…

…

“Whose a good little wheek-wheeker? Ah? Whose a good little wheek-wheeker?”

…

The furry creature stood on his hind-legs, eagerly awaiting his afternoon carrot from his master. The black patch of fur over his right eye brought out the reflective shine of his cornea. Little Fry took great pride in this part of his appearance; it made humans refer to him as “cute” and often resulted in him getting treats. It also made him stand out next to his cage-mate, French. She was older than him and lacked a lot of the pep he had in his young age. She also had a boring white coat covering her body, therefore making her less cute than him. French might've gotten snacks from their master every now and then, but Fry only got the tastiest snacks.

...seriously?

Dave, French and Fry's master, grinned at the silly boy and gently scratched behind his ear. Fry smiled as much as a guinea pig was physically able to, basking in the attention that was being stolen from French. At one point, he shot a smug glance over at his cage-mate. Unfortunately, she was sound asleep.

We went from a little girl bein' sexually abused to a fuckin' guinea pig? What the hell?

After Fry let out another loud “Wheek wheek!”, Dave surrendered to his pet and hovered a slice of carrot over his cage.

Buddy, I told you that I didn't want anymore cryptic bullshit.

Mouth watering, the mammal leaped up and caught the carrot in his teeth.

Four days ago. I asked you four days ago to explain this shit to me.

Landing on his feet, the little guinea pig happily munched on his lunch.

I thought maybe you were waitin' for things to calm down on my end. You said it would take a while to explain all this. So I prepared for it.

After finishing his snack, Fry spun in a little circle.

Now here we are, and you're gonna explain Casa do Diaño to me usin' a goddamn guinea pig. Fuck you!

“Fry, you're being pig-diculous!” Dave said, laughing.

Shut up, you fuckin' jerk-off. That ain't even funny!

“You better chill out or my company later might complain about you making a pig deal out of things!”

Stop it.

Dave eventually stepped away from the cage and Fry continued running around. The little mammal lived a life of blissful ignorance. His days were always consistent. When the room got dark, he'd close his eyes and take a nap. When the dark went away, he'd perk right up and start making a lot of noise for the entire floor to hear. French gave him a look full of scorn every time he did this. She always told Fry the days were never as interesting as he made them out to be. But the younger guinea pig paid no mind to her skewed opinion.

After all, how could his days be boring when he had such exciting adventures to take part in? Daily activities such as running around his cage always got his blood pumping. He always proclaimed to French that he had “magic feet”. How were they magic? Because if he ran fast enough, sometimes he'd propel enough force to fly over the top of his cage!

…

Once his tiny feet hit the cold floor, the hyperactive mammal shot through the apartment like a bullet. His path was the same every time. First, he'd head straight into the living room and attempt to explore the hidden lair that was located under Dave's couch. Note the word “attempt”. After all, French and Fry ate better than most humans did, so squeezing into such a tight space was a difficult task for a chubby little guinea pig to do!

Next, he'd explore the room with the Magical Gateway to Yummy Goodness, also referred to by Dave as the “refrigerator”. Fry would often get up on his hind-legs and scratch the door, hoping it would open. Golly, if he were taller...he'd gain access to this magical dimension and take all the treats for himself! Unfortunately, it was often around this time that Dave would discover Fry was out of his cage and gently pick him up and put him back in. The furry hoodlum would give a look that always made his master's ocean blue eyes sparkle, despite having to clean up the skinny urine trail his pet had left in his state of unbridled excitement.

Despite the setbacks, the days always got better whenever Dave made an appearance. The moment he saw his master enter the room, Fry got incredibly excited and started begging for treats. The little fuzzball had more often than not assumed humans couldn't understand the language of his species, but his master was special. If he was hungry, he got food. If the hay in his cage was getting too old and dirty, it would get changed the moment he opened his mouth. If he needed love and affection, he got it—no questions asked. Dave always knew what Fry wanted.

You're tryin' to make me kill myself, ain't you?

The only problem, however, was that Dave's schedule wasn't nearly as consistent as his furry friends' were. Sometimes, Dave would be up at the crack of dawn to cook breakfast for himself before leaving to go to work. He was usually gone for about half the day, coming home just in time for all of the light outside the window to go away. Every couple of days, Dave would change things up by cooking, but never leaving the apartment. Not that this bothered Fry in the slightest; Dave was much better company than that crusty old maiden, French.

