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Description
Alarm clock erupted in music as the old fashion flip-card numbers turned to 6:00AM.

Will rolled over in his bed, pulling the huge comforter over his head, and cuddling it with a comfortable sigh. Suddenly, he threw the covers off and sat up, looking around. Every muscle in his body felt like it got hit by a bus...or more. The music buzzed in his head from his clock radio, a spot behind his eye starting to hurt from the sound.
What the hell happened to him? It felt like he did a couple hours of full body workout, and was feeling it now. He cleared his throat, then started coughing violently. Each cough was a loud and deep, a rasping guttural hack.
Will twisted around, sitting on the edge of his mattress. It felt like his muscles just didn't want to move, and were pushing back against his efforts. They felt so tight. He stumbled as he pushed himself up, surprised by the fact that he got a lot more force from the little he could move than he expected. He continued coughing. It felt like, with every cough, he was dislodging mucus in his throat, only it happened over and over and wouldn't go away. He walked across the room, bashing the snooze button on the clock.
Suddenly, he felt something come up from his throat. He almost fell into his bathroom, a small amount of fluid splashed into the toilet. He gasped, eyes shut tightly, gripping the toilet's edge. No more came. He coughed violently again, the feeling of mucus had gone away. Curious, he opened his eyes. The cold blue light from the windows above his bed lit the bathroom, and seemed a lot more blue than usual.
A metallic smell entered his nose, and he sniffed. Suddenly he had a really disturbing idea of what he spit up was. The toilet water looked a thin purple, dark purple chunks floating in it. He slowly rolled onto his bottom, pressing against the chair that had been shoved in there. He stared blankly, in shock. After a moment, he made up his mind. He was going to call in sick.
He pushed himself up, slightly determined. Suddenly movement caught his eye, it wasn't familiar. He grabbed the nearest object and flung it at the figure. Glass shattered as the half empty can of shaving gel bounced off the mirror and ricocheted into his bedroom. Cracks ran throughout the mirror from the point the can hit it, a piece fell out into the sink basin, taking another with it.
Will froze, shaking slightly. He stayed this way a moment, before sinking back onto the chair. His heart was beating rapidly. He slowly realized everything was alright, he had just seen himself in the mirror. But, was that really him? He couldn't remember what he saw.
He got up slowly, looking at the broken mirror. He moved around to see in the remaining shards. What stared back wasn't him.
The sharp features of a mountain lion reflected in the distorted reflective faces. He stood still for a long while. The cougar stayed still also. He blinked, it blinked. He made a weird face, it looked like it was overdosing on Prozac.
"...Oh god, is that me...!?" His voice cracked and rasped. The ivory whites of the cougar flashed as he spoke, though the only answer was silence. He touched his face after a moment, in the reflection a strange hand that looked like a mixture of a paw and a hand covered one of the cougar's round almond eyes. Or at least what he assumed was almond; everything had a blue tint to him. The hand was covered in the same ruddy red fur as the cougar's head, which he now noticed was a bit odd in anatomy. Probably because it was...his head...
True realization set in, the cougar's ears dropped as it's jaw did, almond eyes growing wide with shock.
"It....it.........It really is me isn't it!?" He reached up to touch the mirror, ruddy short furred hand paw appearing before him. After a moment, claws dug into the broken reflective glass as he ripped down as many shards as he could in one swipe. Pain erupted in his hand and an unfamiliar screaming roar pierced the apartment. He looked at his palm, large soft pads of mottled brown and red, surrounded by light tan fur, were oozing blood from a deep cut.
He noticed the fur didn't stop at his hand, though. It stretched over well muscled forearm and up practically bulging guns up to broad shoulders. Longer light tan fur spread from his neck down his front, hiding any kind of muscle there, but he expected the same changes.
"What the **** is up with my legs...!?" He muttered, noticing his sweatpants stretched slightly mid-leg under his knees. He also noticed big strong looking paws where his feet should have been, tendons functioning as he shifted a little. But what else? His legs looked like they were functioning differently as well as he tested his feet. He pulled up a pant leg to find the bones were different. This whole thing reminded him of art he saw online. Animals that looked slightly like humans, often depicted with bows or spears, or other Native American like stuff. Strange anatomy, weirdly bent legs and strong builds.
