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Summary
One morning in the summer, the MC wakes up in the little cabin he shares with his friends for a week. Something is different, and it takes a number of moments to discern what. First, he noticed an odd sweaty warmth on his chest. When he went to scratch, it was softer and much more sensitive and, well, more of it, than he expected. Plus the scratching was a lot scratchier. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he stretched his legs and made a small, pleased sound.
The sound made him stop and look at his hands.
His lithe, graceful hands. His fur-backed hands, fingers tipped with very sharp-looking black claws and see, with a flex they come out. Hands attached to pale blonde furred arms.
He thought back to the night before, and remembered shedding a few quiet tears just before falling asleep at last, wishing he could wake up as a girl who was a cat. What the fuck, the catgirl thought, and began purring anxiously.