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Transformed for Revenge

Part One of Four

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Written by Arian Mabe (Amethyst Mare)

Commissioned by Growly

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John woke slowly, his head rolling to the side as he let out a low groan.

“Whuh…" He grunted, his tongue thick and fuzzy in his mouth, as if he had not had a drink in many hours. “What happened?"

Yet the words did not sound like any that had ever before come out of his mouth, heavy and unwieldy, panting softly. Why was he so tired? What had gone wrong?

Slowly, the memories returned to him. Silly little things like having breakfast at the kitchen counter, even though such a thing did not really have any business being present in his head. What was he thinking about that for? There was something tight around his chest, so tight that he could not even wriggle back and forth. It reminded him of being unwell with pneumonia when he was very young, bedbound for weeks. It was one of few memories that remained from his younger days, though it was not for a good reason.

Other memories filtered through, of sunshine and good days, of walking his dog on a sandy, white beach. The feel of running his fingers through a woman's blonde hair, though he couldn't find her name, not as his mind dragged through the memories as if through sludge.

What had happened to him? He saw a woman's face in his mind, laughing with her, holding her, though then…something had happened. Something that made him leave her.

Kate. That was it. Her name was Kate and she had been his girlfriend, though he couldn't stay with her, they hadn't worked. He'd been an employee at a big cat sanctuary that also housed some other animals, smaller species that were easy to take care of with the big, high maintenance felines dominating the centre. He'd been a keeper, mainly responsible for the tigers, though he had been able to provide the basic care for all the big cats on-site, sometimes running the show by himself when the boss was away.

Ah… That was it. He wheezed, working his jaw, though even that did not seem to be a part of his body that responded well to him trying to do, well, anything with it. He grunted, moving his tongue around his mouth, flexing his fingers. Something tight was locked around his ankles too, perhaps his wrists, but it was hard to tell. Sensations were muddled, pressure changing with the shift of his body.

He'd been with Kate and she'd been the owner of the sanctuary, though it probably wasn't a good thing that he had been dating his boss, no wonder that had gone south. But there was no time for further memories to swim sluggishly through the tar of his psyche, not when he groaned softly, muttering to himself, trying to come back to life again.

For that was what it felt like as he groggily blinked back to full wakefulness, as much as his head pounded and specifically a spot at the back of his skull, lying on a cold, hard floor.

“Urgh… What…"

He couldn't form the words, not with his mouth feeling as thick and as cloying as it was, slumping down, letting the plain, clinical exam room come into focus. It was not something that he would have recognised if he had not spent so much time in there before, caring for one of the ill Bengal tigers, though they had eventually lost her after illness had taken her so far that it was unkind to keep her alive for any longer. That loss still stung, as much as John didn't want to admit it.

But why was he there? Everything was the same, from the plain, metal counters and cabinets, easy to clean, to the smooth floor with a drain on one side, though the operating and examination table had been wheeled out. There had not been an operation, however small, performed in there for some time, though he had been told that they had once had to take a jaguar into surgery there when the vet had not been able to transport them in time. Even in his time as a keeper, John was glad that he had not had to deal with anything that extreme. He didn't honestly know quite how he would have reacted to such a dire situation and was not all that keen on finding out.

But things had escalated already from beyond his reckoning, the last memories that he could recall filtering through. He'd been out for a jog on one of his usual trails through the local woods, sunlight dappling the ground through the summer trees, rich with leaves. He'd felt good, happy that he was doing something that felt more like himself again, though the fact that the break up with Kate had been messy indeed had been weighing heavily on his mind. It had been the right thing to do, however – and that was the last thought that he'd had as something sharp sank into his neck.

He'd dropped, blacking out…and woken up in the exam room, the skylight above him covered up, the room illuminated only by artificial light.

He knew that prick, for he had, once, gotten some of that into his system when he'd slipped with the dart gun. He tried to raise his hand, but his heart turned over to confirm that he was tied at least somewhat efficiently, arms and wrists bound to his sides, along with his ankles lashed together, though the ropes were crudely worked at best.

