This is probably the weirdest thing I've posted here, which is saying something.

A story about a happily married couple who's world gets turned upside down when a mysterious creature emerges from the woods and spits on one of them... This was a story ̶r̶i̶p̶p̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶o̶f̶f̶ inspired by "Nyaight of the Living Cat", an anime series that premiered recently (which I'm quite enjoying so far). I just added llama TF and sappy romance, because I like both those things. Also, my stories were getting a little hetero-normative, so I tried my hand at writing a lesbian couple. Please let me know if I messed anything up or got anything wrong (I'm sorry I wrote one of them wearing flannel...)

Anyway, it's ~4400 words, has sappy romance and llama TF, and a weird tone that a psychologist would probably find fascinating. If you're somehow still interested, let me know what you think!


NIGHT OF THE LLIVING LLAMAS

"Now as far as adaptations of books go, the musical is very good, in fact some aspects of the book that were cut for time could be argued to be improvements. Take the Bishop for example; he has an extended introduction in the book, but in the musical the audience doesn't know how good a person he is until he lets Jean Valjean go, and his act of kindness is as much of a surprise to the audience as it is for Valjean himself. But one aspect of the book... Anjana, why are you looking at me like that?"

"No reason," I said, smiling. "You can keep talking." God, I could listen to my wife nerd out over her hyperfixations all day. It was a perfect Saturday afternoon; and Brianne and I were on a walk on the bike path near our apartment, enjoying the calm September weather, hands gripped tightly together. I was in my cozy green fall dress, Brianne was wearing a cute flannel shirt and tight jeans, with her beautiful blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail. The only sounds were the chirps of the birds, the distant wail of an ambulance, and the sound of my beautiful wife going into excessive detail about the differences between the musical and novel versions of Victor Hugo's Les Miserables.

"But there was one aspect of the book that I'd argue shouldn't have been cut, though I'll admit would have been difficult to adapt to the stage... wait, Anjana, do you see that?" She stopped and pointed to the treeline ahead. "Is that... a llama?" Sure enough, a funny-looking creature came trotting out of the woods, sporting a fluffy brown coat of wool, and an elongated neck. It turned onto the bike path, trotting in our direction.

"It *is* a llama!" I confirmed as the creature turned and began trotting right up to us. It stopped just a couple yards from us and then stopped, staring at us as though it were expecting an introduction.

"Hey there fella," Brianne cooed. "What are you doing all the way out here?"

The animal didn't respond, and simply regarded us with dark eyes. If I didn't know any better, I'd say it had a smirk on it's face.

"Where do you think he came from?" I wondered.

"I don't know, but he's kinda cute." she added.

"You think he's cute? Should I be worried?" I joked.

Without warning, the creature hocked a wad of spit at Brianne, landing in the center of her flannel shirt.

"Hey, bad llama!" I reprimanded.

"Oh, yuck!" Brianne exclaimed, trying to wipe it off. "Bad llama! No one swaps spit with me except my wife!"

Seemingly satisfied with itself, the animal tilted it's head up, turned, and trotted back into the treeline, presumably off to cause more mischief.

"We should probably go back so you can change," I said. "I don't know if llamas carry any diseases but I wouldn't want to risk it."

"It's probably fine, but probably better to be on the safe side." Brianne conceded.

***

We arrived back at our apartment a few minutes later. She ran to the bedroom to grab a new shirt, and I pulled out my phone and started mindlessly scrolling social media, a bad habit I had yet to break. I noticed a few local media feeds indicating we weren't the only ones who had an encounter with unusual wildlife today.

'Several Llama Sightings Reported in Grove Park' read one headline.

'Local Authorities Unsure of Source of Llama Sightings', read another.

'Community Baffled by Appearance of Llama Wearing Tattered Shirt, Sweatpants' read one more, curiously.

Brianne came back out, sporting a cute dark green sweater. "What do you think? It's a little warm for the weather, but it's cute, and I thought I might wear wool in honor of our new friend."

"You're honoring the llama that spat on you?"

"Sure, I'm pretty sure spitting is just how they say hello!"

"That... doesn't sound right, but I'll admit don't know enough about llamas to dispute it."

She turned and headed towards the restroom. "Since we're here, mind if I hit the ladies' room before we leave?"

