Dan gasped. Fine silky black hairs had sprouted all over his body, and he was or had been a blond. Maybe that stuff was hair growth formula? He recalled reading somewhere that lycanthropy was really a disease that caused the victim to grow hair all over their bodies and to go insane. People thought the victims were werewolves, but it was a genetic disorder--it couldn't be contagious. Dan felt very hungry, he wanted meat. Very rare, warm bloody meat. He salivated thinking about the meat, and licked his lips, and headed for the door.
Dan didn't think about the fact that he was naked, all he thought about was gettng food. He padded silently down the hall toward the backstairs which led to the kitchen. About halfway down the hall, he naturally dropped to all fours, and continued his silent prowl on paws. His tail flicked and his ears stood on end as he reached the bottom step. He knew there were fresh steaks in the refrigerator, but they were cold. He heard the sound of heavy wood scraping against concrete, he smelled the stench of fresh sweaty meat. An image of Bill in his plaid shirt with his sleeves rolled up shifting crates. Dan licked his lips, and he leapt from the stairs to the back door in a single pounce. His paws struggled with the handle, but at last the door swung inward, and the huge black cat slipped out its tail just missing getting caught in the self closing door. Dan the black panther stalked silently around toward the observatory's loading dock. Bill was alone with his little pick up, the big truck with Bill's crew rounded the corner of the building headed back to the garage. This was the last job of the day, and Bill planned to start his three day weekend early. He had just remembered the crow bar, and had gotten back out of his truck to set it on the nearest crate for Dan and his father to use later.
He froze when he looked up and into the eyes of the black panther that had just materialized. Rich people keep the damnest pets! Bill thought reaching for the crowbar. Bill didn't want to get eaten, but he also didn't want to hurt one of his customers' exotic pets. It might have escaped from a circus or zoo, too? Bill thought as he grasped the cold iron crow bar. The cat advanced slowly. Bill said, "Nice, kitty. Good, kitty." He gently and slowly held up his other hand in a blocking motion, and backed toward his truck.