Make Me Behave Like An Animal

Tommy Has A Shit Time 2

Tommy woke up, a soft pounding in his head, the world not seeming to be loaded in as the void stared back at him, nothingness enveloping him. He blinked, and the universe cooperated, allowing him vision and access to the world, though it was all wrong.

First of all, there was a sense of unusedness, as though Tommy were an infant, unable to comprehend the true universe for what it was, or like an animal, unthinking and unbeing. Tommy took note of it with unusual sharpness, his body going into full panic mode.

He lifted his hand towards his head, or at least attempted as his disobedient hands refused as though he were truly not the 16 year old he’d been before. He didn’t feel like one, anyway.

“What?” Tommy exclaimed, though, again, it was never meant to be as all that came out were quiet purrs, much to Tommy’s great confusion. It wasn’t what his voice was supposed to sound like, though when Tommy tried a testing sound, instead all that came out was a foul hiss.
The world felt clear and sharp, as though he’d reached level 2 on some kind of weird Earth VR game.

The pounding in his head stopped without complaint, letting him think more about actually important thoughts, such as questioning where the fuck he was.

Tommy looked at himself and around the room, though his attention was quickly brought back to his new form, which made Tommy literally jump upon catching a sight of himself. His hands were no longer hands, replaced instead with blond, beaned paws, matching those of the cats Tommy had seen at villages when he and Wilbur had raided them before L’manberg.

Tommy looked down at his legs, and if he tried to move, two extras appeared to be tagging along on the back, like weird little copies. Tommy assumed his hind legs were the same, though he genuinely had no clue as to what was there.
His tail swished behind him, slow and agile, like the predator he was. Tommy’s adrenaline spiked as he realised the gravity of his situation. He was not in Logstedshire, nor was he with Dream.

Wrongness filled his world, and there was nothing he could do about it. Instead, Tommy panicked, the normal human reaction for such a situation, considering he wasn’t a cat before.

Tommy tried to wrack his brain to find any way he could have become a cat: witches or zombies or something, but there was nothing, no pheasable way that Tommy could have been removed from his own form. What Tommy did know that it wasn’t Of Prime. Unholy. Dark Magiks. Witchcraft.

Tommy tried to calm down, repeating it like a mantra. A thought rushed into his mind like a forgotten tidal wave, memories of his L’manberg training resurfacing in such a fashion that it almost shocked Tommy. He refocused on it, and the advice he’d been given long ago. Calm down, figure out where you are, and get out.

It interested Tommy, how back then, he’d been escaping from Dream, or one of his subjects. But now… Now escape was Dream, now Dream was his home, instead of that… That place that had thrown him out like spat out food, mushy and hot with anger.

So, as he looked around, Tommy figured out his surroundings. He was clearly in a cage, with thin iron bars making his cage inescapable. Out of the cage, the ground was wooden but patterned, and from the sofa he could spot in front of him, Tommy could only reasonably assume he was in a living room of sorts. Tommy looked down at the softness below him. He was definitely on a cat bed, though it was very embarrassing to admit.

The living room was nice, though his vision was mostly obscured the sofa with it’s green, silky cover, which reminded him desperately of Dream, sparking more hope in his smaller body. Next to the cage was a bowl of milk, though it was a metal pet bowl instead of the normal wooden bowls he was used to. Tommy jumped to see if he could see over the sofa, only for his eyes to lock for a second with a Server News Comm.

Though it seemed odd, a Server News Comm actually told him a lot about his situation. While any old fool could afford a communicator, Tommy knew that a Server News Comm could cost anywhere between 900 and 5000 netherite, a very hefty sum. And, it was wall-mounted. This meant that Tommy was either in the house of a filthy rich bastard, someone who was good at fraud or an Admin, who received one for free.

Wait…

Tommy’s mind immediately flicked back to Dream, who he knew favoured the colour green and also happened to be an Admin. It all added up, except for how he was a cat and why he was there…

Tommy shook his head, not wanting to entertain the idea for even a second, for it seemed foolish even at face value. He was probably dreaming, and even if he wasn’t, the effects were probably for a few days at most. Everybody knew that potions only lasted 78 hours at most, it was the 78 Hour Rule after all, Prime’s memorial to the 78 original players.

He tried to stand up again, as his stumpy little feel seemed really uncooperative at the best of times. Unfortunately, the cat-teen fell down a moment later, but it helped Tommy fully understand the craziness of the situation. On the off change he wasn’t dreaming, he was in a stranger’s house as a cat, in a body that felt unfamiliar and off in ways Tommy hadn’t felt since before his transition.

Tommy tried to stand up again, and eventually, with trial and error, figured out walking, which was a lot harder with four legs. Though, Tommy was probably quite biased considering his bipedal roots. It was like being a fish out of water, or human-in-cat. And the difference in standing upright and his new low down view… Tommy didn’t care for it, nor did he care for his new cat form.

A noise startled Tommy out of his hatred and back to reality with much efficiency. Tommy could barely believe his ears when he heard the horrifying noise of a lock clicking. Tommy meowed as hard as he could, presumably in some odd instinctive attempt to scare off a potential predator, which was by far the oddest thing Tommy had ever (maybe) done.

The sound of the lock clicking was soon replaced by that of a door swinging open, and then silence for a moment before footsteps and the bang of a door shutting. The footsteps were much more terrifying that footsteps had the right to be. Before, he’d always had a bow, or a sword, or an axe to defend himself. But cats didn’t have inventories, nor opposable thumbs, nor did he have a weapon, which was a lot worse considering the unknown person who’d walked through the room.

Tommy shrank down, attempting to make himself seem smaller and weaker, though Tommy’s mind ached for a sword, providing him unhelpful advice of angles and clicks. Tommy had no sword, and no weapon, so it wasn’t at all available for him as an option, he reminded himself, though it never fully clicked to his mind. It was always a shame, when PVP training was a curse rather than it being the blessing he’d grown accustomed to.

The panic swelled up in him as a fabric was hung up and the footsteps edged closer, his mind screaming to do something and his body burying further into the pillowy softness. Tommy almost wanted to cry, though he knew such a thing could never be allowed when death loomed over like a shadow.

The footsteps came into the living room, and Tommy knew if he jumped up he could probably see the head of whatever sick individual had taken him. But instead, he burrowed himself down like a threatened cat in a cage, with no other possibilities left for the young animal.