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A Little Angelic Tiger TF
🕑 Added 2024-10-09 02:13:11 +0000 UTCMarcus watched the ugliest man he'd ever seen sneer back at him, with yellowish jagged teeth that pointed straight down. The man's bulbous nose looked more like a compass point than an appendage on his visage, sniffing with disdain at Marcus. Like he had any room to talk. That man's muddy brown eyes bore past acne on his forehead and greasy blond locks that fell in uneven shades over his brow.
Marcus tried to ignore the man as he usually did, even when it was difficult seeing him up in his face. It didn't help that the man was usually indecently exposed when he saw him, despite his protests. The ugliest man had pale lanky arms with sinewy cords creeping around underneath. A malformed ribcage jutted out to one side, with saggy abdomen creases like the muscles didn't know whether to tighten or sit.
He hated seeing the man every morning and every night for the past six years, and there was the man's ugly little kid before that. Marcus spat with contempt and turned away, hearing a buzz from his phone nearby. He clicked the preview and saw it:
DUDE HURRY UP! BBALL TRYOUTS ARE IN 20!
Marcus sighed and turned off the faucet that had been running, slipped on his college jersey and basketball shorts that hung off of him with a breezy flap. He pocketed his phone and texted "BRT", before turning off the bathroom light and closing the door behind him.
It was a quick enough jog across campus to the Marshall Abrams Fitness Centre. Already Marc could spot a line of prospective jocks forming at the gymnasium entrance. He pulled his hoodie closed to avoid showing his jersey as he scootched past the crowd and made it look like he was going to the weight room.
A few more dips and turns and Marc burst through the gymnasium doors, where a whole crew of heads turned. There was a knot in his stomach as he grimaced. Five minutes early was still ten minutes late, and he took his spot on the three-point ring without saying more than a "thanks for waiting". He'd defend against tryouts trying to go past him, and he'd reach with his gangly arms to block their approach and test their pivoting shots. He'd forgotten to eat breakfast that day and was downing water between all the tryouts. He was tired.
Not just from the constant running with no food, but he was tired of a coach that backhanded compliments; tired of a team that gave him a wide berth in the locker rooms as the "fill-in"; he was tired of playing sports he didn't even like, for a dad he didn't even see anymore. All of the fatigue sat in his stomach and churned with his water. And he felt sick.
Marc's face went pale, covering his mouth and stumbling out the doors as he heard laughter and "oh shit clear the way" from behind him, along with a coach that would make him mop up any mess he made on the gym hardwood.
He somehow made it to the washroom and fumbled over a toilet, his face clammy and panting for air. He felt more air on his teeth than usual, as the cramping in his stomach pushed at his midsection. He almost retched, then felt immediate relief and something cool touching his stomach. His eyes registered his nails had sharpened and blackened, with the base of his arms thickening at the shoulders.
But the biggest change was his midsection - his BIGsection, as a gut covered in hair touched the cool floor and the porcelain of the toilet. Marc yelped and fumbled backwards, only to find he landed on something pointed right at his tailbone with a wince. He flopped on his back, feeling similar points between his shoulder blades, before rolling onto his (admittedly) very comfy fat belly as he registered his whole body had thickened. The hair continued to spread and sew together, more like fur, and he felt something pushing out of his shorts. He struggled to get up for a moment as he realized his shoes were torn apart by newly found large-toed paw-feet.
"God please...please help me..."
He begged in a repeated prayer as he saw his face extend in front of him, his eyes adjusting to the light over his head. He realized that it was much brighter than the bathroom fluorescent bulbs, and turned to the mirror. By now, Marc could see fangs poking out from his lips that extended to a triangle mouth with a softer round-square jaw like a sabertooth cat. Perhaps more noteworthy was a floating ring of light above his head, and a tail snaked out of one of his shortlegs with his thick thighs bursting the seams.
"What...am I dead? Am I dreaming?"
"No to both, but I understand the confusion."
A voice called into the bathroom accompanied by a knock. Marc scrambled to find somewhere to hide his significant new size and monstrous appearance. The voice called out urgently, but gently,
"Easy! Easy! It's okay to be scared, but you don't have to be. I'm here to help."
"Don't have to-LOOK AT ME! I'm..."
Despite all the insults he wanted to hurl at himself, Marc struggled to find anything that was actually wrong. He could move, he was warm, he didn't feel so tired or sad or angry. The only thing that was still lingering was...
GRRRMBLLLGRRGLLL
A demand let out by his new beast of a belly. The voice chuckled and said, "Hungry? Look, you'll need some new clothes and I know a place for some food. If you'd like you can come with me and then go on your way wherever you want to go."
Marcus looked down at his paw-hands, then at the sabertooth cat with- wings. Those were wings coming out of his back and hips. He took a shaky breath and nodded, then followed where the gentle voice led.
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A little idea I needed to get out of my head