A dart gun. He'd been struck by a dart gun. But why? Why had someone with a dart gun…

However, there was more horror to come, a heavy, leather collar around his neck holding his head in place. It was so thick that it may as well have been a posture collar on a human, though it seemed to be the type of collar that was designed for a much larger creature than what John was. He grunted, shifting his weight, his exercise clothes, thankfully, still covering his body, though the ankle of his trousers, the light, easy to move in material, had been ripped.

A sick sense of dread clawed into his stomach, cold and sinking, pulling him down and down and down.

He rolled a little, shifting his head from side to side, a short chain attaching his head to the wall. As if he needed to be chained with his body bound too, though it did not matter that he thought it superfluous: there was no way for him to get out of it anyway. However, as his eyes adjusted a little more to what was going on, the fuzziness clearly from the edges of his vision, he blinked at his reflection in a mirror, looking back at it upside down. At least he didn't look hurt, though he felt sore all over. And his head ached…

That was probably what happened when a human was stuck with one of those darts. John shuddered. Vile.

“I see you are awake…"

He grunted, trying to roll back, though he could barely even lift his head up, the door open and Kate standing there. Sure, she was beautiful, but in her general “keeper's uniform" of black trousers (comfortable, combat-type ones) and a tan shirt, she could not have looked more intimidating, looming over him. Her blonde hair was scraped back in a tight, functional ponytail, though it looked like she had still taken the time to do her makeup, at least a little bit, mascara and eyeliner and enough to smooth out the rest of her face. That was one of the things that he just hadn't been able to get on with when he'd been with her: even when it was the last thing in the world that could matter, her attention was always on herself. He'd known that things weren't great when he'd had to go to the hospital for an emergency (nothing to do with the big cats) and she hadn't even gone with him. She'd “had plans" for dinner that she couldn't break though he'd never found out who she'd been meeting up with. Figured.

“Kate?" He grunted, trying to lift his head, though the short chain stopped him from moving too far, rattling as the tight collar closed more tightly around his neck too. “What… What are you doing? Why am I here? What happened?"

Oh, he should have been smarter than that, Kate smiling, though the light of it did not reach her eyes. It never had.

“Silly John," she all but cooed, as if she was soothing a big cat under a sedative, a memory of her combing her fingers through a lion's rich, tawny fur entering his mind unbidden. “That's not what this is all about. Did you really think you could just dump me and that would be the end of everything? Everything between us, over, just like that?"

She cocked her hip and snapped her fingers, John quailing, though he didn't like the fervent pound of his heart. It felt like it was going too hard, too quickly, as if it was about to beat a hole straight out through his chest.

“Kate, we just…" He struggled with the words. “It's not that… Just… We didn't work well, together, I mean, it never was going to be good for either of us. Why would I have wanted to put you through a relationship that would have been hell for both of us?"

She shook her head slowly, holding her hand up a little way in front of her chest, elbow tucked down close to her side. His eyes fell to a syringe, clasped neatly between her fingers, the needle pointing away from her, even though it was capped with the usual pink silicone, ensuring that it would not slip free unduly. There'd been incidents of needles slipping before, when the sanctuary was a new establishment, so much so that safety protocols had had to be swiftly ramped up to meet regulations and to keep it open. Back then, he assumed it had been a rather steep learning curve for Kate and those in her employ.

Now, he wasn't so sure how things could have gone back then, how much was orchestrated by Kate and, perhaps too, how much was made up, completely fabricated. Now that he saw a different side of her, it quite looked as if it could all have been concocted, another ploy in the intense world that she orbited to draw him into her grasp and her hold.

Maybe it was his fault to have fallen for her so hard. But maybe it was no one's fault at all, no one's besides Kate's.

“I'm giving you what you deserve," she said simply, that small, cold smile unwavering on her face. “Stay still now, darling, this is going to sting."

