The biggest problem with doing a project about tigers was that there tended to be very, very few tigers in the suburbs. Marisa realized this about a week before her capstone documentary was due, meaning that she was very nearly out of options.

“I went on safari. To Africa. And I forgot to film a tiger eating.” She said aloud numbly, her head in her hands. Locks of her scarlet hair trailed past her fingers as she looked down to her paper, staring at the word ‘HUNT’. “I’m such an idiot!”

“Not denying that.” Her roommate, Clara, strolled into their kitchen with a smirk. As usual, the Trust Machine fanatic had transformed herself, this time sporting an extra head and a few spare arms. She used these to great aplomb, grabbing two containers of ice cream and scooping some into each mouth. “Mn, but if you want advice from a genius, you need to try Venning yourself! Nothing beats snacking with two heads at once.”

Marisa grabbed a nearby pen to chuck at the girl, only to freeze mid-motion. “Wait… Say that again. The first part, not about the eating.”

Both of Clara’s heads frowned in confusion. “Uh… Try Venning yourself? How is that relevant?”

Marisa only smiled in response.

Two days later, a very confused young man stood before a tigress and a gazelle, formerly a redhead and a blonde.

“Um… Okay, so. Quick recap. Marisa needed someone to record a tigress hunting, which is why I’m here. And she needed someone who could really act the part, so that’s why Clara is all stripey. But would someone remind me why Marisa needs to have a penis for this?” Asked Raleigh, running a hand through his short-cropped hair.

‘Because it’s funny of course!’ Thought Clara with a delighted rumble. The tigress crouched low and waggled her bottom eagerly, another loud rumble emanating from deep within her chest. In truth, she’d never gone full animal before-not for any lack of desire; she simply had never thought about it. Now she was definitely reconsidering.

Being a tigress was nothing like Venning extra parts to her body. It was a complete rework of who she was, going from an attractive woman to a gorgeous predator. Every inch of her oozed power, and she felt like she could bring down a star, let alone the stag beside herself.

Marisa felt similar thoughts, despite being more than a little wary of the girl-turned-tigress beside her. She didn’t want to admit it, but it was fun having something between her legs. The added masculinity really helped sell her transformed state, and the testosterone that coursed through her form was something else.

Marisa tossed her antlered head with a snort, scuffing the ground with a hoof. She felt strong from horn to hoof, a lithe and springy power that she was determined not to overdo. After all, it wouldn’t make much sense if Clara couldn’t catch her.

Raleigh watched the two animals for a moment longer before realizing he wasn’t going to get a useful response out of either of them. “Okay, but Clara owes me big for this one.” He sighed, adjusting his camcorder.

The tigress murred in mock surprise, placing a large paw on her chest in offense. She rolled onto her back in a distinctly petlike manner, pawing at the air cutely.

“None of that! Marisa’s letting me use this footage for my project, but you’re just letting me change you for fun. You’re wearing me for all of next week, and I’m not taking no for an answer… Not that you could answer me right now.” He chuckled.

Marisa snorted impatiently and nudged the tigress with her antlers, bounding a few steps back so that she got the idea. Her heart hammered in her chest with anticipation as she watched the tigress roll onto her feet, and the gazelle danced on her hooves.

This was it, this was really it! She looked towards Raleigh and huffed as he gave her a thumbs-up; then she dashed towards the plains, seeking to escaper her tigress of a friend. If everything went according to plan, they’d have a quick chase; then Marisa would be tackled to the ground by Clara; then they’d fade to black, dust themselves off, and have a pint at the local bar.

The ground sped by beneath her hooves, and she marveled at how fast she was. It was almost like she was an Olympian athlete! Her nostrils flared as she sped across the plains, moving faster than she had ever been in her life.

She was strong, powerful, and in the best shape of

“GRRWAUUUR!”

A blood-curdling roar made her stumble briefly, and she looked behind herself in time to see an orange and black-striped blur race towards her. It was fast, too fast! And worse… It was hungry.

Marisa could tell in an instant that she’d made a terrible mistake. She didn’t know how she knew, but one look at Clara spoke volumes: the tigress fully intended to make a meal of her.

Terrified, Marisa let out a piteous bleat of horror, putting all of her energy into running. She tried to zig and zag in hopes that it would throw the tigress off, but the beast didn’t stop. Instead, she surged across the thin distance between them… And lunged.

Had Marisa been in the proper frame of mind, she might have seen it coming. She might have been able to dance to the left just in time, evading the tigress’s attack.

Btu she was scared; too scared. Her powerful male body was driven to the ground in an instant. The air was knocked through her lungs an instant before a claw’s swipe exposed them to the air, hot pain lancing through her body.

Then… It went numb. Marisa tried to kick her legs, but powerful jaws clamped around her throat, tearing it from her neck with a swelter of blood. All the gazelle could do was gurgle wetly, a bubble of blood and mucus popping from her nose as she sobbed her last.

She could feel herself being eaten alive, even as the ground greedily guzzled her blood. Even though she was alive, she could feel the bits of her being torn out from her body. It started to go cold around herself, and the light began to ebb from her world.

There was a flash of light as the last of her neurons in her brain fired, and then utter silence.

With that… She was dead. It was the strangest experience of Marisa’s life, and not just because she had a natural fear of death. She could feel her body puddling out onto the grass; feel large swathes of her body being consumed by the animal that was her friend.

Every chomp of the tigress’s teeth; every questing lick of her rough tongue; every pressure-laden gulp that marked a bit of Marisa being swallowed: the gazelle could feel it all. And… It was enjoyable, in a perverse sense.

She had no control over this; couldn’t change a thing about it. And, in truth, she wasn’t sure if she would. Being dead was an experience like none other, and the rich sensation of being eaten tickled parts of her that she didn’t even realize.

Of course, none of that was captured on the camera… Or noticed by her friends. Instead, the two of them chuckled to one another, thinking that they’d had a successful prank while remaining blissfully unaware of the monster they’d just awoken.