Waking up felt like dragging my mind through a thick layer of sludge. Every throb in my temples was a brutal reminder that someone must have introduced the back of my skull to a sledgehammer. I lay there motionless, without the slightest desire to open my eyes. The bed beneath me was so indecently soft and luxurious that every cell in my body begged for just a few more minutes of bliss.
Yet, deep in the pit of my stomach, a cold sense of dread began to take root. Something was very, very wrong.
Shit.
That intuition finally won out over my lethargy. I forced my eyelids open and tried to haul myself up, but the first thing I saw wasn't the ceiling or the furniture. Instead, a dense, vibrant curtain of long pink hair cascaded over my chest and shoulders, almost completely obscuring my vision.
Wait... Pink hair? I don't remember ever having pink hair.
Dazed and acting on pure instinct, I ran my fingers through the pink mass. The strands felt unnaturally soft and well-kept, as if they were treated with expensive oils every single day. But when my hands traveled further down and I realized the hair didn't end until it reached my backside, I froze in utter bewilderment.
Dammit, did I always have hair this long?
The moment the thought crossed my mind, I tried to reach deeper into my memory, desperate for any image of myself. Instead, I hit a hard, black wall. No matter how much I strained my brain, I couldn't break through. The only thing I could conjure was a washed-out, colorless fragment of a memory: coming home from work and collapsing onto a couch... or was it a bed? No, that didn't make sense. Why couldn't I even remember how I fell asleep?
I clutched my forehead, frustration mingling with a rising tide of panic.
Hell, why is my mind so foggy?
It was terrifying. I realized I didn't remember anything important. In an act of desperation, I tried to speak my own name in my head, believing it would shatter the blockage. But the harder I tried, the further it slipped away, leaving only that irritating aftertaste of something on the tip of your tongue that you just can't grasp.
I felt like if I tried one more time, my brain would simply explode from the pressure. I gave up, squeezing my eyes shut and taking several deep, wheezing breaths to calm my pounding heart.
Then, the very second I cracked my eyelids again, something glowed in the dim light of the room. It was a translucent, blue screen hovering motionless in the air, displaying a set of data that, at that moment, felt like the world's worst joke.
STATUS
Name: -
Race: Beastkin
Gender: ???
Class: Slave
Rank: F
[Attributes]
Strength: 1
Vitality: 1
Agility: 5
Intelligence: 3
Charisma: 20
Skills: -
Talents:
[Cute] – Possesses an instinctively lovable presence. [Effect: Charisma +15]
[Submissive] – Receives pleasure from obeying orders of higher-ranked individuals.
I stared at the numbers, and then my gaze locked onto the word "Slave" and the description of the [Submissive] perk, which promised me pleasure for being obedient. A shiver ran down my spine - not one of excitement, but pure, primal revulsion at what this system was trying to tell me.
Wait, what? Slave? Submissive? Has someone completely lost their mind?
A sudden, high-pitched squeak escaped my lips. It sounded so alien in the dead silence that I practically jumped on the soft mattress. I stared in disbelief at the screen floating before my face, trying to understand why the hell my name was blank, as if my entire identity had been erased. But as soon as those thoughts tried to form into words, I slapped a hand over my mouth.
Heat rushed to my cheeks. That sound I had just made... it was so high, clear, and delicate. It sounded nothing like the voice of an adult man who - at least I thought - had sounded perfectly normal only yesterday.
This is impossible...
My eyes drifted down of their own accord, landing straight on those three irritating question marks next to the "Gender" entry. A knot tightened in my stomach. With mounting horror, I looked down at my own body. A second later, another squeak escaped me - this one much louder, bordering on hysterical.
"Ahhhh!!!"
I stared at myself, unable to believe my eyes. Instead of my old, stretched-out boxers and a faded t-shirt, I was wearing a thin, silky nightgown in powder pink. It clung to my new body with shameless precision, accentuating the curve of my hips and something that definitely hadn't been there before.
What the fuck... Why do I have tits? What is happening?!
Under that slick, nearly translucent material - which felt sensitizing against my unnaturally smooth skin - two breasts were clearly visible. I hadn't even known they existed a moment ago. The fact that I wasn't wearing a bra meant my nipples poked shamelessly through the thin fabric with every frantic movement I made. They weren't massive - maybe an A-cup at best, barely lifting the pink silk - but for someone who had been a man his entire life, that delicate curvature felt like a head-on collision with a freight train.
