Your eyes trace over the figure staring back at you in the mirror, taking in every aspect of this strange new form. You follow the outline covering your body, running everywhere from the tip of your tail to the end of your muzzle. You take in the bright, smooth colours of your fur, the idle way your ears twitch and wiggle absently without a care in the world. There's really no other way to describe it--you've become a cartoon character.

You raise a four-fingered hand and feel your cheek. The fur is soft like felt but has a slick smoothness to it like freshly-lain ink or paint. You run your hands along your muzzle and feel a distinct lack of underlying structure. There is no bone behind your cheek or jaw supporting your mouth, just ink all the way through. It makes your skin feel soft and pliable like a memory foam pillow but more elastic. You push your own nose in experimentally and watch as it is squished inwards effortlessly yet springs back out the moment you move your hand. The sensation isn't painful but fills the front of your face with a quivering vibration for a brief moment as if in the aftermath of a sneeze.

As another test you place both hands on your muzzle and pull. It stretches as far as your arms can drag it, what little stiffness it had softening instantly to make it extend. More quivering fills your face--a building pressure that makes you want to laugh. You let go and your muzzle snaps back with an audible SPROING! and the force recoils through your body and sends ripples through your fur. The impact knocks you backwards and you flail to maintain balance before toppling over onto your rump.

A light giggle escapes you as you rise and dust yourself off before taking some experimental steps around the room. Your paws feel strange against the ground--you feel it beneath you but there is less grip and friction than there likely should. It's almost as if you're half-gliding with each step. There's also something else, a niggling feeling across your limbs. It's as if your body is a coiled spring, poised and ready to burst into activity at the slightest provocation. You turn around to face the wide open room and break into a dash. Each step hurtles you forwards, paws bouncing over the floor. The room whips past in less than a second. Furniture, windows, drapes, they all blur away in a fit of moti--WALL!

You slam into the wall with your arms and legs extended like a star. The sheer force ripples across and compresses your body. You feel your fur fold in on itself, stiffening and smoothing over as your muzzle is squashed into your face. Darkness is all you see as your flattened body adheres to the wall. Physics at its finest. Being flat doesn't hurt but it does feel extremely strange. The pressure wraps around your whole body and presses in. The feeling of your own fur forced tight is like being in a warm, cozy straightjacket. It is hard to stay focused. Your thoughts are hazy and cloudlike since your brain--or inked variant thereof--is as folded up as the rest of you.

After a time--one minute? An hour? A day? You can't tell--the grip of the wall loosens. Your face peels off and flops backwards before the rest of you quickly follows. Like a piece of paper in a breeze you float back and forth on your way to the ground. The air runs over your body ticklishly and your form wobbles and ripples in response before you land on your back. You try and move your body but it's... difficult. The sensation is like trying to move and stand on a foot that has been asleep for too long--like pins and needles but wobbly and twitchy and weird and each motion makes you want to shudder.

After several failed attempts, defeated by your giddiness, you manage to sit up. Well, curl up. Simply holding the position takes enormous effort but you flop your arm over your chest and raise your hand to your mouth. Mustering as much strength as possible, you wrap your compressed lips around your thumb and blow.

The air rushes through your hand and the inside of each finger as lost dimensions start to return. Your body feels loose and limp as air flows through it, like a soggy noodle being puffed up. Your insides quiver and tickle and you shut out the urge to laugh in order to focus on forcing the flow of air. Depth begins to return to your body as limbs plump and paws extend. Then, suddenly, as you pass whatever inked threshold there was, your body releases itself. In a rapid wave your body bursts out into three dimensions as every bit of folded fur and scrunched skin pops out with a whiplash strong enough to bounce you off your feet.

You feel spectacularly alive as the sudden freedom sends the once-trapped energy roaring through your body. It's an adrenaline high mixed with carbonated fizz and it wants out. You grin widely and look around for an opening. The window beckons. It even has a heavenly glow to your animated eyes. You back up with a laugh and dash forwards. Your frictionless paws bound you out the open window and into the light of day. Gravity may have it's due but, really, why would that matter now? The open world awaits.