Steel Wool Glinting in the Sunlight

By Silver Sheep

They came floating down from the sky. It was a surreal sight seeing the parachutes floating down. No one had expected that the nation of Iska would invade. The secretive nation of anthropomorphic sheep. Not much was known of their ways they kept their borders closed behind an iron curtain of secrecy.

Oliver remembered the day in the park when he first saw the sheep from Iska. He was enjoying a thermos of coffee and a sandwich that he had took out for a picnic lunch. As he was relaxing on his picnic blanket he heard planes flying overhead he didn’t pay much mind to the noise. He took another sip of coffee and looked up into the clear blue sky. His eyes opened wide. There was a carpet of drab green parachutes floating down from the sky.

There were so many. Skydivers? No. Skydivers had brightly coloured parachutes not all the same colour. Some were getting closer he could see that they were going to land across the way in the field. There weren't skydivers at all and they weren't even human. They were paratroopers covered in splotches of white and green. They were sheep like creatures one had a black blunt muzzle while another had large swirling horns. Outstretched cloven hooves stretched out searching for the ground.

They started touching down across the way. Landing and rolling across the grass before jumping up and removing their parachute harnesses. Oliver’s chest tightened. They were armed this was an invasion. They had assault rifles strapped across their chests. Oliver began packing up his picnic supplies. He looked up to see across the way one of the sheep paratroopers who was yelling into a telephone handset attached to a radio on the back of one of the other sheep paratroopers.

He was holding the handset in a crude three fingered hand tipped with thick hoof like nails. The other troops were deploying their weapons. One had a large machine gun with a large olive colored metal ammo box slung underneath. It reminded Oliver of a tin of sardines but with much more deadly contents. The ram taking on the radio turned and looked straight at Oliver. Oliver dropped the plate he was packing. The ram was gesturing to one of the over paratroopers who turned in Oliver’s direction.

The human didn’t like that the armed invaders were now paying attention to him and he started to back away forgetting about his picnic set. He soon turned to run back to his four wheel drive. He had to get back to town and inform the authorities. Thankfully he wasn’t shot at or chased for what he could tell. He jumped in and started the engine. The engine roared to life and he sped down the road that lead back to town.

It didn’t take long to realize that the sheep were now in control. As he was driving he flicked on the car radio. “...curfew is now in effect. Please remain in your homes. Military operations are now taking place it is unsafe to travel. Hello humans of Gorjestan your country is now under the protection of Iska. Our soldiers mean you no harm and want to minimise damage to infrastructure and unnecessary loss of life. Your cooperation is appreciated in this transitory period. Please follow their instructions. A curfew is now in effect…” was the message broadcast over the radio. Oliver shut it off.

This was bad he had to get home and work out what was going on. There was no way his country had folded in just hours. This had to be propaganda. Soon the army would come and blast these sheep back to the stone age. That was five months ago there was no army counter attack. Gorjestan had been annexed by Iska in less than six hours. All the media was now under the control of the Iskcon ministry of information. Armed sheep anthros patrolled the streets. Nobody knew what was going on in Gorjestan. It seemed that the rest of the world had abandoned them.

Life was changing in Gorjestan the Iskcon sheep were now in control. They had nationalised all the industries and had set up a puppet government. The new government was modeled after the communist dictatorship that ran Iska. Political parties were abolished and opposition was crushed. Information was hard to come by and rumour and suspicion ruled the day.

People who were vocal in opposition to the new regime had started to disappear. One day they were at work and the next day gone. Their homes were empty and were given to someone else. It was a climate of fear. Family members and friends of the disappeared went missing themselves if they so much as talked about their missing loved one. New taboos became a way of life. 

What was worse was the rumors of so called night creatures horribly disfigured humanoids that would bash on your door of a night screaming for help. There were other rumors of sheep with steel razor wool that would cut the flesh from your bones. The night creatures were said to appear in areas occupied by the razor sheep. They may have been their victims humans who had been skinned alive and let loose to slowly bleed out begging for an end of their suffering.

With no reliable sources of information there was no way to separate the fact from fiction. Oliver thought most of this was black propaganda designed to keep everyone afraid so that they would stay in line. He wasn’t going to spread rumors. It was a rain of terror by a brutal regime not some horror movie.

