You get up off the floor and start to walk toward your balcony. Suicide is the better alternative than what you think is coming. But before you can get more than ten feet from the door, Jack runs up and blocks your way. He lets out a snarl. You yowl and cower back, then lay down. I guess I belong to Jack now, you think.
You walk back to the bathroom and look down at your clothes. You feel miserable and sigh. Can cats cry? Try as you might, you can't get yourself to cry. Then you look up at the mirror and notice the inkblots have changed. They now reed:
ENTERING FAST FORWARD MODE
You wonder for one second what that could mean, then it hits you.
You yowl out in terror and race out of the bathroom. You leap and bound toward the balcony, hoping to get there in time. But Jack blocks your way. You hiss at him and arch your back showing your sharp fangs, but he still doesn't move. So you use your claws. You slash out at him, scratching his stomach. He yowls out and pain and rushes away.
But that second of hesitation was more than enough time. You feel a rumbling deep in your stomach and you yowl out in terror. Your belly begins to expand, fattening up. Your back becomes way broader as your furry stomach continues to grow out. Your hips become invisible as they are engulfed in your stomach. Your stomach grows so big your back sags from the weight. You collapse on the floor as it grows bigger and bigger until it finally stops. Your stomach feels rumbly and full of life. You can feel your kittens squirming around in there.
You get up and yowl at the effort of walking. You somehow manage to drag your furry, swollen body to under the couch, where there is just enough light to see. You collapse and turn your head to watch. Pressure starts to build in your groin. It gets bigger and bigger until your groin stretches and a huge weight slides out of it. Your first kitten. It whines and stumbles on it's legs, looking for you. With one of your front paws, you guide it to your swollen belly and it begins to suck on your milk.
The pressure comes again and you yowl, the second one coming out. It finds it's way to your teats by itself and it beings nursing. This process repeats itself five more times: pressure, growing, yowling, birth, nursing. Finally, you look down at your belly and see seven kittens sucking on your milk. It's actually kind of nice. You're a mother. Four of them are white, just like you. Two of them are brown with black spots, like Jack. The other one is kind of a mix between you and Jack. You do your best smile and being licking your kittens.
Your mind clouds slightly, and you "black out" for a little while. When you come out of it, all of your kittens are asleep right beside you. You look to your left and see Jack curled up next to you. You lick the scratches you gave him, genuinely feeling sorry that you did it. He's your companion, after all.
You feel something in the back of your mind that says all of this is wrong, that you aren't a cat and that you shouldn't have just given birth to kittens. But you push all that thought aside and lay your head down. After all, you're a white house cat and you have your kittens and Jack to take care of.
You close your eyes and fall into a deep and restful sleep.