"No worries," I replied. While she took care of business, I absent-mindedly pulled out my phone, and scrolled through some more of the local news articles.

'Local Man Reported Missing, South American Camelid Found Inside Home'

'Herds of Pack Animals Running Amok Through Downtown, Spitting On People'

'Recent Disappearances and Llama Sightings Not Correlated, Assures Mayor'

Brianne returned from the restroom, interrupting my phone-malaise. "Hey Anjana, I was just thinking," she began, "do you think I'd make a good llama?"

I tilted my head, slightly taken aback by the odd question. "Is that your version of 'Would you love me if I were a worm?'"

"I dunno, I've just got llamas on the brain after what just happened. I was thinking I'd make a cute llama."

"Well, you are the cutest person in the world, so I suppose it follows that you'd make a cute llama."

"Oh good! I think you'd make a cute llama too." This wasn't unusual for Brianne; she'd ask random questions or go on bizarre tangents related to her stream-of-consciousness all the time. Something felt different about this question though, though I couldn't quite put my finger on why.

"Actually, would you mind if I grabbed a quick snack before we left?" Brianne asked. I nodded, and she walked over to the kitchen and opened the fridge. "I can't explain it, but I'm having the weirdest cravings for veggies. Did you happen to get any celery or spinach from the grocery store?"

"Check the bottom drawer." As she bent over, I noticed a yellow fuzzy lump on her lower back, just above shapely behind. A sock must have gotten stuck to her sweater in the laundry, I thought, and reached over to swipe it away. But the lump didn't come off the sweater. In fact, it didn't seem attached to the sweater at all, but to Brianne's herself. After I swiped at it, it moved on it's own accord. It *flicked*.

"Ow, what do you think you're doing?" she asked, turning around.

"Brianne, did you *feel* that? There's some kind of fuzzy lump stuck to your back, I don't know what it is!"

"That's probably just my tail," she said with a smile, then caught herself, and her smile turned to a mild consternation. "Wait... did I just say my tail? That's not normal, is it?"

"That's very not normal. Are you feeling okay? I think we should get you to a hospital."

She turned and looked and behind her, and wiggled her new tail experimentally. "This is weird, but it doesn't, like, *feel* weird." She continued moving her tail in a way that seemed completely natural, like she'd had it her whole life, and she turned back to me. "Which I realize is weird in itself. Does that make sense?"

"Not really, no." I admitted. "I'm starting to think that llama did something to you. We've got to get you to a hospital, before - " but before I could finish my sentence, it had already started getting worse. Brianne's ears were changing. Growing. Gradually stretching out into a long, banana shape, with a thin layer of light blonde fur slowly growing in. Before I knew it, two llama ears were sticking out of my wife's head. Brianne noticed where I was looking, and reached up and touched her newly elongated ears.

"Oh, that's different," she said, rubbing her new ears, admiring them like you might admire a new hairstyle or shirt, not a sudden unexplained mutation. "Yeah, I suppose we should go to the hospital," she admitted, "though is it weird that I kind of want to wait and see how much I change?"

"Yes, that's VERY weird! Brianne, what's happening to you?"

"I don't know, but they feel so nice!" Brianne exclaimed, caressing her new ears. She suddenly leaned to one side, like her balance was thrown off. She pulled off her boots, a little more difficulty than she should have had, revealing two misshapen masses covered in pink socks. She pulled each sock off, just in time to watch her feet swell in size, her nails darken and grow, and her toes merge into two larger claw-like digits, until she was standing on two cloven llama hooves. "Woah. I actually am turning into a llama! This is cool!"

"That's it, I'm calling 9-1-1 now," I declared, pulling out my phone.

"Wait!" she interrupted. "Wouldn't that be fun if we were both llamas? Anjana, maybe if I spit on you, you'll change too!"

I started to back away from her slowly. "Brianne, I love you, but you're starting to scare me."

"Aww, come on, it'd be fun!" She took a step closer to me, her new hooves clacking on the kitchen tile. "It doesn't hurt, I've barely felt a thing so far!" She took another step. I noticed her neck was starting to get longer, and thin blond fuzz was starting to grow out of it. "Maybe instead of spitting, just a kiss?"

I turned and ran out of the kitchen, down the hall, and into our bedroom. I hurredly locked the door behind me, then pushed our dresser in front of the door. I didn't know how strong were-llamas were (or whatever the hell Brianne was turning into) but I wasn't going to risk Brianne breaking down the door. I couldn't help but notice that outside I could hear sirens, shouting people, and more worryingly, bleats.