Oliver had been assigned to work in a garment factory in the industrial part of town. It was the afternoon and he had just finished his shift. He had to travel past three military checkpoints on his way back home. The advertising billboards had changed from selling sports cars and soda-pop to selling the sheep’s brand of communism and “cooperation” with Iska.

Looking up at one of the posters Oliver could see a human holding the hoof like hand of a ewe with a disjointed beaming expression. Bright yellow farm fields stretched out behind them. Scrawled in red across the top was the slogan “Hand in hoof”. More like bayonet in human Oliver thought darkly. The sheep were far from this smiley in person. As Oliver approached the first checkpoint he could see the scowls and suspicious looks of the rams and ewes manning the checkpoint. 

They were clad in camouflage fatigues that they wore over the top of their fleece. You could see their fleece poking up through the chest hole of their outfits. Some of the sheep were armed but most were not. Oliver handed over his ID card to the ewe stationed at the checkpoint. She was loudly chewing with her mouth open. It took some time for Oliver to work out that the sheep weren't chewing gum but in fact it was part of their digestive process of chewing their cud. It kind of annoyed the human that the invaders didn’t even possess table manners but there was nothing to be done about it.

The ewe grunted not even bothering to speak to Oliver as she headed back his ID card. Oliver trudged on it was the same process everyday now under the occupation. You couldn't even call it an occupation if you wanted to see the next day. At the next checkpoint the sheep were piping music over a loudspeaker. It sounded like military marching music but he couldn't be certain because the lyrics were sung in their strange language of bleating. It all sounded like baa baa black sheep to Oliver. It could have been about how his country was conquered for all he knew.

At least at this checkpoint the soldiers seemed more chirpy. One of the rams was bleating alone with the song. One of the posters on the green shack setup at the checkpoint had a beckoning ram soldier with the text “Please have your ID card ready comrade” written on it. Oliver remembered when he could walk across town without stopping at checkpoints. It took much less time too. He could see the orange late afternoon light on the sides of the buildings as he waited in the line.

Oliver was soon waiting in the line for the last checkpoint that he needed to cross to get himself home from work. He looked up at the soldiers manning it. He saw something terrifying instead of the normal shades of white or brown or even black wool these sheep had sharp steel wool that glinted in the red afternoon light. The steel sheep were real! It was a nightmare made manifest! He shivered thinking about what such wool could do to his human flesh. The line moved slowly forward.

He stepped up to the desk where one of the dangerous steel fleeced sheep sat. “Papers.” he said in a thick accent boredom evident in his voice. Oliver fumbled around for his identity card. Beads of sweat formed on the human's forehead as he dug around inside his wallet. He found the card but dropped it into the dust at his feet before he could hand it over. A hoof tipped hand reached his card just before Oliver could. It belonged to another steel wool clad ram. He lifted it to his muzzle and studied the card with a suspicious expression.

“You seem nervous Oliver. Is there something on your mind?” said this new sheep. The sheep that looked at the card had a brown blunt muzzle with small curved horns atop his head. Oliver was surprised that this sheep could speak perfect English. He was now looking expectantly at Oliver waiting for his answer. “I’m f-fine.” came Oliver's stammered reply.

“No your not. You're lying to me. Lying to the flock. Lying to the flock is quite serious. I am going to ask you again and this time you are going to tell me the truth otherwise there will be consequences. Is there something on your mind?” said the ram at his question the ram gritted his teeth to add emphasis to each word. Oliver was trembling now. This is how people disappeared! He looked behind hoping to see another human's face but he was alone.

This didn’t go unnoticed by the ram. “Waiting for someone?” he said. Oliver knew that he had the say something his nerves must be making these steel sheep jumpy. “I have never seen a sheep with steel wool before.” he said. The ram interrogating him turned to one of the other soldiers and bleated something in the strange language of the sheep. The bleating all sounded the same to Oliver. He eyed their expressions that they displayed on their muzzles for any clue to what was said.

“Let me give you a closer look Comrade.” said brown faced ram. He began to unbutton his camouflage fatigues and opened them up. Underneath the fatigues his steel wool was tightly spiraled into tendrils. Oliver gasped and took a step back. “Oliver my steel fleece won’t hurt you.” said the ram. He moved his hoof tipped hands up and down raking them through his metal fleece. It made a sound like crinkling foil. He repeated the process with his brown furred forearms. He presented his forearms to Oliver to see. There wasn’t any cuts or even scrapes on them.

