled to learn the monstrous cost of that miracle, Marc."

Unaccustomed to hearing his own name, and with such kind words, he wept even more, a drop of snot forming on his feline nose. "My name... I haven't heard...'" For a minute he heaved uncontrollably, with Alain still holding his hand.

"Oh, Marc... I do wish sincerely that I could help you."

He cleared his throat. "But if that wish could come true, what else would come with it?" he exhaled with a little painful smile. "I think I've had enough of wishes. I just want hopes."

"Hope... yes, I think I may be able to give you that."

Marc inhaled shakily. "Alain... thank you for coming to see me. It really means a lot to me to know that what's happened to my life has changed yours for the better."

"De rien. It's the least I can do." He thought for a moment. "Or, maybe there is something more?"

Alain insisted on bringing Marc to a hotel with him (with the aid of an Invisibility Cloak Marc had) so he could have at least a couple nights with another human being who knew him. They got a room with two double beds, and spent the night talking. Marc felt a kind of joyful contentment he had thought he’d never feel again.

***

In the next few days, Marc let Alain accompany him on the S.S. Frederico and on the ground during his missions. The artist was amazed at how the ship and its hero looked so much like how he'd imagined them, even more so than he could express in his artwork. In one incident, he saw Marc rescue two drowning swimmers from a river. As Marc lifted one of them out of the water and into the air to deposit him on the riverbank, drops of water caught the sunlight and shone like diamonds. That instant would have made a perfect frame for a comic book, Alain thought, and it was what he would have drawn if it had been his art. It was uncanny. When they were back on the ship later that day, he asked Marc about the relationship between his Wonder Cat art and what Marc had become.

"I'm still astonished to see an idea of mine walking and talking... But the way I see creativity, it almost seems like ideas come from somewhere else anyway. When I write, an idea for a drawing pops into my head spontaneously, and sometimes I'll be scrambling for a notepad to get it down before the idea gets away." He glanced upwards. "I never really know where the ideas were coming from. A lot of artistic people report the same thing-- the thoughts just fall on top of you like meteors from the sky."

His mind returned to the image of Marc carrying the man out of the water. "You know... I always envisioned Merveille as a kind and just heroic figure. Smaller than most, but of great valor... I wonder... was all that only just my imagination, or was I seeing you all along?'"

Marc just blinked. "What?"

"I mean, not only in form, but also in character-- you are just like him. You are him. Different in some ways, but similar in the important ways."

Marc hadn't thought of it that way before. He had always seen himself as "Marc" interrupted by his new cat identity, still sure of his own self, carrying his memories alone as proof. But Alain was right: he had always been like Merveille. If given super powers as a man, he certainly would have used them this way. His body chilled for an instant. "I-- well--" He stammered. "I can see that, but I just..." He looked at Alain with a wearied expression. "That's a pretty huge idea… I'm having enough trouble with my life as it is. I just don't want to think that this is who I was meant to become, or who I really am."

Alain nodded.

"I just want to be 'Marc.' Whoever I am. Whatever I am." He looked anxious.

"I am sorry if my comment has upset you."

"No, no." He shook his head. "It's not you, I just feel... I want to think that Charisse's wish was an accident, nothing more. Just a mistake, one that I made, not some sort of inescapable fate." He exhaled with frustration.

Alain was silent for a moment. "You feel... trapped?"

"Yes." Marc answered. "So much." He leaned his head on his hands and shut his eyes. "This isn't me. It is who I am now and I have to accept that, but I'm still me." He shook his head. "And even if I did find another wishing stone, I can't use it to become human again because I'd be alone anyway, and I can't undo everything-- then all the people I've saved would die instead-- and your son. Heather and Curtis and Charisse make a good family anyway, and it would be awkward if I simply tried to explain what happened. I am trapped."

Alain thought for a moment. "I wouldn't say that. No one ever said you had to be a hero."

Marc lifted his head. "What else am I supposed to do?"

"Become a super villain? Do nothing at all? Rob banks?"

"But I don't want to do any of those things."

"Why not?"

"I just don't..." Marc could see where this was going. "Because they're not right."

"You see what I mean?" Alain put an arm around him. "In a lot of ways, 'Merveille Chat' as a character was an ideal embodiment of goodness and decency, someone I wished I could be. Someone I knew I wasn't good enough to be... but you really are that person. You didn't choose this life, but you have chosen to live it this way."

Marc pondered this. "I have, haven't I?" He chuckled briefly. "Maybe Charisse knew all along that I would make a good Wonder Cat?"

"I don't think even I could've picked a better one." He smiled. "Yet I'm very sure you're not Merveille Chat, Marc. He never suffered the way that you do."

4

Alain returned to France after few days, but later bought a Post Office box for Marc in New York City to send him letters. Marc was able to check it privately thanks to some postal workers who admired him and brought his mail personally in loading area in the back. The two men exchanged letters frequently, about once a month, just talking about their lives. For Marc, it was comforting to be reminded that there was someone in the world who knew who he really was-- that he had a true friend.

Over the next few years, Alain came to visit America occasionally, and he stayed on the S.S. Frederico to keep Marc company. Marc also came to France a couple times a year-- but usually when he was also there on Wonder Cat business. Despite the marvelous heroics of his public persona and the extreme situations into which he placed himself, in private Marc was still just an ordinary man, even as the years passed by.

And like any ordinary person, he still missed his family: His mother, his elderly aunts and uncles, friends, and of course Curtis, Charisse, and Heather, who eventually became Marc's sister in law. She and Curtis were still living in the same apartment, and had a new baby boy of their own.

The clandestine visits Marc had paid them over the years were brief and infrequent. He didn't want to invade their privacy, and wanted to keep it clear in his mind that although he loved them all, they weren't his family-- not really, especially because he still had feelings his brother's wife. Dwelling on his love for her felt incestuous, and he distanced himself from her in his heart. Still, he wasn't covetous, and in a bittersweet way their happiness helped to validate his situation.


Although less frequently, he still had nightmares about being human.

One night he dreamt that he was human, dressed in a black casual suit at a CVS pharmacy looking over the cold and flu medicine. He felt hot and tired and his head was throbbing. He saw Vicks and Tylenol and Robitussin, but didn't see anything that he thought might relieve his symptoms.

Then he heard a voice at the end of the aisle. He turned to look, and it was Merveille, carrying a red shopping basket in his tail."Need some help?" the cat asked, speaking in Marc's own voice.

(that's all that will fit on the page! See the PDF for more!)