Feeling safe enough for now, I picked my phone back up and dialed 9-1-1.

"9-1-1, what's the nature of your emergency?" a female voice on the other end of the line asked.

God, how was I going to explain this?

"Hi, my wife was in close contact with a wild animal, and now she's behaving aggressively." I said. "I think she might have rabies." It was close enough to the truth.

"Was the wild animal in question a llama?" Of course, I probably wasn't the first person this was happening to. The news articles I'd read started to make more sense now. Maybe they'd be able to help.

"Yes, it was."

"Has she been showing physical changes of any sort?" Yes!, I thought, they are aware of this weird infection, maybe they'll know what to do!

"She has been! Rapid, strange physical changes."

"Like she's becoming a llama herself?"

"Yes, exactly!" Okay, she's going to tell me how to help Brianne!

"Wow, that sounds really cool! Maybe if you let her spit on you, you can become a llama too!" The operator then started laughing in a way that disturbingly sounded like a bleat. I dropped the phone. How far had this spread? *What the hell was happening?*

"Anjana, are you there?" a small voice squeaked from outside the door. It was Brianne. "I finished changing, I don't suppose you want to see?"

She was still able to talk, at least. Though I had to wonder, how much of Brianne was left? Was that even still Brianne anymore, or had her mind been overridden by the infection?

"I'm sorry," she continued, sounding solemn. "I don't know what came over me. For some reason I got really excited about becoming a llama, and then I got really excited by the thought of turning you too. I didn't mean to scare you. Something very strange is happening to me, but I don't want to hurt you."

"Please just go away," I replied bitterly. She sounded earnest, but I couldn't risk that just being a trick by a creature merely pretending to be my wife.

"I understand..." If I didn't know any better, it sounded like she was whimpering. "It sounds like there are a bunch of other llamas out there, I'm going to go see what they are up to. I... I'll miss you."

I didn't respond. I heard the sound of four hoofed feet slowly shuffle away.

***

Even with the creature that may or may not have been Brianne gone, I was hesitant to leave my impromptu fortress. Luckily, we had one of the apartments with a master bath, so I still had access to water and a toilet, at least for as long as running water lasted. We had power too, so I was able to keep my phone charged. I tried calling my friend Greg; no answer. I tried calling Sally, Mae, my parents, my dentist; no one was picking up their phones. I started going through my contact list alphabetically just to see if I could get a hold of anyone, and finally I reached someone; May, a former co-worker I hadn't spoken to in years.

"Hello? Anjana?"

"May! Thank god I reached someone, are you alright?"

"I just woke up and am late for work, but I'm alright. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Something strange is going on, I can't get ahold of almost anyone! Whatever you do, don't go outside."

"Don't go outside? I was already on my way to the car now, why shouldn't I be... woah, there's a bunch of alpacas or something in the parking lot."

"May, go back inside! Stay away from the llamas! Don't-"

"Hey, stop spitting on me! Gross! Ugh, I feel weird, I..." I heard a clatter of what I assumed to be a phone hitting pavement. With horror, I listened as I could hear the faint sounds of spitting camelids and ripping fabric coming through the phone speakers.

"May?" I asked.

I heard what sounded like the clatter of hooves, followed by May's voice: "You still there Anjana? I don't know why you told me to stay inside, this is great! You should come join us!" I hung up the phone.

I spent the next hour alternating between checking the news and moving furniture to block the windows. At 5:00 the internet went down, but luckily cell service still seemed to work, so I was able to follow what was going on in the outside world with cell data. Whatever was happening, it seemed to be happening all over the world. There was no clear source of the spread; infectious llamas seemed to appear in places on every continent. Social media was flooded with contradicting information; some people said that the infection was airborne, others that it only spread via bite. Some people claimed the llamas couldn't be killed, others that they could be defeated with yodeling. Some people even tried to encourage others to give up, and voluntarily join the growing herd; though it wasn't obvious if this was people who had lost all hope, or if the llamas had figured out how to use social media with hooves.