He...He didn't ask for this! He didn't want this! He started breathing fast, walking into his room and turning around back to the bathroom, though remembering the mirror was broken and turning back again. He started pacing quickly, after a few rounds in his room, he included the small living room in his path. He was aware of his body, his legs were carrying him so...gracefully.
He wondered what could have possibly caused this, he wondered how this was going to change his life, he wondered how he was going to keep his place if he couldn't go back to work.
Work.
He looked to the front door, a phone sitting on the wall next to it. He went to it and picked it up, though it took him a moment to find his ear, which disturbed him even more. There was a dial tone.
"Oh thank god...." He moaned as he took the phone away and dialed the number he knew well to the Sungrown Produce office phone...with his claws. He took a shuddering breath as he tried to calm himself as the phone rang. It took him a moment to find his ear again, and by the time his did, someone answered.
"Sungrown Produce, Chuck Johnson speaking..." A man said flatly. Why him? Of all the people who could've answered the phone, why him...
"Uhh...Hey C-Chunk." He said nervously.
"....Dilbert....You're late." Chuck replied, long awkward pauses of static between his words. Will always hated talking on the phone because of this.
"I...I don't think I should come in today...I think I'm sick..." Will said, voice cracking.
"You THINK you're sick...?"
"...Yeah...."
"........Well I think you're just trying to lie your way out of being late."
"I'm not lying! I think I...coughed up part of my throat..."
"Part of your throat?" Chuck asked, tone thick with skepticism.
"Yes. Part of my throat."
"....You sound fine to me...."
"Chuck, do you think I can afford not getting a days pay just to get out of being late?"
There was static silence, then Chuck sighed harshly, "Fine, but you're getting twice the work tomorrow..."
"Oh great! Thanks Chucky!" Will said in forced cheer. He knew he probably wasn't going to be able to come in tomorrow either, but he didn't feel like arguing this right now. "Um, also...Could I talk to Katie...?"
There was static silence again, then Chuck spoke, "Why?"
"I just need to talk to her..."
There was silence again, then another harsh sigh, "...Katie! ......Phone!"
After a moment, there was some clunking and sliding.
"Hello?" Her voice was loud and made Will wince and hold the phone away.
"Um...Hey, Katie..." He said nervously, trying to think of what to say.
"Oh, hey Will...What's up?" She asked, sounding a little annoyed but curious.
"...Y-you know what happened last night...?" He asked...
"What do you mean? ...What I said about my 'type'...?" She asked, flatly.
"......Er, no...You know, with that guy and...that injection....?" He said, feeling a chill of sweat cover his body under his fur.
"...What? What are you talking about?"
".......Never mind, it was probably just a dream..." He said, knowing he was lying, "I think I'm sick..."
"Sick? Like a cold? You sound fine to me..."
"No, something worse maybe, I don't know....C-could you maybe get some stuff for me...?" He asked, realizing his insides were twisting very painfully.
"Stuff? What kind of stuff...?" She sounded confused.
"Like...Like...Food. All I have is sodas..." He said, his stomach giving a particularly un-enjoyable lurch at the thought.
"Food. You work at a produce store and you don't have food."
"No, I usually don't eat...Can't afford to..."
"No wonder you're so sickly looking. You have to eat, Will. It's not healthy to just drink soda all the time...!"
"So can you stop by...?" He asked, hoping.
"............Sure, I guess..." She said after a moment.
"Great!" He sighed in relief.
"I'll be over in a little bit, see you then...." There was a click as she hung up.
Will lowered the phone, looking at it with a smile. But it suddenly faded as he noticed his hand, and looked down at the rest of himself.
"...................................SHIT!!!!!!!!!!!!" He swore loudly as he realized what he had just done. What was he going to do when she came!? What was SHE going to do when she came!? …....Would she even come...? He realized she never bothered to find out where he lived. He didn't know whether to be relieved she didn't, or ashamed because it was probably a trick he fell right into... Would she really be that cruel to him, though?
He found himself panting; he was tired, his muscles were burning as well as his stomach. All this muscle, and what was feeding it? He had the feeling this was a big problem, but for now, all he felt like doing was laying down. He took deep calming breaths as he shuffled back to his room and flopped onto his bed. After a few long moments, he grabbed a handful of covers and flipped his whole self over, pulling the covers over him and curling up. He was warm again, though he felt an odd spot of chill sticking out from under the blankets. He pulled the muscles closest to the chill and felt activity at the base of his back.
He had a tail. Great.

