First story back and it's a weird one.
She stretched out her legs, muscles extending and expanding beyond the point of comfort only to stretch longer and further. They grew and grew, painful yet so familiar to her. The push and pull woke her mind from its feline relaxation into full wakefulness.
Thick, black fur retreated into goose-pimpled skin, little pinpricks of abrupt sharpness that slowly faded while legs elongated out into arms. Fingers and thumbs extended out from clawed paws. Feet forced their way back into shape. Spine cracked and twisted, vertebrae pulsed out and down with each laboured breath.
It went on for long, laborious minutes, small whimpers of pain she could not smother escaped. Even after hundreds of years it still hurt.
Bone and muscle and sinew snapped back into place until she was recognisably human-shaped again.
She lay on the warm patch of floor, where the sun filtered through half-closed blinds just to catch her breath. The small snatches of cat-ness still lingered as she stretched and yawned to allow the final stages of her transformation to complete.
She coughed, violently. Retched until the expected hairball fell from her mouth into the bin she kept handy.
Standing was always the most disorienting, she wobbled as her centre of gravity shifted to her human form. She was cold, and slipped on pyjamas and a robe as quickly as possible, the lack of warming fur making itself known. It had been hours when she glanced at the clock. Hours since she had slipped into cat-form to avoid answering the door.
It seemed silly to her afterwards but at the time she had been so tired, so emotionally over-taxed, that the transformation seemed so much easier than dealing with an idiot at her door.
She knew she would probably do it the next time he came round too.
Tales written from a prompt in just 10 minutes.
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