Around 7:30, the power died, and with it, my connection to the outside world. No longer able to doom-scroll, my thoughts turned to action. I was getting hungry, and I hadn't dared leave the bedroom for fear of ambush. But making it to the kitchen would only buy me a few days at most. I could possibly fashion some sort of spit-proof armor and fight my way out, but with out a connection to the internet I had no way to know where was safe or where other humans were holding out. Man, maybe joining the herd *was* the only viable plan.

And even though I tried to avoid it, I couldn't help but think of Brianne. I wondered what she was doing out there, and if she was enjoying being with her new herd. If that really was Brianne anymore. God, how I wish I could hear her hyperfixate on some obscure subject one more time.

Around 8:30, the loneliness had really started to set in when I heard the patter of hooves on carpet approaching the doorway. Suddenly, something slid underneath the doorway. It was a bag of supermarket tortillas.

"Hi Anjana, I figured you were getting hungry," the creature that may or may not have been Brianne said. "That was the only food I could find that would fit through the crack under a door, and I didn't want to have to ask you to open it. I did have to carry it in my mouth a little bit, but you should be safe as long as you don't touch the bottom."

I used an old shirt to pick up the bag and set it aside; despite my hunger, I wasn't willing to risk eating it yet.

"Don't worry, I didn't let any of the other llamas know where you are. It was nice hanging out with my new peers, but I'd rather spend time with my wife."

Against my better judgment, I took the bait. "Are you even still Brianne? You guys are acting like zombies in the old horror movies, going around spitting on people and adding them to your ranks, until the earth is overrun with llamas. My wife wasn't a mindless monster."

"I won't lie, I've definitely changed physically as well as mentally. I like being a llama, I enjoy the taste of grass, and there is a tiny voice in my head telling me to spit on you at the first chance I get. But I still love you, and I can ignore that voice. I'd never do anything you didn't consent to. I still believe I'm me."

"I want to believe you, but can you prove it's really you? It's not just a trick do get me to open the door?" I asked.

"You want me to prove I'm still me? Let's see..." the llama began, "So as I was saying this afternoon, one of the things Les Miserables the musical cut from the source material were some of the extended tangents, arguably essays, that Victor Hugo placed throughout book. They aren't part of the narrative, but they do play an important thematic role in the story. For example, there's a great passage about the definition of an uprising that is both a great piece of political writing, but also informs the character motivations of Mabeuf. It's definitely an archaic form of novel writing, and I'm not saying it would be *easy* to adapt non-narrative tangents into a story-driven musical, but it would have been amazing if they could have pulled it off."

It was still her. Oh how my heart leapt to hear her hyperfixate again.

"God, I've missed you," I said. "It hasn't even been a day and being without you was starting to get unbearable."

"I missed you too," she said. "My new herd is nice, but it's still pretty lonely. All I wanted to do was introduce my wife to people

"Can I open the door so we can talk face-to-face?"

"Only if you feel comfortable."

"I do."

I pushed aside the dresser, and opened the door to the llama that was my wife. Her beautiful blonde hair had translated rather nicely into a coat of fluffy golden wool. Her fuzzy, two-foot neck was bowed relatively low, and she flashed me a bashful smile. She had the slightly goofy camelid muzzle that all llamas had, but with her full cheeks and small nose she was still somehow recognizably Brianne. And her eyes, though now on opposite sides of her head, were as pretty and soulful as ever.

"I'll be damned, you *do* make for a cute llama." I said.

She smiled and twisted her front hoof bashfully. "It means a lot to hear you say that."

"Do you..." I started, hesitantly, "do you want to come in?" Her banana-shaped ears perked up.

"I'd love to... but only if you feel comfortable with it," she responded.

"I do," I said, and opened the door all the way. Her tail started flicking happily, and she sauntered in. I sat down on the bed and patted the comforter, inviting her to join me. Despite some awkwardness owing to her quadrupedal stance, she managed to clamber onto the mattress, tucked her legs underneath herself, and sat down next to me.

"So what's it like out there?" I asked.

"It's pretty nice. Some llamas are out looking for remaining humans, but the majority of us are just chilling out. We don't need to worry about money, politics, or work anymore; we can just find some nice spots to graze and chill out with our fellow animals. There's an empty lot behind the drug store where about a hundred of us were hanging out, and the grass was really tasty there."

