"So tell me Sam, what bar were you coming from when you saw me walk into this alleyway?"
"Meow" said Sam, putting as much disdain into his animal voice as he could.
"Thank you" deadpanned Tim, his demoness telepathy reaching inside Sam's now feline mind and scouring out the
exact address of where he first stumbled out of.
Tim and Sam then emerged from the alley and walked down the public sidewalk to "Queequeg's Tavern". When Tim
reached Queequeg's(it was a pretty short distance, at most seven minutes away), Tim rolled his hips sexily as
he stepped inside, attempting to hopefully attract some new converts. Tim realized only fleetingly how he was
slowly turning to the dark side and becoming an infernal demoness in mind as well as in body.
Tim saw immediately that the bar was a dive. Empty peanut shells littered the floor, the tables were made of
rotting wood, the shot glasses were mostly filthy, and the columns supporting the ceiling were filled with
profane graffiti and numerous phone numbers where readers were invited to "have a good time". While there were
plenty of citizens in this part of town who were of drinking age, the bar scene was relatively crowded,
running the gambit from high class establishments that were expensive but generally had the prettiest people
inside of them, to more mundane but still respectable pubs where a guy or gal could relax after a hard day's
work(like a Cheers bar, basically), to low class gin joints like this one. Queequeg's somehow missed the boat
on being a hip place to drink, and it looked like it was in desperate need of repair.
The bartender was a burly balding man(with some brown in the back) wearing a white chef's apron who was
cooking some hamburgers on his grill. There were two guys in the back playing cards, and they both looked like
they came out of a cowboy movie. The first one even looked like an older version of Wyatt Earp. The bartender
looked up at Tim, who was holding Sam in his arms, and he began to speak up.
"Can I help you, Miss?" he asked politely.
"Yeah" began Tim. "I'm looking for a certain man that I think was in your bar. He was around 6'0 even in
height, around 24 or 25 in age, muscular, with blonde hair and some facial stubble."
Sam meowed to confirm that this was him, but since no one in the bar spoke cat but Tim, Sam's plea for help
went ignored.
"Yeah, that sounds like Sam Mersky. Why, did he knock you up or something?"
"No!" shouted Tim, having enough male pride in him still to be disgusted at the idea of being near that man in
human form.
"Well, that's good" answered the bartender in a deadpan manner. "I keep telling him to stop going after teeny
bopper looking broads or he'll make a mistake and end up in jail some day. Excuse me language. Why do you need
to see him?"
"I was in an alleyway, and he tried to grope me" admitted Tim, building a set up.
"Oh my" said the bartender, actually sounding a bit concerned. "Did you call the police?"
"No, I came here first. I noticed a book of matches he was carrying with this name on it, so I walked around
until I saw this place."
"Well, I haven't seen him around since Wednesday" answered the bartender seemingly obliviously. But what the
bartender didn't know was that Tim's demoness telepathy knew full well that he was holding back for his
friend. Tim was reading his mind right now.
Transcript: Sam Mersky might have been a scumbag when he was drunk, but when he was sober, he was a good man
who was just down on his luck. The bartender wanted to help him out, and if that meant lying to some teenage
girl who'll probably get over being groped in a few days, so be it.
"So be it, then" said Tim, right out of the blue.
"So be what?"
"You'll be find out in a minute" answered Tim.
Under normal circumstances(well, under normal circumstances where Tim can read people's minds), he would be
willing to cut the guy a break. After all, Tim himself made leering ears towards the pretty girls in school,
and on average, some of them must have felt uncomfortable. But Tim's moral compass, and his mental facilities,
were slowly mutating the longer he was in this heathen body. He now felt like spreading chaos, and hurting
people just to watch them suffer. Tim tried his best to keeping those feelings under control, lest he lose
sight of his mission...but in this one instance, he just...couldn't...resist...
"Ah!!" screamed the bartender, reaching for his chest. He thought that he was having a heart attack, but he
wasn't. He was growing breasts. And he was shrinking, and his bald head was spouting hair again, and that hair
was turning a shade of raven black, just like the girl standing in front of him. Once it stopped growing, his
silky tresses reached his armpits. Once he stopped shrinking, he was around 5'4(from his former height of 5'11
1/2), and at that moment he could really tell what was happening.
Now his clothing was now morphing, changing shape. A low cut black tank top gave way to a generous amount of
cleavage, and her red pants accentuated the sleekness and skinniness of her legs while giving prominence to
her heart shaped buttocks. He didn't have a bra on, but he didn't need it. Pouty lips formed, as did a pair of
black heels. All in all, he looked very much like a contemporary of Tim the demoness.
Smiling, Tim looked towards the two guys in the back.
What did Tim do?