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I'd read once that science wasn't 100% certain how or why cats purr. I don't know if that's still true; the topic, unsurprisingly, attracted more attention post-pandemic. I gather that the how in catgirls is about the same as in cats, as far as they've been able to determine; something involving rapid modulation of breath by laryngeal action,° possibly triggered by a dedicated oscillator in the brain…? ° (This, by the way, makes it pretty much impossible to speak intelligibly when your dumb cat brain gets a good purr going. Which is just super convenient when you're trying to hold a conversation, let me tell you.) Effectively, your breathing is chopped up into a series of little micro-breaths; this naturally throttles your respiratory rate, meaning that it's both an expression of and an aid to relaxation. You feel the vibration in your chest (even though the aperture is up in your throat,°) which is soothing in the same way that feeling it from a cat you're petting is; purring kicks

I bristled, but couldn't quite bring myself to pull away from her touch; instead, I turned my head and brooded – at that, at the thought that there might not even be much I could do about these instincts, and at the reminder of how I'd spent the weekend. (What an absolute fool I must've made of myself…) "…You knyew, didn't you?" I muttered stiffly. Nicole gave me a sympathetic look, but couldn't hide a trace of a knowing smile on her face. "Um, myeah," she said. "It was kinda harrrd to miss." "Why didn't you tell me?" I wasn't quite sure why that irked me as much as it did; it felt like another nagging suspicion that, while she hadn't really been laughing at me the whole time, she might've been in a position to. She chuckled softly. "Didja rrreally need me to spell it out for you?" I made to answer, tail lashing, then stopped short as my brain insisted on considering the question first; ultimately, I said nothing. After a moment, she leaned back and folded her arms behind her

I hunched forward, tail lashing moodily, and heaved an aggravated sigh. It was a little later in the morning. I'd gotten as far as bagging up my laundry, then got stuck in a loop, alternating between pacing around the living room, trying to figure out how to sit like this, puttering with my guitar, and meaning to go to the laundromat but avoiding actually doing so, cycling at an ever-accelerating rate and growing increasingly irritated with myself. If only I'd sprung for a washer and dryer when I moved in…but I could just go to the laundromat, I'd told myself. If only I'd gone to the laundromat at the start of last week, I fumed…but I'd been worried about minimizing my exposure risk. If only I could make myself go now…but I felt weird and self-conscious enough about what I'd seen in the bathroom earlier, to say nothing of going out in just a jacket, boxers, and pajama shorts. If only I had anything else to wear…but I couldn't go to the damn laundromat! Right now I was in the

My heart yearns for an age forgot, A place unknown to my brain; O, will I know that world again? Was there a time, at mankind's birth, When moonlight struck the primal chord And heart touched heart without a word, At moonrise o'er a wilder Earth? Now barr'd by Time's dividing firth, Were songs beyond our fallen ken Once sung and danced, in Eden's glen? Could we our cities but forsake, And leave behind our broken ways; In field and forest spend our days, To bed in grass, and bathe in lake - Would we a better Man-kind make, And might we all begin again? Or is the fault innate in Man? Then could I shed this human guise, And form and instinct rearrange, Would that as well my nature change, To see the world through other eyes? So aches my heart, so body sighs; Were I a wilder creature, then, Would I know solace, in my den?

9. BREAKING GROUND I slept well enough, but I woke up feeling like I'd been hit by a truck. There was a hardly a part of me that wasn't experiencing a dull ache, and it felt like every bone in my body had gotten a visit from the Trash Compactor Fairy. I had a suspicion that this was due to changes overnight, but it was a good ten or fifteen minutes before I finally summoned the willpower to heave myself up off the bed and investigate. Well, one thing was for sure – I'd filled out a bit up top. Things might've squished a bit yesterday, but there was now a measurable delay between the time my torso lifted off the mattress and the time my breasts did. My tail had grown out considerably, as well – and it was actually mobile now. I could feel it arc with the rest of my spine as I gave my aching limbs a full-body strreeetch – followed by a full-body cringe as I realized what I was doing. How many of these damned behavioral quirks was I gonna have to deal with!? With a murr and a shake of

And thus ended the shortest interaction I'd ever had with them. I tottered inside, shut the door, slumped against it, and slid down to the floor, then winced and leaned forward to un-kink my little stub of a tail out from under me. Just shoot me now, I thought, afraid to speak it aloud and hear what ridiculous jumble of animal noises would result. Was it going to be like this all the time!? It was one thing to hear it from Nicole; she aspired to be a cat, practically. But to have it come out of my mouth, in front of other people… God, the way they'd looked at me. I was plenty used to not quite fitting in, getting the occasional funny look from someone over my personal appearance, the car I drove, etc. – but I'd never in all my life been looked at as a thing to be feared, 'til now. Was this what it was, to be a monster? Had I looked at the catgirl in the hardware store that way? I sure as hell hoped not. I winced as something cramped up in the floor of my pelvis; God only knew what.

I woke with a start. The light streaming in from the window was all wrong; it must've been nearly 10:00 by the look of it. It was Wednesday, wasn't it? Shit, I must've slept through my— Oh right, I didn't have work today, either; I was out sick on account of turning into a cat. Silly me, when would I get that through my fuzzy little head…? I laid there in bed as the memories flooded back: my tripped-out weekend, the cold and scary Monday where I realized something was wrong but didn't know what, the shock of discovery yesterday morning, my futile attempt to remain in denial derailing in front of a client, the stunned realization late last night…I buried my face in the pillow, squirmed uneasily, then squirmed even more uneasily when I felt my still-tender nipples rub against the mattress through my undershirt. Gah, were they always going to be like this? Even if they weren't, I'd probably end up sleeping on my side… It was very strange to think like this – I knew, in the broad

It was well into the evening when hunger finally forced me out of the blood-trance. Normally, I could go for most of a day on coffee and the occasional light snack, if I remained sedentary and didn't let myself get too worked up;° but I was still fairly ravenous, and stray thoughts about why only made it harder to keep my mental machinery from revving up and burning even more energy. No getting around it, I needed food. ° (A skill I'd acquired in college, where the mandatory meal plan meant paying several grand per year for the privilege of eating stuff that cleared the "prison" tier, but didn't quite make it up to "McDonald's." I'd subsisted almost entirely on chalky, stale peanut-butter cookies, one of the few minimally edible things on offer.) It was a surprise to find that I had it, though. I remembered my bare fridge, but evidently Nicole'd restocked it. Right, she'd mentioned needing groceries last night, hadn't she; I still wasn't sure how to feel about the fact that she knew