I cannot tell you how sorry I am. I know it’s pointless for me to say it now, but what can I honestly say? I fucked up, royally. What I did was unforgiveable, and there is nothing I can do to change it at all. All I have left are the memories from before.

It was the weekend of San Diego FurCon, or SDFC, one of the biggest furry conventions on the West Coast. Because of my online popularity, these were my favorite places to be when I wasn’t busy taking classes or browsing social media for my many followers’ praise. I’d arrived the day before and settled in my hotel room near the top floor, but not before trying on Blazer Eyes and collapsing on the bed.

Waking up in my full-body fursuit in a hotel room hadn’t been anything new to me though. After years of this hobby, it became second-nature to me, even when I didn’t have a meet-up or convention.

            However, I needed to get up. Craning the kinks out of my neck, my tired eyes wouldn’t shake away the optimism I had for today. I then glanced over the bed and found my fursona’s head on the counter its black ears pointing through the mop of red headfur. After grabbing the head, I turned to the hotel room’s mirror opposite of the lit bathroom.

Blazer Eyes, my alternate persona in the fandom for the past several years. Cool and mysteriously brooding with a twinge of mischievous personality, he was a mixed wolfdog with a long tail and black-and-white fur sleekly patterned along its firm body. He had velvet bangs of red hair and a green eye along with its blue one shining in the dark. Looking at the costume in my reflection, I couldn’t help but feel the pride swelling in my chest the more I turned and made adorable gestures in the expensive fursuit.

Let me tell you, when the convention-goers saw me walk in at my first convention years ago, it felt like a spotlight shone on me. My followers exploded, and I remember feeling like a completely different person, like I became a semi-celebrity for simply how realistic my fursuit looked. I grew confident in myself less as Marcus Garvit, and more as the suave and amazing Blazer Eyes, posing for photos, high-fiving attendees who’d only seen me in this costume, and showcasing him in all his canid glory at the ceremonial parades.

As I rode down the elevator to the third floor, pulling my phone from my Livid-brand chest bag, I checked my social media pages for how many followers I’d gained since last night. Since last week I had steadily balanced around five-hundred-and-fifty or so of them, and I hoped to get more results today. After all, pictures of a cool wolfdog fursuit often gained likes, which meant shares, more exposure and eventually followers.

“Alright then, Blazer Eyes” I grinned as the doors opened, “let’s do this.”

Presenting my con badge to the receptionist minutes later, I rushed into the main area, where vendors and countless furries like I congregated. The initial relief and excitement for attending SDFC for another time came to me in waves; the costumes, the people, the dealer’s dens and the seminars, it was always too much to choose from each time you went. Remember the old saying, “So much to do, so little time”? Well, that was the case at any and every convention I went to.

Then slowly, hours later, my excitement started to dampen. The social interaction and recognition I expected to find towards my costume didn’t come in droves. Few people took pictures of me, and not many of them got enough of the likes I wanted. Some of them didn’t even tag me in their photos like it’s often required.

Aside from the lack of air conditioning and how much sweat accumulated underneath my fursuit, I was becoming more and more pissed that nobody was liking or following me. Instead, I lay against the wall hot and bothered, wanting to have someone at least acknowledge me. I scrolled down and down, waiting and anticipating for at least one new follower.

            Underneath Blazer Eyes’ head, moisture stuck between my eyelids and my lips, as well as lumps of my hair clung to the sides of my face and neck. If I didn’t reek by then, you could’ve sworn I’d already bathed or something. That was the price for some cosplayers, especially at conventions.

Around me, more and more furries arrived through the doors leading into the main convention. Some of the fursuits, they were very well-crafted, but gathering near the entrance hallway, one stood out to my left. Dressed like a fennec in a blue skirt, I had to do a double-take at how awful her costume looked compared to everyone else’s. Especially mine.

Her head was clunky and misshapen, the ears glued together, and eyes drawn over in what looked like spray paint. The tail looked absolutely patched over in chunks while the navy costume seemed too small over her flabby, blanket-like suit presented more like a onesie.

I recognized her, or at least her fursona. She was @AllWeld, one of my followers and avid fans. She always commented and religiously shared my content, telling me how cool I looked in all my photos. Seeing her in public though, I wasn’t ready when she waved a haphazardly-made paw in my direction.