She said the word with relish, not delving into more detail on exactly why she was doing what she was doing, advancing in a smooth flow of motion, as if she was acutely aware of where every part of her body was at any single time. With a jab of her hand, she stabbed the syringe into the side of his neck, hitting the vein, John drawing in a sharp gasp.

“Fuck!"

Her eyes gleamed, depressing the plunger, shooting whatever the hell the solution inside was directly into his bloodstream. His wide eyes begged for mercy, though only curses flowed from his lips, fear inciting John to speak as he never would have normally, considering that he was perhaps one of the softer-spoken ones in his family.

She laughed. The sound churned his stomach into knots that stayed there, twisting and writhing amongst one another, a deep tingle spreading through his body even as the pain of the initial injection dulled.

“Oh, silly, silly, boy," she said with a slow, pitying shake of her head. “Is it not obvious why this is happening? Why should I tell you about that when it's so much more interesting, to me, to watch you change…"

He groaned, rolling his head back, though the collar limited his range of motion more than he had been expecting, something churning and pushing in the pit of his stomach, a line of tension that he had not taken note of prior. That… That was new. That didn't make sense. What the hell had she shot into him anyway?

He almost didn't want to think about it.

“Many of the rescued cats here, you will not know, are not only cats," she said, petting his head once, though he growled and grumbled under his breath, the only form of protest that John felt able to do at that time. “They are typical big cats in appearance, but the sanctuary has taken in transformed human beings too, though there is little human left in them, when you look at them."

She laughed, throwing her head back in a flash of ridiculously white teeth, John's stomach dropping.

“Can you imagine? Everyone coming here thinking that most of the cats are simple rescues taken from homes that did not care for them, whether they were zoos or private owners? No one knows… And you have taken care of many of them, John. Don't feel bad about it – you wouldn't have noticed anyway. Some have had their minds altered, broken down into being technically nothing more than a feral feline, others are used to their fate, going along with it. It's really better for them than any of the lives they had going on before, trust me."

He gaped, working his jaw, though he couldn't get out the words that he wanted to, heart pounding, blood roaring in his ears. The hardness of the cold floor under his back, which had not warmed to the heat of his body, was more poignant than ever, though it felt as if he was lighter than it, floating away, the only thing keeping him in place being the collar and chain leash tethering him in place.

“Unff… You…"

“Oh, don't bother trying to talk. If I wanted to hear your voice, I would have had you keep it."

She scoffed, watching him, a video camera in hand – a posh digital one that had been set up, from time to time, to record the births of kittens at the sanctuary. They had done very well on live streams, even if the night vision mode on it did not pick up everything that everyone might have liked to see from such a special, discreet moment.

“You will be one of the lucky ones, John, so I wouldn't worry one bit about how the rest of your life is going to go. None of it is ever going to be in your control again. It's fitting, especially after you thought you could control the direction my life was taking by saying you were done with me."

Kate's smirk deepened.

“No one is ever just done with me… But I don't tell those tales to boyfriends like you, when they're around. You could have been better than the rest, John, but you disappointed me just like all the rest."

She sighed, though there was no sincerity behind it, more like she was putting on a performance, though none of it felt quite right, as if it was all something that she had done before.

“You will be fortunate enough to be a part of my special collection, your mind left fully intact. I mean, it is no great sadness for those silly people to lose their minds and become felines for the sanctuary, since they have had all their needs met for many years. But I wouldn't want to see your mind unduly broken, not when you could be fully aware of your experiences, everything that you will see here, do here, experience here."

She grinned, a shadow falling across her face, the wall-mounted light behind her leaving her face cast into darkness, the brightness pointing her grin.

“Doesn't that sound fun?"

“Nnn…" He struggled with his words. “Nnnnnooooo…"

Why couldn't he talk? What was happening? Kate had to be talking shit – she had to be mad, there was simply no reason for it, none at all. And all that because he had broken up with her – what the hell was wrong with her? His head swam, breath coming in shorter and shorter pants, clawing for words that didn't feel so easy to grasp anymore, his throat closing him.