Other times, though, Fry wouldn't see Dave until nearly all the light was gone. It's not like he ever missed him—how could he? He kept tabs on his master at all times! There's no way he could just leave the apartment and Fry not know! He'd panic and ask French if she knew what was going on. She'd just sigh and tell him Dave lost his job again.

Despite hearing this excuse many times during his short existence, Fry would always tilt his head in confusion. There was no way his master was capable of losing his job every other month, right? How easy was it to lose a job, anyway? Were they really slippery to grasp? Couldn't Dave just put a leash around it so it wouldn't get lost? Or maybe a tag, so somebody could call and tell him they found his job wandering around their front yard?

French would just call Fry an “imbecile”.

Whatever that even meant.

Regardless, Fry never liked the days where he'd barely see Dave around. Not only does the poor creature get lonely without his human friend, it also forces him to settle for his dry food. Dry food! The horror of it all!

Dave eventually came out on these days, sure.

But something would always seem...off about him.

Oh, can it be? Is the plot thickenin' here?

For starters, he'd completely ignore both French and Fry whenever he'd walk into the room. No matter how many times Fry wheeked and gnawed on the metal bars of his cage, Dave never seemed to hear him. The rare instances that he did hear him, he'd lob an empty Pepsi can at the cage. Next, he'd stare outside his window for hours on end. He only left the window to take bathroom breaks, coming right back when he was finished.

Sometimes, Dave picked up the phone and called somebody. Of course, it was always the same person. Before Fry was born, Dave had met a brunette woman named Rebecca. The guinea pig had met her a few times and even been fed by her a time or two. However, Fry could never bring himself to like her based on the things Dave said to her during these particular days.

...

Dave would start things off by begging her to answer his call.

He'd then start sobbing, asking her why she never wanted to talk to him anymore.

Why did she never come over to visit him?

What was more important in her life than him?

Then he'd start telling her all about the thoughts racing in his head.

How everybody was the same.

How he was one in a million.

Nobody understood him.

He didn't even understand himself, sometimes.

At this point, his tone would grow angry.

Dave was a failure.

He knew it.

Everybody knew it.

Rebecca knew it and didn't want to say anything.

Why didn't she just say it?

He knew she was thinking it.

Then he'd start screaming into the phone.

It's her fault his life has fallen apart.

All she had to do was be honest with him and tell him how much of a failure he was.

Because of her silence, he was going to have to take drastic measures and end his misery.

Then he'd hang up the phone.

And call her again.

And again.

And again...until she finally decided to call him back.

Then Dave would be happy again until the next time he lost his job.

…

Wow. Just...wow.

But luckily for the young guinea pig, the scary days where Dave was overly distant were few and far between. Deep down, the mammal knew that his master didn't mean any offense to the delay in his feeding time. He was just down in the dumps over his job going missing. If the day started off on the right foot—with lots of love and snacks—Fry knew he had nothing to fear.

Which was why he thought nothing of it when Rebecca agreed to come visit Dave that day.

I think I see where this is goin'...

Once a knock was heard on the door, Dave's face lit up. “She's here! She's here!” he shouted as he rushed to greet his guest. Once the door opened, he was met with a young black haired woman. She wore a long brown skirt with a red tank top. A flower clip held her hair away from her face, allowing her rather apprehensive-looking eyes and half smile to be visible to the world.

Fry's master grabbed Rebecca and held her tightly. “Hi, Dave,” she murmured as he pulled her into the apartment. Once the door closed behind the woman, Dave let go of her and immediately started squeezing the two bumps on her chest. This seemed like a strange way to express affection, thought the guinea pig. Couldn't Dave just pet her and feed her some tasty veggies like he did for French and Fry? Judging by the look on Rebecca's face, she was probably wondering the same thing.

Dave didn't seem to really notice, though.

“God, I've missed these puppies! Mmm...” he purred, bringing his face extra close to hers. Fry was confused. Those were puppies on her chest? Weren't puppies supposed to be these creatures that were much bigger and louder than he was? If those were puppies, then what on Earth was that beast across the hall that barked every time Dave stepped out of the apartment?!

Rebecca smiled very weakly, only responding in mumbles every time Dave asked her if she liked the way he touched her. He then asked if she wanted to go to the bedroom with him for a little while. Her eyes widened and she backed away. “Um, I can't. Aunt Flo is in town.” He laughed and kissed her lips. “They say some good dick will cure those pesky cramps, you know. Why don't you let me be your painkiller, baby?”