Before my panicked brain could even process the bust, I felt a strange, rhythmic swishing behind my back. I twisted my torso sharply and looked behind me. I froze. A fluffy, pink appendage was growing from just above my butt. As if it had a life of its own, it thudded against the bedding in time with my racing pulse.
It was a tail. A real, soft, and absurdly fluffy tail.
Instinctively, almost in a trance, I reached a trembling hand to the top of my head. Instead of human ears, my fingers met triangular shapes covered in soft fur. They twitched under my touch, sending a wave of entirely new, animalistic sensations straight to my brain.
I was paralyzed with pure terror. The world began to spin as it finally sank in - the reality that stupid status screen had been trying to tell me from the start.
I've been moved into the body of a cat-girl...
A cold sweat broke out on the back of my neck and began to trickled down my spine. My new, unnaturally delicate hands - looking more like they were carved from porcelain than belonging to a grown man - trembled as they slid under the slick material of the pink nightgown, reaching toward my private parts.
With mounting dread, I noted the incredible softness of this new skin under my fingertips. It was perfectly smooth, silky, and devoid of any visible flaw, scar, or even a single hair. I felt like a stranger in my own skin. But when my hand finally slipped hesitantly between my thighs, I went completely still.
There, hidden beneath the thin layer of elastic fabric of my new pink panties, I suddenly felt the presence of my "little friend." For a fraction of a second, a wave of pure, unadulterated relief washed over me. Despite the tits and the tail, at least this one element of my old self seemed to be in its proper place.
That relief evaporated as quickly as it had appeared. More sweat beaded on my forehead. I frowned, realizing with growing unease that what I felt through the fabric was definitely - absurdly - too small.
Why is it so... tiny? I remember being much bigger... at least, I think I was...
But all those memories were still so damn foggy and elusive, as if someone had intentionally cut holes in my past.
I sat there on that luxury mattress, feeling like an exhibit in a freak show. I couldn't stop thinking about how illogical it was to still have that one masculine attribute when the rest of my body - from the rounded hips and those petite breasts to the high-pitched voice - was undeniably, mercilessly feminine.
"What the fuck is going on..." I muttered. My voice sounded like a delicate chirp again, which only deepened my frustration. I wanted to scream until someone showed up and explained what kind of twisted reality I had just woken up in.
I sat motionless for a moment, trying to steady my breathing. Only now, as the initial shock of my new body began to slowly - very reluctantly - subside into a state of numb acceptance, did I actually look at the room for the first time.
The entire space followed a theme of vivid, almost aggressive violet. It screamed from every wall and piece of furniture. The bedroom looked incredibly elegant, but also suffocating and oppressive, as if it had been designed by someone with an absolute obsession with that color and luxury.
The bed itself was gargantuan, topped with a heavy canopy and draped in purple silk curtains that swayed slightly as I moved. On the marble floor, exotic, plush rugs made of thick fur were spread out. They looked so soft that I felt a sudden, almost physical urge to bury myself in them.
That was the moment my old human mind clashed with the brutal reality of my new species. That sudden desire to roll around in soft fur wasn't my own whim - it was a new, feline instinct, the Beastkin drive to seek comfort and security.
Finally, ignoring the itch in my palms and the strange tingling in my tail, I began to crawl toward the edge of the massive bed. I felt the silk nightgown ride up my thighs, teasing my new, hypersensitive skin. Just as I swung one leg out, intending to finally stand up and see if this was all a sick joke, the heavy oak doors at the far end of the bedroom slammed open with a roar like a battering ram.
My heart leaped into my throat. My new body, surging with adrenaline and animalistic fear, reacted completely beyond my control. I panicked, lost my balance, and instead of stepping down gracefully, I tumbled off the bed and crashed onto the hard floor, missing the plush rug I had been eyeing entirely.
The thud of my head hitting the marble echoed in my new ears, triggering a sudden wave of nausea. My vision began to spin violently, darkening at the edges. The last thing I registered as I lay there limp on the floor, my tail desperately curled around my own leg, was the tall silhouette of a woman standing in the doorway. Against the light from the hallway, she looked almost ethereal.
What a beautiful lady...