Become as Cats

You woke up in a dimly lit room. The stench of blood permeating through the room assailed your sense of smell. Where the hell are you? You found yourself sitting on a metal chair, wrists strapped a little bit too tight for your taste to the armrests. You tried to stand up when you realize that your ankles were strapped to the leg rests as well.

The last thing you could remember was walking home from a local izakaya after drinking with your superiors. You swore you didn’t drink that much alcohol to warrant not remembering what happened for the rest of the night. You focused on what was available of your brainpower to recall the what happened, bits and pieces of memory started coming together. You walked down a pretty dark street, not very concerned about mugger since you’re pretty decently built yourself, you remembered walking past this intersection when you heard a loud “ORAYO!” and something …hit your jaw? Then you lost consciousness. In fact, you think your jaw is dislocated right now so some aspect of that must be true.

“You know, we used to use one of those chlorofom-soaked handkerchiefs to knock someone unconscious.”

A familiar voice of a foxy woman came from behind you: Shirakami Fubuki. Her hands were holding an ice pick each and rubbed the metal part against eachother. She continued, all while circling around you.

“It took a bit too long though, usually four to six minutes. So, we had Korone do it the old way after a chump got away.”

Your eyes scanned the room for the first time and you finally noticed the figure of a dog girl and a cat girl sitting just around the corner. They didn’t seem to want to take part in whatever Fubuki was about to do to you. She realized you were not paying attention and swung the blunt end of the ice pick towards your face.

“You’re a bold one, huh?”

You tried to say you were sorry for whatever the hell made them do this to you but seemed like the last strike just unhinged your jaw from its socket, turning what you tried to say into incomprehensible mess of mumblings. Fubuki put her face closer to yours, a delightful situation if not for the fact that you’re strapped on a chair getting tortured.

“You’re the one who sent a superchat to Mio with the message ‘MIOO MY CAT DIED LET’S GOOOOOOOOOO’, right?”

Oh fuck.

You totally did. You didn’t really watch Mio and only clicked at one or two clips of her being motherly on your recommendation, that time you …were very drunk and curious aboud how she would’ve responded to it. You didn’t think you stayed long enough to see her reaction. You were too intoxicated at the time and passed out right after sending the superchat.

“Mio…” Fubuki masterfully flipped the ice pick around her fingers before stabbing your cheek with it, the tip coming out through the other side.

“She’s a gentle soul, you know. She loves her fans so much she made sure to read even blue superchats for them…” She absentmindedly twisted the icepick around. The metallic taste of blood filled your mouth. You really, really wanted to scream but were scared of what would happen if you startled the white-haired fox.

“That night, Taiga was really sick and Mion got super worried, yet she streamed anyway. I begged her to take her time off but she told me she trusted her Mio-fa to cheer her up at her lowest…”

Her downcast eyes suddenly lit up with rage. She yanked the ice pick out from your mouth, pointed each of them on your shoulders and went to town on them.

“AND YOU UNGRATEFUL BASTARD-”

Fubuki shouted, though you couldn’t hear clearly since your own scream muffled her voice. Her face so close as if savoring every second of the torture.

“-MADE HER CRY”

She thrusted her ice picks, again, and again. Each stab going lower than before. You could feel your bones cracking when the metal tip hit it with such force.

“-WHEN SHE TRUSTED YOU SO MUCH”

The last strike was a heavy one into the back of your hands, skewering it through the metal armrests, and making a loud clang. She left the ice pick there and turned away, clearly out of breath.

“Unforgivable. You don’t deserve Mio. The world doesn’t deserve her, really.”

Fubuki turned her back towards you, picked up a pair of pliers from an assortment of torture devices, and crouched in front of you. Her other hand held yours in place while you made unintelligible noises. You couldn’t even scream for your life anymore. She was about to pull your nails out when a calm voice of a catgirl interjected from the back.

“Fubuchaaan, if you pulled his nails out, he wouldn’t make it to the trip, you know.”

Fubuki turned towards Okayu, and to your nails, back and forth as if deciding if it was worth for her to continue pulling her nails out, but ultimately decided against it. She let out the biggest sigh of the day, walked away from you, and tapped Okayu on the shoulder.

“I’m leaving the rest to you, Okayu.”

“Okaaaaaay.”

The catgirl jumped from the pile of cement sacks she used as a makeshift chair. She closed in to you, perfectly unthreatening, yet you were terrified nonetheless. She wrapped her hands around your face. Crap, crap, crap. Now what? She’s going to break my neck?

“Stay still, okay? I don’t mind you spitting blood on my clothes, though.”

Okayu gently put her hands around your jaw and popped it back in with one swift motion. You tried moving it and couldn’t believe what just happened. You muttered a thank you as Okayu took a piece of coin tied to a cord from her back pocket. You didn’t really understand why but you’re more scared now than when Fubuki stabbed your arm.

“Don’t mind it, don’t mind it. Now look at the coin, okay.”

She swayed the coin side to side and muttered something you couldn’t understand. Not because her voice was too small, it just seemed like she wasn’t speaking any language you’ve heard before. That continued for a while and you felt somewhat dizzy, a little less energetic, and you saw your bangs fell in front of your eyes. Weird, didn’t you just get a haircut yesterday?

Okayu flashed a satisfied smile and put the coin back to her pocket. She stared right through your eyes and said.

“Mogu moguu~”

“Okayuu~” You reflexively answered. Your eyes widened in surprise. Was that your voice just now? It was not the voice of a tired salaryman in his 30s. It was… Okayu’s? But you were sure it came out from your mouth? Okayu looked a little bit bigger too, and Fubuki, and Korone. It almost like you got smaller. Also, you can feel the front side of your suit getting tighter and your underpants having more room than usual. What the hell is going on?

Okayu walked away and gave a thumbs up to Fubuki after pulling the ice picks out from your hands. Fubuki turned her sight towards the dog girl that walked towards you without instruction. Korone started walking around you, eyeing you up and down and sniffed you several times.

“Korosan, how is it?” Fubuki, sitting cross legged on the sacks of cement, asked.

“Hmmmmmmmmmm.” Korone put a finger on her lip, she thought long and hard, then took a final sniff to make sure. “The smell is a little bit off, to be honest. But he’ll blend in just fine.”

“Very well. Knock him out then.”

“Can’t I take his fingers?”

“Not this one, okay? This is the last one of the batches. You could take the next one’s all you want, I promise.”

“Fiine.”

Korone stopped just beside you. Her body tilted sideways to get a closer look at your face. You felt your heart started racing a bit faster.

“You really looked like Okayu, though. I’d feel bad hitting your face, but here goes. ORA!”

A swift punch on your jaw knocked you out once again, though you could still feel and hear things for a moment afterwards. You remembered Okayu’s hands patting your face to check if nothing’s broken and Fubuki’s words, the last thing you heard before going to the voyage.

“Careful there, the yacht guy paid us a ton of cash for this.”