"How did your college take you and Molly being absent for so long?" Dave wondered, "I mean... I doubt she was ready and raring to go back right after you both learned she couldn't be human again..."
"It was tough," I sighed, "once the story broke the college did recognize that Molly and I were in a situation that we couldn't get out of, and we both received emails from the professors that they'd put their lectures on-line and we could follow the class that way... though it would also mean mailing or emailing the assignments in until the trail was over... but it was still a "by the skin of the teeth" solution, and we only just barely passed..."
You looked down and sighed heavily. Nothing in life was easy, and helping Molly recover was one of the hardest things to do.
+++++++++++
"At least they're not making us go back until the trial is over," I said weakly as I sat on the edge of Molly's bed.
She was seated on the floor covered under a bed-sheet.
"What's the point," Molly said in a depressed voice, "all I am is a freak... an animal... I'll never be human... George what happens if I go crazy? Start eating people? If I were to hurt you?"
"I don't think that will happen," I said optimistically, though it didn't sound all that cheerful, a I didn't really know what to do. I tried to make a bit of a joke, just to get her to smile, "and on the bright side, tigers are considered fairly beautiful. I mean people killed to get a fur coat like yours."
That didn't work.
"Yeah, they killed the tiger and skinned it," Molly answered, "That's all I'll end up as. Someone's coat or in some Chinese medicine cabinet."
"You know I'd never let that happen," I told her, "I will always be there for you."
Molly didn't answer immediately.
"It's these walls," she said after a moment, "I can't stand it. I'm trapped in here..."
"With Mr. Changes waiting for his trial, we could go out," I offered.
"And be seen as a freak?" Molly asked back.
"I don't see you that way," I told her, "You're Molly. My girlfriend... my friend. The best thing that ever happened to me. What you look like on the outside doesn't matter... and... if other people are going to be that shallow... then let them all be damned. They don't matter."
Molly then stood up, heavily hunched over because of her increased height.
"There's still the matter of this," Molly spoke as she held the bed-sheet open.
It gave me a full view of Molly's form. Her white belly fur largely covered up her nipples, but I could make out where they were on her breasts faintly. And even with her hunching over, her reproductive organs were visible... and I quickly looked away. Molly is my girlfriend, but I'm no pervert.
"I'm still way to big for all my clothes," Molly grumbled, "I even tried to put on a pair of sweat pants... They held in too much heat, they itched, and they felt tight in all the wrong places... not to mention that I had to cut a hole in them for my tail..."
I looked back after Molly wrapped herself in the bed-sheet again.
"Couldn't we alter some bedsheets into a dress or something?" I wondered.
"With these hands... paws...?" Molly asked back, "I can't even hold a needle, let alone thread it."
"I could do it," I offered, "It wouldn't be too fancy a dress, but it'd be one you could wear."
"And what do you know about dress making?" Molly questioned.
"Practically nothing," I sighed, "but if not me then who? You'll probably need to see a special tailor to get anything more professional, but people probably wouldn't let you go in to their shop naked."
Molly only sighed. You then noticed that she was looking down.
"This is more then just your size, isn't it..." I told her, "let me help, Molly... please."
"George... it's EVERYTHING," Molly looked up to me, "I'm too big to wear any of my clothes... I can't eat anything but meat, and my mind doesn't care if its cooked or not... I can't really type beyond chicken scratching with these big fingers, and I'm afraid I'll push down too hard and crush the keyboard when I do... and to top it all of, my parents keep me penned up in here where I can't move around, but I can't go out because of what they've done to me, and because I don't have clothes that fit... and you've been the only one that has cared for me..."
"I know this all sucks," I sighed, "but things have to get better. Let me help. I'll try to make you some clothes so you can go out, and we'll go from there."
Molly shook her head with a sigh.
"You'll need my measurements first, and I mean my CURRENT measurements," she sighed.
"We can get them with some string and a measuring tape," I commented, "The string to put your measurements in a straight line that the measuring tape can measure."
+++++++++++
Dave chuckled heavily, interrupting your story.