“Oh my God, you’re Blazer Eyes!” she chirped while making cutesy mannerisms.

Standing up to my feet, I felt glad she couldn’t see my disgust towards her outfit. I could’ve ignored her, but instead outstretched my own paw.

“Thank you,” I replied. “I’m glad you recognize me. I hope you’re having fun?”

“You bet!” the fennec laughed while ‘wagging’ her ‘tail’ behind her. “Listen, I’m so, so, sorry but I have to go to a seminar soon, but mind if I take a picture of you?”

I smiled and eagerly nodded my head. “Of course!”

After a couple series of poses, from brooding mystery to cutesy fun, @AllWeld and I shook paws before she started to leave. A sudden thought crossed my mind, and I asked, “Hey! Mind if I take a picture of you too?”

She happily gasped and squeaked. “Oh yes! Yes! Yes! Thank you so much, I worked hard on this!”

Sure she did, I mused, it must’ve taken you, what? Five days to make that dreck?

After making a few poses for my phone, I nodded and thanked her before the fennec walked away. Without waiting, I glanced back down to my picture of her and began writing a new post.

“#SDFC Wow, isn’t this a great day? Ran into @AllWeld & talked! :D”

I almost posted it, but instead stopped myself. A few seconds later I deleted the entire thing and started writing a new one.

“Just met @AllWeld at #SDFC, and lemme say…”

Again, I deleted it.

What was going on? Why didn’t I have the courage to just post it and let it be?

Groaning and panting from impatience, I then decided to try something.

“#SDFC Wow, look at that #fursuit. @AllWeld seriously looks like a little girl going out trick-or-treating! XD” followed by an additional link to her public page.

            To this day, I cannot think what came over me. Whether it was the adrenaline of wanting to make another attempt for attention in the vast world wide web, or knowing she might become a viral bandwagon anyway, I pressed ‘send’.

Returning to my room after attending the fursuit parade that evening, however, my phone vibrated by the influx of notifications. Disappointment turned into intrigue, then it became surprise and excitement at how many shares/likes/follows I was suddenly getting. In that moment came a growing sense of pride that swelled in my chest, something I hadn’t felt in a while.

Then I read the comments below the picture.

“He’s right; she’s a total fake fur! *laughs*”

“@AllWeld @Blazer_Eyes Now that is one shameless #fursuiter! Seriously, I’ve seen Halloween costumes w/ more creativity! >.<”

“*looks at picture* Welp, there goes my hope for professional fursuiters.”

“My God, now I’ve seen the worst fursuit in history! Thank you @Blazer_Eyes!”

“I know,” I replied back to one comment. “TBH, I’d kill myself just for wearing that to a public event. Why not bother leaving this to the real furries, am I right?”

***

The next morning, I woke up once more in my fursuit, this time even more disoriented and having a sore throat.

I found my phone neatly placed on the desk opposite the bed and tried to remember when I put it there. Shrugging inanely, I scrolled through the various notifications, some of which came all the way from yesterday.

“Not everyone is like you @Blazer_Eyes. I hope you rot in Hell! #BlazerEyes”

“What @Blazer_Eyes did is wrong. Think of that poor girl. #RT”

“@Blazer_Eyes is a narcissistic fucktard who thinks this kind of behavior is OK. Fuck you! #BlazerEyes #RT”

I rolled my eyes at the cellphone each minute a post came up. They were being so overdramatic, I thought back then. After all, all I did was give my two cents to my fans. Besides, a fursuiter like me could always find the fan who didn’t care about any of this ‘controversy’.

And speaking of which, I could still find a few loyal followers defending me and the picture. Then I saw the time, and realized the convention restarted three hours ago.

“Well, shit…” I groaned, “better get going.”

A warm shower washed away all the sweat from last night, followed by the warm feeling of seeing the convention again. I couldn’t recall much of the night before, aside from the one incident that resulted in everyone going batshit, but it didn’t shake away my optimism.

Several minutes later, I felt refreshed and ready before going out into the empty hallway. Unfortunately, the fuzzy feeling disintegrated when I glanced back to my phone, and once again, there were more mean posts.

Beside the elevator stood a young man wearing some kind of old bellboy costume, making me raise an eyebrow under the fursuit. His skin was pale all over underneath the bright red uniform and collar. Heavy bags hung from his eyelids, but it didn’t exceed away the smooth skin of his otherwise cadaver-like face. At first glance you’d swear he looked like he’d walked off the set of a horror movie.

