It wasn't often that Lawrence Roring felt down in the dumps, but unfortunately today was one of those lovely exceptions. His insides apparently wanted to be outside of his body, and while he'd kept himself from vomiting; they found another end to escape from.
On the bright side, it meant that the seat to his porcelain throne was always warm... On the down side, it also meant that it was similarly always occupied. He whimpered sadly as another cramp ran through his body, glaring angrily out the window at how dark it was.
Of course the stupid stomach pains had kept him up late; why wouldn't they? He could add 'insomnia' to his list of symptoms... But hey, at least the moon was there to keep him company.
Lawrence gazed out through his bathroom window again, a smile on his face. For some odd reason, the sight of a full moon had always put the brunette in a good mood, and ever since his thirtieth birthday a few days ago he'd been looking forward to this one.
The only good thing about these stomach cramps were that they were keeping him up to see more of his nighttime friend. Lawrence smiled as he looked at up at it, finding the glowing orb to be oddly mesmerizing.
Tonight it was somehow even prettier than usual, and Lawrence found himself genuinely happy despite his current affliction. Then another cramp ran through him, and he groaned, clutching his gut.
This one felt different from the last: an intense sensation that his stomach was expanding instead of contracting. Lawrence groaned; then his eyes snapped open as it spread up through his chest to his heart.
“Oh my God, is this a heart attack? Is this what dying feels like?” The young man whimpered, hurriedly feeling the pockets around his ankles. They were both empty, and with a thrill of horror he realized that he had left his phone by his computer in the bedroom.
It left him with an awkward choice: either he could awkwardly shuffle to his room, pants around his ankles; or he could risk dying of a heart attack in the bathroom of all places. The minute the thought passed through his mind, he realized how silly he was being, and so Lawrence found himself rising from his toilet.
Then he found himself falling, his legs on fire like they'd been asleep and the blood was just now rushing to them. “Oh, this is not the time!” Lawrence yelped, cursing his below-average circulation.
He groaned and tried to walk on his hands and knees, feeling totally ridiculous but setting that aside for the sake of his life. Even worse, his arms started to ache a minute later, and from what Lawrence remembered on WebMD, that was another symptom of cardiac arrest.
“Crap, crap, crap!” He whimpered, managing another awkward step before another cramp ran through his gut, making him double over. He felt so hot, so sweaty all over... This was really it, he was really dying!
The brunette whimpered as he tried to wipe off the sweat, shaking with fear as he noticed that his skin felt different, like all of it was covered in a thin layer of peach fuzz. The sensation was enough to make him put his efforts to get to his phone on hold. Instead, he had to look in the mirror and see if his hands were lying to him.
It probably wasn't the smartest thing to do, but it was an object of insane curiosity, and Lawrence had never been one to remain curious. It took a few precious seconds of climbing to get his arms on the lip of his sink, but he was able to get a good look at his reflection.
Much to his surprise, his hands hadn't lied: his face was covered in a thin coat of hairs. And it looked like the hairs were spreading along his body, creeping under his shirt and growing ever-longer.
A ludicrous thought came to his mind, but Lawrence couldn't shake it not matter how hard he tried. Either he was vividly hallucinating and was in reality twitching his last on the bathroom carpet... Or he was a werewolf. Either way, his phone would be useless to him and the best thing to do would be to watch his reflection and go along for the ride.
Another violent shudder ran through his body, and Lawrence found himself looking down for a moment, watching as his chest began to gain bulk, growing to cover his transforming innards.
When he looked into the mirror again, his eyes were a vibrant emerald green, slitted like a cat's. Lawrence tilted his head in confusion, wondering why they weren't a wolflike gold.
He had his answer a moment later as the growing hair along his body, taking on a much different color than the gray pelt he'd been expecting. He was growing orange and black-striped fur and his hair was changing to match. The only parts of him that weren't covered in the Halloween-themed colors were covered in a snow white layer of fur.
