When Cathy awoke, her first sight through her heavy furred lids was her hand. Yet, it wasn’t her hand, but hand-paw unification, like a tiger had grown digits and opposable thumbs.
“Grrwhat the,” she let free from her muzzle, before stopping her speech in alarm. Her free paw shot to her mouth, finding it faster and further away than she should have. She shook off the sting of her slap quickly, though her shock remained. Within her muzzle, she licked predatory fangs with a rough tongue, and realized she hadn’t been dreaming at all.
She rose to her full eight feet with primal grace, her silent paw steps straining the floor en route to her full-length mirror at the end of the hall. There, she gazed at the medallion-clad she-tigress she had changed into, at her swaying tail and lush waist-length mane and inviting white-furred belly.
She was not surprised at all to find she liked it. She loved it, actually, much more than being human.
Patch approached the second floor landing with caution, sensing something feline like him, though much greater. Timidly, he mewed, though Cathy’s senses told of his arrival moments earlier, before he even began his trek up the stairs.
Effortlessly, she turned and dropped to three paws. “Herrre, Patch,” she growled softly, retracting her claws and curling fuzzy fingers to invite him over.
The calico approached quickly once it smelled no danger, rubbing its neck glands across Cathy’s striped torso, as she affectionately did the same. Patch purred and she growled (knowing from her studies that big cats can’t purr) as they went through the feline rituals of cleaning each other’s fur.
During the grooming, Cathy’s thoughts trailed to the medallion (and the intrinsic knowledge of the feline deity and its powers), and who else might benefit from its influence.
The she-tigress decided to introduce her benefactor to someone special to her.