"I'm sorry..." Dave chuckled, "I can't see you as a tailor."
"I think I actually did a good job," I shot back, "it required a lot help from my mom, who was a better sewer then I was, but the job was done and we put together some clothing that Molly could wear. It was very simple, though..."
+++++++++++
"I... I... I can't believe it," Molly gasped a couple of days later as she half twirled in a dress that my mother and I had cobbled together out of a pair of old bedsheets.
The dress had two shades. One was white, and the other was a forest green. It didn't really match, but it would be enough for Molly to cover herself in. It had no sleeves, and the neckline was lower then I had aimed for, but then, I wasn't a tailor, so I couldn't get too picky. We had aimed to give the skirt a length that hung down to her knees, since neither my mother nor I could put a "waist" in it, other then tying a rope around her waist as a sort of crude belt, and the dress largely hung straight down from her breasts. We also had to cut a slit up the center of the back to give her tail the freedom of movement that she needed.
"This is actually halfway decent," Molly spoke and bent over to rub her muzzle to my cheek.
"I'm glad you like it," I told her, "It'll be something you can go out in... until we can get a tailor who will likely ridicule everything my mom and I did."
"If he does I'll maul him," Molly gave a half joke, and lifted me into a hug, "thank you!"
I ignored her comment, as it was good to see her feeling happier then the depressed state that she had been in.
"And now you don't have to worry about being trapped in here all the time," I commented, "we can go out... maybe even see if there are any new things you want to try, now..."
"I don't think I'll be doing anything "new" for awhile," Molly answered, but continued to spin with me in her arms, "let's go for a walk!"
++++++++++++++
"Something new?" Dave asked.
"Something I had learned from Leona while she had been talking with my father was that her retrovirus would introduce the various characteristics... the instincts of that animal," I sighed, "and Molly had been turned into a tigress. At that time I was wanting to see how much of a tiger's instincts she had. Would she want to hunt, or would she be content to be fed. How she would do around a lot of people, that sort of thing."
++++++++++++++++
Molly and I walked for about a mile around our local neighborhood. She seemed glad to be able to stretch her legs rather then being cooped up in her room, and was fairly friendly with the couple of people we ran into. Though the fact that they suddenly seemed fearful of her didn't escape either of us.
The biggest problem were the neighborhood's dogs. Some of them had been trained as guard dogs and would have barked at us anyway, but nearly every dog could recognize Molly's scent as being "feline", though I doubt they could tell the difference between a domestic house cat, and a tiger... but they seemed to investigate and bark at what was giving of the "cat scent" from a distance, and this served to agitate Molly. As we rounded the corner to head back to our house, some family's chihuahua came charging from a small dog house and yapping at us from behind the fence... and Molly finally blew her top at being barked at. She turned, still holding my hand and roared at the little dog. It ended up giving a weak yip and ran back to its dog house. I ended up hurrying her back home.
+++++++++++
"She's going to get you in trouble, George," my father told me that night, "Westmonds swear she tried to eat Libby." Libby was the name of the dog that Molly had roared at.
"Dad, every dog on the block was barking at her like she was some sort of territorial intruder," I argued, "if you were in her shoes, and every dog barked at you like they wanted a piece of you, wouldn't you lose it?"
"I probably would... but that's not really an excuse," my dad sighed, "she can't just let her temper go like that. We live in a society, George. This isn't the jungles and rain-forests of India. She can't just run around free like she owns the place. People wouldn't tolerate that just because of what Changes did to her and they certainly wouldn't tolerate it if she were human. And to be honest, neither of you knows what Molly is capable of now."
I looked at him.
"Suppose the next time it's some jerk of a person, pushing her buttons instead of a dog," my dad continued, "he pisses her off and she mauls him in retaliation. Saying some person transformed her is not a legitimate excuse before the law. There is no law against being a jerk."
It was at that point that I realized that if Molly was to be happy, she would need to live where she wouldn't be as heavily pressured by society, but it would also require doing some research on what Molly had been turned into.