“Oh my God, I'm a were-tiger.” Lawrence said with surprise, staring at his reflection as his fur grew in even thicker and his teeth began to sharpen in his mouth. It was like something out of a movie, but happening in real life! Better yet, it explained the stomach bug he'd had all day; his tiger's body couldn't handle his usual greasy diet!
Lawrence beamed, watching and feeling his ears start to slide up his head. They twitched as they slid higher and higher, rounding and growing into a gently conical shape. Lawrence felt his changed ears with his right hand, marveling at how soft the fur felt against his hands. He was really becoming an animal!
The brunette grinned as he looked at his reflection, inspecting his sharpening canines. They were getting larger and larger in his mouth, as well as the rest of his teeth. Before he knew it, they were too large for him to keep his mouth shut, and the young man grumbled lightly as he waited for a muzzle to come in.
“Any time now, getting uncomfortughle...” He muttered to his reflection, quietly admiring how large his teeth looked. He'd never been so close to a tiger before, so the sight of his fangs was really interesting, like National Geographic come to life.
His legs ached beneath him as he admired his reflection, and Lawrence realized that the pins-and-needles that were tingling along his lower body were actually the signs that his muscles were growing; his lower half beginning to expand.
Sure enough, his socks began to split as his feet widened; broadening to a pair of large feline paws. His toes bulged as his nails grew, becoming sharp and long claws. They were deadly, too—at least to that remained of his socks.
Lawrence's new claws went through them like they were made of wet tissue paper and they split through the fabric with ease. He scrabbled them at the ground as his hips clicked, making his current posture a little uncomfortable.
But his body would just have to bear a little discomfort, because Lawrence really wanted to see the rest of the changes—at least to his face. He growled stubbornly as his back ached, a tail growing from his spine and hanging low. It was like it was beckoning him to fall to all fours and assume the natural stance of one of his kind!
Well, in that it would have to wait a little bit longer. “I want to see my muzzle!” Lawrence exclaimed stubbornly, his hands gripping onto the sides of his sink.
And though the transformation could have stripped his hands from him; it instead relented, his jaw cracking and pushing away from the rest of his head. Lawrence positively squeaked with delight as he watched his cheeks puff and whiskers slip out from them; his nose flattening on his face at the same time. His jaw broadened and his tongue flattened out, making the most of his roomier mouth.
Lawrence had to close his eyes for a moment as his skull cracked and reformed; and when he opened them, a large tiger looked back at him from the mirror. He purred contentedly, finally scooting away from the sink and falling down onto the ground. “Mrrruch butturrr.” He rumbled, his vocal chords twisting as his neck realigned.
He rolled out his shoulders at they too transformed; then looked down to his hands, eager to see their metamorphosis. His tail flicked from side to side with content as his fingers swelled and claws poked their way out from their tips, and he could feel soft and velvety pads come in on the undersoles of his new forepaws.
Lawrence groaned; then yelped as he realized that his body was expanding, getting larger and larger by the second. He purred as he remembered that the average adult tiger was larger than the average adult man; then froze as he remembered he was still wearing a t-shirt.
The matter soon resolved itself as the cheap cotton tore along the were-tiger's rippling back, his strong shoulders making quick work of the fabric. The aching of his transformation concluded to a few choice adjustments to what hung between his legs, and just like that he was a fully-fledged tiger.
Lawrence purred happily, stalking out the door on all fours. It was a lot easier than he'd anticipated; his body seemed so naturally lithe that he was able to grasp how to work it immediately.
Well, most of it. His tail seemed to have a mind of its own, as did his ears. They constantly flicked and twitches, as though they were savoring their newfound articulation.
Lawrence rumbled happily at the thought; then his stomach rumbled, reminding him that the day's events had left him quite hungry. Luckily for him, there was a steak in the fridge he'd been saving for a special occasion—and what better occasion than this?
Unluckily, the fridge happened to be shut. Lawrence hissed at it, extending his claws and scrabbling at its surface as he struggled to open it. Who knew that life could be so tough as a tiger? He grunted and scowled, hissing at the impassable box.