The ram took off his camouflage jacket. “Oliver let me show you. Touch my fleece and see for yourself.” The human reluctantly approached the ram and gingerly reached out with his hands. Suddenly the rough hooves of the ram's hands grabbed the human and pulled him forward. The steel fleece had come alive and was wrapping itself around the middle of the human.

Oliver tried to pull away but the tendrils of metal fleece had already wrapped around his back. He was tied to the ram who was too heavy to move. He could only wiggle as the fleece moved and convulsed coating the human's abdomen and chest in shiny steel wool. It sounded like foil as the fleece crinkled and rolled. Oliver fell over backwards and landed on his butt. He looked up to see the now naked chest of the ram. His skin was a light shade of brown and he was wearing a loin cloth to protect his modesty.

Oliver on the other hand  was now wearing the sheep’s fleece over his work shirt. The brown faced sheep bleated something to his comrades who bleated their own replies. Oliver looked himself over and ran his hands through the coat of steel wool amazed. He looked up to see one of the other soldiers had returned with a camera. He aimed through the viewfinder and snapped a photo. The sheep burst out laughing now only stopping to bleat a comment to each other probably at Oliver’s expense.

Oliver was feeling relieved that he wasn’t being disappeared somewhere never to return. He still felt the sting of humiliation at being the butt of the joke. He stood up the metal wool wasn’t as heavy as he expected it to be. He was cajoled into posing for more photographs with the now wool less brown faced sheep. “Alright you had your laugh now can I go on my way.” said Oliver. Before anyone could answer the sound of ripping cloth could be heard.

The wool was moving again and now it was tearing through his clothes it opened up gaps in itself and ejected pieces of torn cloth. Anger rose inside of Oliver but he reminded himself that he could get killed if he stepped out of line. At least the fleece didn’t rip through his pants instead tucking itself in. The shreds of his clothes falling to the ground prompted another round of laughter. Oliver wiggled as the fleece was becoming quite tight and his skin was beginning to feel strange.

Oliver was now pulling at the wool trying to get it off. The sound of crinkly foil and tinsel was all that his efforts made. Tugging at it pulled on his skin and it hurt. It was as if it was now attached to him. Seeing his struggles the other sheep stopped laughing and returned to their positions at the checkpoint. “Don’t pull at it Oliver It won’t come off.” said the brown ram as he picked up his camouflaged jacket.

“My name’s Ivan by the way.” Ivan said as he did up his jacket buttons. “Don’t you need this back.” said Oliver as he gestured to the thick steel wool fleece he now sported. “No. My fleece will grow back in time but you will be wearing yours for a very long time.” said Ivan. “What? I can’t walk arou-” began Oliver. He was cut off by the tingling of his skin under the wool it felt itchy and he scratched at himself. “I can’t walk around like this.” he finished. “Well maybe not on feet but hooves sure.” replied Ivan.

“Ivan this isn't funny anymore it really itches.” said Oliver. “It will only itch while it transforms your skin. It won’t take long to change you into a more sheep like form.” replied Ivan with a smirk. “I’d say over the next hour or so.” he said matter-of-factly. “What!? N-no. You can’t do that.” Oliver said fear creeping into his voice. “Look at those black splotches creeping down your arms and tell me that I can’t.” Ivan said dismissively. Oliver’s eyes widened in horror because Ivan was right black splotches were creeping down his arms.

“I suppose you are going to run now. Many people do. The basic fight or flight response. Running must give the transforming a sense of control in their helplessness.” said Ivan to himself. As Oliver had already taken off his mind racked by panic. He had to get away. He had to stop the fleece from changing him. The other sheep watched him go there would soon be a new member of the flock.

Oliver ran into a street lined with houses. He spotted a young lady carrying a bag of groceries into her front door. He screamed out for help. The lady turned to look up at him but as soon as she saw him she dropped her bag. A jar of pickles smashed on her doorstep. She went inside and slammed the door in his face. Oliver bashed on the door. “Please help me!” he yelled. He heard a bolt sliding shut on the other side of the door. Oliver ran to the next house it was getting dark now and the inside lights were on.

He bashed on the screen door and again pleaded for help. The lights inside were soon switched off. Oliver’s desperate screams were ignored. Why wasn’t anyone helping him? He couldn’t understand why his pleas were shunned surely someone had a heart. He turned and ran to the next house. Tipping over the gate and falling to the ground. He picked himself up and came up to the door.