Fry didn't understand what they were talking about.

What did Rebecca's aunt being in town have to do with Dave's bedroom?

What was “good dick” and how was Flo going to get it if she wasn't even there?

Was Dave going to pass it along to Rebecca so she could give it to Flo later?

Why did Dave have to give it to her in the bedroom?

Couldn't he just give it to her in the living room?

Humans didn't make any sense sometimes.

Shut up, you stupid rodent.

She shook her head. “No, thank you. Maybe later, you know?” His smile didn't fade as he pulled his pants down to his knees, revealing some long appendage that had blue lines underneath the skin. “Bet you can't say no to this.” Her eyebrows narrowed. “No, Dave.”

...

Two words.

That's all it took.

Just two little words.

…

Dave shoved her against the wall. “The fuck do you mean “no”?! After all this time we've spent apart, the least you could do is have sex with me, Rebecca!” She swallowed hard, but didn't back down. “I-I'm sorry, Dave. Maybe next time when I'm not bleeding?” Dave screamed in her face. “You always say that! “Oh Dave, we'll fuck soon!” “Oh Dave, I promise we'll do it next time!” When will you just shut up and fuck me like a good woman would?!”

Fry's heart stopped.

What was going on?

He was horrified by his master's behavior!

Where did the loving, gentle man from earlier go?!

The younger guinea pig let out a series of anguished wheeks in the hopes of diffusing the situation.

Sadly, they didn't work.

Rebecca began to shake. “Look Dave, it wasn't like I was planning on getting my period today or anything. I'm sorry, okay? It's not the end of the world.” He started digging his fingernails into his left arm. “It is for me, goddammit! All these guys are out there getting their rocks off while I'm fucking stuck here! In this shitty apartment, living only with two fucking guinea pigs! I deserve pleasure like those douchebags do, Rebecca!”

The volume of Fry's wheeks heightened greatly.

French just smiled as she watched in silence.

For fuck's sake, just rub one out in the motherfuckin' bathroom.

“Dave, please! Stop this!” Before she knew it, he stepped into the kitchen and returned with a large steak knife. “I'm sick of those assholes always one-upping me! They have girlfriends that let them literally shit on them and you won't even get on your knees and suck me off!” He placed the tip of the blade on top of his wrist. “So I'm going to end it now. I'm sick of this unfair world where everyone is having more fun than me!”

Tears streamed from Fry's eye sockets.

Why was this happening?!

Jesus H. Christ, guy.

Rebecca gritted her teeth. She'd heard all that she could tolerate. “So that's it? You're just going to kill yourself all because I don't feel like fucking you right now?” She stepped up to him and smacked him hard in the face. “Fuck you and your fragile ego, Dave. Go and fucking kill yourself. See if I care!”

...

One second.

Pain was stinging the right side of Dave's face.

Five seconds.

Dave was seeing red.

Seven seconds.

He's shoving her against the wall again.

Nine seconds.

He's raising the knife in the air.

Ten seconds.

She's screaming for help.

Eleven seconds.

He's stabbing her repeatedly in the chest.

Fifteen seconds.

Blood is painted all over Dave's upper body.

Twenty seconds.

Rebecca falls onto the ground, dead.

…

Fry was stunned, frozen in horror.

French laughed.

Wait a minute, guinea pigs can laugh?

Dave didn't hear her as he dropped to his knees. “No...no...what did I do?” He dropped the knife onto the floor. “I'm sorry, Rebecca. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to...oh god!” He started crying loudly at the sight before him, not realizing he was going to need his composure again in just a moment. Meanwhile, Fry slowly looked over at his cage-mate. French's eyes shined with newborn life that may or may not have been stolen. From whom was a question Fry wasn't willing to delve into.

She effortlessly hopped over the cage.

So much for lackin' pep. Fuck your “magic feet”, kid.

She slowly approached Dave.

During her walk, she began to grow in size.

Oh what the fuck now?

Her entire shape changed.

Her body stood upward.

Her front legs were now arms.

Paws were hands.

Her white fur was replaced by a human head of long white hair.

You gotta be kiddin' me...

Fry couldn't believe his eyes. The cage-mate he'd known since his infancy was no longer sporting a boring white coat. She now sported no coat, presenting herself completely in the nude in Dave's living room. She was taller than Rebecca; maybe even taller than their master. Since when could French do that? Has she always been able to turn into a human? Why didn't she ever tell him?!

