Scott looked intensely in the mirror as the sun was setting outside the window, bathing his already orange fur in an orange glow. His eyes were starting to glow in the increasing darkness of the room. He still felt strangely afraid of what he saw in his subconsciousness, but in his conscious mind he was no longer scared. Yes, encountering a tiger would be scary, but he wasn't encountering another tiger at all. It was just himself.
And what a specimen he was. He tilted his head side to side to inspect his white and orange mane. Then he took his right paw up and rubbed it against his cheek and snout, and he felt it rub up against said cheek and push his whiskers. He opened his mouth wide open to look at his massive canines and the 6 tiny teeth between them, then flexed his tongue to inspect the giant backward facing spines that now adorned his tongue. He pretended to yawn and then closed his mouth.
He spun sideways, looking at his body. That was a tiger in good health - far better health than he was. Well, far better than he had been. It was difficult for Scott to wrap his mind around the fact that this wasn't a costume. His orange fur with black stripes and white stomach made a beautiful contrast, and he was surprised by the muscularity of his new form; every movement caused ripples under the fur, showcasing strength that could easily overpower any human. He lifted his foot and flexed his paw, turning it over, awed at the sheer length of his claw and the size of his forelimb.
He decided to lie down, curling up such that his head was right next to his ass, his own tail touching his shoulder. He stared at his own white and black striped stomach as he slowly started drifting off to sleep.
Suddenly, John stepped into the room. "Hey Jake," he began, whereupon Scott immediately lifted his head and turned to look straight at John, ears pointed forwards. There was a short silence.
"I'm afraid I can't fix this just yet. You're going to have to stay a tiger for the night. So... yeah. Sleep tight, mate," he continued, then walked over to Scott and gave him a hug around his neck.
Scott rested his head on John, and John left out through the door.
Scott was alone. Why did John leave? Scott didn't really know, but there were plenty of possible reasons. Scott shivered at the thought that it might be a lack of trust.
He could feel hunger setting in. He walked to the fridge and tried to grab a pack of steak which had been left there. After a bit of work he managed to get a better handle of what felt like wearing giant mittens that couldn't be taken off and devoured the raw, and expensive, meat greedily, then went back to the living room, up on the sofa. He stretched his body and stretched his paws. One of the claws got stuck in the fabric, but he got it free again. Then, he drifted off to sleep, more tired than he had ever felt before.