"Oh, that sounds lovely, actually," I wasn't lying. The world had been increasingly stressful even before the a-llama-lypse, and the thought of being able to just leave it all behind in exchange for the simple life of a grazing animal was strangely appealing. More-so considering that might be the only way I'd be able to continue living with my wife.

"Oh it is lovely," Brianne begun, "but it did start to get pretty lonely without you."

"I was getting pretty lonely too..." I said, trailing off. "Would it," I began nervously, "would it be alright if I touched you?"

"Of course," Brianne said, her ears perking up and her tail flicking. "You can't change just from touching us."

I embraced Brianne, pressing my face into the wool at the base of her neck and wrapping my arms tightly around her fluffy torso. She responded, wrapping her long neck around my back and burying her snout into my shoulder. It felt good to feel her warmth again. And her wool was incredibly soft. "I missed your hugs." I said into her wool.

"I missed them too." Brianne replied, and I shivered as I felt her breath against my neck as she spoke.

I thought about all the things I liked about my life, and how few of them didn't involve Brianne. I thought about the fact that staying human might mean staying on the losing team. I thought about what it actually was I liked being human, besides Brianne.

"You know what else I miss?" I began, pulling away from Brianne's wool. "Your kisses."

"My... kisses?" Brianne replied, cautiously.

"Yeah, I miss getting little nibbles of the cheek and neck throughout the day."

"Are you saying you want... a kiss from me, right now?" Brianne asked, eyes widening, tail entering a full wag.

"Yes," I replied confidently, turning away from her and closing my eyes. "I think a kiss would be really nice right now."

"That makes me really happy to hear you say," she said. Brianne leaned in, and I felt her ungulate lips gave me a small, wet peck on the cheek. As she pulled away, I felt my cheek begin to tingle.

***

The night was no longer filled with screams and sirens, but with crickets and distant, contented bleats. The crisp night air felt delightfully cool against my thick, black wool. My new leg muscles were getting a much needed stretch as I trotted down the bike path, breaking in my new hooves. Brianne walked slightly ahead of me, giving me ample view of her cute llama butt bouncing up and down with every step. Brianne was right, it *did* feel good to be a llama.

"Look at you, you're a natural!" Brianne said, turning her neck and admiring my gait.

"Thanks, though I don't quite feel like a natural yet." Walking on four legs was still taking some mental effort. I felt like if I wasn't at least somewhat conscious of my stride, I'd forget that my forelegs weren't arms anymore and trip over myself. But I could feel myself getting more used to it with each passing minute. I felt weirdly proud that was getting good at being a llama.

"Don't worry, you'll get the hang of it!" she assured me.

Up ahead, a pack of four llamas came trotting out of the woods ahead of us, not far from our first llama encounter that day. The apparent leader, a black-and-white spotted llama still wearing an ill-fitting jacket, came up to us.

"Hey, new recruits! We heard there are some humans holed up in the grocery store of Maple street, would you guys want to join us?"

Brianne turned to me. "You're call, sweetie!"

I was surprised by Brianne's offer, but I was even more surprised that, when I thought about it, I kind of did want to do it. Brianne warned me I'd have a drive to add people to the ranks of the herd. But it wasn't a mindless, zombie-like drive as I had imagined. It was, weirdly, almost a sense of pride. I liked being a llama, I had decided. We were awesome. We were a bunch of goofy, fluffy quadrupeds that had almost taken over the entire world overnight. The thought of dragging dumb old humans kicking and screaming onto the winning team sounded fun as hell.

But as fun as that sounded, all I really wanted to do right now was be with my wife. I smiled at Brianne, then turned to the other llamas. "Thanks," I said, "but I promised my wife I'd go on a walk with her today, and it's almost midnight, so I think we will pass."

"Suit yourself," the leader said, and they trotted off down the path. Brianne smiled, and took off.

"Come on," Brianne said as she broke into a trot, "we're not too far from the grassy lot, I can't wait to see you get your first taste of grass!"

It sounded like heaven. The world had ended, and I had lost my humanity, and the main consequence was realizing how little the world or my humanity mattered to me. The thing that mattered to me was the cute llama currently bouncing up the bike path.

"By the way," I said, catching up to her. "I don't think you ever finished telling me about Les Mis!"

Brianne's camelid eyes lit up. "Oh, how could I forget! So anyway, those tangents through the novel were considered unusual even when the book came out. Many contemporary critics complained about them, but others thought they added to the story..."