“Hello,” I greeted him happily.

His nametag simply read ‘Bub’, making me wonder what kind of parent named their kid this. Or was it simply a nickname or something?

            Pulling my paws off, I hesitated before walking towards him and followed ‘Bub’ as I watched my followers reach into four digits. Thank God for a stylish chest bag to hold your items, otherwise you’d be forced to take off your costume to grab it from your pants pocket.

            “Mind stopping by the third floor first? I’m going back to the convention.”

            He glanced to me and pressed a button. “I would’ve guessed given your attire.”

            Seconds later, the elevator doors creaked open, allowing us to walk in as he pushed the cart between us. No doubt the bellboy to my left had never even heard of my name before, let alone knew what the heck our fandom is. “Hotel California” played in the background of the elevator, but my main focus remained on my phone.

“Boy, this is taking longer than I thought…” I mumbled before turning to the distant bellboy. “What floor were we on before?”

Once again, he glanced back to me with tired eyes, like ‘Bub’ had done this job too many times to count this day. I couldn’t blame him, given the number of people going to this convention every single year. Then again, what really unsettled me were his eyes, and how dark they seemed despite how lit the moving box was inside.

“It doesn’t matter anyway,” he replied. “You’re about to arrive to your destination.”

I blinked through Blazer Eyes’ head, turning back to the doors when I suddenly felt a rush of warm, humid air seep through my suit. I mean, like in the triple digits.

“Phew, is the air conditioning broken or something,” I gasped under my fursuit. “Why is it so hot in here all of a sudden?”

“It’s always been like that, sir.” Bub inanely mentioned in a low, inaudible voice. “Don’t worry. We’re almost there.”

Before I could ask, I paused at a notification catching my eye.

“It’s sad he died, but that doesn’t excuse @Blazer_Eyes’s behavior.”

What?

“#RIPBlazerEyes It’s tragic about his death, and I’m sorry for his family.”

“It’s heartbreaking to hear about @Blazer_Eyes’s sudden death, despite the horrible shit he did. #RIPBlazerEyes. Rest in peace you bastard.”

My heart leapt into my esophagus. What. The. Fuck?

“#RIPBlazerEyes Pity @Blazer_Eyes died before he could pay for his crimes.”

“I never followed him, but it’s sad @Blazer_Eyes passed away at #SDFC.”

“Is it true @Blazer_Eyes died in his fursuit?!?!”

“Holy Christ—” I froze.

            Opening and closing my mouth, I could feel my tongue become curled in a maw of more teeth. My eyes glared down to the nose that seemed longer in my peripheral vision, and I could feel sensations of sweltering heat on my arms and legs. A tail curled along my legs, twitching and patting at my ankles. Standing there in disbelief, I slowly reached behind me and desperately searched for a zipper with my fingers, but nothing could be found except for warm fur and skin.

“Holy shit!” I screamed in absolute horror.

I felt the elevator go into a sudden drop, and fear hit me as the background song echoed in corrupted tune. When my hands—or paws—touched the wall, I shrieked at feeling them blister and scald. Looking between the burning wallpaper and the view as we descended downward, my eyes fell on the bellboy. He wasn’t affected by this.

A low growl escaped from my terrified lips. “What the fuck did you do to me?!”

The bellboy’s expression of indifference didn’t falter, but a small grin curved at the corner of his lips. “But sir, I thought you wanted to be like this?” he mocked over the ambience.

“N-No,” I whimpered, cradling my paws to my furry chest while I could feel my tail curl against my shaking ankles. “What’s happening to me? A-Am I dreaming?! I gotta be!”

“Rest assured you’re not dreaming,” the bellboy named ‘Bub’ told me. “Does the name Allison Waldon ring any bells?”

At first, I hadn’t heard him. I dug my nails, or claws, whatever, into the sides of my head and panted back for oxygen, further terrified if we’d soon hit the ground at terminal velocity.

“How the hell should I know?!”

He fought back a visible laugh, making my muscles cringe in fear.

“Since I know your kind are hard at remembering things, why not I indulge you?” he spoke behind the rope of furries still laughing beside him. “Seventeen years old, a remarkable student, and a former fan of yours. Her passion in life was becoming a…‘fursuiter’, as you say. Until she saw the real you underneath.”