Description
Alarm clock erupted in music as the old fashion flip-card numbers turned to 6:00AM.

Will rolled over in his bed, pulling the huge comforter over his head, and cuddling it with a comfortable sigh. Suddenly, he threw the covers off and sat up, looking around. Every muscle in his body felt like it got hit by a bus...or more. The music buzzed in his head from his clock radio, a spot behind his eye starting to hurt from the sound.
What the hell happened to him? It felt like he did a couple hours of full body workout, and was feeling it now. He cleared his throat, then started coughing violently. Each cough was a loud and deep, a rasping guttural hack.
Will twisted around, sitting on the edge of his mattress. It felt like his muscles just didn't want to move, and were pushing back against his efforts. They felt so tight. He stumbled as he pushed himself up, surprised by the fact that he got a lot more force from the little he could move than he expected. He continued coughing. It felt like, with every cough, he was dislodging mucus in his throat, only it happened over and over and wouldn't go away. He walked across the room, bashing the snooze button on the clock.
Suddenly, he felt something come up from his throat. He almost fell into his bathroom, a small amount of fluid splashed into the toilet. He gasped, eyes shut tightly, gripping the toilet's edge. No more came. He coughed violently again, the feeling of mucus had gone away. Curious, he opened his eyes. The cold blue light from the windows above his bed lit the bathroom, and seemed a lot more blue than usual.
A metallic smell entered his nose, and he sniffed. Suddenly he had a really disturbing idea of what he spit up was. The toilet water looked a thin purple, dark purple chunks floating in it. He slowly rolled onto his bottom, pressing against the chair that had been shoved in there. He stared blankly, in shock. After a moment, he made up his mind. He was going to call in sick.
He pushed himself up, slightly determined. Suddenly movement caught his eye, it wasn't familiar. He grabbed the nearest object and flung it at the figure. Glass shattered as the half empty can of shaving gel bounced off the mirror and ricocheted into his bedroom. Cracks ran throughout the mirror from the point the can hit it, a piece fell out into the sink basin, taking another with it.
Will froze, shaking slightly. He stayed this way a moment, before sinking back onto the chair. His heart was beating rapidly. He slowly realized everything was alright, he had just seen himself in the mirror. But, was that really him? He couldn't remember what he saw.
He got up slowly, looking at the broken mirror. He moved around to see in the remaining shards. What stared back wasn't him.
The sharp features of a mountain lion reflected in the distorted reflective faces. He stood still for a long while. The cougar stayed still also. He blinked, it blinked. He made a weird face, it looked like it was overdosing on Prozac.
"...Oh god, is that me...!?" His voice cracked and rasped. The ivory whites of the cougar flashed as he spoke, though the only answer was silence. He touched his face after a moment, in the reflection a strange hand that looked like a mixture of a paw and a hand covered one of the cougar's round almond eyes. Or at least what he assumed was almond; everything had a blue tint to him. The hand was covered in the same ruddy red fur as the cougar's head, which he now noticed was a bit odd in anatomy. Probably because it was...his head...
True realization set in, the cougar's ears dropped as it's jaw did, almond eyes growing wide with shock.
"It....it.........It really is me isn't it!?" He reached up to touch the mirror, ruddy short furred hand paw appearing before him. After a moment, claws dug into the broken reflective glass as he ripped down as many shards as he could in one swipe. Pain erupted in his hand and an unfamiliar screaming roar pierced the apartment. He looked at his palm, large soft pads of mottled brown and red, surrounded by light tan fur, were oozing blood from a deep cut.
He noticed the fur didn't stop at his hand, though. It stretched over well muscled forearm and up practically bulging guns up to broad shoulders. Longer light tan fur spread from his neck down his front, hiding any kind of muscle there, but he expected the same changes.
"What the **** is up with my legs...!?" He muttered, noticing his sweatpants stretched slightly mid-leg under his knees. He also noticed big strong looking paws where his feet should have been, tendons functioning as he shifted a little. But what else? His legs looked like they were functioning differently as well as he tested his feet. He pulled up a pant leg to find the bones were different. This whole thing reminded him of art he saw online. Animals that looked slightly like humans, often depicted with bows or spears, or other Native American like stuff. Strange anatomy, weirdly bent legs and strong builds.