“Please! The sheep are changing me. Let me in!” he pleaded as he bashed on the door. Inside music began to play. A catchy pop song that seemed quite out of place for the current situation. The volume was cranked up so that those inside could not hear Oliver’s pleas and screams. Hope was fading fast inside Oliver no one wanted to help him. He left the property and headed to an empty lot next door. He collapsed in a heap only getting up to crawl under a bush. Oliver took comfit that he could at least hide somewhere.

Unbeknownst to Oliver a young child in one of the houses hearing the commotion outside asked “Daddy will the sheep change me?” This was too much for the child’s father who just held his child close as tears welled up in his eyes. Other changing humans had been through here before. The residents decided amongst themselves that ignoring them was for the best because nothing could be done for them. It was very traumatic watching a fellow human’s humanity helplessly stripped away. It brought up the fear that the sheep would do that to them or the ones that they loved.

Oliver looked down at his arms as his new jet black skin was forming. His wool had stopped itching now and felt much more comfortable. This was of little solace to the changing human as he felt new changes take effect. His head felt strange. What was going to happen? He let out a sob feeling alone now that none of his fellow humans had even bothered to care. He was helpless to stop the fleece from molding him like clay. The very least his fellow humans could have done was tell him that it would be OK. A comforting lie that would give him some peace.

The bones of his skull moved about re-positioning themselves. At first this filled Oliver with panic but there wasn't any pain. He calmed himself down if the sheep wanted him dead they could have just shot him. He balled up his hands into fists. They were changing too. Five fingers becoming three thick ones and his nails thickening into hooves. He kicked off his work boots as the changes had began there as well. Shifting his feet into thick cloven hooves.

His head and jaw were shifting into a blunt muzzle of a ram. His nose flattening out as his muzzle grew longer. His eyes moving further apart to the sides of his forming muzzle. He was still quite distraught when suddenly he heard a voice. Oliver it called followed by bleats. He looked around. It was hard to see with his morphing eyes but he could tell he was still alone. His ears had become loose and floppy and flopped as he turned his head to look for the source of the voice.

His hoof like hands were almost done he looked at them in wonder watching the last of the changes in them. He now had jet black skin with short black fur on the parts not covered by the metallic wool. He heard the voice call out his name it was soothing to him. None of the humans had called out to him or even told him to get lost. It hurt him right in his chest to be ignored like that in his time of greatest need. This voice was calling out to him it wanted to help and to be his friend. He could understand more of the bleats now. Something about a flock. The bleats were making sense somehow.

The hooves of his legs were finished like the ones of his new hoof hands. He didn’t want to try to stand on them yet because he could still felt his muzzle wasn’t complete. He could still feel it shifting. He experimentally tried to speak. He should try to talk to the voice even if he didn’t know where it had came from. Instead of his human words he bleated out a hello. Bleating was so much easier than forming human words now. He had to stop and think before he could say hello in a way a human could understand. What was the use the humans just ignored him now anyway.

He bleated for help in the language of the sheep. “Oliver you are part of the flock now.” came the reply from the voice in his mind. He could now understand what the voice was saying. His muzzle felt great now. He licked his nose testing out his new tongue. His long ears flicked in the direction of a new sound. He could hear an engine. As the sound got closer he heard the squeaking of tank tracks as well. The flock must be looking for him. He pulled himself up and walked out into the street. He was a little shaky on his hooves not used to waking on them yet but still he wanted to go out into the street to greet them.

He was blinded by the search light on the BMP 2 as it rumbled down the street. He raised his hoof like hands to cover his eyes. Soon the light was switched of. He looked up in the direction it had come from. Walking on either side of the BMP 2 were the sheep soldiers they were members of the flock, his flock. They were bleating out his name. His flock wanted him they had come to get him. The APC stopped and the back door swung open. 

The ram Oliver knew as Ivan stepped out. “Oliver get in. We have to get you back to base. You can’t spend the night in this human area.” Ivan bleated. He was right. How soon humans discard one of their own. It was much better to be a ram they even sent a BMP armed with an autocannon to find him. He couldn’t even get a “Are you alright?” out of the humans. He ducked as he crawled into the back of the machine. He was glad to be among his new comrades.