In a moment of clarity, I stopped panicking and started to remember. The crappy fursuiter from before, I remembered seeing her yesterday? Or was it today? Anyway, the convention continued for me like expected, all while she became a meme on social media. She’d disappeared from the convention all-together following her outburst, before I eventually retired to my hotel room on the top floor. 

Bits and pieces of memory collected together. My social media pages exploded with posts from my fans being furious over my words to her, but I didn’t care. It had been such an exhausting day for me that I didn’t bother taking off my fursona as I went into bed.

Fursuiting 101: Never fall asleep in your costume without being hydrated.

“Do you remember hearing ambulance noises before you ‘fell asleep’ inside of your getup, sir?” the bellboy mentioned during my remembrance. “Before you fell asleep?”

I slowly shook my head in disbelief. “I don’t understand…”

He sighed. “After the harassment, she could not take it anymore. She tried denying herself the wonderful gift of life, and almost succeeded.”

Standing in silence, it suddenly hit me like an incoming bullet train.

The entire elevator changed in the several blinks of an eye. The claustrophobic walls turned incorporeal and the high ceiling extended further into an invisible sky. Miles below lay a massive, circular pit of molten brimstone and towering flames. Running around atop each layer were thousands upon millions of people, burnt or maimed or gutted or screeching like a distorted chorus. It wasn’t pandemonium, but mayhem and suffering chaos.

My heart leapt when the solemn bellboy cackled beside me.

“Welcome to the Inferno, Mr. Garvit!” he snarled into my ear, “or should I call you ‘Blazer Eyes’ from now on? It’s a shame really.”

I blinked, and felt a menacing chill rake up my spine.

I realized, The bellboy’s named ‘Bub’, as in…as in…

“Correct, Mr. Garvit,” the deep voice hissed into my ear, and I felt the fur on my pseudo-body stiffen. “It’s a shame, really. The treachery you’ve displayed to your common kind is not unusual in this circle. You claim to be just, but you have humiliated your brethren, disregarded their feelings, betrayed their ambitions, and all for the numbers on a screen. Nowadays, it’s always numbers on a screen.”

My eyes fell to the phone still glued to my shaking paw, to the number of continuous followers and comments on my social media pages. I tried letting go, and tried dropping it, but each attempt was in desperate vain.

“…”

I couldn’t say anything, but instead stared blankly at the incoming ground in terror. When I gulped down a hunk of vomit in my throat, something grabbed my arm. I screamed at the white agony as it burned my fur and flesh.

“Don’t worry though,” the low, demonic voice spoke, “your followers shall join you in this circle, but be wary: it will be a while until that happens.”

“F-Fuck, this can’t be happening!” I sobbed as hot air rushed into my muzzle. “P-Please, don’t do this to me! I-I didn’t mean to—”

He whirled me around and made me stare into his dark, crimson eyes. “Until then, enjoy your newfound popularity!”

I plummeted. The scorching winds echoed with my breathless screaming. My legs flailed for unseen foothold while my arms desperately reached for the elevator escaping my reach. In the corners of my tear-stained, bloodshot vision, I could see the levels of Hell streak by in an endless blur. The faster I fell though, the more I noticed it becoming colder.

***

When I woke up, I felt endless pain from my feet—no, footpaws—down to my skull.

“P-Please…help me,” I sobbed over, over and over, “F-Freezing…S-So cold…”

All of it was capped by the piercing ice that continued encasing my body, that of a traitor. I couldn't think, focus, or plead; all I could do is beg God or the bellboy to give me mercy which never arrives.

My once-sleek and fluffy fursuit is no longer a separate costume over my body, but part of it. I haven’t been hydrated in what felt like decades, and the frozen circle has taken its toll. Icy hands have grasped onto my lower torso, while lumps of pulled fur revealed ragged, frost-bitten skin. Whatever fat I’d had before was long gone, as was my sanity each day the black tendrils of ice pulling me to the ground of a frozen wasteland.

My phone remains attached to my right paw, and each day all I can do is watch as the number of my followers dwindles. Soon enough, under the small coating of ice, I can see its battery lower. Then one day, the screen turns black as the ice encasing me, a dark mirror reflecting the face that used to be my second skin.