Yet even though words were not simple to force from his lips, his tongue thick and heavy in his mouth, John found that he could scream. He could scream and he could thrash within his bonds, fear rendering him more mobile, the binding around his chest and upper arms straining, the old rope beginning to splinter. His chest was bigger, something was wrong – could she really be being honest about everything that was going on there?

No… No, it could not be, should not be, he was sure of it. That was all insanity, ludicrous, the ramblings of a madwoman. Maybe Kate was even more fucked up than he'd thought, as if he had spotted a sign of danger, long ago, that had had him breaking up with her those few months back. After things had quieted down, the phone calls and the texts and the showing up at his new place of work, he'd thought that that would be the end of it.

Apparently not, not as she smirked down at him, twisting and writhing, screaming and screaming until his throat was sore, his lips dry and chapped as his tongue flicked out over them. He heaved for breath, red in the face, yet had somehow ended up on his stomach, rolling so violently back and forth at the limit of the chain that he had spun onto his front.

“You're fucked up!" He screamed hoarsely, a rasping groan rising through the cry. “This is sick! You're not going to do this, whatever it is that you think you're doing, I'm not a cat! I'm not anything to you anymore!"

“Oh, but you are and this is why I won't have your mind lost, John. I want you to feel everything, every moment of your breaking. I'm not letting you keep your head as a mercy, of course, but just so that you can experience every, single, dragging second of your punishment to its fullest."

Her words rolled over him, yet he could not scream anymore, breath rasping through his lungs, raking down his throat, not doing anything to ease the tightness there. He gaped like a fish, but there was nothing the man could do to stop the encroach of pain, how it seared and blistered through him, warming him with a bite of pain from the inside out, aching deeply as if even his muscles were no longer under his control in how they flexed and contracted.

No…

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But yes. Always yes when it came to Kate. For John should have learned long ago not to deny her, though he was lost the moment he had shacked up with her, a one night stand that had escalated, yet neither had been able to find lightness in the relationship. He'd made the right choice, but what John would come to realise was that there were no right choices at all to be made when it came to Kate, the sort of relationship that was doomed before it even had begun.

His body was no longer his, not as he locked eyes with his reflection, his hair shortening, turning tawny, a shade of brown that he was more than readily familiar with during his work as a keeper, even if he had not worked with those felines directly, not daily. He yawned in horror, but no sound came out, gaping in a silent shriek, twisting, writhing, bones cracking and reshaping themselves as if he had become something out of a cheap horror flick, a werewolf movie where the protagonist had befallen a grisly fate.

John should have been the protagonist of his own life and yet even that had been taken out of his grasp as his shoulders rounded, hunching down, though the short chain forced him to keep his head down close to the ground. His clothes burst, hanging in shreds around him, splitting down the seams, though he hardly even noticed that as the bonds fell away. When had they torn? How was he big enough to split them like that? But the new shape of his body was not designed to be held like that, not as his fingers shortened and curled.

No…

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It wasn't happening, could not be happening, heaving, panting, screaming against the fear, the raging, cold chill of it clawing at his guts. Fuck, he couldn't take it, but even John could see how his face changed in the mirror with how closely he was shoved up to it, his cheekbones falling away, becoming something stronger, something more predatory, his eyes rimmed with black. Before his eyes, a prickling of tawny fur sprung to life all over his body, his hair smoothing down to blend into it, appearing as if he did not have defined, separate hair on top of his head after all.

NO!

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But there was nothing he could do against the woman who only knew how to take what she deemed to be hers, over and over again, screeching as his fingernails formed into sharp, short claws, digging into the hard floor without breaking it. They raked, however, with a screech to match his furious cry, though anger and fear were good friends in his heart by that point.