He...He didn't ask for this! He didn't want this! He started breathing fast, walking into his room and turning around back to the bathroom, though remembering the mirror was broken and turning back again. He started pacing quickly, after a few rounds in his room, he included the small living room in his path. He was aware of his body, his legs were carrying him so...gracefully.
He wondered what could have possibly caused this, he wondered how this was going to change his life, he wondered how he was going to keep his place if he couldn't go back to work.
Work.
He looked to the front door, a phone sitting on the wall next to it. He went to it and picked it up, though it took him a moment to find his ear, which disturbed him even more. There was a dial tone.
"Oh thank god...." He moaned as he took the phone away and dialed the number he knew well to the Sungrown Produce office phone...with his claws. He took a shuddering breath as he tried to calm himself as the phone rang. It took him a moment to find his ear again, and by the time his did, someone answered.
"Sungrown Produce, Chuck Johnson speaking..." A man said flatly. Why him? Of all the people who could've answered the phone, why him...
"Uhh...Hey C-Chunk." He said nervously.
"....Dilbert....You're late." Chuck replied, long awkward pauses of static between his words. Will always hated talking on the phone because of this.
"I...I don't think I should come in today...I think I'm sick..." Will said, voice cracking.
"You THINK you're sick...?"
"...Yeah...."
"........Well I think you're just trying to lie your way out of being late."
"I'm not lying! I think I...coughed up part of my throat..."
"Part of your throat?" Chuck asked, tone thick with skepticism.
"Yes. Part of my throat."
"....You sound fine to me...."
"Chuck, do you think I can afford not getting a days pay just to get out of being late?"
There was static silence, then Chuck sighed harshly, "Fine, but you're getting twice the work tomorrow..."
"Oh great! Thanks Chucky!" Will said in forced cheer. He knew he probably wasn't going to be able to come in tomorrow either, but he didn't feel like arguing this right now. "Um, also...Could I talk to Katie...?"
There was static silence again, then Chuck spoke, "Why?"
"I just need to talk to her..."
There was silence again, then another harsh sigh, "...Katie! ......Phone!"
After a moment, there was some clunking and sliding.
"Hello?" Her voice was loud and made Will wince and hold the phone away.
"Um...Hey, Katie..." He said nervously, trying to think of what to say.
"Oh, hey Will...What's up?" She asked, sounding a little annoyed but curious.
"...Y-you know what happened last night...?" He asked...
"What do you mean? ...What I said about my 'type'...?" She asked, flatly.
"......Er, no...You know, with that guy and...that injection....?" He said, feeling a chill of sweat cover his body under his fur.
"...What? What are you talking about?"
".......Never mind, it was probably just a dream..." He said, knowing he was lying, "I think I'm sick..."
"Sick? Like a cold? You sound fine to me..."
"No, something worse maybe, I don't know....C-could you maybe get some stuff for me...?" He asked, realizing his insides were twisting very painfully.
"Stuff? What kind of stuff...?" She sounded confused.
"Like...Like...Food. All I have is sodas..." He said, his stomach giving a particularly un-enjoyable lurch at the thought.
"Food. You work at a produce store and you don't have food."
"No, I usually don't eat...Can't afford to..."
"No wonder you're so sickly looking. You have to eat, Will. It's not healthy to just drink soda all the time...!"
"So can you stop by...?" He asked, hoping.
"............Sure, I guess..." She said after a moment.
"Great!" He sighed in relief.
"I'll be over in a little bit, see you then...." There was a click as she hung up.
Will lowered the phone, looking at it with a smile. But it suddenly faded as he noticed his hand, and looked down at the rest of himself.
"...................................SHIT!!!!!!!!!!!!" He swore loudly as he realized what he had just done. What was he going to do when she came!? What was SHE going to do when she came!? …....Would she even come...? He realized she never bothered to find out where he lived. He didn't know whether to be relieved she didn't, or ashamed because it was probably a trick he fell right into... Would she really be that cruel to him, though?
He found himself panting; he was tired, his muscles were burning as well as his stomach. All this muscle, and what was feeding it? He had the feeling this was a big problem, but for now, all he felt like doing was laying down. He took deep calming breaths as he shuffled back to his room and flopped onto his bed. After a few long moments, he grabbed a handful of covers and flipped his whole self over, pulling the covers over him and curling up. He was warm again, though he felt an odd spot of chill sticking out from under the blankets. He pulled the muscles closest to the chill and felt activity at the base of his back.
He had a tail. Great.