There had to be some way... He tried nipping at the handle with his jaws, but that only succeeded in snagging the freezer's handle as well. Curse his decision to get a double-door fridge!
Lawrence stomped back to the ground with all fours, growling angrily. It was hard enough work to get him thirsty too, so he quickly diverted his attention to instead working on how to get a drink.
Thankfully, this was much easier. He stalked over to his kitchen counter, judging the distance he'd need to jump to mount it. Then he coiled back on his haunches, wiggled his bum, and almost overshot his target.
He hadn't realized how strong his new body was, and he almost crashed into the dishrack. The only thing that saved his china were his claws, instinctively digging into the wood of his counter to halt his forward motion.
Lawrence grinned and nudged the tap of his sink, turning on the stream with a whiskery grin. If only it was this easy to open the fridge! He beamed and leaned forward, intending to drink from the faucet like it were a water fountain.
He received a noseful of water for his efforts, and reared back with a hiss. Of course! He had to drink like a cat! Once he calmed himself, he stuck out his tongue and began to lap at the pouring water, finding this much easier than he anticipated.
Instead of cupping the water in his tongue like he'd seen dogs do, his tongue simply flicked at the water faster than he could see, causing a gentle column of liquid to pour into his mouth, sating his thirst. If only his tongue had this sort of dexterity with his ex!
Purring with mirth, Lawrence drank his fill, turning to face his nemesis once again. He absently flicked the faucet off with his tail, gracefully dropping from the counter to survey the fridge.
He could try using his tail... But there was a slight chance of it getting caught in the door, and besides that he only had rudimentary control over the damned thing. So that left... Lawrence scowled deeper; then blinked as an idea struck him. He had never called in a repairman to talk about how loose the fridge door was, and how it would open if it were bumped the wrong way!
While this used to be an inconvenience, it was now the exact solution to his problem, and Lawrence scooted to the side of the fridge and swiped his paws at the side of the door, trying to unstick it.
Three tries later, and a gently popping sound filled the air as the door opened slightly. Hurriedly, Lawrence bounded to the other side of the fridge, pressing his nose at the crack and widening the gap.
It was open, he had bested the fridge! He purred; then realized that his struggles were far from over. The steak was on one of the top shelves, next to the milk. Lawrence cursed with a loud hiss. How could he get the damnable meat down without spilling the... Milk... Why did he not want to spill the milk again?
His troubles solved as quickly as they were realized, Lawrence simply swiped at the shelf, knocking it loose so both meat and milk fell to the floor. The former landed with a thump; the latter with a crash as its cap popped, spilling its creamy liquid along the floor.
Lawrence beamed with pride, his tail swaying excitedly. Looks like he'd just have to clean it up! He dipped his tongue low to the liquid, again marveling at how quickly he was able to flick it into his mouth—and at how much better milk tasted in a feline form!
He purred happily, licking his jowls and turning to the meat next. It took just a simple swipe of the claws to free it from its packaging, and in seconds he was chomping down on a fine cut of steak made even better by the fact that it was still raw.
Lawrence purred with pleasure, working his jaws and marveling at how easily they cut through the meat, barely requiring any tearing to be done. Of course some of this was thanks to how tender the cut was, but he knew that he had his fangs to thank as well.
Sated, Lawrence happily gulped down the rest of his meat, chasing dinner by finishing up the rest of the spilled milk. He pawed the empty container away from the fridge and shut it with another swipe of his paws, admiring his large and furry body.
He had no idea why and no idea how, but he was a tiger now; and that was the best thing that had ever happened to him. Lawrence purred contentedly, padding back into his bedroom and yawning, stretching out his back before falling into a sound sleep; the sleep that he had been so deprived of thanks to his sickness.
He was almost a little disappointed to wake up as a human the next day, but the scraps of meat in his teeth and the claw holes in his bedsheets told him that last night hadn't been a dream. And if it happened once, it could happen again...
Lawrence grinned, already planning for the next full moon.