He flexed his fingers, which were not so short that he couldn't do anything with them, straining, his ankles straining. The bonds there had not yet broken, but he didn't know what to do about that, not as something pushed from the base of his spine and his hands were left grasping, pulling, trying with all his might to get his trousers off, his boxers too. His jogging trousers had torn across the right hip, with the fabric pulling tauter and tauter over his hips and upper legs, yet he had not changed enough, not yet, to break them entirely.

Still, in a way, he was still human as he grabbed and clawed at his trousers, Kate “helpfully" cutting off his ankle bonds and stepping out of range of his kicking, flailing, transforming legs.

“Oh, I'll lend you a hand there," she laughed. “I wouldn't want you to injure yourself, after all, before the main show goes on, after all."

Whatever that meant, it was not for John to worry about, not as his boxers dangled off a leg, his feet scrabbling, no longer able to find purchase. His toes grew a little longer, a little more functional, yet he seemed to have less and less foot as he was forced up onto his shoes, somehow standing on all fours. Even though he could still curl around, he could not “reach" as he had with his arms, his shoulders crunching into a new position, settling in a way that would render him a quadruped, no longer a biped.

He should know. He'd studied anatomy enough.

But there was something wriggling in his boxers, the tip of it caught, and he tremblingly tried to bull the boxers off, the claws of his new hind paw, however it was forming, catching in the fabric. Yet to hold his tail, however weakly, in his hands that were becoming paws, no longer useful as hands, sealed his fate, the life that stretched ahead of John by no means one that he would have at all chosen for himself. Never, not once, never in a million years.

The shirt dangled around his chest and he focused on that instead of how he had been able to feel how his hands – yes, hands, not paws, definitely not paws – had felt on his tail, touch and sensation feeding back through. As free as he was, he shrugged and rolled his shoulders, even if body parts did not behave as they should, not anymore. The tawny fur was short, short enough that he held onto a weak hope that it could be a silly prank that it could be reversed, chest heaving in short, sharp pants, his nose flattening, nostrils larger and hooked to better take in scents.

But he didn't need that! He was a man, not a cat! Not a…whatever! His tail lashed in a flop, back and forth, not quite able to control it, though he tried to get onto his knees, even as his legs shifted, bones crunching against one another as they re-set just how he would be able to walk in the future.

“Unff… Mmmhmmhhh!"

He tried to talk, but the change of his ears pulling up into feline ears, rounding, tingling – not the worst of all the sensations that he had to go through, to be fair – distracted him, a throat that was no longer his to command locking up. He tried to thrash and shake off the shirt hanging from his neck and shoulders, but it didn't do anything to help, not that he could have gotten it off over his head with the collar and chain in the way. Yet as he ran his changing hands down his front, something poked through the lighter fur there, a hint of darker brown “stripes" and “speckles" dotting his new hide, breaking up the uniform colour.

No… He groped himself, pressing again, horror reeling, jaws opening and closing as his teeth throbbing, drawing painfully into sharp points, building new bone for a stronger, more powerful jaw. No, that couldn't be right, but he could feel the nipples quite clearly, grunting deeply in the back of his throat, the rows of nipples difficult to deny, as much as he wanted to pull away from the pink of them showing through his fur and never again ever acknowledge them ever again.

Yet his tail swung and he would no longer be male, not for much longer, not as he twisted in horror, half-sitting and half pulling his body around, though it was difficult for John with his body curled into a C-shape with his legs pushed towards the mirror. There was barely any room for him there, though he had to hold it, had to bear through, the chain forcing him to bend his head and neck forward too, eyes becoming a faded amber, the pupils changing. A short, blocky, powerful jaw greeted him, whiskers on his muzzle, panting with a fluttering, slimming, thin, pink tongue within his maw.

Yet the worst that he, or “she", got to see was from a glance in the mirror, holding the curved, pained position or as long as he could, even though time seemed to have much less meaning there than he could have expected. His shaft shrank, pulling back and back and back into his body, smoothing down as fur covered the space where it and his balls had been, the soft folds of looser skin shrinking along with his nuts within until there was nothing left of them at all.