Why the hell not? Last hallucination had some kid turnin' into a goddamn werewolf! Might as well have the opposite of that now, right?!

French cleared her throat, which jolted Dave from his pit of sorrow.

...

He fell back in surprise, eyes nearly popping out of his skull.

Who was this woman?

Where did she come from?

What would she think of the dead body lying in front of him?

What about the blood coating his flesh and clothes?

His exposed member just hanging freely during this chaos?

Would she say anything at all?

…

Yes.

Yes, she would.

“That was a rather rash move, Dave.” The pet owner did not respond, as several different things were attacking his focus at that moment. He just killed the woman he loved in cold blood. There was a stranger in his house. And this stranger was naked. His concentration stood no chance. However, French couldn't care less about Dave's wandering eye.

“Aimless mortal,” she muttered, now walking around him. “And you weren't even clever with your killing. In this small apartment complex, there's no doubt everybody heard your little lovers spat.” She stopped beside Rebecca's corpse. “Pitiful. The worst mistake she ever made was meeting you.”

So...guy kills his girl and some naked chick shows up to belittle him. Lemme guess, he's goin' to Casa do Diaño.

Dave swallowed hard, still trying to process the scene before him. “Who...are you?” he asked quietly. She looked back at him and smirked. “A doting daughter.” He tilted his head. “Excuse me?” “You heard me, mortal,” she responded rather harshly. She stepped in front of him, cupping the right side of his face in her hand. “I'm not here to talk about myself. I'm here to inform you that it's time you left this town.”

Fuckin' called it.

“And...go where? I don't have much family living anymore.” Despite the darkness in her eyes, the white-haired woman gave him a reassuring smile. “Your family is irrelevant. They are not worthy enough of stepping foot into Casa do Diaño.” Dave made a noise signaling that he didn't know what she was talking about.

...

She sighed and decided to explain it to him.

“There are two types of people that exist in this world. There are those who are destined to do great things, whether they be wonderful or terrible. Morality is obsolete. All that matters is legacy. History worth repeating.” She pressed her fingertip up into his chin, lifting him to his feet effortlessly. “Quite frankly, David Jostens, I do not think you are destined for greatness. But...it is not for me to decide who is and who isn't.” She chuckles. “So, with that being said, you will be going to the land in which only the great survive. You will live amongst those who are too rare for this weak society you're born into—those who strive to change the world. Will it be you who is able to change the world, David Jostens? Who knows? Surely not I.”

She removes her finger from his chin and holds her hand out.

“Either you rot in prison until you are old and useless, or you go and prove that you're not the failure you swear yourself to be. The choice is yours.”

…

So Casa do Diaño is basically a battleground for overly ambitious assholes. They duke it out to see who's the baddest motherfucker of them all and then they live easy for the rest of their lives in luxury?

…

Why the ever lovin' hell did you not just say so from the goddamn start?! Sign me the fuck up!

…

Dave grabs the woman's hand and shakes.

“Excellent. You might as well leave now before the police come knocking.”

She looks over at a face that had been far too quiet since she ceased from being known as French.

“Take him with you.”

Before Fry could properly react, she snapped her fingers and a bright light encircled the guinea pig.

Oh no, what now?

High-pitched wheeks escaped from the furry creature as pain coursed through every pore in his body.

His anatomy changed without so much as a warning.

Limbs grew larger.

Limbs changed.

Organs grew bigger.

Soon his cage was destroyed.

Feeble wheeks eventually became rough neighs.

Before he knew it, his feet had become hooves, clopping against the hard floor.

He was so tall that his horns were nearly piercing the ceiling.

Dave watched in astonishment. “Wow, Fry! Nice new look, buddy!” Fry said nothing, but pride made his heart flutter. Admittedly, this new look made him feel powerful. Granted, it would take him a while to get used to not having a cage. “So, how am I going to get out of this apartment? My guinea pig is too big to fit through the door.”

The woman smiled.

“His feet know the way.”

And with that, she dissolved away in a white mist.

Wasting no time, Dave pulled his pants up and approached the new and improved Fry.

He climbed onto his back.

Sure enough, Fry's legs began to move without his consent.

It was true; his feet did know the way!

Before the duo knew it, they were crashing outside the window and headed toward their new home.

…

…

Okay, Casa do Diaño seems to have a weird fetish for animal transformations. I guess I better prepare to become a fuckin' bear or some shit.

Otherwise, you made your case.

So...how do I get there?

What will lead the way?