His tail flicked, pulling his attention down, though it was not painful, a small blessing, as a feline sex formed, under the tight ring of muscle that was his anal ring, tail flicked to the side, though it was difficult to control. It was hard to see, only a little bit of bare skin, but he could feel it pulling up inside him, forming a new passage, something that he had only ever penetrated on another person before, something that John had never, not even the once, considered having himself.

He was a man… Except for the fact that he was not. Not with a lioness' sex under his tail, slumping to the side, his hips moving back, no longer able to hold the contorted position. His throat ached fiercely, though he could not regret twisting so violently to see, not even as Kate stared him down with her evil grin, the white of her teeth showing as if it was her who had become the predator, not the man changing into a lion before her.

Now a lioness, not a man… The lioness could never be referred to as “he" ever again.

It was better to stand on all fours, her arms short enough that they had become forelegs, though her body still had to get used to being in a new position, a new vantage point. Technically, she was still bigger and stronger than she had been as a human, but Kate was too quick for her. The woman darted in with deadly precision, grabbing her torn shirt and wrapping it around and around the lioness' paws, dragging them out in front of her body. It was not something that would have been doable if she had been at all in her right mind or if she was a real lion who knew her body, but Kate bound them tightly, restricting her use of them.

“There now… I wouldn't want you trying to turn and attack me," Kate said, shaking an admonishing finger at the lioness. “Everyone reacts differently. If you give in more quickly, I'll make sure you're treated well. Perhaps."

There were no promises there, not as the lioness stood, the chain loosened a little so that she could do so fully, though her neck ached, her head hanging, a loop in the chain. She chuffed lowly, head reeling, tail swinging back and forth, though it hung down under its own weight. Her forepaws being tied together didn't allow her much room to move, barely balanced there as she wobbled and shook.

But she was a lioness, her transformation fully settling over her, hearing sharpened, tongue lashing experimentally around the inside of her new mouth, whiskers quivering. It could have been an amazing experience if it had been at all consensual, but it most clearly was not, her tail refusing to clamp down over her bare, seemingly exposed sex as she wanted it to. There was muscle in her body, though it felt weak, as if she was newly born, trembling, fearful, her ears pushing back in fear, body displaying more than any human expression ever could have.

Words… There were no words for her lips either, her voice box no longer obeying her, though the lioness could not tell whether that was because of the changes or because Kate had willed it to be so. Who knew what that weird injection had done to her really! There was no way to tell, absolutely no way at all, her heart aching, stomach churning, feeling as if she was about to lose her guts as the threat of bile rose in the back of her throat.

“Now, for the next act, honey. Are you ready?"

She might have used terms of endearment, but there was no manner of sweetness at all in Kate's voice. Stepping back to a plain wall on one side of the exam room, she smiled and spread her arm wide with a flourish. With a press of a button, the wall slid down with a mechanical whir, John still weakly pulling at her bonds, though it was useless really, the wall sliding down out of place to reveal…

…her very own twin brother on the other side. Mike was the spitting image of John, though could have been said to have landed on his feet more securely in life with a wife and a family. They both had a sister too and John whipped his head around, forgetting the collar, half expecting to see that Kate had also dragged her in there. Without thinking, a low growl ripped itself from her throat, tail lashing angrily. The body did not lie, as much as her mind might have wanted to force down her anger, her fear, to not allow Kate to see what was going on.

“Oh, he can't see you." She smirked, tapping the side of her nose. “Try to call to him, darling. He might hear you through the wall."

She strained and yowled, yet it was not animalistic cries that John wanted to make but words – human words! None of the sounds were anything at all that a human would have made, however, her chest heaving, fear clawing at her, dragging at her guts to an even greater extent than before.

Kate laughed, curling her fingers around her jaw so that her chin rested in her hand.

“Aw, sweet one… No, no… No, it doesn't look like he hears you. How sad."